Page 58 of Five Brothers
The wind picks up, and a distant roll of thunder follows.
“I think it’s about to rain,” I say.
But Dallas just smirks. “It’s a water sport, princess. You’re gonna get wet.”
Snorts go off around me.God, I hate him.
“Where the River Flows” starts over the speakers, lightning flashes, and Iron rubs his red thumb across the rest of his dripping fingers.
“Run!” someone shouts.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I can’t help my smile, nearly choking on my laugh as I race off.
I barrel for the garage across the street, every step taking mecloser to the bright lights inside, and the nineties black sedan sitting up on cinder blocks in the center.
Commotion fills the small street, feet pound the wet dirt, and bodies fall to the ground.
Iron’s naked chest appears out of the corner of my eye.
But a guy crashes into my shoulder, making me whip around, and I suck in a breath as I plummet to the ground. My palms hit hard, breaking my fall. “Ow!”
Shit.
I look around, searching for Iron.Fuck.Where is he?
“There you are,” I hear instead.
My heart stops, and I jerk my eyes to the left, seeing Aracely walk slowly toward me while everyone runs around like the world is ending.
Oh no.
She dives down, reaching for me, and I yelp, quickly rolling away as fast as I can.
Scrambling to my feet, I catch sight of Trace leaving a red handprint on someone’s back, while Dallas grabs a girl by the back of the neck and pulls her in for a kiss, smearing paint all over her skin like her throat’s been cut.
Iron stands beyond, slowly stalking as he watches. Amusement laces his stare, but something else, too.
Why isn’t he chasing me? He’s not chasing anyone else.
Running, I cross the threshold into the opposite garage, the music stops, and I halt, everyone laughing as they discard clothes, one woman going for it and taking off her entire one-piece catsuit. Another pulls down the top of her maid dress to sit at her waist, her red lacy bra covering her breasts. I lock eyes with her, both of us starting to laugh.
Rain kicks up dirt as I look across to the Jaeger garage, seeing all the boys coat their hands in paint again, and then come to stand back in the middle of the road.
Turin Wilcott slides a leg over Macon’s, straddling him and bowing her forehead to his. She takes his hands and places them on her hips for him, like he can’t make his own damn decisions.
I shout out to his brothers. “So how do I win this game?”
Army whips his hand around, throwing off the excess paint. “Oh, she’s confident, isn’t she?”
He smiles, and I wink.
“I have a judge in my back pocket. What do you have in yours?”
His smile falls, Dallas shakes his head, and Trace leans down, planting his hands on his knees and getting paint all over his jeans as he pants and zones in on me.
“She just fucking asked for it, didn’t she?” he says.
Oh, yes, I did.