Page 48 of Jig's Last Dance

I bite back the retort on my tongue and inhale slowly. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

He spins to me, his blue eyes bright, and I brace myself for a snarky comment but falter when he says, “You can wear something of Mandy’s.”

“Mandy?” I’m not sure if I should be annoyed or set it aside, but I can definitively say I don’t want to wear something that belonged to an old girlfriend.

“My sister.”

“Oh.”

He leads me out of the room and down the hall, stopping before a closed door. His face is a mask that I can’t see behind, and I swallow when he turns to me with a wretched smile.

“Just find something and meet me downstairs.”

With that, he walks away, and I stare at the door he wasn’t willing to step through. This is my chance to snoop. He basically gave me free rein. Which means there’s probably nothing worth finding.

Finally, I shake my head and back away.

I can’t invade this space. Clearly, it’s sacred to him, and I don’t belong anywhere near it.

Resolved, I shower, but when I go to put back on my clothes, I pause. Last year, Rain wore Cyn’s shirts as, I think, a fuck you when they weren’t talking. I only know this because gossip was rampant about her and his damn shirts.

However, I’m not opposed to taking a page from her book. Rifling through Jig’s drawer, I find a white tee. It’s so fucking big it billows on me, but with an evil smile, I pull out a pair of scissors I left in my bag and never removed. I think it was for a project in science.

I cut along the stitching and tie the edges into knots before removing the sleeves and making the hem shorter. Now I have a form-fitting dress that shows my skin between the knots down my sides and ends just below my hoochie.

And because I’m feeling sassy, I forgo a damn bra, smiling even wider when I see my nipples against the shirt. Pulling back on my combat boots, I swipe on dark liquid eye makeup that makes me look goth and arrange my wet hair in two buns.

Thankfully, I have my jean jacket. I shove my fifty bucks in my boot before grabbing my coat and heading down the stairs. Of course, I have to search out the dick, and when I hear multiple voices, I slow to take a deep breath. I hate being at odds with these people, but I’d hate to be used for their own gain even more.

And whatever their affiliation to John points to misdeeds I want no part of.

Besides, however improbable, it’s possible these fuckers orchestrated my parents’ deaths. I can’t lose sight of that, even when my heart is screaming at me that Jig isn’t a killer.

Straightening my shoulders, I roll into the room. Rain’s eyes go wide, and she grins when she sees me. Cyn barely spares me a glance, and Bastion doesn’t bother to turn, but Jig glances up, down, and back up again with eyes so wide it’s comical.

His nostrils flare as his gaze travels down my body, stopping at my tits, which are now hard at the attention, over my bare legs to my feet, and back. When he opens his mouth, I wait, but he snaps it shut and turns away, staring at the wall with a fierce frown.

Swallowing my disappointment, I stop at the threshold and pull up a bored tone. “Well, where are we going?”

Rain approaches with an amused light in her eyes and says as she passes me, “Fight Club.”

Fight Club? As in the place where Shawn’s brothers go to make a buck and hit things? Hm.

I follow Rain out the door, dropping my head to hide my smile when Jig says fiercely, “Don’t fucking look.”

“Fuck off. You think she dressed like that for anything else?” Bastion rumbles.

Jig chuffs, and I miss anything further because I step into the courtyard and make for the SUV. I’m exhausted, and I wouldn’t have minded a nap. Now I’m going to a fucking fight where Shawn’s brothers will surely recognize me, which means I’m damned.

There’s no way the news won’t come back to Ben, not that he seems to care anyway, but fuck me. The hole just continues to grow.

“Get out of my way,” Jig growls and I glance up to find him in a tense standoff with Cyn.

Cyn frowns and shoots me a frustrated glare, but since I have no clue what the problem is, I just look away. Rain scoots over, and I’m forced to follow when Jig climbs inside. His arm brushes mine when he closes the door, and I suppress a shiver.

Avoiding his gaze, I raise my head and meet Bastion’s scowl in the rearview mirror. Since I’m on edge and pulsing in delicate places, I raise my brow and bare my teeth. His brows rise before he huffs and looks away.

Jig grabs my chin and pulls my face around, the hold just harsh enough to sting. I see the warning in his eyes, but again, I don’t know what the problem is. Instead, I pull away and glance at my lap. He seems to relax, which is good, although I’m left wondering what the fuck is the deal and how I can avoid it.

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