Page 196 of Scoring the Player
“I just want to talk to him.”
My head flies up at Blue’s voice.
Arms crossed over his chest, Cillian blocks the entryway.
“Can we talk?” Blue asks, skirting past him and beelining toward me.
“Get out,” Cillian orders them.
“Ay,” Sid interjects, entering behind Blue. “Know when something’s fucked enough.”
I shake my head. If it turns to blows, Easton, the brawler in the corner, who’s leaned back in his chair and ignoring his fist bleeding all over his shorts, can break them up.
Blue kneels between my legs, and I sit back as I’m hit with the memory from our first time. It rubs me raw.
“You okay?” His voice is soft—cabin-at-night soft.
His hand raises to ghost over the welt where my jersey ripped, and my stomach tenses.
His eyes never leave mine, but his hand trembles against my skin as Cillian and Sid argue.
“Drop it, Cillian,” I order.
“Any update on Denzel?” Blue asks.
I shake my head.
His look of real concern kills me. I can’t be here. “I need to shower.”
“Wait. Can’t we talk?” he begs.
“Here?”
“Yeah. Anywhere. Come to my place?”
“I can’t. We fly out right after this.”
“So that’s it?”
I shrug. “I need to focus on my family right now.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
I can see the sincerity in his gaze, but…
I push my chair back and climb to my feet. “Which time?”
Arnaz
Salem disappears through the side door. My head hangs as I move to stand.
Sid, ignoring Cillian, walks over to Easton and slides into the chair next to him. In less than a minute, he has Easton showing him his bloody fist and suppressing a grin.
“Of course,” Cillian sighs. “He hates all of us, but the enemy he likes.” He fixes his glare on me.
I wink as I roll out my neck. “You’re pecking at bones, sweetheart.”
“What?”
