“Wait, tell me you didn’t kill someone.” “Actually, I paid a hooker five bucks to call in.” He chucked his smoke to the ground. “Old Betty at the front office knows my voice.” It was quite sweet. For Zepp. His fingers swept over my cheek, dark eyes studying me as he tipped back my face. Warm lips brushed mine before he tossed an arm around my shoulder, and we started walking toward his bike. “God rest your Grandpa Joe’s soul.” He snorted a laugh.
