And Landry?
It’s as though she and her little sister are ghosts who don’t exist. There are photos of Alexander, Evie, and Landry when she was younger, but then they cease to be for the past six years or so.
She’s definitely being protected by that daddy of hers.
Why?
My dick stirs at the reminder of our encounters today. I fucking know why. The press would eat her up. Sassy and smart and sexy as fuck. Media outlets love their billionaire heiresses. They’re more than happy to follow them around, documenting every second of their lives.
In a way, I kind of respect the guy for protecting her against the pricks of the world. Unfortunately for the both of them, the worst pricks find their way in anyway.
Like me and my brothers.
We’re an infection, slowly spreading into the Croft world.
Alexander and his precious daughter are simply a door for us. An opening to damage our real opponent. Winston Constantine and the whole damn family. Our ex-stepsister, Ash, included.
I’m not obsessed like Scout is, so I don’t check in on Winston and Ash, but I’ve heard him rant enough to know the current status. They’re happily in love and living the billionaire dream.
Scout wants nothing more than to destroy that man.
Winston is untouchable, though. We learned that the hard way. His family, however, are not.
Retraining my thoughts, I dive back in on my hunt for more Croft shit that might be juicy or useful. So far, everything is squeaky clean. We’ll just have to get the nitty gritty from Landry herself.
My dick twitches again.
I’m willing to do whatever is necessary. Getting that mouthy girl naked and beneath me sounds like less of a hardship and more of a job perk—one I’d be really, really good at. Lost in my fantasy, I barely notice when Sully walks in through the door. It’s the strange, unhuman sound that emanates from him that has me darting my gaze his way.
“Heathen, meet Sparrow. Sparrow, this is Heathen.” Sully is scowling and there’s a cat clinging to his chest, hanging by its claws, and angrily lashing its tail. Blood dots his flesh up and down his forearms.
“You have a cat?” I arch a brow, unable to bite back a laugh. “What the fuck?”
“We have a cat.” Sully’s jaw clenches and he gestures at the growling creature. “And we’re going to give her a bath.”
“Nope.” I give him a sharp shake of my head. “Hell no.”
“I wasn’t asking, dickwad. I can’t do this by myself. This cat is an asshole.”
“Then why’d you get it?”
Ignoring me, he storms off down the hall. I rise to my feet, unable to stay away despite my words, and follow him into his bedroom. It’s more fun to watch your brother suffer than to imagine it. I peek my head in his bathroom to find him struggling to pluck the cat from his shirt while the water in the tub fills.
“Seriously, man. Why’d you bring home a cat?” I grip the top of the doorframe and lean in. “Since when do you like cats?”
“Since never,” he grumbles. “The kid likes cats.”
The kid?
“Landry?”
He scoffs. “No. Her little sister. It’s my job to get in good on that front. Spy and whatever. Remember?”
“She’s fucking hot, isn’t she?”
“Kind of a bitch if you ask me.” He manages to free the cat from his shirt, but it claws the shit out of his arm in the process. “Jesus, Heathen, calm your tits. I’m trying to wash this filth off your scrawny ass.”
Feeling sorry for my brother, I take pity on him and sidle up next to him. That cat is going to flip its shit the second its paws hit the water. It’ll definitely take the two of us.
“Landry is a total bitch,” I say, grinning. “But it’s kind of her best quality.”
“Her lips are her best quality,” Sully argues, not missing a beat. “I’ll hold Heathen down. You wash her. Watch your fingers. She’ll probably bite them the fuck off as payback.”
I grab the shampoo bottle, readying myself as he lowers the cat into the warm water. It lets loose a howl straight from a fucking nightmare. Creepy-ass cat. “Lips, huh? You’re such a bleeding heart, man.”
“Dick sucking lips,” Sully throws back. “You know what I mean.”
“You act like I don’t know you, Sull. It’s okay. You think she’s pretty.”
“Does it matter what I think?” He dunks the cat, earning more claw marks down his forearms and his subsequent cursing. “Shampoo.”
I squirt a lot on the disgusting cat. She needs like ten baths, not just one. “Did Landry suspect anything was up?”
“She was skeptical and wary.” He wrestles with Heathen when she tries to make her escape and manages to pin her. “Seriously. A little heads-up next time about this chick would be nice so I don’t fuck us over with one encounter.”
“She hates being called chick,” I supply with a chuckle.
“Really helpful, Sparrow. Super fucking helpful.”
He asked. Not my fault he doesn’t like my answers.
“She tried to stab me in the balls,” he mutters. “Like I said. Bitch.”
“The chick went after mine, too.” A grin steals across my face. “I thought I was going to lose one of my nads. Maybe both. It was touch and go there for a bit.”
Sully scowls at me. “This shit isn’t going to work. I don’t like it.”
Sometimes Sully can be such a baby. He doesn’t like when Bryant keeps us tethered to him. He doesn’t like when Bryant sends us on jobs. He doesn’t want this life. Yet, he’s still here. Bitching about it every damn day to make me crazy.
Heathen makes a break, slipping from Sully’s grasp. I manage to grab the dirty beast before she escapes the tub, but not before earning myself the sharp end of her claws down my forearms.
A lot of cursing and struggling ensues, but we finally manage to get the cat washed and somewhat dried in a towel. The next time she makes her escape, we let her go. She bolts out of the bathroom and disappears, meowing loudly and in a way that sounds like a kitty version of a “fuck you both.”
We take a few minutes in silence to clean up our scratches before heading back to the living room. I’m a little surprised to see Scout’s made it home. What’s more surprising is that he’s sprawled out on the sofa on his side with a damp, purring cat curled up against his chest, staring at the double-sided custom quartz fireplace that’s lit and flickering despite the fact it’s like seventy degrees outside.
“Is that cat fucking purring?” Sully demands, slight outrage in his tone. “After I saved its damn life?”
Scout settles his palm on the bad cat’s back and strokes his fingers through its wet fur. The purring grows louder. “The cat is fucking purring,” Scout says in a mocking tone. “Don’t be mad, little bro.”
Sully’s not little and the same age as Scout, but his words always hit their intended mark, successfully rankling him. He flips Scout off before throwing himself into a recliner. His scowl is comical to me, reminding me of when we were little and he wouldn’t get his way.
Fuckin’ baby.
“You two look like twins,” Scout unhelpfully points out, darting his gaze between me and Sully’s matching outfits.