Page 69 of Cruel Games

Livinglike this was sure to drive me batshit insane. I shopped like normal, but every time I opened the fridge or a cabinet, expecting to see things the other two knew damn well not to touch, I found it missing. Conveniently, we had just moved a fucking human garbage disposal into the place, which explained everything.

Still. It was getting quickly frustrating. If I restocked the group’s chocolate stores, only to come back two days later and find it empty, I was going to blow a gasket.

I hefted the bags up the stairs and fumbled with the doorknob, expecting to find her curled up on the couch, passed out and drooling on the leather cushions, or something embarrassing like that. Maybe I half expected to find her cuddling that fucking pistol she was so convinced would stop any one of us.

Clearly she didn’t get the hint from the scars on Jackal’s body.

But when the door bounced off the wall, all I spotted was an empty couch. The room was bathed in silence, which was a nice change from the incessant bitching and the on-again, off-again fights between her and Jackal. Having her underfoot was like doubling him, somehow, and I was over it, and then some.

Quietly, I put the groceries away, wondering if she’d gone roaming the halls of the Guild on her own. Not that she couldn’t hold her own, but it still wasn’t a good idea to roam here, especially unarmed. She could still be caught unawares, and?—

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something that wasn’t right. It took my brain a minute to catch up and figure it out, but the second I realized my door was wide open, my heart sank.

I knew I locked it before I left. Which meant either she had a copy of my key somehow, or she’d broken in with intent.

And likely found plenty to entertain herself with.

My feet echoed loudly against the hard floor as I stormed into the center of my room, poised to throw a fit and demand sheexplain what the fuck she was doing breaking into people’s personal space?—

And stopped dead in my tracks when I registered the scene before me.

Sure enough, she’d found something to get in trouble with: our contract records. I kept the last few years on hand in case we needed to refer back to one for something. Anything further back than three years got moved to Lilly’s burn pile and eventually torched for safety reasons. We couldn’t have someone stumble onto our records. Any one of our contracts had sensitive information on our clients, our marks, and even ourselves.

And deeper than that, I had things in this room I didn’t want her to see.

The bed was littered with a mishmash of files, all in various states of disarray, scattered with no rhyme or reason as if she’d just dumped a whole box of manilla folders out to treat like a personal library. And there in the center, her feet kicked up, knees tucked into her stomach, a pleased little smile on her lips, was none other than the culprit herself, fast asleep, soft snores echoing from her parted lips.

I wanted to fucking throttle her, but something inside me stopped the action. She’d likely not slept well on the couch the past week or so, and I could sympathize with that. There would always be time to rip her a new asshole over the violation of my space when she woke up.

Not that I should fucking care about her comfort. She’d turned us into her glorified errand boys, doing her bidding, buying food for her to eat, even sacrificing our personal space for her.

All because she had the wrong idea about her daddy dearest, and wanted to take it out on us.

More than ever, I burned to just tell her and get this charade over with. Coyote was soft, softer than I’d expected, and hisdesire to hide the truth from her because of some misplaced sense of guilt was causing me trouble, too.

But I owed him. He never asked for anything, so to ask for this, out of nowhere, with such vehemence in his convictions, was abnormal enough to make us sit up and take notice.

I’d bear it just a little longer, but she’d better figure her shit out, and fast.

I was tired of having my chocolate stores raided when my back was turned.

I stretched my arms over my head and sighed, realizing I also hadn’t slept well last night, though I had tried to. Perhaps a nap was in store.

My eyes traveled over her body, taking up so little space on my bed, and then glanced back at the door, remembering the couch was empty. I could just crash there?—

Fuck that, you pussy. This is your bed. You can sleep here, too.

I laid my head down on the pillow opposite her and decided that, should she not like waking up to find me in my own damn bed, then maybe she should learn to pick her napping places better next time. I got comfortable, settling into the soft mattress atop those annoying Polaroids and papers with a soft groan of approval, and wondered who’d wake up first: her or me?

I wokeup to a finger in the center of my forehead, poking incessantly at me until I scrunched up my nose and swatted it away. Of course, the second I moved it away, the damn thing returned, more insistent this time.

I peeked a single eyelid open to find the bane of my fucking existence staring at me, still lying on her side, a confused, almost soft expression on her face until she spotted me watching her.

I reached out a hand and caught her finger, pulling it backagainst my forehead even as she recoiled. “You’re almost through to my brains; why stop now? Maybe you can put me out of my misery before you have to explain how and why you snuck into my room while I was out and decided to turn it upside down and make a mess.” I quirked a brow and released her, tugging a stray photo out from under the pillow beneath her head. “And then decided to nap in the middle of the chaos.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she started, her hackles rising like a cat who’d been cornered. “I told you, nothing is off limits to me. No matter how high up you put something, I will climb the tallest trees to get it if I want it.”

“Why not just use a step-ladder next time? Climbing trees is so 90s.”

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