“You’re the Los Muertos arms dealer,” I stated, looking over toward Scar. Her cheeks heated under my scrutiny. I resisted the urge to smile at her look of guilt. “So Ryan doesn’t have a dick,” I stated, my eyebrow hitting my hairline as I directed the comment at my lovely wife. She knew her lie would lead to a fight between us later tonight, and I had a sneaking suspicion that she’d told the lie for that reason.
