Page 37 of Jig's Last Dance

“Enough. You haven’t heard from Iris, Rain?” Bastion says with a dark look aimed at me.

She shakes her head, her eyes downturned, and I look around in confusion. “What am I missing?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Cyn says dismissively.

Curling my hands into fists, I stand. These fuckers act like I’m the criminal when they’re the ones who’re linked to Iris and John. For all I know, this is about them, and I somehow got caught in the crossfire.

“Fuck you. I’m done,” I say, but when I move to leave, Jig steps into my way, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sit down.”

“Fuck off.”

His nostrils flare and a twitch forms in one of his eyelids. I stare at that fucking tic before raising my chin as he bellows, “Sal Castinetti, your fucking dick, sent you to that house where that fucking creep and his bitch implicated me in murder. Sit the fuck down!”

The cords in his neck stand on end, and I give a passing thought to kneeing him in the nuts but wisely poke his chest instead.

“I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t brought me home. Besides, maybe it’s a coincidence.”

I don’t even believe that, but Jig’s asshole attitude is burning a hole in my chest.

When he merely raises a brow, I mumble, “I don’t owe you shit.”

“This isn’t my fucking fault. You wanna mess with Castinetti, that’s your fucking problem,” he says.

Rubbing my aching head, I say softly, “You don’t get it, and that’s fine. I gave you the message. Do with it what you will.”

“Alice,” Rain interjects. “What did Iris say?”

Shrugging, I look at the wall to avoid the acidic look on Jig’s face. “She says she stole the keys from Jig, but . . .”

“But?”

With a sigh, I say, “I think she was giving me a warning.”

“Right,” Bastion says in a caustic tone, and I eye him warily.

What crawled up his ass and died? He was never a friendly kid, to be sure, but now he’s a hateful fucker.

“Why?” Jig asks, cocking a brow.

“I don’t know. It’s how she looked at me. And that creep, John, or whatever,” I shiver, “she was like a puppet, and he pulled her strings.”

“More like a fucking mastermind,” Bastion grumbles, his disgust evident in the sneer on his lips, but his dark eyes belie his words. It would seem there’s no love lost between Iris and this group, which isn’t my business beyond her pushing me here. But why do I sense more to his supposed disgust?

Whatever. Now what?

“Yeah, well, stay away from John,” Rain says, wrapping her arms around her waist.

I got the creepy vibe loud and clear. “No problem there. Who is he, anyway?”

Rain grimaces. “Her stepfather.”

I can only stare as Jig sets to pacing before me. Fuck. Poor Iris.

“This doesn’t solve the problem,” Jig growls, running his hands through his hair. “Why the fuck would Iris mention me?”

“And where did he get those keys?” I whisper.

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