Page 4 of Play The Game

Ugh.

My stomach does a weird flipping thing which should be a reaction to his attitude, but it’s actually at the idea of him worrying about me like this. Okay, it’s also probably churning at the prospect of having to finally woman up and deal with the fallout after the showdown with the Jackal. I’d gotten him out of the city and away from the Jackal the second we got out of the car, which was no easy task. Then I threw myself into all of the work I had lined up to get my finances in order before the start of senior year. Harley had raged about it, determined to stay with me and have my back, but I stood my ground. It was only after I pointed out that I was in more danger with him here that he finally backed down and we hashed out a compromise.

He went to visit his mom like he originally planned, staying out of the Bay and very far away from me, so the Jackal didn’t go nuclear while I got some extra safety measures in place now that a target has undoubtedly been painted on his back. Once I was sure of his safety, he could come back and stay. A very reasonable plan and, if I was dealing with someone capable of reason, I’m sure it would’ve worked out perfectly.

Harley lasted three weeks.

It was honestly longer than I'd expected, way longer than Avery did, but once the barrage of text messages started blowing my phone up at all hours of the day, it was only a matter of time before, yesterday, I finally gave in. Even after sending him the address and code to get in, I’d told him not to come down today until after ten in the morning. I wanted to finish up the job and sneak in three hours of sleep, but in typical Harley fashion, he got in his car the moment he got my message and drove down to the Bay from his hotel on the coast. Even with traffic, he arrived before midnight to an empty house. He wasn’t happy about it, and the barrage of text messages has only gotten worse as the night wears on.

With a sigh, I try to buy myself some time without pushing him all the way off the ledge.

I’ll come back to the house now. I’ll be thirty mins.

Glancing at the mark I’m here for loitering in the gardens across the road, there’s no sign I’m any closer to being done for the night. I know he’s there for drugs, I just have to wait the dickhead out, and after weeks of digging up leads, chasing them down, and ruling people out, I’m not about to lose this chance. The job is worth fifty grand with this photo and nothing if I fuck it up now so, no matter his opinion, Harley will just have to wait.

Problem is, he’s not the type to just do what he’s told, and when the phone buzzes in my hands again, I can feel the attitude he’s throwing at me through the screen.

I’m already in the car.

Of course he is. With another sigh, I send him the name of the bar and then glare down at all the skin I’m showing as if there’s any way to instantly fix this. He’s either going to be a total fucking dick over it or I’ll get a hot make-out session in the car. I wonder if he’s boosted the car? Shit, with his record, he probably did. My thighs rub together because I’m fucking damaged and get hot for that shit.

I keep my back pressed against the wall and head ducked like I’m staring at my phone while I wait, but my gaze never leaves my mark. He’s coming down from whatever high he’s been riding, and his body language is becoming more and more agitated as the night wears on. I need him to act before Harley gets here. If he makes a scene, my cover is blown and I will have to find a new vantage point before spending another night out here following this idiot around.

A few of the girls finish up with their johns and are clustered back in the alley with me by the time Harley arrives. The roaring of the engine reaches me first, then shouting and whistling pierces the air. I groan under my breath. When the Mustang pulls up in front of me, I already know it’s him, but the car suits him perfectly. It’s a fucking beauty; a vintage muscle car, matte black with silver trim, and even to me, it looks like a wet dream. It rumbles like a beast as it idles at the curb, so if I don’t take the lead here, and fast, my cover will be blown to pieces.

I’ve always thought quickly on my feet and my survival instincts kick in with a vengeance. Fixing my best Mounty street girl smile on my lips as I push away from the wall, the other girls get their asses out of my way like their lives depend on it, which is pretty accurate. I make a big show out of sauntering over to the driver window right as another wasted group of assholes get out of the bar. A couple start catcalling me, and another cluster of street girls in the alley across the street start talking shit loud enough for me to hear some of it. I ignore it all for the guy smoldering in the driver’s seat.

Harley is pissed.

“I’m working, so unless you want me out here again, you should play the fuck along,” I croon the moment he gets his window down because I have to make it look like I’m giving him the sales pitch of his life.

Harley grunts, but a fake smirk plasters itself across his lips and he grits out, “I can see the outline of your fucking pussy in those shorts, Mounty.”

Jesus fuck.

I can’t help but glance down to double check that he’s just being moody, my breath rattling a little in my chest, but it’s fine. Okay, I have a teeny tiny bit of a camel toe but nothing so dramatic that it’s indecent or anything.

“I can’t leave. This is my last job for the summer, and I’ve worked my ass off since I got back to make sure we’d be safe here together. Please, just leave and let me finish this. You’re getting too much attention, and I need to be a shadow to get this shit done.”

He stares at me for a second before the smirk on his face gets a little bigger, my breath catching at the heat there entirely for me. When I open my mouth to argue my point a little more, he shifts in his seat to grab his wallet. The girls in the other alley yell out to him, trying to get his attention and cut me out of the deal. Harley curls his lip in their direction and they quiet down.

He pulls out a fifty-dollar bill and waves it at me obnoxiously. I’ve snapped bones tonight for less. “This gets me an hour, right? A street girl disappearing into some guy’s car is a good way to vanish. You pick whatever spot works for you, and I’ll keep watch while you work.”

Shit. It only takes me a second to consider that plan, but it’s a good one, and it might get me out of here with the job done tonight. I chew on my lip for a second and then bend down to lean into the car and kiss him, dirty and raw like the street girls do.

Harley grunts as I bite his lip, and he slips the money into my bra, careful not to touch me. It’s clear he doesn’t want to touch me like this, not for show and not while I’m hating every second of being dressed up to work. It’s fucking sweet. I have to remind myself of our audience and keep the kiss outrageously sexual.

It’s ridiculous that I know how to do that just from growing up here.

Finally pulling away from him, I trot around the car like I’m giving him a preview of what he’s paid for. His eyes stay glued to mine, no matter how much the other girls try to get his attention.

I have to do a weird slide to get into the car because my shorts are so tight, and the smell of the warm leather seats hits me as I shut the door. I direct Harley to a good spot, and he parks, cranking the air conditioning up until a blissfully cool breeze rolls over me like a balm.

“Information or a hit?” Harley asks.

“Photos. Nothing too dangerous really.” That’s a partial truth. The mark isn’t a concern, but if the dealer sees me, there will be serious fallout.

“How much?” Harley murmurs, watching me as I watch my mark.