Page 77 of Cruel Games

Fuck, she really was her father’s daughter.

He’d also treated people like they were all expendable, like they were beneath him, like the women he trafficked, the girls he kidnapped and violated, were nothing more than playthings, toys that, once broken, were good for nothing more than the trash bin.

Was she any different?

“Oi, Jackal, mate, are you gonna get off that bike and get moving, or are we flying without you?”

Dingo’s voice yanked me out of my dark thoughts, and I realized with a start that she’d dismounted without me even noticing, and now the three of them waited for me, bats slung over their shoulders, looking like half a baseball team on Halloween. My foot connected with the kickstand of my bike, and I slid off the damn seat, aggravation and shame rolling through my veins.

I didn’t want to be so damn affected by her that I lost my senses, but every step away from her I took, she pulled me two steps closer, fighting me for control I didn’t even possess.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses,” I whisper-shouted, “and keep it down. We don’t know if they’re here already, and they probably brought friends.”

“Yes,” Coyote muttered, “they did.”

His eyes were trained on the end of the alley where we’d stashed our rides, and I spotted two men dressed in all-black leaning against a light post, no guns in sight. That didn’t necessarily mean there were none, just that it would buy us a few seconds if we gave away our element of surprise.

I turned to Dingo with a nod, slipping into the shadows like usual, inching my way past the guards until I was behind them. He kicked a can over at the other end of the alley, and when there was a few feet between the men, I reared back and slammed my bat into the side of Unlucky Man 1’s head, felling him in seconds. When his cohort turned back, I waggled my fingers at him and watched Dingo take aim and swing on him next. We pulled their bodies off to the side and buried them under a few bags of trash to keep them hidden until we were already gone.

We went through this systematic process two more times, taking out all of the eyes and ears watching the perimeter. Only once we’d secured the meeting space did we finally regroup with Coyote, who’d gotten stuck making sure Ivy didn’t give away our positions.

We found the man of the hour with relative ease. He leanedagainst a costly grey car, his arms crossed as he tried his hardest to look disinterested and bored. Flanking him were two men with very visible, very powerful guns. Our bats were no match for their firepower, which meant we’d either have to take him out before reinforcements arrived or chance taking a bullet or two as we fought our way to the target.

Neither of which seemed particularly smart or appealing.

“What’s the plan, Dingo?” I asked pointedly, waiting for the organizer of our group to say something, direct us in a way that made sense. Instead, he just frowned, staring at the target as another car pulled up, effectively doubling the number of guns in our way.

We were fucked. There would be no completed contract tonight, not with so many obstacles?—

Ivy slammed her bat into my chest and straightened her jacket, mussing her hair a tad before she let her coat slip off one shoulder and bent down to unlace her shoes. We watched in confusion as she kicked them off and ripped one side of her fishnet stockings, then removed her mask and crooked a finger at Dingo, her eyes flashing with mischief.

“I need to make it believable.”

She yanked his mask up and planted a kiss on his stunned lips, licking the side of her mouth as she pulled away, just enough of her lipstick smeared to make her look a little messy.

“Be ready,” she whispered with a wink, and then, before any of us could stop her, she stumbled around the corner like a drunken hooker.

Fuck.

THIRTY

IVY

To sayI wasn’t scared was a bald-faced lie. Sure, I was freaking out on the inside, but if there was one thing I could accurately predict, it was men and their behavior when they thought they knew everything. With my torn stockings, lack of shoes, and disheveled appearance, it was easy to mistake me for a common hooker, one who’d wandered just a tad too far off the beaten path. I could draw their attention while the guys?—

Well, if they couldn’t figure out how to use this opportunity to their benefit, there was no helping them. Or me, for that matter.

I was putting an awful lot of faith in the idea that they wanted to complete the contract more than they wanted to let me die in a trap of my own making.

Now that I thought about it, this was pretty high up on my list of stupid shit I should never do again.

Right afterfucking the enemy.

The first one to spot me was a guard in the joining party’s envoy, his gun falling just slightly before he raised it and took aim at my face.

I didn’t let it bother me.Stumble again, take a few steps, shake your head, bring a palm up to smear that lipstick a little more.

As long as I didn’t look like a threat, they had no reason to shoot me and draw attention to their meeting area.

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