Page 78 of The Games We Play
His eyes are mesmerizing but unfortunately have the same effect as truth serum. “This is a bad idea.”
“Why?”
Because I’m falling in love with you. Because you’ll hate me. Because Michael. Because I’m scared of everything except you.“Because the club doesn’t really want us to be together. I don’t want to be some motorcycle club version of Yoko Ono. I’m not even half as talented as she is.”
Spark smiles softly, as if he understands everything I said ... and everything I didn’t. “Yeah, but you’re twice as good for me as she was for John. We’ve got this. You and me. We can do this.”
I blow out a breath and then nod. “Okay.”
He looks down at my lips. “Fucking lipstick.” He touches his lips to mine so softly and tentatively, it makes me giggle. “Gimme ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go. I need to go deal with my hair.”
I wander downstairs while he finishes up, and my phone buzzes.
It’s Alicia, part of Michael’s team.Wanted to say it was a pleasure to work with Michael. If you ever need me, let me know.
The message causes me to stop mid-step on the stairs. I hurry to the kitchen for some privacy. Without thinking, I dial Cillian, then promptly panic at what I’ve done. I know one of his men ran me off the road now, I can’t un-know it. I try to hang up, but unfortunately, he answers on the second ring. “You’re firing Michael’s staff already? Don’t do this.”
“Iris.” His voice is calm to my frantic.
“Why would you do this?” I shout. “You can’t be that cruel. He won’t cope well. He—”
“You know how to fix this, Iris. All I need is some information.”
“What kind? Be specific. I looked,” I shout. Suddenly, with the reality of Michael being put in harm’s way, even myself, my priorities become clear.
“I need to know what supply routes they are building for weapons, when the next deliveries from south of the border are, and where they are storing the cash to pay for them. Handover points. Timing. Details. I want to know how they are making their cash. Use your brain, Iris. Spark is sergeant at arms, so he’s involved in planning these things.”
I can’t speak. I hate this. I hate Cillian.
I hang up.
I glance back up the stairs, where Spark is in the bathroom dealing with his hair. He wanted us to shower together, but I playfully told him that my body needed a break from his attentions. When in truth, I just wanted to shave my legs, underarms, and bikini line in a bit of privacy. When I fessed up, he laughed and said he was looking forward to inspecting the fruits of my labor later.
I’m sorry, I mouth to the ceiling, aiming my words in his direction.
I place my palms on the cool countertop. Leaves are starting to fall from the trees. The world is shifting from bright greens to oranges and browns. Soon, it will creep into the frigid world of winter. Everything has changed. And I hate where I am.
It’ll be Thanksgiving in a month or so, and I don’t feel like I have much to be grateful for.
A wave of panic sweeps over me. This isn’t going to go away. I tried to extricate myself from Cillian so his enemies wouldn’t involve me in this game he continues to play. Instead,he’sinvolving me, leveraging Michael to keep me in my place, and putting me at risk. I run my hand along the brace on my wrist. He deliberately hurt me.
I message my brother Thomas.Did you know Cillian fired Alicia?
Unusually, he responds within seconds.What Cillian does is his business.
Pain stabs through my heart as surely as if the knife sitting in the block on the counter were pushed through it. I touch the handle. It’s smooth and worn. I know my thoughts are in a dark place.
Fuck. So is my life.
“Ready?” Spark says as he walks into the kitchen and grabs the keys to his bike off the hook.
He scrubs up well. His beard is trimmed. I can see his dimples as he smiles at me. He’s falling in love with me. It’s right there in his eyes. The way his hand reaches for mine. But it’s not me he loves. It’s a version of me he has in his head. Just like I could fall for the romanticized version of him I have in mine.
I bet Spark and his club do the things my uncle does. They make people feel insignificant. Pawns in a chess match. And, shit, I’m about to do the same thing with Spark. He doesn’t know I’m about to betray him to help my brother.
Even as I say it, I know I can’t put Spark in harm’s way.
The games we play aren’t Scrabble or poker. The loser doesn’t get to drink two fingers of whiskey or pay off a funny bet among friends. People die when these games are lost and won.
