Page 46 of Bad Ruck

Right now, that could bring down more hell on our heads. That would suck.

"Yep," he said simply. "We don't know how deep this goes."

"How deep do you think it goes?" I asked. Several new people started working at the stadium in the last couple of weeks, including a new personal assistant for the GM. I had no idea where the former PA went. One day she was there, the next she was replaced. They could be slowly moving their people in, ready to… I didn't know what. Something that wouldn't be good.

"Deep enough," he said. "We can deal with it. When the time is right. Try to be nice to Otis Skinner. I'll work on some misinformation for you to feed him. Something to give a clue who he's allied with."

"I'm always nice," I said tartly. "But I can be nice to him if it'll end all of this sooner and with less blood being shed." That was what mattered more than anything. Preventing anyone I cared about from being killed. I'd be Otis' best friend to keep everyone safe.

"Not too nice." His brows dipped, gaze firm and intense.

"I'm not planning to add him to the family," I said. "I'm not planning to fuck him either."

If I did, would that help the situation? Would my guys and I be safer if I spent a night with him? Potentially, but the guys would tear him apart if he touched me. Not to mention the idea was repugnant.

If he'd come to Flirts and paid to fuck me, what would I have done then? He gave me the creeps from the moment we met, so I might have found a way to avoid being with him. Divina always gave us a choice. No one was allowed to force us to do anything we weren't comfortable with. I was always grateful for that.

"Of course not," Ramsey agreed. "You're ours. We're not sharing you with anyone else, for any reason. I'll fuck him before I let you do it, and I'm not into other guys."

"I think we've established that none of us is going there," I said. "I'll be friendly, that's all." His possessiveness was hot. Notto mention his admission that he'd sacrifice himself before he'd offer me up. Many others in our lifestyle wouldn't do the same. They wouldn't care if they threw their girlfriends to the lion, as long as it served their purpose.

"Good." He cupped my cheek and leaned in to brush his lips over mine. "I don't want to cut his cock off."

"You sure about that?" I teased. If there was anything these guys had in common, it was their enjoyment of violence. Whether it was killing or tackling, or being tackled, they loved it.

Storm, in particular, wasn’t happy unless he and the people around him were covered in bruises. Me and Frost especially. I wondered what he'd be doing if he wasn't playing rugby. He might have been dragged into this life before now. He probably would have embraced it wholeheartedly.

Ramsey twisted his lips to one side. "Not really," he admitted. "Anyone who touches you that shouldn't, I'll enjoy hurting."

"That was what I thought," I said. "Have you ever—" I glanced toward the doorway. He'd checked the place carefully and there were no listening devices, but I never knew when someone might walk in and overhear.

I whispered in his ear. "Killed anyone." I half-expected someone to hear anyway, but we were alone. No crowd of people came running through the door, shouting at me for asking him a question like that. The world didn't even end.

He whispered back. "Yes. Once. They tried to cross the Brantley family. They regretted it." He leaned back, his expression rueful. Eyes slightly glazed as he thought back to what he did.

"I bet they did," I said.

As far as I knew, that left Storm and Jay who hadn't killed anyone. Jay was more of a mystery to me than some of the other guys, but if Storm had taken a life, he'd say so. That wasn't athing he'd hold back, especially after Frost killed Ivy. Was he willing to do it? To end someone's life?

I suspected he was. I didn't think he'd hesitate if it was something that had to happen, for my sake or that of any of the guys. I doubted he'd regret it either. Storm was the kind of guy to act first and own it later.

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked carefully. I didn't know why I wanted to know, but I did. Maybe I was just curious about that aspect of his past and personality. How much like the other guys was he?

"Not really," he said. "I don't get off on it like Frost and your brother. It's just a thing that has to be done. I'd be okay if I didn't do it again, but I could if I had to." He cocked his head at me. "Have you ever?"

"Never," I said quickly. "I don't want to either." The idea turned my stomach.

Worse than that, I was scared I'd enjoy it and want to do it again. I was supposed to heal people, not end their lives, but I shared DNA with someone who loved killing. What if I got a taste for it and didn't want to stop? What if I needed to kill like I needed to breathe? I might become addicted to it. The idea was horrifying. I didn't want that to be my life.

"I'll do my best to make sure you don't have to," he assured me. "But if you have to, you can't hesitate."

That scared me too. That I might freak out and not be able to pull the trigger. That my hesitation could get me, and the people I cared about, killed. If anything happened to any of them because I didn't have the guts to do what I had to do, I'd never be able to forgive myself. Especially if I was dead.

"I know," I whispered. "I like to think I can do it if I have to. I know how." Between growing up here and going to Brutham Academy, I learnt several ways to take a life. But like performingsurgery, knowing how and actually doing it were different things. Freezing under either circumstance would be bad.

"You can," he said. "You're Chelsea fucking Miller, you can do anything."

I gave him a cheeky smile. "DoctorChelsea fucking Miller," I reminded him. It wasn't that I thought he'd forgotten, but I’d worked hard to get the title, so why not own the fuck out of it?

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