Page 90 of Cruel Games

IVY

I could hold my liquor.Hell, I’d drank men bigger than these morons under the tablemany times before now. These three stood no chance of outlasting me.

I quickly realized how wrong that assumption was after I’d called for the third bucket of beers and a second bottle of liquor, this time a cinnamon whiskey.

Coyote sipped his slowly in a lowball glass, ice clinking together at the bottom of the thing every time he ran out. Dingo was a beer kind of guy, working through the buckets single-handedly like a man on a mission.

Jackal was the real trouble. He kept taking shot after shot of the tequila, taunting me with scathing looks and thinly-veiled suggestions that I couldn’t handle my liquor, that I couldn’t keep up with him, that I should just admit defeat and slow down.

And I’d be damned if I’d lose to him.

I matched him shot for shot, the loudness of the music outside of our glass enclosure lending an almost terrarium-like feel to our VIP room. My hand rubbed absently at my neck, though there was no collar there. By the time we’d worked our way through the first half of the bottle of cinnamon whiskey, I was feeling myself—in the best and worst sort of ways.

And when I got drunk, I tended to forget who I was.

The dangerous people-hating bitch disappeared, and in her place arose a glimpse of the woman I’d been before life ruined me, before evil tainted my heart and hardened me to everything good in life.

I wasn’t sure I was safe letting that woman loose around men like this. She tended to get rowdy, out of hand, loose and wild. Usually, I woke up with more regrets than memories. And the Neon Dogs would no doubt take advantage of that for their own good.

No, I needed to stop worrying about meeting Jackal drink for drink and start worrying about keeping my head whenwe left here.

Of course, Frank, my old boss, would choose this specific moment to come striding into the VIP room with a smug smile of superiority on his lips and that cocky attitude that he never managed to back up.

He looked like he planned to kick us out, which, if I knew Frank, would include a lot of swagger and posturing that wouldn’t go over well with the guys.

I had to defuse this quickly, like I did with the bouncer.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the job-skipper herself, Ivy.” His head tilted to the side, and I’d have to be an idiot not to notice the malice in his grin, the rage and hatred in his eyes. “How funny that you’re here, in one of our most expensive VIP rooms, when you couldn’t hold down a job long enough to pay your rent.”

Jackal took the shot in his hand and set the glass down very, very slowly, his eyes on Frank like the man might slither away and deny him the fun of playing with his prey before he killed it. “You always treat your clientele like this?”

Frank’s laughter bounced off the walls. “Depends on if they’repayingclientele or not. And I didn’t see a credit card on file, which is our policy.” His smug grin turned back to me, and he crossed his arms like he’d won. “So, unless you’ve got a good explanation for why you’ve commandeered a VIP room we rented out for the night, I’m afraid you’ll have to get going.”

If looks could kill, the one Jackal gave Frank to his back would have seen him six feet under in a heartbeat. Frank, however, didn’t notice it and continued his tirade, stepping closer to me.

Which turned out to be a mistake, one he realized only after Coyote and Dingo both rose from their seats and flanked me, low growls building in the backs of their throats.

“Well, Frank, there’s an excellent explanation for why we’re here in your VIP room without a card on file.” I tucked my hair back behind my ear and flashed him a dazzling smile, wobblinga little on my heels as standing made me realize how drunk I really was.

But Frank was either blind or stupid because his eyes flicked to my ear, then jumped to the men on either side of me, measuring his odds. “I’m waiting,” he demanded, tapping his foot on the floor impatiently.

I pointed to my ear and frowned. “Are you blind? I know you know what this symbol is.”

Frank’s smug grin turned into a scowl as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning over my skin, the stench of cigars and stale chips wafting over to smack me in my face. It was a chore to keep myself from grimacing and making a gagging motion.

“I wouldn’t put it past you to fuck your way into getting a symbol like that.”

In the span of a single breath, Frank was up against the glass wall, Jackal’s hand around his throat, Coyote standing just to the left of him, growling actively now. Dingo had moved slightly in front of me, and his hands were balled into fists now, prepared to swing.

All over a comment made by an insignificant man.

“I think you’d better apologize to the pretty lady,” Jackal snarled, baring his rows of shark-like teeth to the man who’d once been my boss. “And you better learn some manners, too, buddy. You’re staring at three of the most dangerous men in this club.”

As if to drive the point home, he flashed his own Guild pin, Coyote and Dingo following suit. Of course, this little revelation had Frank shaking in his shoes. I figured if Jackal didn’t let him down soon, he might just piss himself.

Not that everyone here wouldn’t enjoy that, save for Frank himself, but I had a reputation to uphold, and letting men do my dirty work would only tarnish it.

“Let him down, dog,” I commanded without even lifting afinger, my voice surprisingly steady. “Now,” I added for good measure, crossing my arms.

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