Page 90 of Ramsay

Swinging around, I glare at Diem, leaning casually against the wall behind me. I’ve no clue how long he’s been there but clearly long enough to know I was indeed listening in.

“I was avoiding Ramsay’s folks,” I mutter, my cheeks heating.

Diem smirks, his fiery eyes looking over my form with appreciation before he says, “Wise. They’re not terribly friendly.”

I snort, I can’t help it. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“Hm, you have no idea. Run along now, Will.”

His solemn gaze pushes at my breastbone and I walk away without looking back.

Chapter Eighteen

Willow

Since I can’t avoid it forever and the dick won’t stop calling me, I make my move with Jagger, but I have no use for the fucking Sinners. They’ll have to sit this one out. Besides, with the revelation of who Ramsay’s dad is, I’m left wondering if there isn’t more to Ramsay's vehemence about Jagger than he let on.

Does he know about his dad’s proclivities? What’s the end game here?

The only dirt I have on Jagger is information I’ve never told a soul, not even Jagger. It’s the stuff that keeps you up at night, and once it passes my lips, it cannot be undone.

I’ve no idea what Ramsay thinks he might do, but I don’t trust him any further than Jagger. In this instance, I know all the players, and I choose the one who’s not hell-bent on making me suffer, at least not yet.

With this in mind, on Friday night, I make my way back to Fight Club, dressed to impress. Pulling out my old clothes, a reminder of the me before, who gave zero fucks, I wear tattered jeans with half my ass hanging out and a tube top that’s more of a band-aid because if I’m going to enter the lion's den, I need my armor.

With my hair in a high pony, I add a bright red bow and paint my eyes in sultry tones, leaving my lips bare and sliding on Carmen’s heels with the glittery stems.

I refuse to think about where I’m headed, and I don’t mean physically. I’ve fought hard to be a different person, but with each passing challenge thrown in my face, my humanity chips away until I feel like an empty husk.

The last time I felt this way was right before I was forced into rehab, as rock bottom as I could possibly get. But this time, I don’t have drugs as an excuse, even though the urge is like a fucking monkey on my back, following me wherever I go.

I chose the warehouse because it’s neutral ground and if I went anywhere else, I’d be surrounded by Jagger’s people. Here there’s a mishmash I may be able to disappear in.

Despite Bone’s contention that they don’t let just anyone in, I fly through the entrance with no issues beyond paying my entrance fee and once inside, I find the nearest wall and ease into the shadows to assess my surroundings.

∞∞∞

Bone’s across the way, wheeling and dealing, and now that I know his affiliation with the Sinners, I’ll have to keep my distance. A pity because it was nice to be around my own people for once.

I see no sign of the Sinners, which means nothing. Clearly, Diem likes to fight, and I would be stupid to expect otherwise, but if I stick to the shadows, they may never know I’m here.

Jagger hasn’t arrived, but I know he will make an appearance eventually because apparently, he’s too stupid to know better than to encroach on someone else’s territory. How he hasn’t figured out who he’s dealing with is beyond me.

I underestimated the Sinners, and it would seem Jagger has too. My only concern is Crush but I haven’t seen him here and I’m hoping it stays that way.

Maybe once the issue with Jagger is taken care of, I won’t have to worry about Crush.

A girl can hope anyway.

After about an hour of standing on my aching feet, because I forgot what it feels like to sacrifice comfort for beauty, I spot Jagger entering with his enforcer, a mean motherfucker named Hate.

And no, his street name isn’t some wussy attempt like Bone to appear badass. Hate is the real deal. He’s enormous, cruel, and downright cold. I’ve seen him fuck up someone’s world with a pleased glint in his eyes. He’s the nightmare you avoid, staring at you from the darkness with promises of pain in every line of his body.

Now that my mark is here, I have to wait for the right opportunity. Unfortunately, while I do, I spy the Sinners in the crowd, the masses parting for them like they’re gods while looking them over with unadulterated worship.

Rolling my eyes, I watch them approach the ring and I assume this means Diem’s on the rolls tonight. Good. They’ll be distracted.

Finally, I get my opportunity. Diem steps into the ring. Bone disappears with a lush blonde, and Jagger gets caught up in a conversation with a strung-out dude who appears to be arguing price.

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