Page 3 of Deadly Little Games
Even though I was born and bred in Daringville, Amirah’s house still stuns me. Instead of the familiarity of home, it’s like entering a lavish five-star hotel. A tingle runs down my spine as the three-story mansion comes into view. These mansions may have beautiful exteriors, but behind closed doors lurk the deadliest of individuals, using their wealth to manipulate and acquire whatever they desire as members of The Brotherhood. They run the whole town of Daring, no matter where you’re from.
Amirah isn’t like them. She’s different. She thinks it’s bullshit, the divide our ancestors created after the gang war between the rich and poor. They thought this was the solution—a peace treaty. The Brotherhood was formed, and they made a pact to divide Daring into two parts, resulting in where we are today. There are still riots from my side when gangs try to take more than what their birthright affords them, but nothing ever gets out of hand. The Brotherhood won’t let it.
The closer we get to the house, the more fancy cars are parked off the main driveway—cars that cost more than the whole trailer park.
Amirah pulls into the garage and parks next to a familiar deep-red Range Rover. My stomach flips. Ishegoing to be here? It is his house, too, but I’ve never seen him at these parties.
“It’s time to fuck shit up. Are you ready?” Before I can even answer, Amirah jumps out of the car with a huge smile on her face. Determinedly, I trail behind her, closing the distance as she rips open the garage door, granting us access to the house.
The booming thump of bass pounds in my ears, drowning out all other sounds as I firmly shut the door. The house is totally crowded. The massive foyer is cast indarkness, illuminated only by the flickering strobe lights. Everyone’s dancing around me as I move through the crowd. A few even rub their bodies against mine, and I itch to dance—after I’ve had a little drink.
I push past this chick with two guys hanging all over her and follow Amirah into the kitchen by the entrance. It’s brighter in here, and I can see properly now. The kitchen is so spacious that it could easily fit my entire trailer. The shiny marble wrap-around countertop is cluttered with bottles and bags of coke. I wrinkle my nose—feels a little too much like home.
I eagerly accept the sealed bottle of vodka from Amirah, and with a grin, I twist off the lid, releasing the familiar scent of alcohol. With each sip, the liquid ignites a trail of heat down my throat until Amirah abruptly grabs it from me and takes an enormous gulp.
A shiver works its way up my neck as I feel someone staring at me. I look out into the crowd and come face to face with a familiar set of mossy-green eyes. His black wavy hair peeks out of his back-to-front baseball cap. It’s been twelve years, but I’d know his dark hair anywhere—it’s exactly the same as Amirah’s. I lick my dry lips, casting my eyes down his body. With his loose-fitting gray T-shirt and black jeans, his tattooed sleeves are on full display. Gage Ledger is a full-grown man; he’d be about twenty-two now a year older than me. I shouldn’t let him have this kind of power over me or my body.
When I look up at him again, he scowls and grabs a blonde chick who’s walking by. She fights to get away from him, but when she recognizes him, she stops and wraps her arms around his neck. As he leans in close, his eyes remain fixed on mine, his tongue tracing a path along her collarbone. My thighs clench and my cheeks warm. Withoutlooking, I snatch the bottle from Amirah, but I can’t hear what she yells. I bring the bottle to my lips, swallowing until it’s taken away again.
As I’m locked in a staring contest with Gage, the sharp snap of fingers grabs my attention, breaking our eye contact. I give Amirah a look, and she shakes her head.
“Excuse me, were you checking out my brother?”
“What? No!” I scoff.
“Good. He’s bad news, Freya. Surely you’d remember that, after everything that happened.”
“I know,” I say, taking a drink from the bottle. “I’d never touch him.”
“Good, ’cause no one can know who you are—remember what’s at stake,” Amirah says, taking the bottle from my hands, and I nod.
“And who’s this? You didn’t tell me you’ve got a new friend, Amirah.” His deep, gravelly voice goes straight to my core.Down, girl.
He steps right in front of me, and his earthy aftershave makes me forget for a second that he’s a complete asshole. He’ll remind me any second now. His intense gaze follows my every move, causing my heart to pound against my ribcage. Does he recognize me? He was only thirteen and I was twelve when I last saw him. It’s been too long since I’ve been this close to him. He had grown up so much that I almost didn’t recognize him, making me doubt if he would remember me.
Amirah rolls her eyes. “Piss off, Gage. Leave us alone.”
She takes my hand and drags me into the crowd. The weight of his gaze lingers on me for the next couple of hours as we dance, laugh, and continue to drink. My head and body feel light, and I forget everything that’s going on in my life. It’s perfect.
Amirah disappears in the crowd, and I realize I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Badly. Pushing my way through the throng of people, I finally reach the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms. I waste no time and bound up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. Moans and the sound of a headboard smacking against the wall come from Amirah’s bedroom, and I smile.That’s my girl.
I make it down the dark hallway, reaching the bathroom between her room and the guest bedroom, but there’s a line.Great.I cast a glance down the other end of the hallway, towardhisroom. There’s no one down there because they know the rule—don’t go near Gage’s space—but I do like to play with fire, and besides—I’m about to pee myself. It’s an emergency.
I sneak past the staircase and walk up to his door, pressing my ear against it until I’m certain no sound is coming from inside. That’s the last thing I want—to walk in on him balls deep in someone else’s pussy.
I check one more time to make sure no one’s watching, then I open the door and disappear inside.
Someone neatly made Gage’s bed with luxurious, silky black sheets that would cost more than my entire closet. The walk-in wardrobe door is ajar, giving a glimpse of the meticulously organized clothes inside. Nothing is out of place. It’s very clinical.
Shaking my head, I move toward the other door into the bathroom where I take care of business in record time. I lock eyes with my reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to fix my blonde wig.
The bedroom door creaks open, and I freeze. Oh, shit. It slams shut, and my heart races against my chest. I frantically scan the bathroom, searching for any possible escape route or hiding spot. There’s no window—just a god damnskylight. Rich assholes. I could lie down in the bathtub, but he’d see me straight away if he walked closer. The door handle turns, and I move like a light is up my ass, diving behind the door.
He goes to the bathroom and heads straight for the toilet. He zips down his jeans, freeing his cock, and I can’t keep my eyes away as he wraps his hand around his length. I’m meant to be getting away.Remember, move your ass.I sneak by the door, about to bolt.
“I wouldn’t run if I were you. I do love a good chase.”
I jump and spin around as he quickly puts his cock back in his jeans and washes his hands at the sink.