Free Linc (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 3) by Lane Hart Page B

awake, even though it’s almost noon. He pulls the door open, but only a few inches. “ Fine, girly, I’ll take a box of thin mints and peanut butter patties if you’ll just leave me the hell alone,” Mason answers with a grin, pushing his messy, long on top, russet-colored hair out of his face. His golden-green eyes look groggy, but thankfully not bloodshot. Wearing only a pair of...ugh, blue boxer briefs, his thick, black tribal tattoos that start at his shoulder and come down to his hand are on full display. I swear my "little" brother grows a few inches every time I see him. He's huge, well over six feet tall now and probably close to two hundred pounds. I assume he gets the height from his father, since we had different dads.  
    “You better not answer the door for girl scouts dressed like that,” I warn him.
    “Of course not, sis. I only answer the door dressed like this for those old lady, religious nuts. You know, Jehovah’s whatevers.”
    “Please tell me you didn’t,” I groan at the mental image. 
    He chuckles in response. “Sure did. She shouted, ‘ Jesus Christ, ’ slapped a wrinkly hand to her chest, and then asked if she could anoint my body.”
    “You are so going to hell,” I tell him with an amused smile, shaking my head in disapproval.
    “Nuh-uh,” he mutters like a three-year-old child. “She told me there’s no such thing, so ha! I can do whatever I like ,” he croons the alternate lyrics to T.I.'s rap song. The boy has a lyrical response for every freaking thing, and if there's not one, he'll make up his own using a catchy tune. It's probably my and Mandy’s fault for raising him on the local radio station, 102 JAMZ. Without cable or Internet, the radio was pretty much our only source of entertainment, and the two of us always liked something with a hot beat to dance to. Even though my best moves resembled a robot having seizures, Mandy could shake everything our mother gave her in ways that made all teenage boys within a ten-mile radius pant.  
    I roll my eyes in exasperation at my brother, because he's left me standing on his porch. “So are you gonna let me in or what?” I ask in a huff, glancing past his shoulder into the dark apartment.
    “No!" he exclaims, stepping forward to use his big body to block the gap. "I mean, you really don’t wanna walk in on…this. Take my word, sis.” He looks back into the apartment and then faces me again, rubbing a hand over his dark, shaggy jaw while flashing a wicked grin. At least there’s no swelling or black eyes on his handsome face today. “Sorry, but I've got company.”
    “Should’ve known,” I mutter with an eye roll. My brother, the ladies’ man. At least he doesn’t have any mini-Mason’s running around. Yet. That I know of. Shit. “Just promise me that you’re being…you know, safe .”
    “Don’t worry, sis. Believe it or not, I still remember the extremely awkward talk we had when I was fifteen.” He holds up his tattooed hand and starts counting out on his fingers. “Don’t go chasing any waterfalls. Stick to the rivers and the lakes I’m used to. Three letters took him to his final resting place. Ya’ll don’t hear me .” He closes his eyes and dances to the TLC tune obviously playing in his head, rolling his shoulders and hips with the three raised fingers in the air.
    “Right,” I snort, hoping he’s actually being responsible. “Anyway, I came by to ask you a favor.”
    “Sure. Whatcha need?” he asks, expression now serious and attentive. He may be a little...unhinged, but no matter how small or big, Mandy and I know we can always count on Mason when we need him.
    “Uh.” I glance down at the rolled up paper in my hands, and one last time, try to decide if I should deliver it myself, even though that would obviously be a stupid waste of time since I’m not who he thinks I am. If I tell Linc the truth, he'll be pissed that we conned him out of so much money. If I lie...God, I hate