Page 39 of Dead Devil's Playground
His lips quirk up slightly at the corners before he murmurs, "Does that include my cock?"
Heat rushes to my face, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. Instead, I shovel another forkful into my mouth, chewing with deliberate slowness while maintaining eye contact.
Behind him, I see Kai roll his eyes before returning his attention to Oliver, who's now looking at a map of the docks on Kai's tablet. Rev has disappeared, probably to call Camden.
I finish the pad thai in record time, then raid the fridge again, grabbing a yogurt I find hiding behind some beer bottles. As I eat, I mentally catalog what needs to be done before we leave. Shower. Clothes. Weapons.
"I'm going to get ready," I announce to no one in particular, depositing my empty containers in the garbage.
Kai glances up. "Want company?" he asks, his tone suggestive.
I consider it for a moment, then shake my head. "Not enough time."
"Spoilsport," he mutters, but there's no heat behind it.
I head back to our bedroom, mind already shifting into preparation mode. Tonight could be the breakthrough we need—a chance to finally see who's targeting us, to go from reactive to proactive. The anticipation sends a thrill through me that's almost as good as sex.
Almost.
Chapter 16
Ry
Therhythmichumofthe SUV's engine provides a steady backdrop to my thoughts as I sit in the back seat, my body swaying gently with each turn. I've dressed for the occasion—a fitted black top paired with a pair of dark green booty shorts that's short enough to draw attention but not so revealing that I can't move if I need to. My teal hair is pulled back tightly, emphasizing the sharpness of my features. Add in my thigh high boots and I look like any other girl heading to a club for the night—sexy, maybe a little silly, definitely not someone who could kill you six different ways before you hit the ground.
The weight of concealed knives presses against my thighs, my lower back, nestled against my ribs—accessories more essential to me than the small purse sitting between Oliver and me. I've learned that playing the harmless party girl is the perfect cover for getting close to people who would otherwise keep their distance. They never see the danger until it's too late.
Instead of watching the city slide past the tinted windows, I turn my attention to Oliver. He's dressed simply—dark jeans, a shirt that shows off the lean muscles of a dancer. He must have been kitted by Hudson because I can still make out the subtle bumps and ridges that I assume are weapons. His gaze flicks nervously between the road ahead and Hudson's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"So," I begin, breaking the silence that's settled over us since we left the penthouse, "what brought you to this cesspool of a city in the first place?"
He seems startled by the question, like he wasn't expecting conversation. "Job opportunities, mostly," he answers after a moment's hesitation. "There's not much out there beyond the city anymore—just dying towns and empty promises. Here, at least, there's a chance at something better."
"Family?" I press, curious about the background checks Hudson ran that seemed to satisfy him enough to let Oliver tag along.
A shadow crosses his face. "Estranged," he says shortly. "My dad died a couple years back." He doesn't elaborate, and something in his expression warns me not to push.
"Sorry to hear that," I offer, not entirely sure if I mean it. Everyone has their ghosts in this city.
He shrugs, the movement fluid and graceful even in the confined space. "It is what it is." His eyes meet mine, and I see a flash of that confidence I noticed when we first met—before Rev and Kai terrified him for letting me steal his bike. "Things started looking up when I landed the gig at the Playground. Felt like my luck was finally changing."
"Do you still feel lucky?" I ask, genuinely curious given everything that's happened since.
A smile spreads across his face—open, genuine. "Yes. More than ever."
Something about his certainty makes me pause. Most people would be running in the opposite direction by now, especially after witnessing the chaos in my life. But Oliver seems to be leaning into the danger, drawn to it—or maybe drawn to us.
"Even after everything that's happened?" I press, studying his reaction closely. "The sabotage at the club, the overdoses?"
"Especially after all that," he replies without hesitation. "I've spent my whole life being invisible, just another nobody trying to survive. But now..." He glances toward Hudson, then back to me. "Now I'm part of something important. Something real."
There's an intensity in his eyes that I recognize—the desperate need to belong, to matter. I've seen it before in the twins when we were at the foster home together, that hunger for connection that goes beyond the ordinary.
"We'll see if you still feel that way after tonight," I say, keeping my tone light despite the weight of what might be waiting for us at the docks.
The SUV takes a sharp turn, and Oliver slides slightly closer to me on the seat. I notice Hudson's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, watching the movement with that predatory focus he never quite manages to hide.
"Can I ask you something?" Oliver says, his voice dropping lower as if sharing a secret.
