Page 112 of Choices

It pains me to hear it, but she’s right. I’ve given him so many chances, forgetting every reason why I shouldn’t as soon as he flashes that devilish smirk and drowns me in those blue ocean eyes.

“It’s a myth that goldfish have a three second memory,” Monster says, going to his dresser and coming out with a stick of jerky.

What the hell?

“Scientists did studies and proved they can retain memories for a month, sometimes longer.” He snaps a chunk off and chews.

“Where does the saying come from then?” Rogue asks.

“Idiots presuming because they’re small, they must have tiny brains.”

“You learn something new every day.” I raise a brow at Rogue, who bites her inner cheek.

“Knowledge is power. You should never stop trying to learn new things.” He nods then holds out his half-eaten piece of dried flesh. “Want a bite of my meat?”

Scrunching my nose, I shake my head. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”

“Please yourself.”

“I often do.”

“Ha!” Rogue barks. “I love you. I’m so glad you found Trevor.”

“You could have saved me the twisted experience and just told me weeks ago when I asked.”

“You know now. That’s what’s important.”

“Actually, what’s important is getting answers out of Trevor.” Monster moves back to the wall and stabs a pin through Trevor’s image. “The meet is supposed to happen tomorrow. I need to make Trevor talk fast. He’s already losing blood.”

“Is the plan to go in his stead and play along pretending to be him, or ambush the fucker and get answers with pain?”

“I can already tell you’re going to be an asset to the team.” Monster smirks. “We need to know if they’ve exchanged pictures or descriptions before we make a plan.”

“Monster’s plans usually end with them on the table,” Rogue informs me.

“Or in a ditch,” he adds.

“Well, as long as we don’t end up in a ditch or on a psycho’s table, I’m good with anything.”

“Good,” Monster grunts.

“What happens if they have seen photos of each other?” I ask.

“Then we go to plan B.” Rogue’s complexion pales.

“Is that the ambush and table?”

“No—that’s where one of you come in.” He places his hands on his hips and juts his chin in my direction.

“What do I do?”

I sweep my gaze between them both, immediately wishing I hadn’t asked when he says, “You be the bait.”

CHAPTER 33

BABY DADDY

CUTTER

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