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getting it. Red devils didn’t negotiate.
    He didn’t know why they continued to try this bull shit every time they brought food, but they did. It got old really quick. The first time they let them know that it wasn’t happening and thought that would be the end of that only the fuckers hadn’t taken the hint. Not in the ten years the club had been providing food. It had been his father’s generation who’d dealt with it, and now it was him and Tick and the other Red devils. Fuck, he hated these fucking food runs.
    The little prick was wearing that button up long sleeved shirt and vest all the workers here wore and it seemed uncomfortable. In this heat it had to be hot a fuck too. Ratchet wondered absently what the little shit would do if he grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
    “You’ll pay. Or we pack our shit up and leave.” Ratchet said darkly. Glaring at the fat little weasel.
    “You can’t do that. You have to give us a better pric…” The little dickhead tried to whine but Ratchet interrupted him.
    “The fuck I can’t.”
    Then his dick jumped to attention when a husky voice that sounded like aged whiskey rolled over his body like a caress.
    “Is there a problem here?”  Ratchet almost came in his pants when he turned around to see the woman standing a few feet away.
    She was only about five foot, with curly red hair that seemed to escape the twist she’d pulled it into. Ratchet couldn’t pinpoint what made him feel like an animal ready to rut, but the sight of her standing there took his breath away and ramped him up past eleven in two seconds flat. The outfit she was wearing didn’t give him even a hint of what she looked like beneath that baggy white button up or the skirt that hung to her ankles. But something about her made him want to strip her naked and have his way with her. He’d been less turned on looking at a sweetbutt’s bare tits.
    Her full ripe lips parted, and he wanted to pull his dick out and slip it into those pretty petals. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him? The fantasy he was having of her on her knees with his cock in her mouth was interrupted abruptly by the weasel.
    “He’s refused to lower their prices and they brought damaged goods. You should deal with this, I think. Being as you’re the new supervisor.” The man’s face was twisted into a condescending smile again. Making Ratchet want to cut it off his face. The man shouldn’t talk to her in such a disrespectful tone.
    “Hilconn, go and help Thomas with the paperwork. I can handle this.” Ratchet’s dick jerked again at the sound of that whiskey coated voice. He could imagine her begging him with that voice as he pounded her into the wall of the warehouse. Perhaps if she offered the right incentive he’d be willing to lower the price for her. He had plenty of credits to pay the club back with and if he got his dick inside her it would be worth it.
    “Sorry about him.” She said as the little dickhead exited the warehouse.
    “What’s your name?” Ratchet asked gruffly. Watching her move a few steps closer.
    “I don’t think that’s relevant.” She told him as she tilted her head and watched him carefully. He grinned. Yeah, she was a smart one, but it wouldn’t save her. She suddenly seemed to realize that they were completely alone inside the warehouse because she took a step away from him. Now watching him as a bunny watched a wolf. He let his lips curve into a wicked grin, as he stalked her. He wouldn’t take her here he decided. They would likely get interrupted and he wanted to take his time with her. He had a feeling that once with her wouldn’t be enough.
    “Your name beautiful?” Ratchet demanded still following as she continued to back away from him. His grin got wider as he realized that in three more steps her back would be against the warehouse wall.
    “Mia.” She finally stuttered out. Her heart pounding.
    She’d been in her office when the dark haired one