Free Iron Cross: The Dartmouth Cobras #6 by Bianca Sommerland Page B

Tyler, but not without putting himself out there at least a little. She could respect that. “If you do a scene with Tyler again, it won’t be a punishment. We’ll talk, okay?”
    “I would like that.” The hint of Raif’s soothing Croatian accent made Chicklet feel like she’d just laid out on a massage bed to have big, strong hands relax her entire being. His lips were close to hers, and then he kissed her, a soft, chaste kiss that promised so much more. That voice and his hot breath did unforgiveable things to her. No man made her knees go weak. But his next words did. “And I will be ready to do exactly what it takes to have you, Chicklet.” He kissed her cheek, and whispered, “I’ll be ready to beg.”
     

Chapter Four
     
    T his had to be the nicest garage in the world . Tyler walked around the four cars parked inside, two of Sebastian’s, Luke’s—and now Raif’s. Off to one side, there was a workshop type area with gleaming steel doors and a big wooden table with slabs of wood on it. There was sawdust all over the floor from the latest project Scott was doing for Ramos. Looked kinda like he was putting together a cage.
    A really big -ass cage. Jami’s not that big, so…
    Tyler glanced over at Luke, half asleep on one of the two brown leather La-Z-Boys in the sitting area, and decided he didn’t want to know. He laughed as Scott waved him over to the small bar just off the sitting area and slid onto the high, red stool.
    “Thought you wanted to catch up on the drinking before we got any more?” He held up the shot glass, throwing it back, expecting vodka. He nearly choked when the biting taste of pepper and pine trees filled his mouth. “What the fuck, Scott? This shit is nasty!”
    “It’s gin. You don’t like it?” Scott drained his own glass, then shuddered. “Ugh, yeah, don’t blame you.” He added his empty shot glass to the ones he’d lined up on the bar, all different colors of the drinks he’d decided to sample. “Someone told me the pricey stuff tasted better. They lie!”
    Luke snorted, a crooked smile on his lips as he stumbled from his chair, righting himself a second before Tyler had to grab him. “Don’t drink it straight, dumbass. Is pretty good if ya mix it.”
    Scott nodded, his expression grave. “Yeah, that makes sense. What do you want, Luke? A martini? Rich pets like martinis, right?”
    “Oh fuck off, Scott. Like you’re poor?” Luke scowled as he reached for the bottle of whiskey Scott had left on the bar, missing it completely his first try. “Quit moving.”
    He’s fucking plastered. Tyler grinned and decided to help Luke out. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and twisted the top off. Decided he was thirsty and took a few gulps before handing it to Luke. Rubbed his eyes with one hand as his vision blurred. “I don’t think any of us should be driving.”
    Scott blinked at Tyler, then laughed. “Are you nuts? None of us is getting behind the wheel of a car for …” He looked at his bare wrist. “Hey, what time is it?”
    Tyler had a phone. It was somewhere. But he was pretty sure he wasn’t gonna find it anytime soon. So he looked at the clock on the wall. Stupid thing had weird lines on it, but no numbers. What good was a clock without numbers?
    “It’s 2 …8.” Luke announced, squinting at his phone. “Not that late.”
    “That’s not a time,” Scott said, smiling with his lips against his shot glass. “Go home, Luke. You’re drunk.”
    Luke arched a brow and looked at the door leading into the house he shared with Ramos. “Done and done. And I gotta keep your hammered asses here now.”
    Scott sputtered his drink across the bar. “Hammered asses? Are you hitting on us, man?”
    The stool Tyler was sitting on didn’t seem quite stable as he leaned forward, holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard. He tried to climb up onto the nice, steady bar, but it was too high. And the stool wouldn’t stop tipping sideways. So he slid