Oak, Sophie - Siren in Waiting [Texas Sirens 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (17 page)

He pulled her head up so their eyes met again. This time there was a grave look in his. He stared at her for a moment. “I’ll help you, then. You just tell me what to do.”

A rush of pleasure crashed over her. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. But I have a few rules.”

He always had rules. He seemed to need them. That didn’t mean she had to follow them, but she would listen politely. “Yes?”

“Don’t do anything dangerous. This house really is falling apart. I don’t want you on the roof. I don’t want you lifting anything too heavy. And don’t go into the downstairs office.”

“Why?”

He grimaced. “I’m pretty sure the damn thing could be made into a wildlife preserve. We need to call animal control before you clean out that room. There was a reason you got it so cheap.”

His rules seemed perfectly reasonable to her. She’d been afraid he was going to throw down a dictate that required her to be naked while painting and refinishing. “All right.”

He kissed her again. “Can you make some coffee while I’m in the shower? I couldn’t find any downstairs.”

“Oh, that’s because I don’t have any.”

He groaned. “Baby, coffee is all I have left. We have to get you a coffeemaker.”

“I’ll pick one up when I go into town.” She would have to remember to put the basket on her bike. It looked like she was going to the store. She glanced down and saw the phone. “Oh, you had a call last night. I forgot.”

He grimaced. “Was it from a man named Marty?”

She nodded. “Yes. I would tell you what he said, but it was mostly a bunch of letters.”

“Yeah, Marty’s big on acronyms. Don’t worry about it. He’s not important. I won’t be seeing him. And you got a call, too. It came in after you went to bed. Your phone didn’t recognize the number, so I didn’t mention it. It was after midnight. Probably a wrong number. I’ll go heat up the shower. You do have hot water?”

“I hope so.” She wasn’t exactly sure.

Trev growled again. He seemed to believe it was a perfectly acceptable form of communication. Mouse heard the water creak to life and picked up her cell. She didn’t recognize the number, either, but there was a voice mail message. She sat on the bed, surprisingly comfortable with being naked, and listened.

Bo. His voice came over the line. There was no way to mistake the anxiety in his tone.

“It’s me. I’m in a little trouble. I’m in jail and I really need for you to come down here and pick me up. I know you don’t like to drive, but I’m begging you, baby. Please come get me. I want to talk to you. I have a lot to say. And I went to jail, not Clarissa’s. Jail. No sex in jail. At least I hope not. Don’t leave me too long. I’ll be waiting.”

Bo was in jail. He was in jail. And he’d been there all night. She quickly dialed the sheriff’s department. A feminine voice answered.

“County Sheriff’s Department. If this is an emergency, please call 9-1-1 because I don’t deal well with stress. And if you’re calling about a ticket, there’s nothing I can do. Take it up with the judge. I don’t get paid enough to listen to you complain.”

As receptionists went, Wanda wasn’t known for her friendly demeanor on the phone with strangers, but she’d been with the county forever.

“Wanda, it’s me, Mouse Hobbes.”

There was a surprised gasp, and then Wanda’s voice went down a notch or two. “Good for you, Mouse. That boy needed a night in jail, if you know what I mean. It’ll teach him to go to bars. We can hold his ass for another twenty-four hours or so if you’d like.”

“No, no. I don’t want him to sit in jail. I didn’t know he was there.”

“Hon, just admit it. There’s no shame in a little bit of revenge. That boy has had you panting all over him for years. I would have left his ass in jail, too.”

“No, it’s not about that. I have a boyfriend.” That wasn’t exactly the term Trev would want, but she wasn’t about to call him her Master to one of the biggest gossips in town.

There was a long pause. “Holy hell, Mouse. Clarissa has been spreading the rumor that you done gone and took up with Trev McNamara. Tell me it isn’t true. Hon, that man is bad news. I mean, he’s gorgeous, but he’s bad news. And from what I’ve heard, he’s not really into foreplay.”

“That’s blatantly untrue, Wanda. He’s very much into foreplay.” She couldn’t let that rumor go.

“Really? He’s gorgeous and into foreplay? That never happens, Mouse.”

“Well, it’s true with Trev. Now, tell me how much it’s going to cost me to get Bo out of jail.” She didn’t have time to gossip about her suddenly interesting personal life. Mouse heard Trev shout. Apparently she also didn’t have a whole bunch of hot water. She mentally added a water heater to her ever-growing list of things she needed to shell out money for. She really needed that loan.

“No charge, hon. Bo’s just a dumb-ass. The sheriff told me to let him go as soon as you showed up. Having to sleep close to Brian Nixon’s drunk ass was apparently punishment enough. Just come pick him up.”

“I’ll be there soon.” Mouse flipped the phone closed.

She sat down on the bed, her mind whirling. Bo had called for her, and she’d been too busy with Trev to answer the phone.

Mouse hurried to get dressed. Trev might not like how his morning was starting, but she was going to ask for a favor.

“Goddamn, that’s cold.” Trev’s shout resounded through the room.

Yeah, she was going to have to fix that.

Chapter Eight

Bo hadn’t slept a wink. His every muscle felt abused from sitting on the floor of the jail cell with cold metal pressed to his back. His skull felt like it was going to cave in. But that was nothing compared to the nausea in his gut.

Mouse hadn’t come.

He’d played checkers for hours, letting the sheriff win game after game. All the while, he’d been sure that any minute Mouse would burst in the doors, all soft, feminine worry, and she would fuss over him. At four a.m., the sheriff had given up. He’d made Bo get back into the cell, and then he’d put his hat over his head and napped until his deputy had gotten in a few hours later.

Len Miller wasn’t as tolerant as the sheriff. He was an asshole who needed to make up for his teeny-tiny dick with a badge and a bad attitude.

And Deputy Len was friends with that dickwad Brian, who seemed to be waking up. Bo watched him with narrowed eyes. His big body shifted on the cot, and he burped a couple of times before sitting up.

“What the fuck?” Brian asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He immediately turned and vomited.

Bo’s stomach churned. How long before they let him call his brother? How long before Aidan figured out something was wrong? Bo was pretty damn sure everyone in town knew he was wasting away in jail, but Aidan rarely went to town, and he didn’t really talk to a lot of people about anything except business. Lexi had her head in her laptop most of the time. Lucas would just be getting in from Dallas. Maybe, if Lucas had to stop for gas, someone would mention it to him.

Otherwise, he was pretty sure he was stuck here until the sheriff got back. There was no way Deputy Len was going to let him go. He was enjoying the fact that Bo was in jail.

“You’re the reason I’m here, ain’t you?” Brian looked like his beauty rest hadn’t put him in a better mood.

“I ain’t. You’re the reason we’re here because you’re an asshole.” Brian had about seventy pounds on Bo, but Bo was through backing down. “And if you ever mention her name again, I’ll kill you.”

There was a chuckle from the deputy’s desk. “Now that sounded like a threat, O’Malley.”

“It wasn’t. It was a promise.” Mouse might not have shown up, but maybe he deserved that after the way he’d treated her yesterday. He would eventually get out of jail, and he’d show up on her doorstep—if it would hold his weight. He would show up, and he would get on his goddamn knees if he had to.

He loved her. It was right there in the center of his body, an odd sensation that warmed him. Even though he was sitting in jail, he was okay because he was finally going to make things right with Mouse.

“I don’t think I like the way you’re talking to me, O’Malley. You know, you used to be a good guy until you started hanging with the fags.” Brian’s fists curled in his hands.

And he was going to stop listening to that shit, too. He heard it all the time, and he just took it. He was sick of taking it. His blood was starting to boil. He’d put up with it for far too long. “You talk a lot about fags, Brian. You know, I read somewhere that most prejudice comes from ignorance. That just might be true because you’re the most ignorant person I know. Now stop talking about my family, and we can avoid another fight where I set you on your ass.”

“You didn’t set me on my ass, you motherfucker.” Brian managed to get to his feet.

Bo struggled to his. He could hear Wanda in the background. She was on the phone giving better play-by-play than an ESPN color announcer.

“They’re going to fight right there in that jail cell, Patty. Bo just called Brian a dummy. I know he is, but he doesn’t like to be told that.” Wanda kept it up.

Bo looked out at the deputy. Brian might have weight on him, but he was also hungover. Bo was just tired, but his adrenaline was starting to flow. He clenched his fists. “Are you going to stop this?”

Deputy Len stood up. He walked around to the bars, nightstick in hand. There was a malicious little smile on his weaselly face. He walked around to the front of the cage to where Brian held on. He shoved the nightstick through the bars, and for one moment, Bo was terrified the deputy was going to start in on Brian with the weapon.

Nope. It was worse. Bo shrank back, and Len handed Brian the weapon.

“Oops, I must have lost my hold,” Len said with a sigh. “I hate it when prisoners get the upper hand, don’t you, O’Malley?”

Brian clutched the evil-looking stick in his hand. Len leaned against the cell bars and yawned as though all of this was simply boring to him.

Wanda stood up at her desk. “What are you doing, Leonard?”

The deputy shrugged. “Well, I was trying to stop the prisoners from fighting. I dropped my nightstick. I guess I’ll have to go get the Taser.”

Bo had no doubt who he would use that Taser on. This was going to get really ugly.

Brian wasted no time. He charged across the small cell, nightstick raised. Bo barely managed to avoid the swing of Brian’s meaty arm. He ducked and rolled to the other side of the cell as the sound of wood striking metal clanged through the building.

God, that would have been his head. Bo looked for anything to defend himself with. There was nothing in the cell but a toilet and the cot, both bolted down.

He was fucked.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Mouse roared into the room. She practically threw herself against the bars, her arms coming through them as though she could catch the bigger man and keep him away from Bo.

“Mouse, you get back.” Bo wasn’t about to let that asshole get his hands on her.

“Lookee here, O’Malley. You got a mouse coming to your rescue.” Len hadn’t moved from his position. “Ain’t that lucky for you?”

“Do something,” Mouse demanded, looking at the deputy. “He’s going to kill Bo.”

Len sighed. “I’ll go get the Taser. It might take me a minute or two to find it.”

“I suggest you find it sooner, Deputy. You now have witnesses to your improper use of police force. I assure you, if Mr. O’Malley comes out of this experience with a single scratch on him, you will be looking at a police brutality charge.”