Sinner's Gin Read Free

temples. His rough, handsome face sported more than a day’s growth of scruff along his strong jaw, but the laugh lines at the edges of his blue eyes said he smiled more than frowned. Although, by the scowl on his face, it’d been an eternity since his sensual mouth had seen a grin.
    “What?” Miki growled before the intruder on his doorstep could say something.
    The cold morning struck him fully and he shivered, wishing he’d taken the time to hunt up a sweatshirt. He wanted to wrap his arms around himself to ward off the biting chill, but he couldn’t let go of the cane. Not without falling flat on his ass. His leg was too sore and twisted to support his weight, and there was no way in hell he was going to let go of his hold on the door. If the stranger decided to push his way in, he’d need the leverage to shove the heavy door in the man’s face.
    But at least the pounding had stopped.
    “You live here?” The man definitely had a better growl than Miki’s. His voice was darker and deeper. A faint lilt ghosted through the man’s words, and the roll of his anger warmed the whiskey tone of his voice to a burbling heat. “That dog yours?”
    The man looming over him was huge, and if push came to shove, Miki knew he’d lose more than a few teeth if they got into it. Miki never backed down from a fight, even when he was bleeding out. He’d always been proud of giving as good as he got. Even crippled and half-asleep, that wasn’t going to change.
    “What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want?” Miki spat back.
    They exchanged glares, and the man took a deep breath, as if to calm his temper. From what Miki could see, it didn’t work.
    “If you’re going to own a dog, you should keep it on a fucking leash.”
    “I don’t own a dog,” Miki spat back.
    “Then what’s that furry thing next to you? A fucking kangaroo?”
    Miki glanced down at the terrier sprawled by his feet. The dog’s tongue lolled to one side of his open mouth, and his ears perked up as a bird flew by. Looking back up at the furious man on his stoop, Miki shrugged. “Yeah, that’s not my dog. He just lives here.”
    The man closed his eyes and slowly exhaled through his pressed lips. “Who owns him, then?’
    “I don’t know who owns him,” Miki said. “He came by one day. Hasn’t left. Why?”
    “Because the little thief stole a piece of my koa.” The man took a step forward, and Miki’s chin rose, a silent challenge, even if he had to look up to meet the man’s eyes. “I want it back.”
    “Your what?” Miki shifted his feet. The cold finally reached his spine, its stiff fingers digging into his bones. His knee, on the other hand, was a searing hot spot, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. “Your cone? Like an ice cream cone? How the hell am I supposed to get that back? Dig around in his stomach?”
    “Koa,” he said slowly, enunciating each flowing syllable. “It’s wood. From Hawai’i. Your dog took a big piece of it. I want it back.”
    “He’s not… screw it. What does it look like?” Miki wasn’t going to argue over ownership of the terrier. Not with his brain sending fiery tendrils up and down his spine and leg.
    “It’s wood. How many damned pieces of wood does the dog have?” The hint of Ireland in his voice thickened. Sighing, he held his hands out in front of Miki’s face. “Look, it’s about this big, rough, and dark red. Shit! It’s nearly the same size as the dog. The damned mutt grabbed it and ran off before I could stop him.”
    “I’ll go look.” Miki gritted his teeth when he shifted his weight to turn around, and his bad knee nearly buckled. The rubber tip on the end of the cane squeaked loudly as it caught on the wooden floor, and he recovered his balance, breathing heavily from the spikes of pain.
    Throughout the noise and Miki’s flailing, the dog lounged back and licked his lower belly.
    Miki left the door open. The cold was already deep in his bones, and if he closed it, he couldn’t