Page 28 of Wicked Little Lies

What happened earlier’s off limits to talk about, and honestly, I’d rather discuss anything else than that right now.

I don’t even know if any of the things they gave me are bugs or trackers. My arm, the bangle, the phone? To me the phone seems the obvious choice. But mine or the dead man’s?

I rub my temple, snatch the top, and pull it on. Then I get up and go through to the living room area and pour myself a drink.

“I’ll take one,” says Jac.

“Go fuck yourself and get your own,” I return.

He laughs. “There’s my sweet MG.”

“Nothing sweet about me.”

Hendrick mutters something and moves past me sending a shiver through me. All I can do is try not to breathe him in. Try not to think about them using me, sharing me.

It’s as close to them both having me, changing holes, as I can get. I haven’t had a man in my ass and one in my pussy at the same time, and these two are way too big to have that and yet…oh, fuck, the idea ripples through me with excited little waves.

“Here.” Hendrick sloshes rum into a glass and thrusts it at Jac. “Unless you want to go back to your beloved bourbon?”

Jac’s eyes narrow. “It’s become a rum kinda fucking day for me.”

Then Hendrick gets himself one, too. “Start talking, Cat.”

With a sigh, I push out the words I’ve just cobbled together as I look for the pad of paper and pen most hotel rooms have. I can see a desk through open doors, but I don’t want questions, not yet.

“I don’t know what happened. I was planning to leave, meet up with Harry, and I thought she came to pick up her keys. ButI was greeted by a man with a gun.” I find the paper where expected. Bingo, I snatch it and hold up a hand.

They exchange a look but don’t say anything.

“I spend the last however-long drugged, locked up, chained up, drugged some more, and then I ended up here, where you killed the guy before I could find out anything.”

I scribble on the pad and hand it over.

I might be bugged?

“Okay,” Hendrick says, putting his glass down and getting his phone. “I need to make a call.”

He heads to the elevator and gets in. When the doors shut, the air shifts and thickens as Jac runs his gaze over me, raking my skin. It sends shivers tumbling down.

“Excuse me.” I avert my gaze because I can feel the need in him, and as much as I hate to admit it, it calls to me.

He wants something. My forgiveness? Anger? Words? I don’t know, but I’m a little delicate after what happened, and I need to clean up. I’m more than aware of his come still on my face.

I’m more than aware that he killed.

For me.

Hendrick would have done the same—has. But Hendrick is more measured in the meting out of his punishments and retributions. He’s a carefully aimed sniper’s rifle.

Jac is a wild storm.

“You’re not fucking sneaking out of here, MG.”

“Bathroom.”

He turns, goes to the bar, waving a hand at me to tell me to go ahead, and I know it’s a small reprieve. I take it.

The bathroom’s big, luxurious without being over the top. In fact, the suite downstairs where I woke was more lush than this.

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