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The moment she strutted into the club Garen ‘Flash’ Swifthorse couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Curly brown hair spiralled down to her mouth-watering butt. Instantly his pants tightened around his growing erection. When tall, hot and edible sashayed her sexy ass up a set of metal stairs, she stopped at the landing, blew a kiss in their direction then disappeared from view. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The woman kept him hard anytime he caught sight of her. Hell, Caprice ‘Recee’ Williams jerked his cock with the mere thought of her. Too bad she never looked in his direction for her pleasure. Anytime the two of them were in the same room sparks flew as fast as the insults they tossed at each other. "She single?" Casually sipping his ice-cold beer, he never took his eyes off the doorway his prey’s curvy figure had entered, the doorway that led to the private office of the club’s owner. Emma’s friends were an amazing handful of eye candy, he mused as the cold liquid flowed down his parched throat. "For now." The veiled answer from his best friend and business partner, Brock Cage, didn’t surprise him though it did annoy him. Brock wasn’t a talker under the best of circumstances, but this time Garen felt more than a flash of irritation. Hadn’t Garen covered his buddy’s six the first time they walked in the club, facing a pack of rabidly over-protective women looking to castrate his friend? The least Brock could do was answer a question or two. It wasn’t like he had anything else scheduled for the evening. A quick look at his expensive watch, accurate in five time zones, assured Garen he had enough time left to get a few questions answered. "That means?" Brock lifted one broad shoulder in a casual shrug. "Recee always has a guy in the wings. I swear they take numbers." "Then they need to be checked in to the nearest psych ward." Olivia’s fiancé Ethan Newton stated. "That woman carries knives like other females carry purses." "Well, as long as she knows how to use them and no one gets hurt I don’t see the problem." Leave it to Carter to offer the mature approach. Living with Briley hadn’t changed the computer expert’s outlook on life. Considering Briley Evans didn’t have even a passing acquaintance with sanity Garen had to give the man props for remaining level. Garen felt his lip twitch with amusement. "I shudder to think of Recee armed, dangerous and pissed off. Treat her like a safari exhibit, my friend, watch her from a distance, make sure you’re armed with a dart gun and never, never piss off the queen of the jungle. She’ll eat you for lunch then use your rib cage to play drums." "Hunt, that is sick, twisted and probably the closest thing to the truth." Brock shot Hunt a knowing look. "She’s all that and more. The more part being she’s pretty much a sister to Trinity. Since the two of you got together with Recee’s help I’d strongly suggest keeping opinions like that to myself." "Like Emma wouldn’t geld you for trash-talking her friend?" Hunt had a smirk curving his mouth. Brock laughed. "Gelding me would hurt her, too. Nah, my Em’s more likely to plan a sneak attack when I least expect it. She fights dirty that way." The shit-eating grin splitting his lips stated he didn’t mind his fiancée’s tendency to get dirty. "Let’s face it, gentlemen, the women we love are doing the mambo on the line of sanity. They’re impetuous, arrogant, and wanted in one state for crimes none of them will talk about." Hunt laid the truth out there for all them to swallow, no matter how bitter the pill. "So Recee is available?"