Page 10 of The Players

I sat in my car in front of the gated entry and stared. To call it a mansion would be an understatement. I’d been to mansions before, namely the house they’d rented to throw the first of their “games” last month. That house had been gaudy. The house in front of me…

I didn’t know where to begin.

It was so large it looked like a museum. I had no idea the number of rooms it held, but it had to be at least two dozen. The red brick and gray stone structure just kept going, stretching past the five-car garage, going on past the exterior stairwells that lead to a large wrap-around stone patio. The fancy up-lights highlighted the architectural choices some high-end designers made when this house was built. Hedges and perfectly sculpted shrubs blocked the view of the rest of the house, but I had a feeling it just kept going.

I’d known Easton Hill was rich, but this was something else.

His father was a big-shot tech CIO, the kind you saw on MSNBC from time to time. Richard Hill had more money than God, which was what Mills liked to say with a roll of his eyes. And it was this money that kept Easton from facing any consequences for his actions. It also made it possible that one or both of them had something to do with my parents' death. Hector had overheard something from his father, something to do with Richard Hill and my parents’ murder. I’d been too busy, or maybe too scared to dig into it further. Maybe tonight was the night.

But first, I needed to make Easton lay off the guys.

With shaking hands, I reached through my open car window and pressed the intercom button on the gate’s control panel. I expected a voice, a butler, or staff to answer, but instead, there was a buzzing sound and then the gates began to part wide.

Easton knew I was coming. He’d been expecting me.

Dread lodged in my stomach. I glanced at the clock. It was well past two a.m. What the hell was I doing going into Easton’s house alone at this time of night? I should turn around. I should get out of here while I still had a chance. But if I did that, Easton would put more pressure on the guys.

I knew the person he wanted to torment was me. Maybe if he saw I wasn’t going to put up with his shit any longer, he’d leave us all alone.

God, who was I kidding? This was Easton Hill for Christ’s sake. He was just going to torture me.

I reached down and started to put my car in reverse.

“Leaving so soon?” a voice said at my window.

I jumped and screamed while pulling away from the open car window and the figure now standing beside it.

Easton stood beside my car, hands in the pockets of his expensive khakis. His collared shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his stomach revealing his hairless chest. His blue eyes pinned me, keeping me immobile as he leaned his face toward the open window.

“What are you doing here, orphan?”

I blinked a few times. “You texted me,” I finally said.

“Why in the hell would I do that?” He lifted a dark eyebrow as a suggestive smirk crept onto his face. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Listen, Hill, if this is some sort of trap—”

“No trap. I saw you at my driveway and came out to see what in the world would possess you come here, but, trust me, I have better things to do than fuck around outside at two in the morning.” He put his hands in his pockets, turned away from me, and started to walk toward the house.

I leaned my head out my car window. “You sent me a video.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Did I? Was it interesting?”

He was messing with me. I didn’t like it or his smug face. “I’ve come here to tell you to leave the boys out of it.” ‘

“The boys? Is that what you’re calling them now? Cute.”

“They don’t deserve to be tortured.”

He shook his head. “Then you don’t know them like I do.”

Anger flared in my gut. “I mean it, Easton. Leave them out of this.”

His smirk faded. When his eyes met mine, a chill ran up my spine. “You really like them. Huh. I wonder what you’d do to keep them from harm.”

“I’m not sucking your dick if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He laughed dryly. “I wouldn’t dream of it, orphan. Now, get the fuck out of here. I’m tired.”

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