Page 118 of Hateful Games

Sealing my annoyance, I pull out my phone and send a text. Miya squints her eyes, trying to peek warily.

“What are you doing, Nono?”

“Calling backup.”

“Can’t fight your own battles?”

“Battles are about playing smartly, not alone.”

We stand in a stare-off until footfalls sound from behind us. Miya leans sideways to peer around my body and swallows nervously at the sight of Malcolm. Straightening, her hands fly to her hips and she glares. “Seriously?”

“Give me the key card and he goes away.”

“Go where?” questions Malcolm, stopping to stand beside me.

“Depends on Miya’s next move.”

His cold eyes flit to her face but she’s looking at me.

“As you wish,” I say when she remains unmoving. “Malcolm, would you hold her down while I look for my room’s key card she’s hiding.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You had to turn down the bribe and go for the hard way, little cousin.”

Malcolm steps forward. “Sure.”

“Stop. This is no longer fun,” she mumbles, slapping the key card in my hand. “You’re both nuts.”

Then off she stalks in the opposite direction. Malcolm’s eyes stay glued to her until she disappears. Switching toward me, he casually asks, “You would have let me touch her?”

“Hell no.” Shrugging, I reveal, “More than annoying me, it’s not giving you the time of day she loves more.”

“And that man isn’t her boyfriend. They’ve only been on a single date.”

“Really?” I smile. “My bad.”

Giving me his middle finger, he struts away. If I were a betting man, I would say he’s on his way to find her, even if it’s to watch her from the shadows.

Shaking off those thoughts, I swipe the key card to my suite and enter.

My ecstatic grin dissolves and turns to one of horror.

A second before I’m attacked.

Chapter Thirty-two

Nova

I’m attacked by two miniature-sized furry balls with wagging tails and wet tongues.

“Rose!”

The old pug digs his tiny paws in my leg, jumping and trying to climb me while the skinny and scary one starts to bite my shoe as if it’s his last meal. Bending, I push one off, only for the other to latch onto my arm and lick my hand.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Woof! Woof!” barks the Chihuahua.

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