Page 2 of Wanna Play A Game?
“Bitch,” he snarls and yanks my hand off of him by a finger, causing a zing of pain to jolt up my arm. “Not when you’re going a hundred down the wrong side of the road.”
I laugh and shake my hand. “You know hurting me gets me hard, Miley.”
He hates it when I call him that.
Miles doesn’t take the bait. We’ve known each other for years and hunted together for a while. He knows I’m trying to get under his skin.
My smile fades. The last few hunts haven’t been hitting the same. They’re becoming predictable. Predictable is boring. Boring makes me want to slam my head into the steering wheel. It makes me want to fly down the wrong side of the road until wereach the city. Get in a chase with the cops. Kill someone. Feel their blood under my nails as they search my eyes for help.
There’s a curl of interest again.
“Sawyer,” Ryder barks.
I blink and look in the mirror at him.
“Get your head out of your ass.”
Ryder is the most responsible of the group. He rarely drops orders, but when he does, we generally listen. If we don’t, he’ll make sure to take it out on our asses. Fucking sadist. Still, the thought has me hardening in my pants.
I grumble and slow my speed.
“Don’t know what has you so fucked up.” Miles leans back and closes his eyes. “It’s your turn to hunt.”
I tighten my hands on the wheel. That’s the problem. I don’t have a target. In the last three hunts, I’ve picked random people off the streets who have given me shit. The boys weren’t happy with me — they tend to pick their hunts with more precision — but they know the rules, so they played along.
But for a while now, things have become…bleh. My last three hardly even fought back. The idea of hunting the next guy to flip me off in traffic gives me a tiny hint of life and then…nothing.
I scratch my arm again, trying to get to the itch crawling under my skin. Something’s not right. I can feel it. Hunts usually make it better. So why isn’t it better?
I just need to find the right person. I have a feeling the right target would change everything.
Chapter 2
Cali
The minute the apartment door slams open, I know Ben is in a bad mood. He appears in the doorway, wearing a cutoff tee and gym shorts. His eyes are glassy, his blond hair falling into his eyes. I catch the smell of beer as he walks past me and throws his keys down on the dining room table. He glances at the phone in my hand.
“Oh, I see. Talking to your other man while I’m gone.”
“Excuse me?” I ask his back as he grabs a beer from the fridge. My fat black cat, Halloweiner, runs to the back room like he always does when Ben’s around.
“You fucking heard me,” he mutters, opening a can and chugging it.
I put my phone down on the couch. So it’s going to be one of those nights. Last time he got like this, he threw a beer bottle at our front window, and I had to duck out of the way.
“Better keep those cans in your hand and not on the wall,” I hiss.
He’s downing another and completely ignores me.
“You’re late,” I say and move to the doorway of the kitchen. It’s way past when he normally comes home from tech school. Things haven’t been going well – he says he’s getting bullied – and he’s been drinking way more than normal. By the time I get home from work at the hair salon, he’s usually drunk.
“Something you clearly took advantage of, huh bitch? Did you fuck him tonight too?” Ben locks eye contact with me. His gaze is dark, livid.
My muscles lock up. “I told you a hundred times I’m not talking to anyone else!”
The kitchen light drowns out Ben’s face, making his hair look white and his eyes more red. His nostrils flare. “What the hell is wrong with you? I give you everything, and your bitch ass cheats while I’m gone?” He stalks forward, eyes locked on mine.
“I’m notcheatingon you.” I back up. “And you weren’t working; it’s after two in the morning!”
