Page 36 of Jig's Last Dance

“Jig,” I say, licking my lips. “Why did they mention you?”

“I don’t know. Because they’re sick fucks?”

“Maybe we need more time before we involve them. Maybe—”

He hangs up and steps into me. “If you’re saying I shouldn’t trust them, you can go fuck yourself.”

Helplessly I watch when he answers the return call, striding from the room. Maybe he trusts them, but I don’t. Who’s pushing us together, and why?

Is it a coincidence that this happened after I called Sal for help? Or Jig took me home with him?

Did Sal plan this that fucking carefully? But how could he have known Ben would freak out?

What am I missing? And who can I trust? No one.

∞∞∞

Jig just about stared a hole through me until his friends arrived. Now I have four sets of distrusting eyes boring into my skull.

Which would explain the raging headache.

“What were you doing there to begin with?” Cyn asks with his icy emerald stare.

Cynster fancies himself the leader of this little group, and he’s an icy cold bastard. Where Jig hides his ferocity behind a grin, Cyn doesn’t care. Before Rain, he was another bro off the block, but when she arrived, he lost his mind.

Now that they’re together, it’s cute in a fucked-up way.

Licking my dry lips, I reluctantly say, “I was supposed to wait in the car.”

I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on. The less these dicks know, the better. I don’t fucking trust them.

His brows flap over his eyes, “For who?”

I glance at the door, and he follows my stare. “Your thug out front?”

“Funny,” I mutter.

“Nothing about this is funny,” he barks, and I feel the air displace around me before Jig leans down and says, “Stop fucking around.”

“I’m not fucking around. You think I want to be here? Please.”

“Then why?” Rain asks, cocking her head to the side, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder.

Where Iris is fire—or was before whatever the fuck she’s gotten into with her red hair and crazy antics—Rain is a waterfall of curves and softness.

They couldn’t be more different, yet when Rain appeared at our school last year, they were thick as thieves. Now? Who knows?

“Because I thought maybe you fuckers would help me understand what’s going on. My bad,” I sneer.

Cyn sits forward so fast, I rear back, and Jig leans down, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“Careful, sunshine,” he says, pressing down gently. I’d like to think he’s warning me off because he cares, but yeah, this is his crew, and I’m the enemy. The irony.

“Listen, you little bitch—” Cyn starts, but Jig spins toward him with a growl.

Cyn’s brows draw up before he scowls. Beside him, Rain rests her hand on his lap, but the tension in the room has risen exponentially.

What’s going on?

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