Walk Through Fire (Chaos #4)(28)

On that thought he caught movement, focused his attention on the door, and felt his body snap tight.

Millie.

Fucking Millie walking out, her hair back from her face in twists and pinned at the base of her neck in a big bun, her body encased in a turtleneck sweater dress the color of toffee, a dress that skimmed every f*ckin’ curve—and she had a lot of them—her feet in shiny, fancy, sexy-as-f*ck high-heeled boots.

The bitch had worn her hair down to get his dick at Bill’s field.

This time, she was using the dress.

His body tightened further.

He’d been played.

Worse, he’d been played and he didn’t even know what game was being forced on him. He hadn’t seen her in twenty years, now she was everywhere.

Goddamned f*cking shit.

Instantly pissed beyond reason, High didn’t catch the look on her face as he took two steps toward her, growling, “You’re shittin’ me.”

Tack had warned him. He’d said that he and Cherry had run into Millie and Cherry was getting a mind to stick her nose into High’s business.

Obviously, she did and Millie went all in.

Goddamned Millie.

Fucking bitch.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, and, no less pissed, High missed the tone of her voice and still didn’t take in the expression on her face.

“Was a long time ago, woman, but lesson you taught me I learned,” he clipped. “Can’t imagine how you’d think you could play me again.”

“How I could... play you?”

Christ, she was good at what she did. If he was a dumb f*ck thinking with his dick like he did back in his twenties, he’d actually believe her confusion.

“Donation from Tyra Allen?” he bit back.

He noticed her face pale and didn’t give a f*ck.

“Tyra Allen?” she asked.

“Jesus, bitch,” he gritted, taking another step toward her, also noticing she stiffened even as she took a step back. “You and Tack’s old lady maneuvered this bullshit.”

“I... I was told the champagne was here,” she said, her voice shaky, and it would be. She was a player, the female kind, which meant the worst kind, but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t miss he was pissed.

“Yeah,” he returned. “The donation from Tyra Allen.”

“A family called Masters donated it,” she told him.

“Right,” he gritted. “And Masters is Tyra’s maiden name.”

Her eyes got big and f*ck him, the bitch was forty-one years old and that was still cute.

Cute and false and total bullshit.

He took three more steps toward her, which took him right in her space.

“Told you I did not wanna see you again,” he reminded her tightly.

She stared up at him, unmoving, like she was frozen.

“I meant it,” he kept at her. “You got this one time. You pull this shit again, you will not like the consequences.”

“What shit?” she asked like she wasn’t following. Fuck, like she was so lost, she barely knew English.

“This shit you got goin’ with Tyra,” he bit out. “Not that you’ll give a f*ck but you keep this up, you won’t just piss me off, you’ll twist shit with Tyra and Tack. Those two started out with the worst kinda rough patch you can go through. They earned smooth sailin’. Do not be the bitch who makes trouble for them.”

“Tyra,” she whispered like something was dawning on her.

He bent closer to her and smelled her like he had that night at Bill’s.

She smelled different from before, when he thought she was his. Her hair. Her skin. All different.

Probably expensive shampoo and definitely expensive perfume.

He wasn’t into that crap.

But f*ck it if he didn’t like it on her.

“Never again, woman,” he stated. “Hear?”

“She... she came to me and—”

Done with her, he lifted a hand to grab her elbow in order to get her attention and say words to make that clear.

He intended to make a point, not hurt her.

And he didn’t hurt her. He barely touched her.

But she pulled away, taking two quick steps back, stumbling on her heels and righting herself, all of this like he’d grabbled hold, twisted, and caused agony.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and it finally hit him that her expression had seemed dazed.

Now she was pissed.

What the bitch had to be pissed about, he did not know.

What he did know was her being pissed made him more pissed.

“Now you’re gonna play that game?” he asked low.

“I’m not playing any game, High,” she snapped, and f*ck...

Fuck.

She’d never called him High. Not once when they were together.

Why did that feel like a punch to the gut now?

“Take your champagne and go,” she ordered.

“Get your boys out here to come and get it,” he countered.

“We don’t need it,” she returned, lifting her chin. “I’ll figure something out. Now just take it and go.”

“You talked Tyra into shellin’ out for it, don’t be stupid. It’s here, take it.”