Play Rough

by Eva Ashwood

  I roll my eyes at that. “I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference between what I’d like for my birthday and what Piper would like. Although this bike is pretty cool.” I pause on one of the pages. “Maybe a little big for her right now, though.”

  “It comes in a smaller size,” Rory says. “But maybe you’re right. There’s also this.” He shifts closer to where I’m leaning against the desk, sliding his finger over the track pad to another page where there’s a four-wheeled mini ATV-looking thing on display. “She could ride it around the neighborhood.”

  “Okay.” I nod, dipping my head a bit to look closer. “That’s pretty badass, actually.”

  It’s painted pink, and the wheels are big, and while it looks like something someone would take off-roading, the product description promises it doesn’t go fast at all.

  “Is that one a winner, do you think?” he asks, glancing at me hopefully.

  I purse my lips. “Yeah, if you think she’d use it. You know her better than I do, obviously. If not, the art table is probably pretty safe.”

  “I think she’d love it,” Rory says. Then he frowns. “But it’s not very girly, is it? I thought little girls were all about princesses and shit.”

  I poke him in the side firmly. “Little girls can be into whatever they want. Princesses and toddler ATVs don’t have to be mutually exclusive or whatever. Maybe she wants to take her dolls with her on a drive. Or wear a tiara while she rides off down the street. If you think she’d like it, then get it for her. That’s what matters.”

  Rory’s smile is genuine, and something like relief flashes across his face. I’m reminded once again how much he cares about his daughter and wants her to be happy, to the point where he’ll overthink a birthday gift just to be sure.

  “Great. Done deal. Thanks for your help, Hurricane,” he says, and his voice sounds very close behind me. I turn around so I’m facing away from the desk and the laptop and end up face to face with Rory, and yeah. He’s really close.

  Mouth suddenly dry, I lick my lips, looking at him while he looks at me. He’s so damn handsome, and it’s not even the slightest bit fucking fair. All that boyish charm and easy humor are wrapped up in a muscular, tattooed package. Dressed in comfortable clothes, in the comfort of his own room, he seems even more in his element, and seeing again how much he cares about Piper just makes it worse.

  He’s such an appealing package, sure, but it’s one I’m supposed to be resisting.

  Of course, he doesn’t know that, and having me so close makes his smile turn from happy to seductive. He holds my gaze with purpose and starts moving in closer, boxing me in against the edge of the desk.

  Rory’s right in my personal space, moving casually but with intent, and I can feel my heart start beating faster. Every time he’s this close, it’s impossible to deny the visceral response he evokes in my body. The flirtatious tension flares between us, building up thick and strong and impossible to ignore.

  Kind of like Rory himself, when I think about it.

  He reaches up to touch my cheek and then slides his fingers into my hair, stroking through it slowly. It’s so calming and nice, and I feel my eyes fluttering shut for a second, leaning into the feeling just for a bit.

  His bed is right there, hastily made and serviceable, and it would be so easy to just make use of it. To let him kiss me and touch me and make me feel good the way I can tell he wants to.

  I swallow hard, feeling my body yearn for his, just a few steps away from giving in and leaning up to kiss him, letting one thing lead to another like it always fucking does.

  But just in time, I remember why I shouldn’t do that. I made a promise to myself, to the memory of my dad, and I have to keep it. Doing this time and time again will only complicate things more than they are already.

  So I pull away, slipping away from the desk to stand off to the side.

  “I’ve got some things I have to get done today,” I tell him, trying to sound at least a little apologetic so he doesn’t feel like I’m rejecting him. “If I get started with you, I’ll be here all day.”

  He just grins and waves me on, but there’s a look in his eyes that promises he’s going to remember this mood for later.

  I head back to my own room and close the door. The temptation to hide under my covers is pretty fucking strong, but I don’t even make it that far. I slide down the door to sit on the floor in front of it and close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood.

  “What am I doing?” I mumble to myself. “What am I fucking doing?”

  I’m not even sure what I’m referring to anymore. The guys, the plan, life in general? It all falls under the heading of “massive clusterfuck” right now, and I have no idea what to do about any of it.

  For a second, I start to doubt my plan. Feeding information to the Jackals will probably get the job done when it comes to taking out the Black Roses, but… fuck. Is that the right thing to do anymore?

  If I can get the information Paul wants, he and the rest of his gang are going to rain a storm down on the Black Roses. They’ll use whatever I give them to try to destroy the rival gang they’ve clashed with for years, which was what I wanted in the first place.

  But what about Rory? What about Levi?

  They’re loyal Black Rose members, so they’re involved in this on some level no matter what, but there’s a part of me that wants to protect them. I can’t deny that to myself anymore.

  Alone in my room, I can admit I’m starting to have feelings for them. Real feelings. Feelings that make it hard to want them to go down in flames with Sloan and the others. I care about them, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.

  But I also want to avenge my father. If it wasn’t for the Black Roses and their bullshit, if it wasn’t for Sloan, then Dad would be fine. He would still be here with me, and I’d be able to hug him and talk to him and none of this would be an issue.

  It would be so much easier if they were all pure fucking evil. If they were just killers who didn’t give a shit about what happened to anyone else. When I first got here, I didn’t trust any of them as far as I could throw them, but over time, they got past my guard, and I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish I’d kept them out and never let them into my heart.

  That way, it would be so much easier to pull the trigger and walk away, letting it all burn behind me.

  19

  I get through the week somehow, even though I feel like I’m a mess. Scarlett gives me her worried looks when Levi can’t see, and I try my best to assure her it’s all going to be okay. I have no idea how this is all going to turn out, but I don’t plan on letting any of the Black Roses kill me.

  If worse comes to worst, maybe I can disappear or something. With Dad dead, it’s not like I have a lot to stay in Fairview Heights for. My only real friend here is Scar, and she’d definitely support me in running if it kept me alive.

  There’s a moment where thoughts of Rory and Levi flash through my head as I consider leaving, but I shove those away. It’s not like I could stay with them anyway, after it’s all said and done, assuming they make it out alive on the other side of the shit I’m trying to start.

  And I really don’t want to think about that.

  On the weekend, there’s another fight at the same place where my dad fought and won on the night this all started. I haven’t been there since that night, and just thinking about it makes my pulse race.

  “We’re all going to go,” Rory explains when he tells me about it.

  “‘We all’ meaning you’re invited too, of course,” Levi adds.

  “Although…” Rory gives Levi a look before turning his attention back to me. “I can understand if you don’t want to. Considering.”

  Considering what happened the last time we were all there together, he means. I remember the way my dad looked when all those men were beating the shit out of him, how even though he’s one of the best fighters in the city, he wasn’t able to fend all of them off when they gan
ged up on him like fucking animals. I remember jumping in to help him and then being pulled away by Levi and Rory.

  Adrenaline courses through my veins at the memory, but I breathe through it and refocus on what I need to do. If the guys are going, and they’ve invited me along with them, I can’t waste that opportunity.

  There’s no way I’m missing this fight.

  “I’ll go,” I tell them. “It’s fine.”

  Fine isn’t really the right word. In fact, it’s definitely all wrong for what I’m feeling. But I don’t have a better one, so it’s going to have to do.

  Usually, Scarlett is the person I go to fights with, but I don’t invite her to this one. The further she stays away from this mess, the better. So come Friday night, it’s just the four of us walking into the warehouse I know fairly well.

  It hurts in a way I should’ve expected, making the same trek through the crowds of people that I did that night, trying to find a clear area to stand in.

  Scarlett was good at pushing people out of the way, but being with three tall and imposing men definitely helps clear a path even more easily.

  I think about how she saved a place for us while I went down to talk to my dad, teasing him and wishing him luck before the fight. Thinking about how that will never happen again makes an ache form inside my chest, and I have to fight to keep a neutral expression.

  The three of them chat with each other while I stand beside them, not really paying attention. I’m so in my own head that I almost miss it when the fight starts, the two opponents squaring off in the ring.

  They’re both more lithe than I would have expected, with lean builds that should make them faster than someone more bulky. One of them has dark hair, pulled back into a bun with a shaved side, and the other has close-cropped red hair and eyes that shine with intent.

  Clearly he’s fighting to win.

  This is the kind of thing I usually live for. My dad used to bring me to fights all the time when I was a teenager, and Scarlett and I kept up the tradition when we got older, hanging out in gyms and underground fighting rings to watch people beat the shit out of each other for fun and prizes.

  I love the thrill of watching and being in the ring myself, but right now, all I can think about is my dad and the bad memories this place has for me.

  It’s like everything is layered over with a film of what happened before, and everywhere I look, there’s another piece of the shitty puzzle that got me here.

  A tall man pushes through the crowd off to my left, and I remember catching sight of Levi that night, flanked by Sloan and Rory, back before I knew who they were.

  Scarlett drooled all over herself at the sight of them, and even now, after everything, I can’t quite blame her for that. They’re still stupidly hot.

  Red Hair aims a punch for Man Bun’s face, and it connects solidly, the sound ringing out even over the cheers from the audience.

  It’s a clean hit, and it makes me think about how my dad was losing so badly at first in his last fight. I was so worried he was going to lose or get hurt, and I had no idea he was supposed to lose on purpose.

  Clearly, he started with the intention to follow through on his promise to throw the fight, or maybe he just wanted it to look like he had, before he changed it up and came through to win.

  And I was so proud when he was announced the victor. So excited for him, cheering and stomping my feet because my dad had come back from behind to turn the tables and win. Even though there was no way I could’ve known what was really going on, I feel stupid looking back on it now.

  I was happy he won.

  Happy about something that ended up blowing both our lives into smithereens.

  I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts from my mind. I don’t want to go down that path again. I don’t want the crushing weight of grief to slam down on me while I’m here, of all places.

  Instead, I go back to watching the fight, tracking the movements and defense of both fighters.

  “So what’s the deal with this fight?” I ask the guys, pitching my voice loud enough that they can hear me. I assume we’re not just here to watch a fight for shits and giggles. That doesn’t seem like how things work.

  “We bet on this one,” Levi says. “It’s the first bet we’ve made with the Jackals since all that shit went down. And we need to make sure everything’s on the up and up. No cheating and all.”

  “It’s not as big as the one for the church,” Rory adds. “But we’ve still got a vested interest in winning.”

  I doubt anyone’s going to double-cross them this time. Hell, I still can’t believe my dad did it, and I wish there was a chance to ask him what the fuck he was thinking when he did it. He had to have known it was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

  It’s a little hypocritical of them to be so worried about cheating from the Jackals when they’re clearly not above manipulating the outcome of a fight themselves, but I keep that thought to myself.

  As the fight continues, a familiar face in the crowd catches my eye, and I turn my head to see Paul working his way through the throng to find a place to stand. He’s a good bit away from us, and I stare at him for a second before averting my eyes, kind of hoping he doesn’t see me.

  I don’t know if I should point him out to the guys or not. I shouldn’t have any idea who he is, technically, so saying something could lead to questions that I don’t have any good answers for. It’s probably better to just leave it alone, even if it does get my guard up.

  That little voice in the back of my head pipes up that something is probably going on here, but before I have to make a decision one way or another, Sloan swears under his breath.

  We all look to him, and he nods his head in the direction of Paul, but a bit off from where I was looking.

  “Jackals,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Shit. What the fuck are they doing here?” Rory asks, looking over our heads like he’s trying to count how many there are.

  I open my mouth to suggest that maybe they’re doing the same thing the Black Roses are doing and just trying to make sure the fight stays on the up and up, but then press my lips together before any words come out. Jumping to the Jackals’ defense is probably not the best idea here.

  The fight is still going on in the ring, the two contenders doing their best to beat the shit out of each other, and pretty much everyone is focused on that.

  And then gunshots ring out in the warehouse.

  Several loud pops fill the air, and screams and shouts rise up immediately after. My muscles tense, adrenaline flooding my veins in a rush as I glance around quickly, trying to figure out exactly where the shots came from.

  Another gunshot cuts over the noise, and the chaos intensifies.

  It’s impossible to fire a weapon in a crowd this dense and not have people lose their fucking minds in panic, and it’s basically a stampede as hundreds of people try to squeeze out the doors at once, jostling each other and pushing to try to get to the front before more shots echo around us.

  There’s screaming, and in the chaos I can see that the two guys in the ring are trying to get their bearings and get out too.

  I glance around quickly, trying to keep Levi, Sloan, and Rory in my sight, but there are too many people moving too fast. I’m forcefully shoved from either side as people rush past me, and I almost get knocked over when someone wraps an arm around my waist.

  My hackles go up, and I’m immediately reminded of the last time I was here when I was lifted bodily out of the fight to defend my dad and carried off to a car.

  I’m ready to elbow someone in the throat for trying any shit, but as I suck in a deep breath, I recognize Sloan’s scent even in this madness. My body relaxes slightly, and I pull my punch.

  “Come on,” he mutters in my ear, and I nod, letting him protect me with his body as the three guys force their way through the crowd, not shy about pushing people out of the way to get to the exit.

  We make it outside in on
e piece, and the fresh air is a relief after being packed into the warehouse for so long. People are running to their cars, trying to get away from the scene, and it’s easy to pick out who’s involved in this and who’s just an innocent onlooker.

  Levi and Rory take me off to the side, keeping an eye on things, and Sloan pushes through the remaining crowd to go over to a guy who’s clutching his shoulder as blood wells between his fingers.

  “What the fuck are they trying to do?” Rory mutters under his breath, and Levi shakes his head.

  From where we’re standing I can’t hear everything that’s happening with Sloan and the other guy, but I can pick up enough to put the pieces together.

  The wounded guy was a part of an altercation with the Jackals, and Sloan seems about ready to shoot him himself with how angry he looks.

  Even from here, I can tell his eyes are flashing with stormy rage, and his posture is tense and rigid.

  “They’ve been taunting us for weeks!” The guy Sloan is talking to raises his voice insistently, gesturing with his free hand and then wincing when even that movement is too much. When he moves his hand, I can see more of the blood soaking into his shirt from his shoulder. “They want—”

  He cuts off and drops his voice lower, and Sloan says something in a low, intense voice that I can’t hear either.

  He doesn’t seem to be arguing with the guy, but trying to get his point across on no uncertain terms.

  Whether because Sloan is an intimidating force when he wants to be, or because he’s the son of their leader, the guy eventually lowers his eyes and nods, giving in to whatever it is Sloan is trying to tell him.

  Even without all the details, the picture is pretty clear. The Jackals are pushing things even more than they were before. The truce they had in place isn’t going to hold, and violence like this is probably about to become the norm.

  The guys have been noticing it for weeks, of course, and it just seems to keep getting worse. The Jackals want to push the Black Roses into retaliating, and they did tonight, almost hurting other people in the process.