Page 57 of Carnal Wagers

For an organized event, there weren’t more than nineteen cars surrounded by racers and spectators, squealing around in donuts, making slow show-off passes, or revving parked engines. The weather was a little chilly, yet some women wore hotpants, with or without tights underneath, their tops cropped, and nipples peaking through. As a few leaned over cars and showed off their assets, I shook my head, thankful to have decided to wear pants. The groupie look was not my aim.

Empty beer cans and jugs with varying levels of colorful liquid littered the lot. I crunched a can underfoot as I navigated around the clusters of people, looking for my target. A cacophony of different songs thumped from every few cars.

Finally, I found him by his copper-red hair. In a black T-shirt, bomber jacket, and jeans that made me want to take a bite out of his thighs, he sat on the hood of an Audi RS6 Avant on the outskirts of the crowd. The car stuck out like a sore thumb among the modified American-branded vehicles and a few Japanese makes. And yet, aside from one woman in scraps of clothing, contorting herself for his attention, he was alone.

“Scram,” I told the girl standing at his side, practically humping him.

A dash of recognition lit his eyes before they slipped back into stoicism, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care more.

“Bitch, I was here first. How about you go back where you came from?”

“Oh, ma chère, this bitch will happily play firsts with you.” I leaned into her ear, playing heavily with my French accent, and twirled a finger into her hair. I tugged her head down hard, enjoying her little whine. “How about this? I’ll be the first to punch out your teeth if you don’t leave. How does that sound?”

My sweet, crazed stare was one I’d practiced in a mirror since I first understood what my father did for work. The principle was simple: Show people you’re crazy, and most will retreat. Sane people didn’t deal with what could put their health at risk. This lady didn’t stand a chance. Her eyes dropped faster than bills at a strip club, and she huffed away, with a shoulder check. Amused, I took her place, resting my butt against the hood of his car.

“Doesn’t seem like your scene. Little young for you, no?”

He gave barely a blink from his deadpan stare. It stung after our week of meet-cutes, but I buried that shit deep.

“With a car like this, it’s amazing you couldn’t attract anyone better than that.”

Cillian raised a cigarette to his lips. The tip flared red. “Perhaps that should be your hint.”

“I like danger. I was molded by it.”

“Do you know what I did to the last person who harassed me?”

Cute. Was that what we were calling this? “Do you know what I did to the last man who rejected me?”

“Don’t know how to take a no?”

“In our lines of business, do any of us?”

He scoffed. “You’ve got a response for everything.”

“If you were expecting me to simper and bat my eyelashes, you’ll definitely be disappointed. May I?” I pointed to his cigarette, and he handed it over. That was progress. Smothering a smile, I pulled in a deep inhale and let the smoke dance in my mouth before blowing out a misshapen smoke ring. “You called me do síbhean, remember? I would not be a very good fairy to you if I didn’t prey on your emotions.”

“You know Gaelic?”

“I’m excellent with languages.”

“That so? And if I were to say téigh ag feadaíl?” Get lost.

“I’d say too bad. You’re stuck with me.”

He hummed in mild approval. It was better than the emotionless, hard face he usually wore. It brightened his eyes just a little.

A shadow crept closer to his car. Erel. I turned to face Cillian, pressing my hip into the car. His focus needed to be solely on me so that Erel could work his magic.

“Tell me why you didn’t take down the camera.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re testing my patience.”

“Maybe, but you’re not sure you dislike it, are you?” I leaned into him. “I know you look for me in crowds, wondering where I’ll pop up. Admit it. You like it. You like me.”

He tapped the ash off his cigarette, but when he pivoted my way, I swung my leg around, hooking his thigh between my legs. My finger traced his chin. His beard was not as bristly to the touch as it looked.

At a glance around him, Erel had managed to slip into the car. Good.