Page 81 of Deadfall

My hand drifted down to the band of my underwear. I shouldn’t—it wouldn’t solve anything—hell, it would probably make things worse. But, my entire body was strung so tight with need I knew I’d never be able to sleep. My fingers dipped under the fabric. The shame of how wet I was nearly had me abandoning it all, but I shoved thoughts of Riggs from my mind and focused instead on the faceless man I usually used. The one who was kind, generous and whispered filthy things in my ear. I figured he was a combination of some fictional man I’d come across in one of my books, but as long as he didn’t have Riggs’ face, I was fine.

Except, the more I touched myself, the more the man was Riggs. It was his growly voice whispering all the dirty things he wanted to do to me, and it was his rough fingers that pushed me over the edge. I slammed my other hand over my mouth to stifle the moan as I came hard. Harder than I would ever admit. As I drifted off to sleep, my traitorous brain wondered if I was the one on his mind as he took care of his own problem, and I found I wasn’t too upset if the answer happened to be yes.

The next morning, the front door to the house slammed open on its hinges and echoed through the house. Lev was typing on his laptop at the kitchen table and Mouse was cleaning up the remnants of breakfast—we all looked up when Riggs stormed into the kitchen, his face red with rage.

“Problem, boss?” Hangman asked.

Riggs ignored him. He strode over and boxed me against the sink where I’d just put my breakfast plate down.

“Who is Theron North?” he demanded.

“What the fuck?” I demanded, instantly enraged.

“Who is he?” Riggs shouted.

I shoved away from him and tried to leave the kitchen, but was cut off at the door. He herded me against the island. The kitchen had gone silent, although I noticed Hangman was on his feet and had subtly shifted closer. Riggs didn’t seem to notice.

I glared up at him. “Where did you get that name?”

“I went to that internet cafe—”

“What the fuck?” I fumed.

“Who is he, Syn?”

“I don’t have to tell you every little thing I do, Riggs!”

He leaned closer to me. “Who is he, Syn?” Riggs punctuated each word in a low growl.

“I’m not telling you shit.”

“You can’t just go Googling shit, girl!” Riggs roared. “Who is he? I need to know so I can make sure we have all our bases covered—”

“He’s no one—” My voice rose to match his and broke in the process. “No one you need to be concerned with.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Riggs raged. “This is all my concern. Everything you do—”

“This has nothing to do with you or the team!” I growled.

I went to turn away, but Riggs grabbed my forearms and yanked me back to face him.

“Riggs,” Hangman barked.

“Who is he?” He said in a deadly soft voice. “If you don’t tell me, I will find out, and you don’t want that, Syn.”

His grip on my arms tightened and I winced.

“Let her go, Riggs,” Hangman said, his voice closer.

“Who is it—” Riggs snarled.

“Get off me, Riggs—”

Everyone was yelling now. Panic gripped me. No one was listening. I needed space. I hated how trapped he made me feel—I pulled back my fist to punch him. I didn’t know what else to do.

“He’s her father!”

I froze in shock. All the attention shifted to Lev.