Whistle's War: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 6) by Monique Moreau

Author:Monique Moreau [Moreau, Monique]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monique Moreau
Published: 2021-03-24T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

What a fucking day.

After meeting with Kingdom, Whistle steered Tasa into his old room in the clubhouse, which was luckily still unoccupied, and took her again. It crossed his mind that he should hold out until night but, at the last minute, decided against it. Thank fuck she was game. After what amounted to years, off and on, of being incarcerated, he was used to interrupted sleep, but his feet were dragging by the time he’d dropped Tasa back at her apartment and got to the Bar. It had been a long-ass day.

Trudging into his office, he checked the time on his cell phone. He had about an hour before getting Tasa and bringing her to work. The days of her taking the bus were over. Her protests suggested that he was overreacting, but fuck it, if it put his mind at ease, he wasn’t going to overthink it.

Head against the back of the chair, he’d gotten a few minutes of shut-eye when there was a knock at his office door. Eyes closed, he shouted out, “Come in.”

Lifting his head, he caught Jazz walking in. With a grunt, he dropped his head back and shuttered his eyes once more.

Suddenly, a pair of hands were sliding down his chest. One hand kept going until it cupped his crotch.

“I’m busy, Jazz.”

“With what? You’re awake,” she replied in a coy tone.

“Not now. Not in the mood.”

“I can put you in the mood, baby,” she crooned in a sultry tone that made his skin itch. Her fingers began unbuckling his belt. “I can make you feel sooo good.”

He laid his hand on top of hers, halting its progress. “Chill.”

Exhausted and trying to catch some z’s before another long night, he was not in the mood for chick drama.

Her fingers pushed against his hand a little, testing him, but he held firm. Finally, his eyelids slid open, and he let out a sigh. “What the fuck, Jazz? You makin’ a pass at me or you tryin’ to save Tasa?”

“Both,” she joked.

“Not funny.” Shaking his head, he ordered, “Quit it. Nothing’s happening between us.”

Perching on the arm of the chair, she looked down on him with a little pout. “Why not? Don’t we have a good time together?”

Not so good that he’d sacrifice a woman he wanted like Tasa.

“We have,” he agreed. “But things have changed.”

“What’s changed?” She lifted a mocking eyebrow at him. “Don’t lie to me and tell me you’ve fallen for her.”

“Stay in your fuckin’ lane, Jazz. This is none of your business,” he growled. Jazz had no fucking clue who he was. At least, Tasa did. The thought eased his anger somewhat. At least she knew his past, knew who he was, and knew to take what he said seriously. Jazz was overstepping. “I don’t have to justify anything I do to you, and I sure as fuck ain’t gonna talk about it with you.”

“Please, Whistle. Don’t tell me her pussy’s made of gold. One’s as good as another.”

“And you would know that, how?” he asked with a chuckle.

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