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“Does it matter? I’m asking you.”
His lips press together. I can tell he doesn’t appreciate the challenge in my voice, or the implication that he won’t say anything until he knows what Marcus said. “Nothing. There’s no deal.”
“Oh, come on, man.” Theo sinks the eight ball and then straightens, sharing a look with Ryland. “She was there. She knows that’s not true.”
“Marcus said your families run in the same circles,” I say, hoping if I get things rolling, they’ll tell me more than their friend did. “That he’s always had it out for you guys.”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes again at Ryland’s clipped answer. “So what does that have to do with Natalie?”
“He’s fucking with us,” Theo says, and Ryland’s gaze snaps to him, a warning look on his face. When I turn to face the blond man, he shrugs. “Trying to get a rise out of us.”
“Why?”
“He wants us to do something stupid.”
A barrage of images filter through my mind, making me shiver.
Marcus’s fist flying toward Greg’s face over and over. The lock hanging broken from Natalie’s apartment door. The glint of a gun barrel emerging from a car window.
These men lead lives that seem to constantly flirt with violence. What exactly would it mean for them to “do something stupid”?
“Are you going to?” I reach out to take the pool cue from Theo, looking up to meet his gaze.
“No.” He doesn’t release it right away, taking a small step closer to me instead. “We’re not.”
His proximity throws me off balance, and I hold on to the cue like it’s an anchor. I still feel Marcus everywhere on my body—inside my body. I don’t understand how I can have such a visceral reaction to another man while those marks are still on me.
The two of them are so different, such complete opposites in so many ways. Maybe that’s why I find myself drawn to them both. They each speak to a different side of me.
And Ryland…
Well. Ryland would obviously rather not speak to me at all.
“So, what do you say? Wanna play another game?” Theo slips back into a casual grin, and I can’t help but feel like he’s trying to downplay this Carson thing, whatever it is. Just like Marcus did. “I’ll rack ’em.”
“Yeah. All right.” I step back, leaning on the cue. “But for every shot I make, I get to ask you guys a question.”
“Why do you want to know about us so much?”
Ryland’s hard voice makes irritation flare inside me, and I turn to him as Theo gathers the balls from the pockets and resets them. “Maybe I’m just playing catch-up. You’ve been watching me since the night I got shot, and two and a half years is a long fucking time.”
Something passes over his face, like he’s fighting an internal battle with himself. I don’t know which side won and which side lost when he finally says, “Fine.”
“What do
you do for a living?”
He scowls at me. “You haven’t even taken a shot yet.”
“He’s got you there, Rose.” Theo laughs. He grabs a third cue from a rack on the wall and breaks with practiced ease, sending the balls scattering across the table.
I sink my first shot and repeat the question.
“My family owns an international chain of hotels,” Ryland says, keeping his answer as short and non-informative as possible as he takes his own shot.
“And what do you do?”
