Page 35 of Jig's Last Dance

For the first time, I notice he’s half naked, and I admire the glory of his bare chest before turning away. Although the savage tattoos are eye candy like no other, now is not the time.

“I think someone is trying to set you up,” I say, rubbing my eyes.

“What?” he says, and I hold out my hand, showing him the keys.

He looks between them and me with raised brows. “What?”

“Jig? Have you ever killed a man?”

His eyes widen and he steps back. “What? What the fuck kind of a question is that?”

“Have you?” I ask, my heart fluttering when he frowns.

“What’s going on, Alice?”

“That’s not an answer,” I whisper, dropping the keys on the side table. “These are my father’s.”

He glances at the keys, his blue eyes dark. “Okay, so?”

“Well, you know my dad is dead?”

He nods slowly, his brows jumping, and I smile sadly. “Some really creepy fucker gave them to me. Well, he and Iris.”

At my statement, the temperature drops in the room, and I gasp when he grabs my arm and barks, “Iris?”

“Ow. Stop,” I say, jerking away.

I’m still fucking recovering from the scariest encounter of my life. Jig may not be dangerous like that creeper, but I’ve got enough adrenaline riding through me to not care.

“What the fuck about Iris! If you’re fucking with me right now,” Jig says, grabbing my chin.

My skin tingles at his touch, but I wrench away, hissing, “I didn’t have to come here, dick, so back the fuck off.”

His eyes widen. He clenches his jaw and surprisingly nods before backing away. “Spill it.”

I roll my eyes at his growly tone. “This guy gave me the keys, and Iris said she stole them from you.”

“From me?” he says, looking at the keys again. “So, what? They want you to think I had something to do with your dad?”

I nod, watching him closely. When he looks at me with his brows furrowed, I relax. I’m not sure what this dick hoped to achieve, but I know that Jig is no match for my dad. It’s why I’m here. Whoever put my dad in the dirt had to be a fucking machine, and tough or no, Jig’s a teenager.

So, what’s the game? Why push me in this direction?

Jig scowls, waving his hand. “And you’re here because, what?”

“Look, I’m trying to throw you a fucking bone. This guy wants me to believe you killed my dad. Why?”

“How the fuck should I know? John’s a fucking dick,” he barks before turning to me abruptly. “Stay away from him. He didn’t touch you, did he?”

Visions of John’s stare as he spoke casually about bleeding out rush through me, and I shudder, wrapping my arms around my waist. “No, but Iris, geez.”

His brows twitch, and he raises his gaze from my folded arms, scoffing, “She’s a fucking train wreck. I wouldn’t believe anything she says.”

“But why, Jig? Why me? Why you? It doesn’t make sense.”

He considers me for a moment before pulling out his phone, but I grab his wrist. “No way, you can’t involve them.”

“Why not? I don’t have any secrets from my friends,” he says, holding the phone up to his ear.

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