Stealing His Thunder (Masters of Adrenaline) by Sparrow Beckett Page A

everywhere obvious, and a few places that weren’t so obvious. It was time to get invasive.
    At some point in the next couple of days he had to deliver a Maserati GT convertible too. He couldn’t let this girl affect the job.
    Luke cracked open his beer and pushed the front of his dark Mohawk back from his eyes. “I’m telling you, if you don’t want her I’ll fight Atlas for her. The only reason I’m not chasing her now is because she seems to prefer you, for some strange reason. You’ve made punching her in the face work for you.”
    “You punched a woman in the face?” Jimmy looked fucking pissed, and so did Carlos.
    “Yeah, I thought she was one of Marcel’s boys. She was stealing my mark out from under my nose and had a big sweatshirt on with the hood pulled up. I thought Marcel sent someone to fuck with me.” They were still glaring. “I pulled my punch at the last minute.” It sounded lame even to his own ears but it was too late to go back and change that moment in time. “Yeah, I feel the same way about it that you do.”
    The tension eased and Jimmy shook his head and pushed a bowl of pretzels his way. “Crazy.”
    Carlos slid half of his poker chips into the center of the table, looking very smug about the cards in his hand. “If I so much as raised a hand to Julia, she’d kick my ass, and then her father and brothers would show up at the door and stomp my head in.”
    They all laughed. The others probably had as hard a time as Fox picturing the very prim Englishwoman doing such a thing, not to mention the fact that her relations were all reportedly on the skinny side and lived an ocean away.
    “What?” Carlos grinned. “She’s meaner than she looks.”
    “Like English school teacher mean?” Fox asked, unable to resist.
    “Mmm . . . with that ruler and the pencil skirt . . .” Carlos whistled, and Fox got a visual of the guy and his wife that he didn’t really want right then.
    “Just don’t tell me you wear short pants and a blazer and I’ll be okay,” Luke teased.
    “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Jimmy shot back, grinning at Carlos like the Cheshire Cat. “Julia has me over when Carlos is working overtime.”
    Carlos snorted. “Like she could even find your dick.”
    “Firsthand knowledge there, Carlos?” Luke grinned crookedly.
    “Hey, he’s not unionized,” Fox reminded him. “I’m sure getting a raise is a bitch.”
    Carlos chuckled. “It’s barely a mouthful, so it’s not so bad. I just pretend it’s a big clit.”
    With a cocky smirk, Luke pushed his entire pile of chips into the center of the table. Carlos gave him an incredulous look.
    “I’m out,” Atlas said, throwing his cards down.
    Jimmy folded too.
    Carlos and Luke were waiting for Fox to do something, but Fox was studying his cousin. “You have a shitty poker face,” he told Luke, although Fox could never tell if he was smiling because he had a good hand, or because he had a private joke. His cousin found a lot of things funny. Crazy bastard. Fox pondered his cards. He had a full house—not good enough to bet all of his chips on—but Luke was known for big bluffs and reckless bets.
    Still, he wasn’t in the mood to lose
another
bet. The one he was currently losing with Addison was damaging enough to his ego.
    With a grunt, he threw down his cards and folded. Carlos and Luke had a brief stare down before Carlos folded too.
    Luke’s grin widened as he collected his earnings. “Suckers.”
    “So?” Carlos said. “What’d you have?”
    Laughing, Luke slapped his cards, faceup, on the table and everyone groaned.
    “Bastard.” Carlos shook his head at the two pair.
    Atlas pushed back from the table. “I’m getting more food. Anyone want anything? Pretzels? Lube?”
    Jimmy leaned back in his chair to yell after him. “You should call the girl while you’re up. Tell her to come over. I want to meet her.”
    “Cold day in hell.” Luke smiled wolfishly. “There are