Page 23 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

She had so much talent. So much soul living in her twenty-year-old chest.

Then she’d walked in higher than the moon in the sky.

I should have seen the signs. Once upon a time, I’d tried everything available in pill or liquid form. I’d never been one for nose candy simply because it could affect my voice.

That was off-limits.

Until that night.

Until my stupidity and arrogance had taught me a lesson that could never be unlearned.

I dug my fingers into the papery bark of a birch tree before pushing off again. No. I was not heading into that particular war zone tonight. One glancing blow from the misery train was all I was capable of dealing with at the moment.

Bad enough I’d spotted Logan sitting on the far side of the pool. Which meant a conversation. Likely one I wouldn’t like.

I honed my anger into a blade and stepped into the rage as I crossed the endless length of lawn to the pool. He didn’t even have the good sense to close it up. At least not yet.

Sweet bloody hell. Was he going to dip his balls in the ice for fun?

Spotting me, Logan shoved his phone into his wide cargo pocket along his leg.

“Did you make up with your wife yet?” I called as I made my way toward him.

He squinted at me and raked his hands through his wheat-colored hair. “You’re the one who needs to apologize, asshole.”

“If it was just me, you’d be inside warming your nearly blue hands.” Mine were just as blue but hidden in the pockets of my jeans.

“Yeah, well, Iz doesn’t take kindly to any sort of shit in the house, you know that.”

“I’m not the one who decided to get all domesticated.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shut up. Nichole and Jared have you as wrapped as any of us.”

That was true. Then again, Logan’s children were the truest lights in my world. For now. We could all be corrupted. “They take quite well to story time. Next, you’ll be bitching me out about that.”

Logan shook his head. “If you tell them a scary story tonight, I’ll have your balls in a vise. It doesn’t matter if you pretty it up with Irish flavor or not. I’ll know.”

I shrugged. “They like my stories.” I fisted my frozen hands in my pockets. “Usually.”

“Just apologize to my wife, would you? I’m getting hungry.”

“Apologize for what? Throwing a drug addict out of your house? Nope.”

“No. I appreciate that part.” Logan cracked his neck. “It was the volume in which you did it.”

“Angel wasn’t feeling any pain. She probably won’t even remember it.” I would. I wouldn’t be able to get her glassy, blank eyes out of my head for a good fucking long time. Broken, shattered eyes.

Fuck. I would not feel sorry for the little lamb.

Logan opened his mouth, but twisted around when the sliding door opened. “Izzy.”

“Don’t Izzy me,” she snarled. “And you.”

I pressed my lips together against a smile. She was magnificent. Her dark hair lifted on the wind and whipped around her shoulders. If I wasn’t such a lost cause, I would have gone for her years ago.

Liar.

You never had eyes for Isabella Grace.

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