Page 11 of The Players

“That’s it? You called me out here for that?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t…” His eyes went to the house and paused on one of the many windows. He stared at it a moment, something passing over him that I didn’t understand. “Well, come in and chat or fuck off. I don’t care.”

He started to walk through the open gate, his back to me and his hands back in his pockets as if he were on some casual night stroll. I thought for a split second about running him over but thought better of it. I didn’t want to go to prison. It would just give him what he wanted.

Slowly, I crept through the gate and up the brick-paver driveway. Easton kept pace until we were in front of one of his many garages. He pointed out where I should park and waited while I did so. I put the car into park and then took the time to roll up my car window. It would be easy to peel out and drive away now, but once I stepped out, it would be too late. I’d be at his whim.

He just wants to talk,a very stupid part of my brain said. I told it to shut the fuck up and stepped out of the car.

Easton nodded as I stepped out like I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. I hated him then, more than I had in a long time. Those hands had pulled the hose out of my coffin and left me to die. I fisted my own hands to remind myself what a monster he was before speaking.

“Listen up, Hill. You make this fast. I’ve told my friend Randy that if I don’t call her with the all-clear in ten minutes she’ll have the cops so far up your ass you’ll be flashing red and blue out of your eyeballs, got me?”

He laughed. “Where did you learn to talk like that, onLaw and Orderreruns? It isn’t very attractive, orphan. I’d stick to your damsel in distress act if I were you. Mills and Lowell must eat that shit up.”

“Don’t talk about them.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Isn’t that exactly who you’re here to talk about? Your three pussy-whipped fuck boys?”

I ground my teeth. “If this is how you’re going to be, I’m leaving.” I turned to go but he held out a hand.

“You’re the one who came all this way, so maybe we should talk. Plus, I’m bored. Let’s go around to the back.”

Once again, he started to walk without looking back to see if I was following. It was infuriating. Did people always do what he said? If school was any indication, then yes, they did.

Reluctantly, I followed him around the garage and down a brick path to the backyard. There was a huge, brick patio that surrounded an Olympic-sized swimming pool that spilled into a king-sized hot tub.

If he thought he was getting me into either of those, he was crazy.

Instead, he led me to a set of outdoor patio furniture situated under a heat lamp. I hadn’t realized how cold it was until the heat from the lamp was pooling on me, warming my clenched hands and goosebump-covered arms beneath my jacket.

I sat on the edge of my seat while Easton reached into a clear-fronted mini-fridge and pulled out an artisan beer.

“Want one?” He offered me the brown, long-necked bottle.

I shook my head. No way was I letting him get me drunk. There was no end to the depths of things he might do to me if I did.

He shrugged, put the bottle under the opener affixed to the side of the fridge, and popped the cap off. His eyes watched the cap spin for a moment on the brick before he took a long pull.

Then he turned his gaze to me.

“You’ve come to make a deal? One to save your precious boys?” He sounded intrigued by the idea.

I nodded. “You need to leave them alone. You’ve done enough to them, and all they’ve ever done is try to protect me. If you’re pissed at someone, it’s me. If you want to take your sadistic rage out on someone, take it out on me.”

He sat back, throwing an arm across the cushion of his chair. “Nice speech. Did they all help you rehearse it? Well, not Lowell. He has the IQ of a potato, but Hector. Yeah, Hector would go over notes with you. He’d go over anything with you under the right conditions, isn’t that right, orphan?”

Why did Easton sound jealous? Was he upset I’d stolen his friends away? Or did he still want a taste, as he’d indicated before he’d attempted to kill me?

I could use either to my advantage.

“Yeah, Hector helps me. He helps me with a lot of things,” I said suggestively. “Does that make you mad, Easton?”

His eyes hooded. “I couldn’t give a shit what Hector does anymore. I was so sick of his rules.” He took another drink of his beer. The blue light from the pool played on his model-like features.

“If you don’t care what Hector does, why try to blackmail him, then? Why send us all those texts? Why burn down the warehouse?”

He sat forward suddenly. “Burn down the warehouse? What are you talking about?”

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