Page 40 of Ramsay

We roll down the roster of fights, and I place a few bets on a whim. This isn’t my first rodeo, but gambling isn’t my vice, so I’ve always ignored the eager dicks trying to explain the odds.

Bone leaves me to do some business, and I gaze at the crowd idly. Once upon a time, this was me, except I’d have been flying high by the time I arrived and searching out ways to feel meaningful, which always left me empty. And when I felt empty, I searched out my next high—a vicious cycle.

The place is packed, and it’s hard to tell one person from another in the crush, but even so, I stop on a tall brunette with her face turned away, and my heart jackknifes in my chest when she tips her head back and laughs.

She’s a dead ringer for Carmen with her lush dark hair, straight nose, and a single dimple in her right cheek. Lurching away from the wall, I push through the crowd, ignoring the few glares cast my way for my clumsy efforts.

But by the time I reach the other side, she’s gone, and I spin in a circle, looking for another sighting.

My fucking heart feels like it’s going to explode, and for a minute, I can’t breathe. Was that Carmen? It couldn’t be, right?

Leaning over, I grasp my knees to suck air into my starved lungs. Could it have been her? Or is my broken fucking heart searching out ghosts in the crowd?

Attempting to pull myself together, I’m distracted by a pair of scarred boots that appear before me, black, scuffed, and begging for better days.

“What’s the matter, Willow? Out of blow?”

Shit.

Glancing up, I look into the face of my worst nightmare and gape like a fish because Jagger Benson, my first love, or so I thought and fatal at that, stares back at me with a sinister smile.

This dick recognized my weakness and pulled me into my habit, keeping me prisoner there so he could control me, and I still have the scars to show for his love.

When my parents finally pulled me out of school and sent me away, he texted me 422 times before I finally begged for a new number.

Jagger doesn’t respond well to the word no.

Of all the things I’ve done in my past, allowing him to treat me like his personal slave is the one that brings the shame, and I could go my whole life without the specter of this particular memory staring me in the face.

He’s the reason the Sinners and anyone else at Sterling don’t scare me because when you’ve already stared into the eyes of the devil himself, everything else is mundane in comparison.

“What, no greeting? I’ve been missing you, baby,” he says with his suave smile. The one I used to believe was meant just for me. Hah.

The thing about Jagger is, when he focuses on you, you feel like the most important person in the world, but eventually, the shine wears off, and you realize it’s not that you’re special but that he’s fucked in the head.

“Jagger, what are you doing here?” I ask through numb lips.

I’ve fucked up by coming here because nothing good can come from being back on Jagger’s radar. I should’ve gotten back in my fucking car and not looked back earlier when I had misgivings.

“Just handling some business. Say, you should come back and party with me. It’s not the same without you,” Jagger says, licking his lips and running his disgusting eyes down my figure.

I resist the urge to shiver because I’ll be damned if I show him just how much he freaks me the fuck out.

When a commotion breaks out behind him, I stare over his shoulder, spying Ramsay and Diem in a heated discussion but I see nothing to explain the noise. Still, despite their asshole behavior, knowing they’re all here gives me the backbone I need to face Jagger.

“I’m good, Jagger. See you around.”

I disappear into the crowd and emerge by the wall contemplating leaving immediately, but it’s possible he’ll follow me right out the door. Besides, I’m curious as to why the Sinners are here, so I stay in the hopes Jagger will leave before I do.

He searches for me from across the room, and I slink into the shadows, breathing deeply. Once upon a time, he was my whole world, with his intense dark stare and greedy fingers, but after a while, it all became a noose around my neck, one that slowly choked the life from me.

So, into the darkness, I creep, damning myself for ever allowing Jagger to steal my light only to bump into a hard chest behind me.

Startled, I turn to find Ramsay leaning against the wall in a casual stance which belies his grim-faced expression when he asks, “Who’s your friend?”

“Who?” I ask, playing dumb.

Jagger is a road no one needs to go down, especially not these guys. My past is just that, and I refuse to let it be anything more. I’ve got secrets, too.

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