She shoots him a look. He winks at her.

“We gotta get some shit,” I say, stepping forward and staring at the mess on the floor. “You wanna lock the door when we leave? The entire fuckin’ neighborhood will be here if they find out there’s a cleanin’ strip show.”

She glares at me, but I ignore it.

Fuckin’ woman.

She’s got a way.

~*~*~*~

JAYLAH

I got busted.

Cleaning in what Mack would like to call my Daisy Dukes.

They weren’t meant to come home. I was trying to be a good nanny instead of a stalker nanny, and failed miserably. Not to mention that my back feels like someone has hit it with a sledgehammer, I fell onto the floor so hard.

And their faces.

God, their faces.

They were all looking at me like I was a piece of meat and they were four hungry dogs. Lust filled the room and women or not, they were pushing it my way. Especially Mack. I thought after our last experience, he was done and dusted with his lusty eyes. I was wrong. He gave them to me today, and he gave them to me hard.

Now I’m hauled up on the couch, my head pounding, my back aching, and with a sore throat. This is a result of cleaning chemicals, a bad slip, and a cold I felt coming on from the moment I woke this morning. Diesel is tucked up on my chest, his little body curled up, his legs underneath him. He likes lying here like this; in fact, I’d go so far as saying it’s his favorite thing to do except eat, of course.

“Little man, you’re proving to be somewhat of a challenge,” I tell him. “You’re bringing out this side to me . . .”

He squeaks, as if he knows I’m talking to him. I wish I knew what was going on in his head right now. No doubt he’s probably wishing I would shut up so he could go to sleep. My eyes ache, and I know the cold I’ve been ignoring all day is going to make an appearance in the next few hours. Maybe if I have a rest with Diesel now, things will settle. At that thought, my eyes droop. I run the tips of my fingers over Diesel’s back and not only do I lull him off to sleep, I join him.

CHAPTER TEN

Cool fingers touch my cheek, and I want to open my eyes, but for whatever reason, they refuse to co-operate. My head has gone from a steady pound to a throb that’s sitting right behind my eyes. I can still feel Diesel on my chest, warm and a little heavy. The fingers on my cheek glide down and I swallow, trying to wake myself up. When I do this, my throat feels like razor blades are slipping slowly down it. I whine.

I’m freezing. The only part of my body that’s warm is the part where Diesel is tucked. The cool fingers leave my cheek and I’m grateful, their very touch was causing shivers to break out through my body. In the distance, I hear a voice. Mack’s. It sounds somewhat like he’s on the phone, because I can’t hear anyone else in the room. I keep my eyes closed. Opening them right now seems pointless and, to be quite honest, painful.

“Yeah, hurry up. She’s sick, and someone needs to take the baby.”

I can hear Mack talking, but his words drift in and out, and I struggle to make them out. I shift, and my entire body aches. Even my skin feels sore as it grazes over the couch. Great, this is a mega cold, and I’m supposed to be looking after Diesel to get the money for Gregor. If I’m sick, I’m hardly settling my debt. Shuffling sounds fill the room and then a cool cloth is pressed against my head.

I cry out. I’m already freezing. Why the hell would he put a cool cloth to my head?

“Hush,” he orders. “You’ve got a fever. I need to break it. Doctor is on his way.”

The doctor? It’s just a cold.

“I’m freezing,” I rasp.

“You’re overheating. Your body is trying to cool you down. Just hush.”

“Please, Mack,” I whisper.

“Hush, honey.”

Honey.

I must drift back out, because what seems like only minutes later, Diesel is being lifted off my chest. He cries out and I can hear soft feminine sounds as someone, no doubt Santana, soothes him. I force my eyes open and see Mack is still beside me, staring at Santana, who is rocking Diesel. “You take him tonight. She’s out of it.”

“No problem,” she coos to Diesel. “We’ll have a great time, won’t we, honey?”

“No,” I croak. “Need the money.”

Did I just say that? Jesus.

“Why do you need the money?” Mack asks.

“No,” I croak again, unable to stop the words leaving my lips, even though I don’t want to say them.

My head pounds and I groan, pressing a hand to my forehead. “Hurts.”

“Stay still,” Mack says, his voice the softest I’ve ever heard. “Doctor is nearly here.”

“Don’t take Diesel,” I rasp.

“Hush.”

The room falls silent and Mack moves, more shuffling sounds penetrate my sound bubble, and then I hear Mack whispering to Santana. I open my eyes, staring over at them, and what I see has my heart twisting. He’s smiling at her, a true, genuine, beautiful smile. His eyes are crinkled, and he looks happy. She’s beaming up at him, and together, they look like . . .

No.

It’s not possible.

He reaches out, curling his hand around the back of her head and he pulls her close, kissing her forehead. She giggles when he says something to her, and then after a moment I hear him whisper, “Makes me fuckin’ ecstatic, Chante.”

He says this word so affectionately. I don’t know what it means, but I can tell it’s a term of endearment. His voice is soft and gentle when he says it, like he really, truly means it. I blink, trying to clean my blurred vision. Did Mack and Santana have a thing? Or are they just really, really close? I know Santana adores Maddox, but there’s a bond there, a bond I didn’t notice until now.