Chapter 6 Brutus
brUTUS
Watching King muscle his way through the men in the storage shed after the meeting didn’t shock me one bit. He didn’t even cast a look in his sister’s direction, who openly stood next to me at that point.
All he did was storm out the shed door and make a beeline for the safehouse.
“Well, we all know where he’s going,” Anna muttered beside me.
One by one, the men filtered out of the meeting place that had become more of a sauna than anything else.
The sun gave us one last battering before fall descended, and the shed absorbed all of the heat like a goddamn sauna.
Some of the guys shot looks at Anna, and for some reason, I wanted to claw their fucking eyes out.
But she just stood there at my side.
Arms folded over her chest.
Staring right back at them.
Fucking hell, the woman was a firework ready to explode.
When everyone was out of the shed, I looked over at my president. Cap stood there, watching the two of us. I nodded at him. His eyes bounced in between me and Anna before he nodded. And when I was satisfied that no one else was in the shed other than the three of us, I cleared my throat.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” I said as I started for the exit.
“Sounds good,” Cap said as he turned his back and stared out the one measly little window that the shed afforded.
Part of me wanted to ask what the fuck he was looking at, but part of me wondered if Ariel was hanging around somewhere. If there was anything I learned about him and his woman, it was the fact that you had to be careful at any turn.
Cap really loved fucking her against surfaces that weren’t in their room.
“What do you think we should do for dinner tonight?” Anna asked.
I didn’t even realize she followed me. “What?”
“Dinner,” she said as she fell in line beside me. “That thing we all eat at night that you cook. Got any ideas?”
My nostrils flared. She really knew how to get under my skin. “It’s technically King’s night to cook.”
“Says the man who already dedicated himself to the cause with his president back there.”
I shouldered into the safehouse. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You think my brother’s too preoccupied with that new girl?”
“I think it’s not my place to have an opinion.”
“Oh, you’re no fun.”
To be honest, I wasn’t sure whose night it was to cook. Marching into the kitchen sent me straight over to the fridge, and sure enough, Anna was right. It was King’s night to cook. And with the sun already setting, he was nowhere to be found.
Easy enough to fix.
I picked up the dry erase marker we used for the board of chores and crossed out King’s name for the evening.
I put mine in its place, and then erased my cooking schedule for Tuesday and placed King’s name there instead.
Four days’ time. That should be enough for him to pull his head out of his ass with this new girl.
But if my crew was any example as to what’s coming, things would only get worse between the two of them.
Wait, better.
I didn’t fucking know any longer. I just accepted it.
“So,” Anna said with a voice that was way too cheery, “where do we start?”
I peeked over at her and saw her rubbing her hands together as she walked over to the pantry.
She ripped the door open and stood there, and for a moment, I just watched her.
She was a short little shrimp with curves that didn’t seem to care about her height.
Her long, black hair contrasted with the icy blue eyes her and her brother shared with one another.
The neck tattoo she had slithering out from beneath the collar of her shirt made me stare for a moment.
I mean, I always knew it was there, but I’d never been able to figure out what in the hell it actually was.
Dinner, Brutus.
I cleared my throat and opened the fridge. “I’m thinking vegetable alfredo with some sort of bread or some shit for dinner. Don’t think we have any meat thawed out.”
“Fettuccini noodles, coming right now,” Anna said as she reached into the pantry.
I didn’t see her grab noodles, though. I watched her grab flour.
She came over to where I stood at the fridge and shooed me away, and I wasn’t sure what the fuck told me to do it, but I actually stepped away from the fridge.
An eyebrow cocked its way up my forehead as I watched her rummage around, that thick ass of hers jutting out of the fridge.
I looked up at the ceiling.
“There they are,” she muttered as she pulled out some eggs.
“You’re going to make noodles?” I asked.
She just shrugged and bumped the fridge closed with her hip. “Why not? We’ve got the time.”
“I’m sure there are noodles in—”
“Oh, shut up and start chopping.”
My nose twitched at her words.
I watched her for a moment. Studied the way she moved and did things.
Usually, she always tormented me in the kitchen with pickles or shoving her finger up my ass.
I wasn’t sure what in the hell kind of sick pleasure she got from that, but I guarded my asshole around her like crazy.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek, which was this thing that she did whenever she actually concentrated on something.
And as she scooped out flour onto the surface of the kitchen countertop, I realized she was serious.
The woman was actually going to make some fucking noodles herself.
I knew never to argue with Anna. When she put herself to task, it was best to just get out of her way. So I opened the fridge and bent down. I looked all around, shoving shit out of the way to get to the fresh vegetables that somehow were shoved toward the back of the refrigerator.
Fucking hell, if these things were ruined from being too cold…
I pulled out a sleeve of bell peppers and a bag of spinach. Some carrots and a bit of celery. We had an eggplant we didn’t chop into yet, so I grabbed that as well.
“You got the salt over there with you?” I asked.
“Yep,” Anna said as I heard her cracking an egg.
“Good,” I muttered as I reached for a few more vegetables that we had to eat up.
I pulled out a chopping block before tossing all of the vegetables onto the kitchen countertop next to Anna.
We stood there, side by side, while she used her hands to mix up the flour and egg concoction she created on the counter.
I pulled out a knife from the knife block, testing the blade on the eggplant to see how sharp it was.
And when I cut the eggplant into strips, I reached my hand out.
“Salt,” I said.
To which I got… the actual salt.
Instead of snark.
Instead of a finger wiggling up my asshole.
Instead of fucking pickle breath.
“There,” Anna said.
I slowly peered over at her. “That’s it?”
“Hmmm?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with Anna?”
“Sh, I’m concentrating.”
I rolled my eyes before I coated the strips of eggplant with salt.
“Gonna season it with anything else?” she asked.
“Not seasoning,” I said. “Eggplant is slimy when cooked if you don’t draw the moisture out.”
“Ooooooh. I didn’t know that about eggplant. Never had it.”
“Not a common vegetable to be had, but it’s good for you.”
“I know what else is good for me.”
I groaned. “If you say pickles—”
She cackled with delight, and I couldn’t help but allow the smallest smirk to cross my cheeks.
“So predictable,” I muttered.
“Tell that to your bootyhole.”
It puckered on instinct. “I hate you.”
She smiled over at me. “I hate you, too.”
I clocked her work out of the corner of my eye while I cut everything else up into strips. I used a vegetable peeler to strip down the carrot so that we didn’t get any hard chunks of the shit in the pasta dish. I julienned the peppers, diced up a couple of onions, and—
“Oh hell yeah,” Anna said.
I whipped my head toward her and found her ass poking out of the fridge again.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I looked at her working station.
I found a ball of dough sitting there wrapped in saran wrap.
“Did you know we’ve got bacon back here!?” she exclaimed as she moved her way out of the fridge.
She held up a package of bacon I missed.
“Huh,” I said.
She beamed with pride as she bumped the door closed with her hip. “I bet it would be great to pan fry those vegetables in bacon fat.”
I had to admit, the idea made my mouth water. So I nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Yessss,” she hissed as she tossed the package of bacon into the air and caught it. “I’ll save the grease back so you can use the same pan once I’m done.”
“Put the bacon in a Tupperware container when you’re done frying it off.”
She paused. “We aren’t putting it into the pasta? I thought it would be good in the pasta.”
I grinned as I went back to dealing with the vegetables. “When the bacon cools down enough to be crunchy, you shake the Tupperware container. Breaks it up without you having to use your hands.”
She didn’t answer me for a moment, so I peered back over at her only to find her gawking at me.
“What?” I asked.
“That’s fucking genius,” she said breathlessly.
I blinked. “What?”
“That bacon thing! Putting it into Tupperware and shaking it? How the fuck have I never thought of that? I hate breaking up fresh bacon with my hands. The slimy feeling is gross.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Glad I could help?”
“Eh, you’re useful sometimes. Now move. Need some tongs.”
I moved my hips back from the countertop as I leaned over and chopped up the rest of the vegetables. She reached in between my groin and the countertop, grabbing the knob of the drawer and pulling it open. I swear to fucking God, the knuckles on her hand just barely graced the zipper of my pants.
I felt the warmth through my goddamn black cargo pants.
“There we go,” she said as she pulled out a set of tongs and closed the drawer.
I damn near sagged with relief when her hand moved away.
I didn’t like the thoughts swirling through my head.
Minutes later, bacon was frying in the kitchen and filling it with a heavenly scent.
Apparently, someone picked up some maple bacon, so I decided to add one last vegetable to the mix, which was a little bit of squash.
The sweet would cut through the saltiness of the dish well, and the squash would absorb any lingering bacon grease in the pasta dish itself so that the pasta wouldn’t wilt or get weird if we had to store leftovers.
We rarely stored leftovers when I cooked, though.
It was something that I carried around with pride.
I kept stealing glances over at her while she flipped the bacon in the pan.
Every once in a while, she pulled the pan off the stove and dumped the grease into a little foil dish she had made for herself.
I took a moment just to study her. The way she had to lift her elbows just to use the stove properly because she was so short.
The way she yipped a bit and dodged the popping hot grease.
The way she worried her lower lip with her tongue while dropping fresh bacon into the pan.
I moved before I had a chance to correct myself. “Here, you’ve got some…”
She whipped her head in my direction, sending that black hair of hers fluttering about her head. I reached my thumb out, moving slowly in case she swatted my hand away.
But she didn’t.
“What?” she asked. “I got something on my face?”
“Just a bit of grease,” I said as my thumb ventured closer.
She simply stood there, though.
Watching me.
Like she waited.
My thumb slid along her cheek, carrying with it the small dollop of grease that splattered onto her tan skin.
She had a beautiful complexion.
So soft.
I cleared my throat and turned my attention to the strips of eggplant. I wiped my hand off on my pants. “Just gotta blot these off, and then I’ll be ready for that pan.”
“Yeah, yeah. Right. Just got a few more strips to fry off.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get a pot boiling with some salt in it.”
“Salt it like the ocean. Three times what you’d normally put in it for boxed noodles.”
I wasn’t sure when the hell I started taking orders from her, but I simply nodded. “Fifteen cups of salt, coming up.”
“Fucking hell, Bee, we’re not trying to stop everyone’s heart tonight, my guy. I just didn’t put salt in the noodles when I made them. That’s all.”
I grinned as I pulled a pot out from the drawer. “I’ll salt it until the water’s murky. Fresh noodles don’t cook long, right?”
She nodded her head. “Right. I’ll roll out the dough and shape it up while you’re dealing with the veggies and sauce, and then all I’ll have to do is drop them into the boiling water for two minutes.”
Working alongside her in the kitchen was much more comfortable than I wanted to admit.
Hell, if I knew she had skills in the kitchen, I would have enlisted her services sooner.
She had a way about her that screamed grace despite the fact that she walked with a heavy foot just like her brother did.
She whirled around the kitchen like she owned the fucking place, and I had a hard time not staring.
But before I knew it, we dumped everything together, swirling it around in the homemade alfredo sauce I whipped up, and pulling out drinks from the fridge.
“Dinner’s readyyyyyy!” Anna bellowed through the safehouse.
Before the sound of rushing footsteps engaged in our direction.