Page 38 of Dead Devil's Playground
"We know he's risked his own safety twice now to bring us information," I point out. "That counts for something in my book."
Hudson sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "Just... be careful. There's something about him that doesn't sit right with me."
I study his face, noting the genuine concern in his eyes. "I'm always careful," I say, softening my tone. "But I need allies right now, Hudson. I need people I can trust."
"And you trust him?" he asks, incredulous.
"I trust that he wants to impress me," I reply honestly. "That's useful."
He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "You're dangerous, you know that?"
"So I've been told." I step closer, invading his personal space deliberately. "Speaking of dangerous, we need to talk about last night."
His body tenses, but he holds his ground. "I'm not apologizing for making sure you got some sleep."
"By choking me unconscious?" I hiss, jabbing a finger into his chest. "After fucking me senseless on a motorcycle?"
"It worked, didn't it?" he counters, unrepentant. "You're rested. Clearer. Ready to face whatever's coming."
He's right, damn him, but I'm not about to admit it. "Do it again, and I'll gut you in your sleep."
His smile is slow and knowing. "No, you won't."
"No," I concede, my own lips curving upward despite myself. "But I'll make you wish I had."
His laugh is unexpected—a deep, rich sound that makes something warm unfurl in my chest. "I'm sure I’ll enjoy you trying."
The tension between us shifts, transforming into something different but no less intense. For a moment, I consider leaning in, tasting that laugh on his lips. But we have an audience, and more importantly, we have work to do.
"Let’s head to the docks," I say, stepping back to a safer distance. "I want to catch these bastards in the act. End this game they're playing."
Hudson's expression sobers, all traces of humor vanishing. "Agreed. But we do it smart. No unnecessary risks."
"Since when do I take unnecessary risks?" I ask innocently.
His look of sheer disbelief is answer enough.
"Fine," I concede. "Be boring. We play it your way. For now."
We rejoin the others, finding that in our absence, Oliver has somehow managed to relax slightly. He's sitting on the couch now, listening intently as Kai explains something about the club's security systems.
"—so if anything happens, the silent alarm triggers automatically," Kai is saying. "Hudson's team can be there in under three minutes."
Oliver nods, absorbing the information with obvious fascination. When he notices me, he straightens immediately, that eager-to-please expression returning to his face.
"We leave at sunset," I announce to the room at large. "I want to be in position before anything happens."
Rev stands, stretching lazily as he checks the time on his watch. "I'll make sure everything's ready."
"I need food," I announce, suddenly aware of the gnawing emptiness in my stomach. Nine hours of sleep after days of running on fumes has left me ravenous. "I'm starving."
I pad barefoot to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to survey the contents. There's not much—we rarely cook, preferring to order in when we're home, which isn't often. I spot some leftover containers from what must be yesterday and grab one without checking what's inside.
Cold pad thai. Not ideal, but it'll do. I hop onto one of the bar stools and dig in, not bothering to heat it up. The first bite hits my empty stomach like a revelation, and I close my eyes momentarily in satisfaction.
"You should probably eat something with actual nutritional value," Hudson comments, leaning against the counter next to me.
I point my fork at him threateningly. "Don't push your luck, old man. I’ll decide what I eat and don’t eat."
