Page 51 of Hurricane Love

“Why the fuck are you in my kitchen?” Frank demanded, letting his temper fly.

Brian’s murderous gaze swung toward Frank, who stood withhis arms crossed, shoulder-to-shoulder with Diego. “Where is she?” Brian asked, no less nastily than before.

“Fuck if I know, but you’re trespassing. Now get the fuck off my property, dickhead.”

Brian must have decided that the two of them were more trouble than it was worth because he shot one last glare at Diego, and said to him, “That prick looks down on people like us. Just like Hannah, thinking her shit don’t stink. They’re probably talking shit about you right now. Poisonous cunts, the both of them.”

“And you’re banned,” Frank said. “If I see your face here again, I’m having you arrested. And Iwillpress charges.”

Brian turned and stalked out of the kitchen, shooting them a bird on his way out, then continued through the dining room, practically knocking over an elderly couple as he blasted his way out the front door.

“What an asshole,” Frank said. “Where’s Hannah?”

“That asshole beat her up,” Diego said and gestured to where Brian had stormed out. “Wylie came and picked her up. We got her shift covered.”

“Damnit. You have my permission to beat that kid’s ass if he comes in here again.”

“Can’t. I’m on probation.”

“Then call me over and I’ll do it.” Frank swung his arms as if limbering up. His uncle didn’t make idle threats.

“You got it. Thanks for the backup.”

“Anytime,” Frank said and slapped his back. “Now, get your ass back to work. That meat isn’t going to slice itself.”

“Heard.”

Diego finished out the rest of his shift with one eye toward the door in case Wylie or Hannah stopped by, checking his phone regularly in hopes of a text or phone call. Wylie was probably busy and had simply forgotten. There was nothing more to read into it, right?

Right?

Later that night Diego still hadn’t heard from Wylie, so he decided to man up and text him. Not once, but three times over the course of an hour.

How’s it going?

Want to talk?

Anything I can do?

He kept an eye on his phone but there was nothing, not even the three dots that said Wylie was considering what to say. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Diego went to bed without a response. Rather than bother with texting him the next morning, Diego picked up his phone and called. He wanted to hear Wylie’s voice, just to know that he was okay. The last thing he’d wanted was to hurt him. And why didn’t Wylie get it? He was going places while Diego was an ex-con on probation and severely limited by his poor choices in life. He didn’t want his past fuck-ups to affect Wylie’s future. It was just that simple.

“Good morning,” Diego said when Wylie answered. “How’s it going over there?”

“Could be worse,” Wylie said in his raspy morning voice. Diego imagined Wylie lying there on the couch, definitely shirtless, probably wearing those damn sweat pants with the outline of his big dick pressed up against the soft material. Every time Diego saw those pants, he wanted to drop down on his knees and mouth the man’s junk right through the fabric. Was he hard right now?

“How’s Hannah?” Diego asked, trying to get this mind out of the gutter.

“She’s…not great, but she’s here with me. No sign of Fuckface yet. We got a restraining order against him. We’ll see if that’s enough to keep him away. I’ve got my ex-military neighbor on watch if not.”

“That’s good. He came by the pit yesterday looking for her and Kayla. Frank and I scared him off and told him not to come back.”

“Did he say anything?” Wylie asked.

Diego wasn’t going to get into all the homophobic shit Brianhad spewed, or the fact that some of it had stung because it spoke to Diego’s own insecurities, the part about Wylie being too good for him at least.

“Not much. He was drunk off his ass. He asked for Hannah, and I didn’t let it get much further than that,” Diego said.

“Was Frank upset? I know he doesn’t like any drama at the pit,” Wylie said.