Page 51 of Jig's Last Dance

“I’d ask if your brother knows you’re here, but I already called him. Why didn’t you tell me you don’t have a place to stay?”

Declan is older than Kieran, so smack dab in the middle of the brothers. He shares the same black hair and sinful good looks, but his eyes are a deep dark gray, like stormy clouds on a windy day.

He’s gorgeous. They all are, but he’s the stern one of the group. Always serious and grim.

My lip quivers at his disapproval, and he sighs. “Ali—”

“Let’s go,” Cyn breaks in. I whip around and skip over Cyn to Jig standing behind him with a stone-cold expression.

My chest seizes at the sight, and I drop my gaze. What the fuck?

“Listen up, fucker—” Declan says, but Cyn doesn’t care.

His cold eyes are fierce when he says, “Stay the fuck out of this, O’Reilly. This doesn’t concern you.”

“If it involves Ali, it involves me,” Declan spits.

“Oh really?” Jig sneers. “You willing to stand up against Castinetti?”

“What?” Declan sputters, glancing at me with a fierce frown.

“I—” I say, flinching when Jig barrels right over me.

“You didn’t know? Alice here is sleeping with the big fish now. You’ll have to stand back.”

He better mean that figuratively because after my confession, taking this tact is a low fucking blow. What a little bitch.

Standing from the wall, I ball my hands into fists, faltering when Declan says, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Are you in bed with that piece of shit?” he spits, and I swallow.

“He’s my uncle,” I say at a loss when his eyes darken, and he chuckles.

“I never thought I’d see the day. But good luck with that fucker.”

He’s gone before I can comment, and blindly, I watch him go before pushing past Cyn and Jig and walking away.

I’m out the door, gasping for air to push back the tears, when Jig appears behind me. He grabs my arm, and I wrench away from him. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever fucking touch me.”

He raises his arms and smirks, but his eyes are pools of darkness. Huffing, I spin away, ignoring him when he follows behind me until I pass the SUV, and he grabs me again.

“No,” I say, dancing away.

“Alice,” he growls. “Stop. Fuck.”

“Fuck off. You don’t know me. You think you’ve got it all figured out. You know nothing.”

I slash my hand through the air and keep going, swinging my fist at his face when he pulls me around. He doesn’t duck, and I hit him in the chin. My hand stings, but I ignore it.

His blue eyes blaze at me when he leans in and says, “Hate me. I don’t care. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh really? We’ll see about that.” Grabbing my phone, I bring up Uncle Sal’s number.

Jig watches me with a dark frown, and as it rings, I look into his eyes, saying shakily. “You did this. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

His brows drop over his eyes, but he steps back when I say into the phone, “Uncle Sal?”

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