Page 69 of Striker

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We find the girls out in the garden at the front of the house, both women bundled up in thick sweaters, their little feet tucked into the leather boots we provided for each of them. When Cora spies the three of us, she leans in and says something to Delilah, who spins, a little frown turning her pretty lips down.

Our boots crunch on the white marble chips of the paths we restored last month, the four of us headed toward them in a line. Slowly, we’ve been renovating the mansion. Viper has been adamant about getting the house in shape, putting in most of the work himself. He has this dream of it being a home. An actual home. Something we’ve never had. We’ve only ever lived in hotels or short-term rentals after the school, as we moved from job to job. Nothing permanent. Nothing like what he envisions for us when we complete this mission.

Except, I don’t know when or how this one will end.

“Feeding time?” Delilah asks as we surround them. “Come to gather the livestock?”

Cora saunters over to Breaker and Viper. Both men watch her with wolfish intensity. Before she can make a sassy comment or tease Viper more than she already has, I grip Cora’s arm and jerk her toward me. She gives out a little squeak of surprise and Breaker’s glare should unnerve me, but this is getting outof hand. We’re losing control and not only of ourselves, but of them. We’ve been too scared to hurt Cora more than life already has, that we’ve been too delicate with her. Because of that, she thinks she can sass us left and right and get away with it.

“Where are you taking her?” Delilah’s panicked cry almost makes me let Cora go, but I remember we’ve been too soft on them. When I don’t answer, she marches forward, placing her hand on my chest to stop me from moving. The look I give her makes it drop.

I grip her by the nape of her neck and pull her to me, pushing both girls ahead as I walk them back toward the house.

Viper laughs. “There’s the Striker I know.”

Neither woman says a single word as I march them through the house and into the dining room where their food sits waiting. Viper darts forward and grabs the chair in front of Cora’s plate, pulling it out. I deposit Cora into her seat, then grab the chair across from her, waiting for Breaker to sit before slamming Delilah down into his lap. She grips the table and stares up at me with big blue eyes, like she doesn’t know who I am.

Seems she forgot.

I think I did too. We’re all so wrapped up in them, in this mission that feels like it’s going off the rails as each day passes, I think we’re all forgetting our roles.

We took them for revenge.

Wecontrolthem. Not the other way around.

“What a strange form of foreplay,” Cora says, scooting her chair closer to the table, her eyes sliding up and down my body with open appreciation.

I exhale an exasperated breath.

“I thought you remembered how rough we play, Baby Girl,” Reaper says, dragging Delilah’s tray toward him.

“You boys know we like it rough.” She winks at me. “I just didn’t know Strikey-boy was into domination.”

“He’s into more than domination,” Viper says. His eyes slip over me, making me wonder what he’s picturing, that he’s giving me such a…heatedlook.

I rip my gaze away, ignoring how that look made my cock thicken and say to Cora, “I’m sure Princess can tell you we’re all into unusual forms of foreplay.”

Delilah’s cheeks turn beet red, but then Reaper shoves a bite of food past her lips and her embarrassment turns to anger, eyes flashing with irritation.

When we do this, he always starts out this way. Like he can’t stand the sight of her, but then after a few bites, his movements soften.

“Um, yeah,” Cora says, sandwich paused halfway to her mouth as she watches Reaper break off a piece of bread and Delilah opens for him. “Can someone explain what’s happening right now?”

Before I can saypower play, Delilah says, “I tried to stab Reaper with a fork, and now they won’t let me feed myself.”

Cora’s lips press together, eyes dropping to her sandwich.

“Open,” Reaper growls, holding up more food.

Delilah’s eyes narrow.

“You do this every day?” Cora asks.

I can’t tell if it’s fascination or confusion in her tone, but she takes a bite of her sandwich and leans back in her seat, chewing as she watches their interaction.

Reap presses the food to Delilah’s lips but she doesn’t open, her entire body going stiff. The glare she gives him would melt a lesser man.

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