Born Wild

Uh, I don’t know…maybe you?

“And as for these masked gunmen in the biker bar,” he went on, “what do you expect when you hang out in those types of seedy, lowbrow establishments?”

Oh no he didn’t. If Mac hadn’t placed a restraining hand on her arm, Delilah would have stepped forward to clock the pompous bastard. As it stood, she remained rooted to the spot, wondering if it was possible for steam to actually pour from her ears or if that only happened on Saturday morning cartoons.

“And,” it appeared Patrick Edens wasn’t done, “when you align yourself with seedy, lowbrow people?”

That was it. Delilah was going to slug him. Unfortunately, Bill beat her to the mark. From the corner of her eye, she saw him blow up like a rooster in a chicken coop when a rival struts in. All ruffled feathers and pomp. Only Bill’s ruffled feathers were really big, really impressive muscles, and his pomp was the two vigorous steps he took in Patrick Edens’s direction. “You better step up, or step off, asshole,” he growled, and Delilah figured her teeth were going to leave permanent marks on her tongue. Now she was biting it to keep from shouting, you tell him, Bill! “Because you keep looking at me and my friends that way, you keep referring to us in that snide tone, and I’m liable to take a swipe at you.” Bill lifted his chin, staring Eve’s father down. “And you know for goddamned sure you’re not ready for that.”

“He’s really good at that, isn’t he?” Mac bent to whisper in her ear.

“At what?” she whispered right back, mesmerized by the staring contest happening eight feet in front of her. Men! They stomped around each other, taking bites, when the truth was they should just whip ’em out and measure, solve everything just like that.

And, if she was a betting woman—which she so totally was—Bill would win that little competition hands down. Hands being the operative word. Because Bill’s were big and square and strong- looking, while Patrick Edens’s were long and thin and almost feminine. And in her experience that old wives’ tale about the size of a man’s hands compared to the size of his…erm…bits was right far more times than it was wrong.

“At making little speeches that encourage a man to fill his drawers,” Mac breathed against her cheek, his breath warm and distracting. She started to turn to him, but Patrick Edens took a small step back, riveting her attention to the scene playing out in front of her.

You won that one, Bill! Way to go!

And, yes, it appeared she’d become the silent cheering section, but she just couldn’t help herself. For Buzzard’s sake, she hoped Eve and Bill ripped the bastard a new asshole, except…when she thought about it, even that wasn’t good enough. Okay, so revised wish: she hoped Eve and Bill ripped the bastard’s whole freakin’ head off…

“Y-you’re proving my point, are you not, Mr. R-Reichert?” Edens asked, but the fact that he stumbled over his words ruined any hope he had of maintaining his superior air. It didn’t however, stop his smile. It was thin and sharp as a knife’s edge and made Delilah’s skin crawl. “And if you’re not careful, you’re going to make me mad. Believe me,” his smile transformed into an ugly sneer, “you won’t like me when I’m mad.”

Bill laughed, actually laughed, and Delilah had to give him points for being able to find any humor in this god-awful situation. “For the record, Patrick,” he taunted, and Delilah had never seen Bill look anything but composed. But right now? Well, right now he looked like he was moments away from shoving Patrick Edens’s teeth down his throat. “I don’t like you, period, angry or not. But come on. Give me your best Hulk impression. I dare you.”

“Wh-hat are you talking about?” Patrick Eden’s blustered. “I’m not familiar with your ghetto, street lingo and—”

“Oh, cut the crap!” Delilah couldn’t stand it anymore. “Did you send those gangbangers to kill your daughter or not?”

“Of course not!” Patrick Edens shouted right back, proving he wasn’t such a hoity- toity, keep-my-cool-under-any-pressure kind of guy after all. “Why would I do that?”

Before Delilah could utter another word, the elevator doors opened behind them with that melodic ding-dong, and a man who belonged in the centerfold of a women’s magazine strolled into the opulent foyer. He was over six feet of blond-haired, blue-eyed, well-dressed, homina-homina-handsome, but something about the way he carried himself made Delilah’s hackles twang to life.

“Uh-oh,” Mac muttered.

“What?” she asked, turning to frown up at him.

“This just turned into a traditional backwoods goatfuck.”

“Huh?” She lifted a brow, watching as the new arrival hesitated before advancing farther into the room. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mac murmured so far beneath his breath it was hard to hear, “that if I’m not mistaken, that’s Eve’s ex-husband.”

“Um, hello, everyone,” Mr. Universe/Eve’s ex-husband addressed the group before focusing on Eve. “Jesus, Eve, what in the world happened to you?” His demeanor actually appeared concerned, and that was the first time Delilah had seen that particular expression on an ex-husband’s face in regard to an ex-wife.

“I was attacked at a bar,” Eve said, her expression loudly broadcasting her dislike of the man.

Ah, now that’s more like it.

“How awful for you!” Mr. Universe cried, stepping toward her.

“Don’t you lay on hand on me, Blake,” Eve warned, glowering.

“Why, Eve,” the man looked genuinely shocked, “what’s gotten into you?”

Before Eve could answer, Patrick Edens spoke up. “Sorry, I didn’t call you back and cancel, Blake,” he said. “This,” he waved a dismissive hand at the group, “just showed up on my doorstep.”

“That’s quite all right,” Mr. Universe…er…Blake said. “I actually postponed other plans when you initially called to tell me Eve’d bailed on you. It’ll be a snap to reinstate them and—”

“What the hell are you two doing together?” Eve interrupted, staring daggers first at one man, then the other, her color so high Delilah worried the poor woman might just stroke out.

“We went in on a mutual business endeavor a few years back,” Edens answered. “There’ve been some recent developments we need to discuss. And when you canceled on me, I thought it was as good a time as any to call Blake over for a meeting.”

“A mutual business endeavor, huh?” Eve rolled in her lips, nodding her head. But it was obvious even before she said, “Between my father and my ex-husband; why am I not surprised?” that the association between the two men bothered her.

“This, uh, this appears to be a family affair.” Blake raised his hands. “And since I’m no longer officially part of the family, I…I think I’ll just show myself out.” He turned to leave but hesitated, glancing over his shoulder once more. “I really am sorry to hear about what happened to you, Eve” he murmured, then added, “but what can you expect from hanging out in biker bars?”

And what was that? The party line for snobby rich folks or something? And just when Delilah was about to bust out, this time for real, with oh no you didn’t, a thought occurred to her. “Wait a damn minute,” she declared. “How did you know she was attacked in a biker bar? She never said it was a biker bar.”

“Because Patrick told me where she’d decided to spend her evening when he called to invite me over,” the man said.

Oh, hell. Mac was right. This was a traditional backwoods goatfuck…

Chapter Fifteen

“You!” Eve screamed, jumping toward Blake with her hands curled into fists, her mind burning with so much rage she could barely see beyond the red haze clouding her vision. Of course, that red haze didn’t affect her ears,