Devil's Game(53)

ME: Yes. I’m wearing a midnight blue pushup bra and matching thong, because I’m getting ready to go out on a date. I like my new man a lot because he doesn’t kidnap people.

LIAM: A date? Pretty sure you’re stuck at home tonight with Painter. Please tell me you aren’t dating him? Hate me all you want, but you really can do better.



My breath caught. How did he know Painter was here?

ME: Are you stalking me again?

LIAM: Just tonight. I need to talk to you. Promise—last time—then I’ll leave you alone. You saved my life. Let me share what I know so you can stop worrying. I know your dad hasn’t filled you in, but you deserve answers.



I stared at the screen. How f*cking stupid did he think I was? I should turn off the computer. But I was also curious … After all, I’d betrayed my club for this *. Now I wanted to hear what he had to say.

ME: So talk.

LIAM: Not online. Can you come outside?



I froze again. Shit. He couldn’t be serious, could he? I glanced at my window, relieved to see that the shade was tightly closed. Someone outside might be able to see that my light was on, but they wouldn’t be able to see inside.

ME: Why would I be stupid enough to do that?

LIAM: Because you’re curious. Bring a gun if it makes you feel better. But come outside and talk to me—I promise it’s safe. Don’t let Painter follow you, though. Last thing we need is another standoff.



Like hell I’d talk to him. I closed my computer and set it on the bed, grabbing the TV remote. Of course I wasn’t going outside. That would be incredibly stupid. I reached down and rubbed my leg lightly over the still-healing gash. Despite all the blood, Skid’s bullet hadn’t really caused any real damage—just a flesh wound. But even flesh wounds hurt like a bitch. I wondered if Hunter had ever been shot, and had the sudden urge to march out there and demonstrate to him just how painful a graze from a bullet could be.

I had excellent aim.

I flipped through the channels, trying to find a distraction. There was nothing on, of course. Just some creepy reality show about a woman who thought she was a squirrel. Life with Cara, or some such shit. My phone buzzed. Another message from Hunter …

LIAM: Come outside and see me. It’s safe. Remember—I only took you to save a brother’s life. I may have scared you, but I wouldn’t have actually hurt you. I know I destroyed what we were starting and I understand I can never fix it. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.



I dropped the phone and flopped back on my bed. The clock next to me said it was one in the morning. I should just turn off the light and go to sleep. That was what the old me would’ve done. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said. We had been starting something—something good. Because despite everything between our clubs, I’d spent hours talking on the phone to this man, sharing jokes and telling stories. We’d laughed together and that hadn’t been fake.

Remembering all that pissed me off, too. He’d killed us, whatever the hell “us” had been growing into. He should pay for what he did. I got up and pulled on a pair of ratty sweatpants. A hoodie and my favorite pink Converse completed the outfit.

Yeah, I know. Sexy.

I had a flash of déjà vu as I tiptoed down the stairs past Painter, who was sleeping on the couch, TV still flickering in the darkness. I stopped off in the dining room, grabbing a tiny pistol from behind a plate in the china cabinet. It was full of stuff my mother had collected—stuff we never used but wouldn’t consider throwing away in a million years.

I gave it a quick check, making sure it was loaded (it was) and ready for action (damned straight). Then I tucked it in the pocket of my hoodie right next to my cell, and slipped out the back door. The moon was full, and as I walked away from the house, the night’s beauty startled me. There were crickets singing all around, and while the stars were faint in the bright moonlight, they were everywhere.

Keeping my eyes sharp, I looked around carefully. No sign of anyone, but I knew just how sneaky Hunter and Skid could be. My hand tightened on the gun. Now what?

My phone buzzed again.

LIAM: I’m out behind the bunkhouse



I glanced up, spotting the small building nestled back in the trees. Once upon a time it housed workers on the ranch that used to surround us. The land had been divided up and sold off years ago, but the old outbuildings still stood. Kit and I used it as a playhouse, and now it was full of random junk my dad had collected over the years. I fingered the gun again, the slight pain in my leg a constant reminder that this * had gotten me shot. Time for payback?