Page 47 of Oliver

Cyn casts her a glance that could melt the panties off a mannequin and her lips curl in a sultry smile.

“Then your other bitch. I don’t know. Fuck. Hold on.” He turns to me, and I raise my chin. “Who are you?”

I’m seriously tempted to refuse but I have a feeling it will do me no good. Especially when the blue-eyed one turns with a suspiciously eager glitter to his vibrant gaze.

“Penny,” I say with a grimace.

“Penny,” he repeats before listening to whatever and ending the call.

“Let’s roll,” he says, and his counterpart starts the vehicle.

“Wait. Where are we going?” I ask, staring at my car with a frown. As we pass, I spy something sitting on the windshield and sink in my seat.

For fucks sake, I hope that isn’t another warning. Right about now, I guess I’m glad I’m not alone, but these characters don’t exactly give me the warm fuzzies.

“I’m Rain,” the chick beside me says.

Her smile is genuine, but I see the glint of curiosity when she glances at my dress.

“I’m not…” I say. “I didn’t.”

Rolling my eyes to the ceiling I mumble, “I’m not a hooker.”

The dude behind the wheel chuckles and Rain slaps his shoulder before saying, “Okay.”

I don’t know why this matters but all of a sudden, I’m blathering like an idiot. “I was just looking for someone. A man. But not for…I’m looking for the bastard who killed my sister.”

Rain glances in the rear-view mirror at the driver, her eyes wide and I frown when his smile fades and he averts his gaze.

What’s his deal?

“What happened to your sister?” Rain asks, her brows furrowing.

“She was murdered,” I whisper, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Haveyouheard of the Hunter’s Club?”

The temperature in the small space drops to icy and I shiver. Was it something I said?

“Whatever you’re doing, let it go,” Cyn says coolly.

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna get dead. Fuck, you’re probably already a dead woman walking.” He slams his fist against the dash. “Fucking Hate.”

Rain bows her head and I touch her arm. I don’t know what’s going on, but I definitely hit a sore spot.

“I’m sorry,” I say, and she covers my fingers.

“Me too.”

It’s quiet after that until we roll up to a mansion that out rivals Ramsay’s in size and majesty. With my jaw at my knees, I follow the group through the door. I’ve never seen anything like it, which I guess in my small world of experience isn’t saying much.

Beautiful tile floors gleam as I follow my newfound captors into a room that strangely contains a disturbing number of pink accessories.

A pretty blonde with a wide smile appears, jumping into the blue-eyed guy’s arms. “Jig,” she says and his eyes light up.

The interaction sends a pulse through my heart because I realize I’d like someone to greet me with such love and desperation.

Ha.

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