Sweet Retribution: Ruthless Games #2

by Rose, Callie

  Then he wraps his arms around me and lifts me off the countertop, his cock still buried inside me as he carries me out of the kitchen.

  We must look like a fucking mess. His pants are hanging low on his hips, the fabric of my dress is bunched around my waist, leaving me bottomless and topless, and his shirt is half unbuttoned, his tie half undone.

  But I really don’t care about that either.

  Chapter 11

  I’m not sure where Ryland is taking me until we get there.

  Keeping a firm grip on me with one hand, he opens a door with the other, stepping inside the guest bedroom where he’s been staying and kicking the door closed behind us.

  I expect him to set me down on the bed, but instead, he takes a seat on the mattress, settling me on his lap with my legs straddling his waist. His cock pulses inside me, and we both give a little shudder before he pulls back to look me in the eyes.

  His hazel irises are softer than I’ve ever seen them. Even the angular lines of his face seem less harsh.

  He runs a hand through my hair, tangling his fingers in the dark locks, and I glance down at his disheveled clothes. I’m a little pissed at myself that I didn’t even get his shirt all the way off. I can see hints of the delicious ink that covers his torso peeking out from the opening where I managed to get his buttons undone. It’s beautiful, and I wish I’d gotten the chance to explore all of it.

  As if reacting to my heated gaze, Ryland makes a noise in his throat. It draws my attention back up to his face, and the second my eyes meet his again, he leans forward to kiss me.

  This is like our first kiss.

  Soft and gentle, just the barest brush of our lips.

  Only this time it’s better, because it doesn’t feel so much like he’s trying to pull away.

  And neither am I.

  The weight of what just happened settles over me as we break apart, and I tug my bottom lip between my teeth.

  Is this totally fucked up? Is it insane for me to have feelings for all three of the men who’ve basically stalked me for the past two and a half years?

  And did I just betray Marcus somehow?

  Ryland shakes his head. I’m sure I didn’t say any of that out loud, but he seems to have read my thoughts somehow.

  “Marcus knows.” His full lips, swollen and red from our bruising kisses, ghost over mine once more. “He knows how I feel about you. How Theo feels about you. He’s always known. And he meant what he said in the alley that night. I’m sure of it. We’ve never shared a woman before, but we all knew you were different from the very first moment you came into our lives.”

  Something warm and sweet spreads through my chest. It’s almost painful how good it feels—the two feelings blending together, just like they did during our hard fuck earlier.

  It’s not just Ryland’s reassurance that Marcus would be okay with this. It’s the fact that he’s speaking of his friend in present tense.

  As if he’s still alive.

  As if he could walk through the front door at any moment.

  I didn’t realize until this moment just how much the wake had gotten to me. How much it hurt to hear Marcus referred to over and over as someone who used to exist, who used to be alive.

  But Ryland doesn’t believe that. And even if it’s stupid to keep clinging to hope, I’ll be right there clinging beside him.

  I lean forward again, stealing another kiss from Ryland’s addictive lips, chasing his mouth when he drops his head back a little. I press my lips harder to his, taking the kiss deeper as I let my tongue dart out to taste him. Then pull away a fraction of an inch, the first genuine smile in days tugging at the corners of my lips.

  “I guess this means I won our fight.” I kiss him again, squeezing my inner walls around him and making him groan. “I’m helping you guys. Whether you like it or not.”

  * * *

  Ryland doesn’t like it.

  At all.

  But he relents, and that’s all I need.

  By the time Theo returns, Ryland and I have put ourselves back together and changed into more comfortable clothes. We’re in the kitchen sipping whiskey when he walks in, looking exhausted and annoyed but satisfied. I’m guessing he was able to put out whatever fire he had to deal with between his mom and his uncle.

  “Jesus. I need one of those.”

  He walks over to join us, slipping off his tie and dropping it on the countertop before pouring himself a drink too. He joins us on the barstools that line one side of the island, taking the seat on my left side.

  His blue-green gaze darts between the two of us, and I get the feeling he knows exactly what happened while he was gone, although unlike the night he picked me up from Marcus’s house, I don’t think I still smell like sex this time.

  He and Ryland share a look, and something passes between the two of them. I don’t know quite what it is, but it’s not anger. I don’t even think it’s jealousy. More like understanding, maybe.

  Theo takes a sip of his whiskey, and I lean my elbow on the countertop, resting my chin in my hand. “So, tell me about the other players in the game.”

  He cocks one eyebrow, looking mildly amused. “Ah. So Ryland agreed to let you play, huh?”

  I shrug. “I won’t be an official player. I know that. But he agreed to let me help.”

  I can practically feel Ryland’s dislike of this plan radiating from him like an aura, but his surly expression doesn’t intimidate me like it once might have.

  Theo purses his lips. “I can give you the rundown, Rose, but…” He grimaces. “I mean, we’ve been playing this game for four years now, and not much has ever happened in between the seventy-two-hour free-for-alls. People jockey for position all the time, but nobody’s really amassed any loyal followers. Everyone wants the prize too bad, so even if there’s only a slim chance they’ll win, they’d rather take those odds than swear allegiance to someone else and give up their shot at the crown.”

  Worry curls through my stomach. Maybe it’s arrogant of me to think I can make any difference in this endeavor. I don’t know this world like these two men do, so what can I do to help?

  But I shrug again, leaning back and picking up my drink. I swirl the amber liquid in the glass before taking a sip. “The alternative is to do nothing, and I can’t handle that. Maybe I can help you spot something you didn’t see before. Some leverage you can use against the other competitors.”

  Theo glances down briefly, and I can tell it’s because he doesn’t want me to see the pain in his eyes.

  Even as things settle between the three of us, feelings growing and deepening, there’s still a sense of wrongness that hangs over everything.

  This isn’t right.

  We’re missing a piece.

  But all we can do is forge ahead.

  “Okay.” Theo nods decisively. “Well, you saw three of them today. Four, counting Dominic. You already know Dom, which means you also know he’s a sniveling little weasel and a backstabber. He comes from old money. Old money. The Roths are one of the most powerful families in Halston to begin with, although their strength has been slipping a little over the past few years.”

  I nod. Thinking of Dominic sends a chill down my spine, and my fingers twitch, unconsciously itching to curl into a fist. But I take in everything Theo says as calmly as I can, absorbing the information and storing it away.

  “Michael and Gabriel both come from mafia families,” Ryland puts in. He still sounds reluctant, but when I turn to face him, he elaborates. “The Savianos and Morellos, respectively. They’ve been enemies for years, but they supposedly made a truce to help them win the competition. So far, it’s holding up, but as more players fall, it’ll start crumbling as they start looking for ways to take each other down.”

  “Got it.” I chew my lip, thinking of the two dark-haired men I saw in the church. Then I narrow my eyes. “What about Victoria? What’s her story?”

  “Victoria Tatum,” Theo supplies. “She’s the opposite of Dom.
Her family rose to power about ten years ago. Came from pretty much nothing, but a couple of risky investments paid off and put them on the map. She’s smart and cunning as fuck. If there’s anybody who’s got a shot at winning through political maneuvering alone, it’s gotta be her.”

  “No. It’s gotta be us,” I correct fiercely, and he shoots me a lopsided grin.

  “You know, with you on our team, I’m actually starting to believe that.”

  I bite my lip to hide my smile, then lift my chin. “Who else?”

  “The only one left is Adrian Reyes.” Ryland’s lip curls. “His dad owns a massive law firm and has cut deals with most of the criminals in town. He’s dirty as fuck.”

  “That’s it?” I count off in my head, tapping my finger against my glass. “So that means four out of the twelve are dead already.”

  “Yup,” Theo says. “Jack, Xavier, Devin, and now Carson.”

  None of us mention Marcus, but the kitchen grows silent for a moment, and I’m absolutely certain that’s where all of our thoughts have gone.

  The guys’ search for him has yielded no results so far, and the only upside to that is that it means there’s still no body.

  Until I see irrefutable evidence, I won’t let go of my hope.

  “All right,” I say after the silence drags out a beat too long. “Then I guess the next question is, what do each of them want? What do they need? Or even better, what are they afraid of?”

  Theo’s brows pull together a little, and he gives me an impressed look.

  “Vicious.” He shakes his head, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “None of us wanted to drag you into this world, but you’re adapting to it fast.”

  I flex my fingers, remembering the pain that radiated up my forearm after I punched Natalie. Then I let out a breath that’s almost a laugh. “Well, I’m pissed the fuck off.”

  We spend the rest of the evening discussing the ins and outs of the power structure in Halston, and how the various families have interacted over the years. It’s a lot to take in, but I suck up every bit of information like a vacuum, determined to turn it into something useful later.

  Like a weapon.

  Over the next several days, Theo and Ryland continue my crash course in the underworld of Halston, where the criminal and elite classes war with each other and occasionally work together.

  It helps, having something to focus on. It doesn’t fill the hole in my heart, but it distracts me from the gnawing pain.

  On Wednesday, Theo and Ryland both drive me over to Duke’s. Theo pulls over outside the bar, and I peer out the front passenger window at the large, weathered sign that hangs out front.

  I can’t work here anymore. I don’t need the money for rent, and there are other things I need to be focusing on. Besides, there are too many memories of Marcus in this place.

  But a twinge of regret fills my chest anyway. I like Duke. He hired an amputee to work as a bartender, and he put up with my ups and downs in the months after I got hired.

  He’s part of the reason I survived and got my feet back under me, and I’ll always owe him for that.

  “I’ll be right back, okay?” I glance over at Theo and Ryland, wondering if they’ll accept my subtle hint that I want to go in alone.

  It says a lot about how our relationship has changed that they both accept without question.

  “We’ll be here.” Theo gives my leg a squeeze. “Take your time.”

  I’m sure that’s not quite accurate. If I take longer than five minutes, I have a feeling both men will show up inside, ready to fight whoever they have to in order to get me out in one piece.

  They’re still on edge. We all are. So I can’t really blame them for being protective.

  I slide out of the car and close the door with a quiet thunk. When I walk inside the bar, the place is almost empty. I deliberately picked a time when it wouldn’t be crazy busy so I could have a word with Duke.

  The stocky bald man stands behind the bar, and his eyebrows shoot up when he sees me walk in. I called in sick for about five days, and ever since then I’ve just been trading all of my shifts away. I know he knows something is up. He called me two days ago, but I didn’t answer. I wanted to do this in person.

  “Ayla.” He sets down the glass he just rinsed, stepping toward me as I approach the bar. “Where have you been? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I lie. “I just… some stuff has come up, and I don’t really have the time to work here anymore. You probably already figured that out, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

  Duke’s eyes narrow. He flicks a glance toward the front windows, taking in the car idling in the street outside. It’s early evening, but still light enough that I’m sure he can see inside the vehicle.

  He scrubs a hand over his chin, turning back to me. “Are you sure you’re all right? Are those guys giving you a hard time?”

  I huff a small laugh. I don’t have any idea how to describe my relationship with Theo and Ryland, and I’m also well aware that to an outside observer, nothing about my current situation would probably make any sense at all.

  “No, they’re not.” I shake my head, letting my expression grow more serious as I meet Duke’s worried eyes. “It’s complicated, but I’m all right.”

  He doesn’t look all that convinced, but he nods. “Okay.”

  Then he surprises me by stepping out from behind the bar. He squeezes my shoulder, which for Duke is pretty much the equivalent of a hug. “Take care of yourself, will you, Ayla? Be smart. Be safe.”

  My chest tightens a little as I blink at him. It’s the most fatherly piece of advice I’ve ever gotten, from someone I never would’ve expected to become a father figure.

  I nod, feeling suddenly awkward. I’m not great with shows of affection. “Yeah. I will. You too.”

  That’s a lie too, but it slips off my tongue easily. I’m done playing it safe or worrying about being smart. I’m out for vengeance, and I want the men to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

  Even if it’s not safe.

  “Good. If you need work again down the line, there’s a spot for you here.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze before stepping back.

  “Thanks. For everything.”

  I shoot him a genuine smile, then turn and hurry toward the front door before I do something even more awkward, like try to hug him goodbye or something. Duke’s a good guy, and those seem to be in dangerously short supply sometimes.

  When I step outside, both Ryland and Theo are watching me from the car. I slide back into the front passenger seat, and Theo tilts his head a little, examining my expression. “How’d it go?”

  “Fine.” I make a face. “Or as well as it could. He was understanding, considering he doesn’t really get any of this.”

  “Well, the good news is, I don’t have to ask if you’re free on Saturday night,” he says.

  My brows furrow. “Why? What’s happening Saturday night?”

  “Luca D’Addario is throwing a party.”

  Chapter 12

  Crying.

  Someone is crying.

  I’m in a big, empty room. Shadowy figures move around me, but none of the shapes have enough form to be recognizable. I’m alone, but not alone.

  Invisible, maybe.

  My fingers tighten around the stuffed elephant in my hands, gripping its large ears. The stuffed animal’s fur is dingy and it’s missing an eye, but I cling to it like it’s valuable anyway.

  It is.

  To me.

  To him.

  He’ll want it back.

  The crying gets louder, so loud that it makes my skin prickle and my heart race. I look around at the shadowed, formless figures around me, wondering why none of them are doing anything. They’re the ones who can. They’re the ones who have the power to fix this.

  But they make no move, and the crying continues. It goes on and on—until suddenly, it stops. And I realize with a flash of dread
that that’s worse.

  Because that means he’s gone.

  I clutch the little elephant, holding it tight to my chest.

  It’s all I have left.

  * * *

  I jolt awake, my heart racing as half-remembered images flit through my mind.

  Fuck.

  With a low groan, I roll over onto my side, curling up into a ball. Despite the fact that things are changing between all of us, I haven’t had the guts to beg Theo to sleep in the guest room with me again—or to crawl into bed with him in his room. And right now, I really fucking wish I had.

  I pull the blankets higher, tugging them up until they’re all the way over my head. Darkness envelops me, and I blink into it, trying to calm my racing pulse.

  For the past several nights, I’ve had new, strange dreams instead of the usual fragmented memories of the night I was shot.

  I don’t like it. The new dreams don’t make any sense. There’s nothing outwardly all that upsetting about them, but I always wake up in a cold sweat or on the verge of tears without knowing why.

  And I also don’t like that Marcus has stopped appearing in my dreams. I don’t believe in signs from the universe, and I remind myself of that frequently, but his disappearance from my dreams worries me in a weird way. As if his energy has ceased to exist.

  That’s bullshit, Ayla. I clench my teeth, mentally chastising myself. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just your mind dealing with trauma.

  I lie in bed for a while longer, distracting myself from the lingering terror of the dream by going over my mental roster of players in the game. I’ll be meeting most of them for the first time tonight, at Luca D’Addario’s party, and I want to be ready.

  This isn’t the first time he’s done this. According to the guys, he throws a party about once or twice a year, often falling within a month or less of the most recent bloodshed. It’s a chance for people to realign themselves as the fallout from the period of violence settles, and a chance for Luca to evaluate his chosen competitors.