Page 8 of Bleeding Outside the Lines

“She’s haunting me,” Rowan admits. “I can’t find her. I see her in my dreams, only they aren’t dreams, they're nightmares, and in them, he’s hurting her.”

“We’ll find her, Rowan,” I reassure her. “I will cut off pieces of him until he reveals her location. Meanwhile, get me a list of all his properties and all his associates. Can you also arrange to have his car replaced? I think we should force him to drive something a little better on gas, don’t you?

five

My glass vibrates whereit sits on the table beside me. The bass from the bar upstairs can be felt, even if the music can’t be heard. I spend most of my nights down here, at the micro-casino, if I can. I enjoy watching the people, reading them. It’s my own kind of game, knowing my players. It’s why I’m so good at running the games, well that and the fact that I know how to count cards, which makes spotting it that much easier.

Like the douchebag sitting across from one of my best players right now. He’s fucking counting, and he’s not even good at it.Fucking idiot. I sigh and drain my bourbon. My skin crawls with unspent rage. The audacity of this man to come into my fucking game and pull this shit is ridiculous. The fact that he fucking sucks at it makes it even worse.

I nod to Nate, who catches my eye from the doorway. In two short strides, he has one of his massive paws on the small of the cocktail waitress’ back and ushers her out of the room. No reason to scare her or put her in danger. I am a gentleman, after all. Adrenaline ripples through my body, and I stand. The roomaround me goes still, ice stops clinking, cards stop shuffling. The bass from the bar only intensifies my energy, as if it’s egging me on.

I don’t say a word. I don’t need to. I can practically hear their heartbeats with every step. Every player I pass by inhales deeply. I never used to consider myself a scary man, but this world turns us all into people we never thought we’d be. People who maim, people who kill, people whose presence instills fear. People like me. People like Ruby. The thought of Ruby and her bullshit only fuels my anger.

I extend one leg out in a swift kick, knocking the tall chair out from underneath the fucking trash bag who sits on it. The hypocrisy of my anger is not lost on me, it never is. But don’t fucking cheat a cheater. The man stumbles to his feet, towering over my six-foot frame by at least four inches. A smile spreads across my face; I fucking needed this. I shift to my toes, ready for a fight.

The man throws a punch and I dodge it.Fucking hell, that’s disappointing. I land a kick to his chest, and once again he falls on his ass. Fuck this asshole and fuck this bullshit. I pause for dramatic effect, giving the rest of the players the chance to really see me in action, using it as a warning. I make a move toward him, deliberately stepping on his hand, feeling the bones crush beneath my foot. Agonizing screams echo through the silent room. In a practiced move, I remove the belt from my pants and maneuver myself behind the jackass. The leather wraps tightly around the man's neck, his pulse fighting against the restraint. The more his body twitches in response, the more mine ignites, until finally he stops breathing.

I remove my belt from his neck and replace it around my waist. Nate immediately retrieves the body from my feet to dispose of it. I didn’t intend to kill him. I had only meant to make a point. Which, on inspection of the room, I did. The players nodat me, respect dripping from their foreheads. I smooth out my shirt, adjusting one cuff and then the other.

“You do not cheat Cassius Cross,” I announce to the room, as if they need an explanation. My heart pounds in my chest, the adrenaline that failed to release during what I expected to be a fight aches to escape. I need to fuck. I need to fuck now. I dial Garrett on my way up the stairs.

He answers on the first ring. “Not dead yet?”

“That belle still up to play?”

“Ask her yourself,” he says, and my phone switches to video call. I tap on the accept button and am immediately rewarded with a live feed of the blonde’s bouncing tits. Her moans of pleasure light me on fire.

“I’ll be there in five.”

The camera angle adjusts as Garrett props it up, offering me a better visual.

Technology. It’s a wonderful thing.

I exit the club through the back door, and enter the parking lot, looking up from my phone. My parking spot is empty. I spin around. What the actual fuck? I’m so confused, I parked it here this morning. I walk closer. In the impala’s place, illuminated by the security light above, is a painted set of lips. Motherfucker.

“Where the fuck is my car?” Waves of fury crash over me. The fucking bitch took my car.

“Garrett,” I yell. “Where the fuck is my car?”

His face fills the screen for what feels like an entire minute before he answers me.

“It’s in the lot.”

“No, the fuck, it isn’t.” I spin around, showing him the employee lot. The Impala is nowhere to be found.

“Yes, it is, walk sixty feet to the left, GPS says it’s right there.”

I follow his instructions, my long strides making it there in only a handful of steps. The car in front of me however is notmy fucking Impala. Instead, it’s a fucking hybrid piece of shit with handicap plates. A set of red lips on the rear window. As I approach, the lights flash on the car and the doors unlock. Dark clouds hang over me, the weight of what I’ve done sits on my chest. Ruby knows, but how much does she know exactly?

“Garrett.”

“Yeah, Cass?”

“The girl. Is she safe?” My voice hardens with each word.

“The girl? Safe?” Garrett questions me, his voice lifting an octave.

“The fucking girl,” I bellow, my hands forming a fist at my side. “Is she fucking safe, Garrett?”

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