Devil's Game(129)

“Well, she’s not shy.”

“Not even a little,” Hunter said, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me close. “You said you wanted to show us something?”

“Yeah,” Burke said. “I’ll ride with Skid. You follow.”

Hunter tugged me toward his truck and we climbed in.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack back there,” he said. “And I think you gave him the wrong impression—it wasn’t goats, it was kegs.”

“My bad,” I murmured. “It’s so hard for me to hold all that information in my little female head. I get all confused.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said blandly. “I can tell you what to do. We have to keep that feeble little brain of yours from getting tired.”

I smacked his leg hard and he pretended to whimper as Skid pulled out ahead of us. Hunter followed, reaching over to lay a hand on my bare leg, running his fingers up and down my thigh as we drove.

God, how could I want him again so soon?

We didn’t actually drive that far, but traffic was slow enough that it took a good twenty minutes before Skid pulled off into a residential neighborhood. The houses were all old, built in the typical Portland style. Narrow lots, high porches, trees everywhere. The house he pulled up to looked solid enough, but the paint was peeling and the lawn was practically a jungle. Interesting …

“What’s this?” I asked Hunter. He shrugged.

“No idea.”

I opened the passenger-side door, then tried to figure out how to get out of the truck without showing my goodies off to the entire world. Hunter smirked, but he came around and lifted me down, setting me on the sidewalk like a perfect gentleman. Skid and Burke were already up on the porch, watching us with interest.

We climbed up the stairs to join them.

Burke stuck a key in the door and opened it, gesturing for us to go inside. The place was completely empty, and while you could tell it had gorgeous lines, the house clearly needed work. The floors were all wood, but they were scratched to hell and back. It had a shotgun layout—living room, dining room, and kitchen all in a straight line. I assumed bedrooms were upstairs.

“What do you think?” Burke asked Hunter. “In addition to this, there’s an old carriage house out back. You’d never know it, but it’s a double lot. Spans the block.”

“It’s solid construction,” he said. “But not quite sure why we’re here.”

“I’m buying it,” Burke said. “Figured you and Em might like a house of your own. What do you think?”





HUNTER


I stared at Burke, wary. Em’s eyes were wide, but she didn’t say anything—proof positive that she was her father’s daughter. She’d drill me later, but she wouldn’t give away shit in front of witnesses. Good thing, too, because Burke was a twisty f*cker, and for all I knew this was some kind of elaborate test of some kind.

“Skid, why don’t you take Em upstairs, show her the rest of the house?”

“Sure,” Skid said, his tone neutral, but I saw a hint of something dark in his eyes. Whatever was happening here, Skid was already in on it. We’d have words about that later. He led Em away, and I turned to Burke.

“What’s this all about?” I asked bluntly.

“Investment property,” Burke said, offering a fatherly smile. “The market’s still recovering, and it’s a good value. Plenty of room out back. I might want to store some things there at some point. You kids do the work to fix this place up, you live here for free. In a few years, you can buy it from me. Hell, maybe I’ll just give it to you. You’re the closest thing I have to a son, Hunter. If you’re really ready to settle down, I want you in a good place.”

I stilled, not buying it for an instant.

“What’s the game?”

Burke dropped the pretense, eyes hardening.

“That’s why I like you so much, always have. No bullshit. It’s a f*cking shame you can’t go higher in the club, at least not for now. Until then, I like the idea of you playing house here in Portland. We’ve got a decent presence started, but it’s touch and go. I set you up here with Princess Emmy, the Reapers will think twice about shooting up the place if things go south. Instant safe house.”

I shook my head.

“I won’t risk Em,” I said, and I meant it. “Deal breaker.”