She tipped her head to the side. “But…” she trailed off.
“Keep your money.” I was far more interested in the other thing she had offered me, except I wasn’t going to take her until she wanted me to. I was a savage, but I wasn’t an asshole. “I’ll collect on the other part of your offer later.”
Her face fell, and I think she expected me to take her right then and there. “Oh, okay.”
I scrubbed my hands down my face and resisted the urge to wipe the frown off her face with a kiss to seal the deal. I held my hand out to her. “Shake on it.”
She looked at my hand. “Shake?”
Yeah, she totally thought I was going to take my part of the deal right then and there. “Yeah, darlin’.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s Raelyn.”
I shook my head. “I know. Remember, you told me about five times when we first met.”
She rolled her eyes and put her hand in mine. “I’d like to never be reminded of our first meeting. Can we add that into the deal?”
I gently squeezed her small hand and shook it. “Adding to the deal after we agreed on it?” I chuckled.
She watched our hands clasped together. “It’s a small adjustment.”
“I might need something more from you, then.”
Her eyes darted up to mine. “Like?”
I shrugged. “You’ll find out eventually.”
“That doesn’t exactly seem fair,” she retorted.
“You just made a deal with a Royal Bastard, darlin’. Do you really think we got our name for being fair?”
She tried to yank her hand from mine, but I squeezed it tighter and tugged her to me. “Playboy,” she gasped.
I leaned toward her and pulled her hand to my chest. “Know one thing, darlin’. I get to do whatever I want to you, but you’re going to be wanting it just as much as I am.”
A gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes widened.
She wanted me.
Raelyn was something I never had before.
She was the type of girl who would never look my way, but I had her where I wanted her, and you could bet your ass I was going to take everything I craved.
Find her sister and then make Raelyn mine.
*
Chapter Four
Raelyn
Was this what I wanted?
“Wanna go out for drinks?”
I shut down my computer and looked up at Leona. “It’s Monday.”
“Uh, that’s a pretty damn good reason to go get a drink,” she laughed. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who was ready to throw the phone through the window when the shipment of lumber was delayed four days to the building site.”
That was the damn truth. Most of the time, my job was pretty mindless and easy, but when delayed shipments happened, they were a wrench in a normally well-oiled machine. “I think I’m just gonna head home.”
It had been almost a week since I had last heard from Billie Jean, and it was weighing heavily on me that something horrible had happened to her.
Playboy had taken my number after we shook hands and then sent me on my way. He promised he would call me if he found out anything, but so far, nothing from him. I had been a dumbass and not taken his number so I was basically sitting around waiting for any news from him. I could always go to the clubhouse and try to find him again, but I wasn’t going to. At least, not yet.
“Come one, Raelyn,” Leona whined. “We’re two sexy women who need to get out and have a drink.”
“Speak for yourself,” I laughed. “I’m far from sexy, and all I want to do is go home, slip my shoes off, and eat half a frozen pizza.” Hell, who was I kidding? I was totally going to eat the whole damn thing. “Raincheck on the drink.” I was also going to worry myself sick waiting to hear from Playboy.
“Fine,” Leona grumbled. “But I’m holding you to that raincheck, though.”
I grabbed my purse and stood. I hitched it over my shoulder and grabbed my keys off the desk. “Next Monday. You and me.”
Hopefully by then, Billie Jean would be back home, and everything would go back to normal.
Two minutes later, I was in my car and headed home. I stopped by the local pizza place for a large pie after I decided to splurge and get a fresh pizza instead of frozen.
My mind was on Billie Jean when I turned onto my street, and I almost crapped myself when my driveway came into view and Playboy was sitting on his bike in front of my house. My heart leapt, and I couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or not. Maybe he had found Billie Jean and he had brought her home. Maybe he had found Billie Jean but she was dead.
I shook my head. No, I can’t think like that. I pulled into my driveway and kept my eye on my rearview mirror.
Playboy sat on his bike, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and his eyes were on my car.
Smoking was gross, and I hated the smell of it.
Except when Playboy did it. Granted, I still hated the smell of it, but there was something mesmerizing about it when it was that man. I watched him while he finished the cigarette and then he tossed it on the ground. He threw his leg over the bike and stood. He started up the driveway, and I finally got into motion.
I grabbed my purse from the passenger side seat and pushed open my door.
Playboy was walking up my driveway, and my heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest. He could be approaching to give me horrible news about Billie Jean, but I couldn’t help but feel excited to see him again.
I slipped out of the car and turned toward him. “Uh, hey there,” I called. I hitched my purse over my shoulder and tried not to cringe after my lame hello.
“Darlin’,” he rumbled.
I still wasn’t a fan of being called darlin’, even though it sounded so smooth rolling off his tongue. “I, uh, didn’t know you were coming by.”
Obviously. I really needed to just keep my mouth shut and let Playboy take the lead. He was the one who had shown up at my house, so he could be the one to do the talking. I had been ready to veg out in front of the TV and eat a whole pizza.
Playboy stopped in front of me, and his eyes traveled over my body. “Thought I would come by. Talk.”
I nodded dumbly. Talk about my sister being dead in a ditch or talk about the fact he had found her? “We can do that.” I nodded to the backseat. “I grabbed a pizza on the way home. You like pizza?”
Ugh. I asked Playboy if he liked pizza as if he was a three-year-old. Kill. Me. Now.
A smirk spread across his lips. “I’m a single guy who doesn’t cook. Yeah, I like pizza.” He looked in the back seat. “And I especially like Dough’s Pizza.”
He would have to be dead to not like Dough’s. It was the best pizza within two hundred miles.
He opened the backdoor of the car and grabbed the box of pizza. “Breadsticks?” he asked as he held up the white bag that had a huge grease spot on it.
“Can’t have pizza without breadsticks,” I mumbled. That was a hard rule I lived by. If you were going to splurge and have pizza, you might as well as go all the way and get the breadsticks, too. I closed my door and headed toward the house. “Follow me,” I called.
I didn’t look over my shoulder, but I could feel Playboy following me closely.