Page 44 of The Players

I’d given myself over to him more than I should. More than I’d liked to admit to myself and certainly more than I’d admit to anyone else. I couldn’t tell the guys what I’d let him do. Lowell would want to rip his head off. Hector would probably help Lowell and then cover up the murder. They had no idea that Easton was… different. Sure, he was no angel, but he might not be the devil he once was. I’d spent a lot of time being convinced he was playing me, but after last night, I didn’t think I could deny it any longer.

Easton wanted me.

What did I make of that? Did I find him especially alluring? Yes. I had to admit that being with him was exhilarating, like riding in a sports car with no brakes. Wild and terrifying.

Was I putting myself in dangerous situations as I was prone to do? Was I self-destructing because I hadn’t yet figured out who killed my parents, and I wanted to punish myself for that slight? I didn’t know. It seemed plausible, but I thought I’d gotten over that.

Yet, here I was pining for a man who, at one time, wanted me dead.

Pretty fucking stupid.

I scrubbed my hands over my face and tried to push the thoughts away. I had one goal now: removing Savannah from town and our lives. Easton had given me some fuel, but I needed to light the match. If I succeeded, the pressure on Randy’s parents’ store would ease. Easton had made it clear that was all from Savannah to use as leverage to get me to do what she wanted. It would also mean the pressure at school would abate. If no one was trying to get me expelled, I could finish out my senior year and get the hell away from Waverly Academy for good.

With Savannah gone, I could also mend things with Mills. Maybe we’d be friends at least. Anything else would be icing on the cake.

But first I needed to get rid of Savannah, and it wouldn’t be easy.

Easton had made it clear if Savannah suffered enough humiliation, she would hit the road faster than a toupee in a hurricane, but concocting a plan that would remove her would take everyone’s help. And I meanteveryone, including Spencer. He likely had insider info and maybe dirt on Savannah’s DUIs or her previous humiliation that would seal the deal.

The problem was would Savannah’s own brother turn on her? Her cousin did. But a brother was something else entirely.

I remembered him coming to see me. He’d wanted to warn me about her plans to have me drink myself to death or at least into a blind stupor at the second game. But he’d also stood by and watched as she’d done just that. He seemed the type to let Savannah run things, which didn’t bode well for me.

Either way, I needed to talk to him. Easton let me know he worked out alone at a boxing gym on the east side of town. After school on Monday, I hung around talking to Naomi and Tina, giving Spencer time to get to the gym and get his workout in. But after a half an hour, I bid farewell to the girls and drove twenty minutes across town to the gym.

Because it was Spencer, I’d expected some bougie gym, but the one my GPS took me to was in a strip mall near the highway. It was a nondescript brick building boasting a Chinese restaurant, a nail place, and Guns Gym. The name was displayed in big white letters on the window. Inside, patrons punched bags in the front while a boxing ring sat in the distance. In the parking lot, I found Spencer’s sports car near the back where he hoped no one would touch it. I went a row over and parked in a spot where I could see the front door and waited.

After nearly an hour, I spied Spencer coming out of the gym. Quickly, I got out of my car and made a beeline to him. He saw me coming as we were halfway there. His hand came up, and I thought he might wave, but instead, he pulled his ear pods out of his ears. His blond hair was tousled and sweaty. His muscles popped beneath his t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. He pursed perfect lips as he regarded me, surprise playing on his features.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pushing hair out of his blue eyes. “I didn’t clock you as the type to go a couple of rounds in the ring.”

“What tipped you off?” I said, letting a small smile play on my face. “Is it my lack of physical prowess or my noodle arms?” I shook them out to prove my point.

His expression lightened but then went serious again. “If you are here to tell me my sister is a bitch, save it. I already know. I told you to stay away from her, and you didn’t, so you can’t be mad about the outcome.”

He started toward his car, and I followed.

“I know you tried to help me the other night.”

He dug in his shorts’ pockets for car keys while keeping his eyes on his car. “Yeah, it didn’t work very well now, did it? The women in my life don’t seem to listen.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

He stopped and fixed me with a look. “We all have choices, Vivian. Even you.”

He appeared as if he was about to get into his car and drive off, so I slid between him and the door. It put us close together, closer than we’d ever been before. Even though he’d been working out for an hour, he smelled nice, like cologne and testosterone. Maybe the wet hair I’d mistaken for sweat was from the shower. His trim arms were prominent in his sleeveless shirt as he put his hands in his pockets and stared at me.

“You have a choice too, Spencer,” I said. “You can choose to let your sister keep harassing people until she kills one of them, or you can help me stop her.”

He laughed, this time with no humor in it. “Stop her? Do you think you canstop her?Nothing stops my sister. Not the school officials. Not the cops. Not even the FBI.”

“The FBI?” My eyebrows, and my voice went up.

Spencer’s face clouded, and he shook his head. “Look, I need to go. Please get out of my way. I have enough trouble as it is.”

He used his body to maneuver past mine. Before I knew it, he was in his car and pulling the door shut, cutting off our conversation.

I tapped on the car’s window. “Spencer, please. Just talk to me. What about the FBI?”

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