Page 122 of Ramsay

“Ram,” Oliver interjects, and I glance at him sideways. If Oliver is intervening, then I’m right to be cautious because that dick excels at hating me.

“You’ll tell me what this is and now,” Ramsay says, completely ignoring Oliver.

Despite my wariness, it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him where to go and how to get there but wisely I swallow the snark. If I’ve learned anything in my time in the jungle, it’s to proceed with caution until you understand your enemy.

“It’s mine. Or it was. I left it behind when I left Jagger,” I murmur, and Ramsay’s dark eyes drop to the book before coming back to me.

I can’t decipher his expression and I’m sure I don't want to when he drops the book back to the table with a thud and stalks to the door. At the threshold, he turns back and says, “Nobody leaves.”

“Really?” I say before I can think better of it. Beside me, Diem stiffens as Ramsay closes the distance between us too fucking quickly and grabs my arm. “You’ll be here when I get back.”

“Ram,” Oliver says again, touching Ramsay’s shoulder but he shrugs him off and pins him with his thousand-yard stare.

Oliver slowly nods and helplessly I watch Ramsay stride out of the room leaving a weird tension in the air.

“What was that?” I ask no one in particular, which is probably for the best because neither of them responds. “Where’s he going?”

Diem sighs and scrubs his hands over his face before sitting down and grabbing my book. “To see his dad, probably. What’s in this anyway?”

“I thought his parents lived, I don't know, somewhere else?” I say, sitting down beside him and grabbing the notebook out of his hands.

“They live downtown,” he says, and I eye him sideways.

“Downtown? They don't live in a high rise, do they?”

He smothers a grin at my petulant tone and shrugs. With a growl, I smack his shoulder and say, “Why the fuck would you need me to help you rob his own parents?”

“We didn't rob nobody,” he grumbles, rubbing his arm. “Besides, Uncle Dick doesn’t like Ramsay to come around.”

How…sad. Although when I consider the elder Yates and his misdeeds beside his wife with her cool icy blue eyes, I sigh. Maybe Ramsay was fucked from the start.

“Why?” I ask, spinning to Oliver when he huffs behind me. When I meet his disapproving stare, I spread my arms wide. “What? I’m supposedly one of you right? Share the fucking shit.”

Oliver’s eyes go wide, and he works his jaw before finally saying, “You should ask Ramsay.”

“Yeah well, he’s not fucking here.”

With a twitch of his brow, he looks away and I study the affliction before turning to Diem who’s studiously not looking at me. “Diem?”

“Yeah?” His wary tone ratchets my paranoia and since these two have to keep me here per Ramsay’s lordly demand, I might as well get answers…and torture the shit out of them at the same time.

“What’s the secret you gave Hate?”

“Uh, secret,” Diem says rubbing his jaw and I roll my eyes to the ceiling.

“Seriously?”

He grunts his irritation and eyes me cautiously before continuing, “Why? Don't you know?”

Shrugging, I run my fingers over the stagnant glass of water before me. “Maybe. Shouldn't we know if Hate told me the truth?”

“You first,” he says, and I snort before saying slowly, “Did you really trade the info on your dad for a dick pic?”

He has the good grace to flush which burns my heart, but I ignore it as I touch his hand. “Really? You shared your dad’s death with a dude who could go straight to McCafferty for a dick pic of me?”

“Yeah,” he says but he won't meet my stare. What’s he hiding?

Staring blindly at the table, I consider the information before focusing on the notebook sitting before me. Could it have been for this?

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