Page 75 of Jig's Last Dance

He carries me through the crowd, the masses parting for him. “Like how I’m about to spank your ass.”

“Oh, for what?” I ask in a strangled whisper. I can’t decide if I should be horrified or turned on, but I’m thinking a little bit of both.

He presses his mouth into my neck, his warm breath caressing my skin. “For disappearing for half an hour.”

And it all goes flat. What can I possibly say?

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It’s the only lie I can think of because where else would I be at a place like this? I guess I could’ve said I was fucking someone.

“Is that right?” he growls.

“Yes.”

“Or maybe you were out back getting your second taste of dick? One go, and you’re a slut.”

I go rigid, and he huffs, hugging me tighter. This is why I squeak when I say, “Well, I guess you would know.”

He chuckles, but the sound is layered in darkness when he drops me before the SUV and barks, “Get in.”

Without looking at him, I smooth my shirt, smirking when I catch his head dip to my tube top before I slide inside next to Bastion. I’ve never seen Bastion in the backseat before, and when I glance upfront, I see Cyn in the driver’s seat holding Rain’s hand.

Bastion glowers but doesn’t comment, and Jig gets in beside me, slamming the door shut so hard the damn vehicle rocks on its hinges.

“Stop being a dick sneeze,” Rain says, and I raise my brows. Dick sneeze?

Jig growls but turns his head to the window. Honestly, I’m not in the headspace to worry about his mercurial moods because John’s words bounce around in my head.

What did he mean? Was Dad a snitch? For what? Maybe he didn’t approve of the sex trafficking shit after all? Thank fuck.

But now I’m left with the prospect that Uncle Sal invited me into his home as revenge against my dad. And this means if I wasn’t fucked already, I am now. I can’t win against a crime boss. Shit. And if Sal doesn’t know, will telling him of John’s threats sign my death warrant?

Who else knows about this? Jig? Ben?

Did my fucking brother know and not tell me?

Does he know how much danger I’m in? Does he care?

I rub my aching chest at the thought and bow my head. We’ve been at odds for years, but this feels like so much more. Surely my own damn brother cares about me.

Jig shuffles beside me, and I glance at him sideways. He’s glaring out the window, his jaw ticking. Is he pissed at me or something else?

I don’t know, but he’s the jerk who fucked me for information. So, whatever.

Jig’s head pounds the glass when the car lurches forward, and I glance up, only to thump against my seatbelt. A loud crunching sound follows, and Jig looks over his shoulder.

“Fuck,” he says, and I lurch forward again.

Cyn swerves, I rebound off Bastion, who grunts, and pull myself upright only to fly forward again.

“Who the fuck are they?” Jig says.

When I turn my head, I see a black SUV similar to ours kissing our bumper. My heart jumps into my throat, and I stare at the taillights dumbly. Someone is trying to run us off the road.

“Shit,” Cyn swears, swerving again.

I smash into Jig and fall back, my head wobbling on my neck.

From the front seat, Rain mutters, “Butt fuckers.”

---