Page 75 of Cruel Games

As she slipped from the room, the air grew cold, and once again, I was left with nothing but my filthy, feral thoughts and the ghost of a touch that likely would never happen again.

She was riling us all up, that was it. There was nothing there. Nothing warranted how my heart hammered in my chest when she touched me. Nothing that justified the amount of time in the day my mind was occupied by her.

She was nothing more than a man-eating beast—a Helen of Troy sent to collapse our house from the inside out. Letting her in was a mistake, and keeping her here was even stupider. But as Ivy disappeared from view and left nothing but the memory of her touch in her wake, I wondered just how complicit we would all be in our own eventual downfall where she was concerned.

Because, gods help me, but I was already beyond salvation.

TWENTY-NINE

JACKAL

Fuck me,the more I tried to keep from falling into her traps, the more I tripped over my own feet and went down swinging.

She’d weaseled her way into coming along for this kill, and as such, Dingo insisted on cutting her in on the percentage. That meant less to go around for the rest of us, and I didn’t like that. Not that I wasn’t already rolling in money, or that I didn’t have access to even more if I just went home and played the good son, but still.

It was the principle of the thing.

I didn’t want to share this with her. Hated that she was a part of our boys-only group now. I had to give a damn about her safety now, just like I did the guys.

Well, okay, so I supposed I didn’thaveto. Nobody was forcing me to. But I couldn’t help it. I might not be the leader, or even the backup head of household, but I was aware of everyone in my squad, including her.

Try as I might to change that fact.

Dingo and Coyote hung around the door like whipped dogs, masks on, bats in hand, ready to fuck up whoever and whatever we’d been turned loose on. I leaned against the counter, waiting for our leading lady herself to decide to make an appearance. She had locked herself in my bathroom and insisted she’d be out shortly, a duffle bag in hand as she closed the door in my face and flipped the latch.

We’d been waiting ten minutes already, maybe longer.

I checked my watch again, sighing heavily. “If she doesn’t hurry up, we’re leaving her ass here.”

“Nobody’s leaving me anywhere,” she purred, standing in the doorway of my room with a smirk on her lips and?—

Fuck all, what the hell?—

She leaned against the frame, a pair of the shortest shorts I’d ever seen a woman wear on her ass—well, not really on her ass. More like crawlingupher ass. They hugged the lowestpoint of her hips, revealing a fair amount of skin. She’d paired it with fishnet tights, a pair of Converse shoes, and a black tube top, which she’d thrown a puffy half-jacket over. Slung over her shoulder was a bat that made my mouth water, signed at the tip by Mickey Mantle, from the looks of it, and wrapped at the base with pink grip tape. She dangled a mask like ours from the tip of her finger, spinning it absently as we gawked openly at her getup.

When her eyes lifted, it was to find us all staring at her like we’d lose our collective minds. Which, to be fair, was growing increasingly likely the longer she hung around us.

“Are you just going to stand there staring at me, or are you going to get a move on?”

We shook ourselves from the stupor and headed out the door, bringing up the rear like her personal hounds. Not that I minded right now. Hell, if those shorts were any shorter, we’d be looking at her pussy. As it was, they hugged the swell of her asscheeks so perfectly it made a man drool with desire. Hell, the longer I stared, the less I wanted to leave the house and complete the contract. No, if I had my way, if she were any other woman, I’d be dragging her back into my room to fuck her senseless, take my time peeling all that skin-tight clothing from her pretty, hot, rocking ass body.

Get ahold of yourself, man. She tried to kill you. She’d do it again if you gave her half a reason.

Knowing that didn’t change things, though.

I still wanted to lick her from head to fucking foot.

“So,” she started when we entered the parking garage, a sparkle in her eyes that I didnotlike in the least. “Who am I riding with this time?”

Coyote turned away with a choking cough, slinging a leg over his bike with such haste he nearly took himself out and tipped the damn Kawasaki he rode. Dingo was conveniently silent, his eyes anywhere but on her.

That left me.

“Oh, hell no.”

I was beginning to think her main goal in life was to piss me off. Hell, I was beginning to suspect the other two were in cahoots with her about it. It seemed like any time she was up to no good, they managed to avoid the worst of it, leaving me to play the fall guy.

It was getting irritating, if you asked me.

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