Page 40 of Play The Game

I shrug at him. “Our room has never been cleaner. Avery is pissed there’s nothing she can do to help, and now Ash is fucking livid that getting them out of this all rests on my shoulders.”

Harley scowls at me like I’m being an ass. “Well, of course he is. We all are. It’s hard enough keeping you safe and alive as it is, we don’t need some psycho coming to the Bay to join the mix.”

I snort at him, ever the lady, and poke a fork in his direction. “I survived without you guys having my back for eighteen years. Dealing with this guy is going to be a nightmare but I’ll figure it out. I always do. Honestly, it’s all of you lot with your shitty families that worry me the most.”

Fuck. That reminds me… I clear my throat. “Look, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the meeting so you’re not blindsided. It isn’t just being held to deal with the Vulture’s death. It will include all the usual bullshit turf disputes and arguing about who’s overstepping where, but I’m also going to bring something to the table, something big I’ve put in motion and—fuck, okay… I’ve called in some favors to get you free and clear from your grandfather, once and for all. You need to be prepared for that, and keep your cool because you need to stick to all of the rules I’ve told you and be on your best behavior. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, or clean, but once it’s done, we’ll have one less threat stalking us.”

He takes it far better than I thought he would, chewing slowly and frowning down at his plate without losing his shit about any of it. I wait him out, aware that the last thing he needs is to be pushed about his issues.

Finally, he flicks his eyes up to mine. “Are you at risk? Is this putting you in more danger?”

I shake my head and he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay… okay, I’ll play along. I don’t want my grandfather coming after me and finding you, so if this gets him off my ass without setting him onto yours instead, then I’ll do it.”

I lean over and try to kiss him sweetly, something I’m still unsure of because I don’t know how the fuck to be sweet. He cups my cheek to hold me there, so I think I succeed.

“Come on, let’s pick up your orders and go back so I can do more than just kiss you.”

Out of everyone I could go on a shopping trip in Haven with, Harley is a great option. He doesn’t complain about the list of places we have to go to, he’s just as outraged as I am about how much it all costs, and he’s not even a little be subtle about how happy he is to spend the time with me. With an arm slung over my shoulders, he keeps leaning down to murmur into my ear and it takes me longer than I want to admit to figure out he’s doing it on purpose because he’s enjoying the hell out of the way I react.

Call me an idiot, but I don’t try to stop him either.

When we’ve finally picked up all of my purchases, I can’t decide if I’m excited to head back or if I’m sad that our day out is over. Harley carries all of the bags in one hand and when I’m quiet for a minute he threads his fingers through mine with the other. He swings our arms playfully as we head back to the alleyway we’d left the car in, so relaxed and unlike himself that I laugh like a besotted idiot at him in return. I guess that’s exactly what I am.

The streets have cleared now that the sun is going down. Only the bar is still open, and it’s on the other side of the sleepy town, so we’re alone and happy to walk in silence, soaking each other up without the distraction of words.

We turn into the alleyway, and Harley gives my hand a little squeeze before letting go to fish his keys out of his jeans. My senses pick up the slight rasp of feet attempting to be silent behind us half a second before Harley realizes what’s happening. My hand is already slipping into my pocket to grab my knife when the body slams into Harley from behind.

The bags all go flying into the air as Harley throws his arms out to break his fall.

I freeze for a second, assuming it’s a rich asshole from Hannaford trying to eke out a revenge beating for a failed fight in the boys’ dorms, and then I see the flash of light hitting the steel blade in the attacker’s hand. This isn’t schoolyard bullshit.

It’s a hit.

It’s like an out-of-body experience, but I feel the moment the shift happens. Instinctual and instant; everything that makes me ‘Lips Anderson’ retreats back into the farthest reaches of my mind, and leaves behind a cold-blooded killer instead. It’s like a cork has been popped and the humanity drains away until there’s nothing of the girl left, only the Wolf.

Harley manages to dislodge the guy enough to roll over, and I see firsthand that he can hold his own. Nothing about this scuffle is practiced or clean but he’s a good brawler; strong, fast, and willing to fight dirty. The real problem here is that Harley will beat the man senseless, but I don’t need him unconscious; I need him dead. Letting him live is a sign of weakness, something that will eat away at the carefully constructed image I’ve built as the Wolf, and our lives all depend on that image. If we let him live, it sends the message that we’re not willing to get our hands dirty, and once that precedence is set, the Jackal will just keep sending guys until eventually one of them kills Harley.

I can’t let that happen.

Decision made, I wait for an opening and when Harley knocks the knife away and grabs him with one hand by the throat, I take my chance. With every ounce of strength I have and zero hesitation, I ram the blade of my knife through the base of his skull, the quickest and most effective way to kill someone. Harley’s strong grip gives me just the right resistance to help push the blade through the spinal cord and it’s lights out for the attacker.

He’s dead instantly.

When the guy’s arms drop and he slumps down, Harley’s eyes flare and fix themselves onto my knife. I shove the limp body off of him before I yank the knife out because the last thing I need is for him to be covered in blood and have some sort of flashback to his dad’s murder. Harley jumps up and stares down at the guy, then at me.

My hands are steady.

My heartbeat is, too, and I keep my breath controlled as I stare blankly, waiting for him to start screaming, hurling accusations, or for something else to happen. It’s inevitable, I always knew it would come to this, but I stare him down as I wait for the horror of what I did to sink in.

When he takes a step toward me, I move back instinctively.

He looks fucking devastated.

His hand trembles slightly as he holds it out, coaxing me over to him. “It’s okay, babe. Everything is fine, just let me hold you. I just need to know you’re okay.”

I blink.

I blink again.