Page 43 of Bitter’s Sweet

I watch until she disappears.

Mercy smacks me in the chest with her clipboard.

“You hit like a teacher.”

“You flirt like a lawsuit.”

“Was that flirting?”

“That was you wrapping barbed wire around concern and calling it club business.”

“It is club business.”

“Keep saying it. Maybe it’ll sound less pitiful the fourth time.”

“I’m not interested in that girl.”

Mercy’s eyebrows climb. “I didn’t ask.”

“I’m saying.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie to women.”

She looks at me like I have offended every dead woman in the building. “Bitter Adams, you lie to women every time you let them think being close to you won’t cut.”

“That ain’t my fault if they don’t listen.”

“Sweet listened.”

My mouth shuts.

Mercy nods once, satisfied she got blood. “That girl heard you say you only had sex to offer and told you no. That should’ve been the end of it for you.”

“It is.”

“Then why are you still standing in my hallway looking like somebody scratched your name on her car instead of a Reaper mark?”

I look toward the back door. Through the narrow window, I can see Sweet’s little blue car and the fresh ugly word cut into the paint.

OURS.

My chest goes hot again.

“Call Hyde.”

“Already planning to.”

“And don’t let her leave without me.”

“You don’t get to order me around either.”

“Fine. Strongly suggest to yourself that you don’t let her leave without me.”

Her mouth twitches. “Better.”

“It’s still club business.”