Page 64 of Jig's Last Dance

Rolling my eyes, I huff.

Alice: I’m sick

Jig: Too sick to answer the phone?

Okay, maybe she did.

Alice: Oh, did you call?

Jig: Don’t get sassy

Alice: I have no idea what you’re talking about

Jig: If you were here, I’d shove my dick in that sour mouth

Holy shit. Clenching my legs together, I bite back a moan. Just the thought has me pulsing in delicate places, but fuck if I’m going to let him take control of this conversation.

Alice: If I were there, I’d bite it off

There’s an extended silence. I grin before it fades because this small communication is a lifeline I didn’t realize I needed.

Jig: My dick just cried

Laughing out loud, I drop the phone with a smile. We may clash, but I enjoy sparring with Jig—at least when he’s not acting like a wounded animal.

After a while, I drop into sleep, my cheek pressed to the plush carpet. As prisons go, it could be worse, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to thank the fucker when he finally sets me free.

I rouse when I hear the door squeak open, pushing to my knees and staring at Sal standing in the threshold. Even after everything, I still marvel that once upon a time, I was his bambina and he doted on me as such.

Part of me feels the loss right along with my parents because he was a major part of my world. But the other part of me is sickened by his actions and those of my father, making those memories vile and gross.

“Well, Alice. Are you ready to leave the closet?”

I sense he’s asking me more than just that, but I have no choice, and I nod. But as I stare at him, I vow to get the fuck out of here, and if I’m lucky, I’ll take him out when I go.

It’s a foolish fantasy, but it warms my cold, aching heart.

“Good. Get changed and meet me in the salon.”

He’s gone before I can comment, but I stare after him with a frown because I have a feeling I’m not going to like what comes next.

∞∞∞

“What?” I whisper, dropping my gaze to his chin. Staring at him too long is like gazing into a solar eclipse, deadly at that.

“Your nosiness has opened a door. Now I want to know what the fuck is going on.”

“Why?”

“Because, bambina, this is my world, and if that fucker crossed me, he’ll face the consequences.”

Is this about my dad or something more? Unfortunately, I can’t fucking tell by looking in this man’s soulless eyes.

“But John . . .”

“He’s a slimy little bastard, and I’ll deal with him when I’m ready.”

Shivering, I smile wanly. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a joke, but I don’t know how else to react.

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