Page 135 of Cruel Games

Time to make the last rounds, boys.

I rounded all three up and made one last round, thanking people for visiting us and supporting a good cause because it was a song and dance I knew well. My mother even paid for a ticket, though she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to attend. Now, she and Roscoe stood by the punch bowl with Lilly, making small talk like old friends.

Dingo glanced at me, then followed my gaze with his eyes. A strong arm went around my back, comforting me subconsciously. “You still on uneven ground with her?”

“I don’t know,” I said smoothly, wishing I knew how to answer that question. “But I’m ready to get tonight over with. This dress is too tight.” I waggled my eyebrows at him suggestively. “It looks better on the floor than it does on me.”

“Debatable,” he muttered, just as Coyote rounded the table we stood by and leaned in to sniff my hair again.

“Yousmell divine,” he growled, his hand settling on my elbow. ‘Time to go?”

“It fucking better be,” Jackal sassed, stepping in front of me with a sneer. “I’ve rubbed elbows with these assholes for long enough.”

Just then, a voice called out from behind me, one I’d never forget for as long as I lived.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Cullough herself.”

My blood ran cold. Time stopped.

That voice belonged to the man who’d almost landed me in an auction house years ago. It was in the video my mother took from the couch as she lost her dignity on the carpet of my father’s study.

I turned, pasting a fake smile on my face that more closely resembled a wolf’s warning snarl, and offered my hand. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

His hand enveloped mine, and I fought off the wave of nausea that rose in my stomach when he tugged me closer and ran his thumb along my wrist. “Aw, no need to play coy, girl. You remember me. I was a friend of your father’s.”

He must not know I was here as a member of the Guild. And because I’d forgotten my pin in Jackal’s bathroom, I wasn’t wearing it. I couldn’t be identified as one of them.

“I’m sorry, but your name escapes me,” I tittered, hoping the guys would play along.

“Michael McDowth. We worked closely on a pet project of your dad’s.” He tugged a woman over beside him who’d been trying desperately to hide behind his bulky frame. “And this is my wife, Juniper.”

Juniper.

I froze, all the air fleeing my lungs.

Juniper.

“Gotta find Juniper. Have to find junipers. If they kill me, please . . . find Juniper.”

For as long as I lived, I’d never forget that voice, that plea.

Was thistheJuniper?

“June is fine,” she breathed, offering me her frail, gaunt hand. I took it gently, staring into her eyes, searching for answers to questions I hadn’t yet formed in my mind. She gave away nothing, ever the poised socialite wife. “Nice to meet you, Ivy.”

I nodded politely as Jackal reached forward and took my hand from hers, guiding me away with a hand on the small of my back. “Sorry, but she’s promised to dance with me, and I think I hear my song coming on. So nice to meet you.”

He effortlessly ended the conversation and guided me out of the room, not stopping until we reached the outer hall, empty save for the four of us.

I gasped for air, suddenly feeling like the whole world was crushing me. My pupils dilated, breathing was hard. I felt light-headed, the world around me spun, and I just barely managed to make it to a nearby trash can before I puked.

Dingo’s hand on my back was a comforting sensation, something warm, familiar. “Hey there, what’s got you so riled up?”

“That man,” I gasped, words failing me. “Bad.”

“That man is one of the biggest pieces of shit on the city council,” Jackal muttered, his lips drawn together in a mou of displeasure. “Michael McDowth. Pure scum. Some say his wife was an arranged marriage, but she acts more like a battered bride to me.”

The room spun, and I reached out for something to steady myself on as I took deep breaths through my nose and let them out my mouth, determined not to puke again. “He was on the flash drive,” I said quietly, closing my eyes as Coyote picked me up and carried me toward the stairs. “He was the one my father called theprocurement man.He trafficked girls with—he told my dad to sell me.”

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