Page 26 of The Games We Play
“Trafficker vibes.”
I glance back at the patio outside the diner and see he’s now bothering a woman.
And my heart stops beating in my chest when I realize it’s Iris.
8
IRIS
The guy doesn’t even need to sit down at my table before I already know I’m out on him. Regular dudes who cosplay in army camo annoy me. I’m being presumptuous, I know. The guy could have three purple hearts for all I know. But he has the look of a guy who’d raid the capital for kicks and doesn’t have the confident stride of someone who’d served.
He lopes over.Lopes.
I feel like yelling at him to stand up straight. Yup, not a military bone in his body.
“So, how about it?” he asks. “Would you girls like to take a drive up the coast with us?”
I place my cinnamon roll down, rub the crumbs from my fingers, and shake my head. Kasey and I were supposed to be having a quiet breakfast before taking a walk down the Shore. While I want to tell him to fuck off, I’ve played this game enough times to know the path of least resistance is to play nice. “We already have plans.”
“How about you give me your number so we can make plans for a different day?” he says. He’s not utterly offensive in the looks department. Nice blue eyes. But his rockabilly slicked-back hair and close shave make me realize my preferences these days run to scruffy bikers with hair for days.
Kasey glances up at him. “We said no.”
“What she said was you had plans today. I didn’t hear a no.” The dude’s buddy chuckles. I don’t know why they think this approach is going to work.
“No,” I say.
The guy grins, then runs his tongue over his upper teeth. It’s unattractive. “Well, I think the two of you should—”
“Be allowed to finish their food in peace.” I know the voice, and when I turn, Spark is blocking the sun. I only see him in shadow. His hair is down, and he’s wearing aviator sunglasses that make him look as hot as they do intimidating.
I don’t know where he came from, but I’m glad to see King is with him. There are four of the other men, but King and Spark look menacing.
Sleazy guy stands. “We’re talking. No harm in that.”
Spark looks down at me, and I give him an infinitesimally small shake of my head. “These women don’t want to talk to you.”
The guy has the audacity to scoff. “Why? Because they belong to you?”
King steps forward. “Let’s just say, as a goodwill gesture, you get in your Nazi-mobile and drive on back to whatever hole your racist ass crawled out of, and I won’t shoot you dead where you stand.”
Sleazy guy tips his head in Spark’s direction. “Your boy cost me last night.”
“Pity you can’t get pussy without traumatizing the fuck out of them first,” Spark says.
And suddenly, I’m glad he’s here. Their conversation is scaring me.
“How about this?” King says. “You get the fuck out of my town, hell, even my state. And we continue to let you breathe.”
The guy looks down at me and winks. “See you around, chickpea.”
King and Spark don’t take their eyes off them until their truck is a couple of hundred yards down the road. Then Spark turns to me. “You’re done here. Go somewhere else.”
I glance at Kasey’s unfinished bagel and coffee. “We just got our food. We’ll leave when we’re finished eating.”
The side of his jaw twitches.
King shakes his head. “We gotta go, Spark. I’m all for saving the bitch ... again ... but let’s ride.”
