Page 4 of The Players

“I’llriphisgoddamndick off and feed it to him.” Lowell’s anger poured from every feature as he gripped the chair back as if he were about to tear it in two.

“I’m not sure how that would help,” I said, walking over to run a soothing hand down his arm. The leather was smooth under my fingertips, but the muscles beneath were hard as stone. He’d cut his brown hair, a short crewcut that looked both sexy and badass, a look Lowell had somehow perfected. His stubble was longer, giving him a dark five o’clock shadow, one that I pictured rubbing me in all the right places, but I needed to focus and so did Lowell.

I squeezed his hand tenderly. “We need to keep a clear head here and make some sort of plan.” His dark eyes darted up to my face and then away as if he didn’t want my calming aura to affect his rage. But, while Lowell's anger didn’t dissipate, at least he spared the chair. It was one of their expensive additions to the warehouse’s remaining furniture.

When the boys bought this abandoned building and made it their hangout, they hadn’t done much to the massive interior except to their “clubhouse” as they called it. The clubhouse was one room, which had once been an office. Now, it held a few nice chairs and a couch, a minibar, a fridge, a pool table, and a few other bachelor pad accessories. The chair Lowell was slowly crushing was one of the nicer pieces in the room, a leather wingback with detailed button work and sculpted legs which I happened to like. I couldn’t stand to see him tear it apart on account of Easton Hill.

“He’s just trying to scare me,” I added, thinking it might help, but Hector scoffed.

“Was he trying to scare you when he pulled the hose out of your coffin condemning you to death? If we hadn’t gotten you out when we did…” Hector shook his head as a look of anguish fell over his face. He tugged back his black hair savagely.

“But you did,” I said, walking to him and sitting next to him on the couch.

Across the room, Mills stared out a soaped-over window as if he could see the dirty, trash-filled street outside of it. Instead of cutting his hair, Mills had continued to grow his. His long blond locks would soon rival those of Ty Maven, the only member of the Lords who’d stayed by Easton’s side. That thought made me think it might be time to offer Mills a haircut. Anything to keep from associating him with that asshole, Ty.

But Mills was stuck thinking about the text message and Easton’s meaning. “Easton might be trying to scare you. That motherfucker is a guy who won’t let anyone cross him. And, in his mind, we all betrayed him by taking Vivian’s side.”

Lowell growled, but Mills raised a hand to stop him, his expensive watch flashing in the light as he did. “I’m not saying I regret siding with Vivian,” Mills said, “Not at all. I’m just saying what Easton is thinking.”

Hector nodded. “He’ll want revenge. On all of us.”

“Then why text only her?” Lowell asked, taking a flask from his jacket pocket and lifting it up for a long pull. He was getting drunk again, trying to avoid his feelings like always. His breath would be laced with whiskey. His tongue would taste of it too.

“He texts Vivian because he knows it will hurt us. Go after us—” Hector shrugged. “We can take it. Go after our girl…”

Mills nodded. Lowell looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off.

Me? I was just marveling at the fact that he called metheir girl.

There had been an unspoken arrangement that I wastechnicallywith all three of them. Each saw me separately, and no one spoke of how or why, but, so far, it seemed to work.

I loved all three of my boys. I enjoyed being with all of them. And so far, they all seemed okay with that. It was the perfect situation, and Easton was trying to ruin it, just like he ruined everything. He was like a poison, slowly killing drip by agonizing drip.

“We can’t let him do this,” I said with more determination than I’d said anything all night.

The guys nodded.

“What do we do?” Mills asked. “You have a plan?” He looked at Hector, as did the rest of us.

Hector stared off thoughtfully, his thumb and forefinger stroking the beard he’d let grow since leaving Easton’s gang. “We go talk to him.”

“Talk to him? Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lowell gripped the chair and flung it halfway across the room where it bashed into the pool table and then toppled over. The sound of wood splintering made me cringe.

So much for the leather wingback chair.

“Hold on,” Hector said, standing up and holding out a hand to keep Lowell from smashing anything else. “I have had surveillance on his house. There’s lots of activity going in and out. We find out what he’s up to first, then we negotiate with him. Let him know what will happen if he messes with us.” Hector’s gaze locked into Lowell’s, and he gave a nod.

Violence. That’s what he meant. He would give Lowell permission to unleash the demon.

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt,” I said, gripping the couch beneath me.

“We won’t get hurt, princess,” Lowell said, his eyes dark. His jaw was set in a hard line and his hands fisted. I knew he was picturing all the ways he would torture Easton. Lowell was soft as a kitten when he was around me, but get on his bad side…?Woof.Still, Easton had many tricks up his sleeve. I did not want Lowell to get hurt on my account.

“We need to be smart,” I said, echoing Hector. “Easton will know we will plan something. We have to be one step ahead of him.”

Hector nodded. “Something is going on over at his house. More people in and out than normal. I don’t know if his dad is up to something or if it’s Easton, but we can find out.”

"His dad is always up to something."

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