Page 95 of Play The Game

I know it’s him before I pick it up.

“Which room are you in? We need to talk.”

I squeeze my eyes shut but my voice is steady. “We’re leaving. We’re going back to Hannaford. Avery is under my protection and if you want to discuss the parameters of that protection with me, we can do it at the next meeting.”

He sighs down the phone. “Open the door, Wolf.”

The smiling man that was holding Avery gently against his chest is not the man we open the hotel door to. This man is purely the Crow.

Avery is sitting, rigid and scowling, on the plush living room chair, and I position myself a few feet in front of her, the guys flanking me. Ash is trembling with rage and bloodlust, ready to just kill the Crow and be done with it. He never trusted him in the first place. Blaise takes one look at Ash and rocks back on his heels, ready to throw down the second this all turns to shit.

The Crow steps forward and inclines his head to me respectfully but the cold, cutting edge of his gray eyes rake over me like he’s planning on bleeding me out for this. Fuck. Has Avery just been some pawn in his game for power? A Beaumont on his arm and in his bed?

Joke’s on him. He picked the wrong girl, in the wrong family.

“I already told you we’re leaving,” I say, my voice pitched low and even.

His gaze stays fixed on mine as he kicks the door shut, and even though he’s moving smoothly I can see the tension in him. My mind runs through every little scrap of information Avery has ever told me about her crush, the man who has become her obsession.

I wonder what his father would think if he knew the power his son had amassed. The conversation I had with Ash earlier flashes back to me. He’s probably just like his disgusting father.

“I’m not leaving here without her. Name your price,” the Crow says, and fuck if that isn’t the worst thing to say.

“She’s not for fucking sale!” Ash hisses and there it is; the ruthless, killer Beaumont blood. Threaten Avery and you’ll push Ash right into the dark place that exists in his soul. The darkness that lives in him and burns in his eyes when his mask slips. The same fire his father and brother both use to destroy women, Ash uses to protect Avery.

I know I’m pushing my luck when I hold up my hand to stop him. His eyes break away from the Crow for a second to aim that fire at me. Blaise stiffens next to me, and I can practically feel the heat of his glare swing around to narrow in on Ash, not liking the shitty attitude one bit.

This is big. This moment could change everything between us all. Ash is holding a grenade and toying with the pin; if he doesn’t trust me now then this relationship, and I suspect our family, are going to be blown to pieces. I hold his gaze and I pray.

His eyes don’t lower. He doesn’t back down at all.

A tiny crack starts on my heart and then he crosses his arms and swings back to face the Crow. I don’t know if he’s chosen to trust me or not, but I have to follow through. I have to make sure we’re all safe. I glance back at Avery and I see it in her eyes that she knows. She trusts me to get us all out of this safely.

“How much? How much is she worth to you?” I say coolly.

The Crow’s eyes never leave mine. He doesn’t so much as glance at her. Another black mark against him. “Three favors.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

This man never gives out favors. I’ve had three favors from him already, but those were torn from him in moments of true desperation, for things only I could do for him. For him to offer me three for Avery alone… fuck.

I shake my head at him, and he grits his teeth.

“Six but I’ll have your word that you will never tell the Jackal about her.”

I freeze.

The Crow never breaks the rules of the Twelve and that’s pretty fucking close to crossing a line. That’s not what I’m expecting at all. Granted, we all keep our cards pretty close to our chests, but it’s the unwritten law that we never conspire and scheme against each other. I know he’s been biding his time, waiting to take the Jackal out, but he’s always played by the rules. Even now the Jackal’s gone fucking rogue. What the hell is he playing at?

I look at him then, a proper once over without the rage clouding my eyes.

His face is blank and unreadable, but his body speaks loud enough. His fists are clenched, his shoulders stiff, and his elbows are bent slightly like he’s poised ready to attack. He’s not the Crow, here to buy some skin for the night like his father would or a pawn in the game we’re all playing. He’s Atticus and he’s waging a war for Avery. The feelings he’s had for her are real, real enough that he’s here for her, risking the wrath of the Twelve and losing the empire he’s built.

I take a step forward and when his chin lifts, I narrow my eyes at him, the tension in the room crackling like electricity.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you, Atticus?” His eyes narrow to slits at the sound of his real name. I’ve broken protocol but I don’t give a fuck. He’s going to have to come clean if he wants to leave this room with any sort of a relationship with Avery.