Page 31

He keeps his eyes on the road. “Because Vero is annoying as fuck and acting like an excited little squirrel. It was either wait there with him or come get you, and while I might not like you, you talk less than him.”

Clay turns the stereo up, and “The Summoning” by Sleep Token fills the air. Clay keeps his eyes forward, and I don’t bother engaging in conversation. He clearly doesn’t want to talk, and I’m okay with that.

After what feels like an eternity, the bridge comes into view. He drives across it and around the side—not the same way you walk to the alley. The dirt road goes around the perimeter of the island, and as I press my nose to the dark tint, everything looks pretty lit up from this angle.

“Get your nose off the fucking glass—I don’t want to wipe your snot off my windows.”

“Why don’t you make me? It’s more fun that way.”

He ignores me, and I go back to watching the lights as he pulls around to the residential side of the island. Once he parks in front of their house and kills the engine, we both get out. Clay stalks away, but I follow him. I don’t mind—it gives me a chance to watch his ass. Why are the good-looking ones blessed with the worst personalities? Though I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to be that good-looking and be a decent human being; the world has to even things out a little.

The new exhibit comes into view and Clay pulls his bandanna up over his mouth. I make a mental note to shoot him in his chest and not ruin the only good thing about him.

I slow down as we approach, in awe of how enormous it appears from a distance. The gates are massive, reminding me of Jurassic Park, and the fence stretches out in both directions on either side, topped with barbed wire.

“Jurassic Park,” I murmur, and Clay glances at me.

“What?”

“The gates . . . they remind me of the movie Jurassic Park.”

He stops and glares at me, but I simply stare back at him, a single brow raised. Clay turns and continues walking, and I fall into step beside him. I can’t tell if he is annoyed, and I find that more entertaining than I probably should.

Vero spots us before we reach the gates, so he races toward us and launches himself in my direction. He is dressed head to toe in camo, including his face.

“You came, and you look fucking fantastic. I knew the pants would fit. Clay, you owe me twenty dollars.”

“I don’t owe you shit.”

Brawley is waiting near the entrance, his arms crossed, also in full camo. He nods at me. “You ready to get shot?”

“I’m ready to smoke you motherfuckers, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, and I grin back. “Game on, Double P,” he drawls.

“Double P?” I ask.

Brawley chuckles. “Yeah, Vero calls you paper-cut princess, but I decided Double P sounds better.”

“Double P sounds like she is about to have yours and Vero’s cocks in her at the same time,” Clay snarks.

“Either works for me,” I say with a wink at Brawley.

Ares appears from inside the gates and hands me a paintball gun.

I turn it over in my hands and check the weight, then look up to find all four of them watching me closely. “What?”

“Do you know how to use that?” Ares asks. “Or do I need to show you?”

I lift the paintball gun into position, then look down the scope and find Clay dead center. Vero giggles, but Clay doesn’t move or flinch. He just stares back like he is daring me to do it.

I fire.

The paintball cracks against a tree six inches to the left of his head.

Clay doesn’t even blink, and a slow smile creeps across his face.

“You missed,” he says.