Page 2 of Play The Game

When neither of us rise to his bait, he switches tactics like the perceptive dick he obviously is. With a pointed look in my direction, he shifts until he’s gripping her knee, only it’s her bad leg, and his knuckles turn white with how fucking vicious his hold is.

Lips doesn’t flinch.

It’s hurting her, I’m sure it is, but she doesn’t let it show for even a second. Fuck, last week she was high as a kite on pain pills Avery had given her just to try to get through the worst of it, but now she’s staring blankly ahead as if this is all so fucking mundane for her. I mean, what other choice does she have?

The air in the car pulses with fury and violence thick enough to choke on, but no one utters a word. The stalemate holds, the minutes crawling by, and my heart thumps so violently in my chest the entire time that my head aches and my blood pressure must be through the roof.

When, finally, the barren, gray wasteland of Mounts Bay looms over us, the Jackal breaks the silence in the car.

“Where are you staying this year, little Wolf? You never did tell me.”

With an unaffected air I would kill to have right now, Lips hums softly under her breath before she answers. “Take us to the docks, Luca.”

A chill runs down my spine, fire lighting up my veins in its wake.

Her voice is different yet familiar all at the same time, and I could get addicted to the sound of it in a hot minute. When we lost Joey and met her at the docks to pick that asshole up at the end of winter break, I was jarred by it, but now I hear it for what it is. This isn’t Lips Anderson speaking, not just some Mounty scholarship student clawing her way out of desperation.

This is the Wolf.

“Anything for you, princess,” the dickhead driving says.

I refuse to learn or use his name.

Lips scoffs at him, the sound dry but with a thread of humor in it like she’s cool playing along with him if it keeps them from falling out. She has her reasons, I’m not questioning that shit, but the way he’s dancing around her is a red flag if I’ve ever seen one. His boss is a fucking sociopath rapist, and not only is he good with that, but he’s finding a way to flirt with the Wolf around him? Nuh uh. Not gonna skate past that shit for a second.

“I asked you where you are staying,” the Jackal says, his voice harder this time.

The pretense of civility disappears from the car, along with all the air. Rage crackles around the Jackal, electric and searing. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been away from the Bay, there’s no etiquette lessons at Hannaford that could shake the survival instincts that come from being a born and bred Mounty. My heartbeat slows the moment the danger heightens, shoulders rolling back and senses sharpening as everything zeros in on the Jackal.

When he strikes, I’ll be ready.

Lips shrugs. “Arbour is heading back up the coast, and I have a few jobs lined up. I’m meeting with a friend at the docks to discuss the terms of my acceptance. You know I only take certain jobs.”

The Jackal barely lets her finish before he practically snarls through gritted teeth, “I’m not asking what you’re doing in the Bay, I’m asking where you’re staying.”

She answers him just as quickly, only in that same flat voice as if she’s bored of his bullshit, “And I’m choosing not to provide you with that information. I told you months ago, I’m learning to stand on my own two feet. I appreciate the ride, but I’m on my own. It’s me and Arbour and any other person I choose to induct. If you wanted me to be one of yours, you should have inducted me instead of sponsoring me.”

He levels a murderous glare at her. “I tried. You told me you’d rather die.”

That’s news to me, startling me enough that I break the rules instantly and glance up to meet her eyes.

I know why Floss warned me not to look at her around the Jackal; I can’t keep the longing and the worship off of my face, and it’s so unquestionably obvious that only Lips has been blind to it. Predictably, the second I get my eyes on her, I can’t turn my gaze away, and the Jackal sees it for what it is. The clenching of his jaw is proof of that.

Lips doesn’t care, doesn’t flinch or shy away from it, and instead stares back at me as she replies to him, “I will never be owned, and certainly not by you. I’m the Wolf.”

I’ve lost my mind along with my heart to this girl, because instead of fear, or even caution, my blood lights up with victory and satisfaction and obsession that looks nothing like the weak shit this asshole keeps slinging around. I grin at her with the savage joy that her words rip through me. Maybe she’s just as high on this moment as I am because she tips her head back and laughs like a lunatic, and that’s when I know she does feel fear. She’s just as affected by this as I am.

We’re both knocked back to reality as the car pulls into the docks, and the Jackal’s hand tightens on her knee until Lips grunts. Without a second thought, I lurch forward and grab his wrist, ready to choke the fucker out if I have to, and he reaches for his gun with his free hand. The click of a gun to my right freezes me and the rest of the car’s occupants instantly.

“You’re hurting the little girlie, Jackal. Best you let her go,” Diarmuid croons.

The car lurches to a stop, the engine dying, and then the idiot in the front flings open his door, presumably to help his boss now that he has a loaded gun pointed at him, only to stop dead in his tracks.

After a beat of silence, he says, “Boss. You’d better get out of the car.”

The Jackal is sneering at Diarmuid as he wrenches his wrist out of my hand and away from Lips. “Pointing a gun at me? You’re a fucking dead man, O’Cronin.”

Diarmuid clucks at him. “Hurting a fellow member of the Twelve? You wouldn’t want that getting back to the meetings, now would you? Think of what the Crow would do, he’s been waiting a long time to take you out.”