Deeds (Broken Deeds #1) by Esther E. Schmidt

it, fucking facts of life. Now, answer me. What the hell are you doing?”
    Her eyes turn into tiny slits. “If you expect an answer after calling a part of me cunt, you can think again.”
    Shit, that totally slipped out. Grinning down at her I turn my voice as soft as silk.
    “I meant that sweet as hell, tight pussy of mine. I should have swallowed the C-word, just like how I love to swallow your juices.”
    Inching my face closer, I lean in and trace her bottom lip with my tongue, moaning at the sweet touch of her mouth to mine. Pulling back, I look into her eyes and release my grip on her neck.
    “Now, Hotlips, answer my fucking question.”
    She scans the couch and the floor, grabbing a picture off the floor and holding it up. “This is the fucker I shot.”
    I nod as pride swells my chest. That statement is proof my woman is a leader. A victim would say this is the guy who hurt me. But no, Lynn turns it around and addresses it so she’s the one taking action.
    She frowns. “He takes these little boys and abuses them, doesn’t he?” I nod again. I don’t want to give her any information. I want a clear opinion. “From all the boys he took, only one turned up dead?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Fuck!”
    “What is it? What are you thinking?”
    “Does he like… train them or something? To be used… like some kind of sex slave and then sells them? What if this little guy, the one who turned up dead, stood up against the fucker? It looks like they beat the shit out of him.” Concern clouds her eyes. “You have to do something! Wait, why do you have this? Do the police know this is happening? Wait, are you working with them? Oh Fuck! You guys don’t have anything to do with this, do you?”
    “Stop! Are you serious right now? No we’re not fucking involved, or at least not in the way you’re thinking. We’re nailing the fucker or fuckers who are behind this shit. That’s all you need to know.”
    “Yeah, that’s not gonna be enough, asshole. Why is this file even in your house? These papers, right here. These are police reports. As in original fucking documents, mister. That means either you guys fuck cops up the ass, or they fuck you up the ass. So which is it, huh?”
    “No one is fucking anyone up the ass. Unless it’s my dick going up your tight little hole, Hotlips.”
    Her head tilts to the side and her lips twitch and I know she’s fucking wiggling her tongue piercing as she thinks about what to say next. Her brows lower and her eyes narrow until they are tiny slits. She points a finger at me, then clenches her hand into a tight fist. Her hand relaxes and the finger comes up again as she stands up on the couch. She pokes the finger into my chest.
    “What does Broken Deeds do? How do ya’ll earn your money?”
    “Club business.”
    She makes a sound that makes it perfectly clear what she thinks about club business.
    “As president you can choose to tell your ol’lady. So fucking tell me.”
    I wrap my hand around her wrist and pull her against my chest.
    “You ain’t got your property patch yet, Hotlips. Besides, this club lives by a very different set of rules. Haven’t you noticed that yet?”
    “Rubbing the ink in my face again, seriously?”
    “Ink isn’t rubbed in, love. It involves needles, you know that.”
    She actually growls and jumps off the couch.
    “Are you undercover or something? Is this whole club a fucking charade? Or is it the CIA or FB-fucking-I involved in this shit? Are you guys cleaning up a mess they can’t get their slippery hands on? Fuck! What did you pull me in to, Deeds?"
    “Since I don’t want to lie to you, I’m going to ignore all those questions that just rolled off those hot lips of yours.”
    She shoots me an evil look and starts to pace the room. Back and forth, back and forth. She drags her hands into her hair and pulls it, hard. Fuck, she might pull it all out and throw it at me. That’s how pissed off she looks. But I can’t give her any