Free The Bastard by Inez Kelley Page A

lips blue.
    “The sister asked me to tell the creepy guy across the street to leave. This is your idea of low profile?”
    “No, this is my idea of scoping out a hot set of boobs. That sister is stacked. She called me creepy?” Night wind played with Dray’s long hair. “Bitch.”
    “Just be a little more discreet, okay?” Vike turned toward his truck, digging his keys from his pocket.
    “Hey, Viking,” Dray laughed. “Next time you play tonsil hockey with the Cake, might want to be a little more discreet and close the curtains.”
    Vike gunned the engine and flipped him off.

 
     
     
    Chapter Five
     
     
    “Peasants.” Dark sunglasses hid Rex’s eyes, but nothing could hide the disgusted set to his mouth. “I’m surrounded by peasants.”
    “It’s a country fair. They haven’t changed in ages, get over it,” Vike grumped.
    Despite the gaiety around him, he was in a bad mood. Yesterday had been easy. Lacy was sore enough to be content indoors with him. They’d watched stupid movies, played some idiotic video game and exchanged a thousand and one kisses. But she couldn’t be penned up any longer. She’d insisted that as long as he was there to guard her, she felt well enough and owed the Children’s Home her volunteer hours for their annual fundraising fair.
    He’d tried his best to get Lacy to stay home. He’d brought her breakfast from a local sandwich shop. He’d kissed and nuzzled and petted her, trying to change her mind. He’d faked interest in a football game and asked her to watch with him. Nothing worked.
    He should have slapped her silly and locked her ass in the house. But he couldn’t do that while pretending to be charming . Charming sucked dick. Charming could get her killed.
    Stubborn wench. Lacy had no damn business trying to have a damn normal life when her Holy soul was in damn jeopardy. Of course, he couldn’t damn well tell her that so here he stood, in the middle of a damn country fair pretending they were on a damn date.
    Damn.
    Autumn sunshine and crisp mountain air carried the scent of apple butter bubbling in huge metal cauldrons over open fires. The early-week fair crowd was thick, but would grow thicker later in the week. The shaded overhang of the concessions booth she ran couldn’t hide the bruises any more than the makeup she’d put on this morning. Her dedication to the Children’s Home was one thing, but she was risking her eternal soul and didn’t even know it. He wanted to whisk her away, keep her away from things that went hiss .
    “What the hell is that God-awful racket? It sounds like a cat with its balls in a vice.”
    Vike paused, listening. “Rascal Flatts and I like it, shut up.”
    “Vikings, the rednecks of the ancient world.”
    “And the Romans wore dresses.”
    “Easier to get naked,” Rex laughed.
    It wasn’t hard to imagine Rex draped in richly colored robes trimmed in gold. The ancient Romans had been known for their decadence. Even now, he carried himself like royalty. Everyone else wore jeans and tee shirts, flannels or sweatshirts. Not Rex. His pleated pants and cashmere sweater screamed a social status far above the rest. The loafers on his feet cost more than many people made in a month.
    Vike fought a grin. With those shoes, Rex had better stay away from the livestock sale. But his pretty-boy look was deceiving. He’d spilled more blood than a drunk surgeon with his pugio . The long, sloping Roman dagger sliced like a razor and stabbed like a sword.
    “Where’s the Cake?”
    “Her name’s Lacy.” Irritation dropped Vike’s voice low. A dozen people, mostly men, mingled around the Car Show, too many ears that could overhear, but it gave him the best vantage point to guard Lacy. Vike leaned on the split rail fencing around the grassy lot designated for the automobiles.
    With a flick of his gold lighter, cigarette smoke wafted above Rex’s golden head. The smoke kept people away, a barrier that afforded them a little privacy