Page 22 of The Players

But I had other problems. Mainly, I’d been cut by the shattered glass as I’d been pushed out, so, not only was I wet and nearly drowned, I’d started bleeding all over the place. It didn’t help that I was left alone to free all three of the guys from their duct-taped prisons. It had taken nearly an hour before we could leave the warehouse and by then, my blood was smeared all over the floor, the tanks, and all four of our clothes. It was only after Hector had been freed that he’d insisted I stop rushing around like a crazy woman and let him bandage my wounds. I agreed but soon realized how bone-tired I was the minute I stopped moving.

I’d nearly died. Mills had been so close to drowning.

Easton was a sick bastard.

Yet, I kept picturing him with that crowbar in his hands. He’d been the one to come to our rescue, albeit far too late for my tastes. Still, it felt strange that it had been Savannah’s voice over the loudspeaker, her taunting tones that made it seem like she was in charge and not Easton.

But no. That was orchestrated for a reason. Easton loved to have others do his dirty work. That way he had plausible deniability. Why get his hands dirty when he could slip out the back door as soon as things got hairy? Savannah was just another pawn in Easton’s game. Saving us was simply another ploy to make us question his motives.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

My thoughts floated around as Hector threw towels at the other two guys and got one for himself. Luckily, Mills’ father’s restaurant had a fully stocked back room. The dishtowels weren’t exactly the right size, but there were a lot of them. We’d dried out a little on the ride here in my crappy car. On the way, they’d let me know how they’d been duped into coming to the warehouse only to be accosted and knocked out. Then they’d woken up bound, gagged, and hanging over the aquariums. I couldn’t imagine the terror. Yet, all three of them seemed pissed, not afraid.

“We don’t want you playing any more of Easton’s games,” Hector said, running a towel over his dark hair, tousling it in such a delicious way.

I shook my head. “If I don’t play his game, he will shut down Randy’s parents’ grocery store. You saw what he did to our warehouse. What’s to stop him from blowing up the store with Randy’s family inside?”

“I can tell my father,” Hector said. When I gave him a look, he shrugged. “I know you hate him, but he’s good for some things.”

Lowell got up and gripped a shelf so hard I thought it might turn to splinters in his palm. “Or, I could go to the Hills’ house right now and put a bullet in Easton’s fucking face. How about that?”

We all shook our heads, and Hector walked over and put a hand on Lowell’s shoulder. “You don’t need life in prison to solve this problem, Lowell. We can figure something out. We did before.”

Lowell ground his teeth before reaching into his jacket pocket for his flask. “I’m sick of figuring shit out. We need to take Hill out. For good.”

“He has security,” I said, remembering my time at his house. There’d been gates, cameras, no doubt lots of other security measures I hadn’t seen. “He’d love to catch you breaking and entering and get you behind bars, Lowell. No, there has to be another way.”

Lowell’s eyes were burning embers, letting me know he didn’t think there was another way, but he plugged his mouth with another swig of whiskey, or whatever poison he had in that flask, and didn’t argue.

He worried me. Lowell might go off and do something stupid just to make sure I was safe. I needed to keep my eye on him.

But it was Mills who worried me the most. He’d stayed silent this whole time. He occupied a bucket in the back corner of the storage closet and was absentmindedly running a towel over his blond hair, back and forth, as if he could wipe the night from his mind. Mills was a talker, a joker. The fact that he was so quiet made me nervous.

I walked over to him. “Mills, are you okay?”

His eyes snapped up to me as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. He nodded and stood in one motion, the bucket tipping back and smacking on the ground behind him. “I think I’m getting a call.”

Then he made a beeline for the door and slipped through it, leaving us in the storage closet without him.

Hector stepped behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”

“I didn’t want to pick him last,” I whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“He’ll understand,” Hector said, his voice soothing. “He’s just… trying to get over it. We all are.”

I bit my lip, nodding, but I wasn’t so sure. Mills had an ego. If I’d bruised it, he might not ever forgive me.

And that was exactly what Easton wanted. He was trying to divide us, and it was working.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Hector said, before pulling me into a warm hug.

I watched him slip through the door and shut it behind him before I sagged under the weight of the night.

Lowell’s voice penetrated my self-loathing. “Don’t do that, princess.”

I wiped tears from my eyes and straightened up. “Oh… it’s… I’m just… Everything’s okay. I’m sure it will be.”

When I turned around, Lowell was there.

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