Page 17 of Jig's Last Dance

Jig pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down, helping myself to a plate and piling the food high. I feel positively gaunt after the shenanigans last night, and I think my stomach may be eating itself right about now.

I ignore Bastion because he’s number one on my shit list but look up when the low rumble of their conversation pauses.

“What?” I mumble, covering my mouth when I find them all staring at me.

Jig’s mouth pulls up at the corner, and my heart thumps. “Nothing, sunshine. Eat.”

And I do, shoveling food in so fast, my stomach aches before I slow down. Still, it feels so fucking good and I lean back with a sigh.

When I finally come up for air, I find Jig watching me intently, his food untouched on his plate. Shifting in my chair, I look away. Rain is gazing at Jig with a bemused expression, and Cyn is staring at me.

Uneasily, I drop my fork on my plate. “I’d like to go home now.”

The furrow between his brows doesn’t bode well, and when we make eye contact, Cyn says, “Alice? What’s your last name?”

Clenching my hand in my lap, I consider lying but to what end? If Cyn wants to know who I am, he can find out easily enough. Shit, Bastion could tell him.

Glancing at Bastion sideways, I note his blank stare and turn away.

Whatever. I’d prefer to remain some no-name chick after this is over, although my chest burns at the notion. I don’t want to be just someone Jig messed around with. Shit.

Turning my focus, I say, “Patterson.”

Cyn’s eyes narrow, searching my face before he grimaces. Does he know where I come from? Shit. Clenching my hands below the table, I brace myself for the past about to be reopened. And like an old fucking wound, my heart aches when I look away into Jig’s wide-eyed stare.

“What’s your game?” Cyn growls, and Jig turns to him with a frown.

“Cyn—”

“Nope. Are we going to sit here and pretend she’s not the fucking enemy?” Cyn asks, pinning me with his cold gaze.

“Cyn,” Rain says softly, and Cyn drops his gaze to hers, his cranky expression easing, but his eyes harden right back up when he turns to me.

“The enemy . . . Alice?” Jig says, casting me a questioning glance.

“There’s no game,” I mutter, pushing to my feet.

“Wait,” Jig says.

“No? Then why is Ice Man’s daughter sitting in my friend’s kitchen?”

“I-Ice Man?” I say.

“Yes, your father is Bobby Patterson, right?” Cyn says.

“Yes,” I whisper. Was my dad referred to as Ice Man?

The silence that follows is deafening. Absently, I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. I knew this was a bad idea, although it never occurred to me that being his daughter would be my problem. Apparently, the affiliation isn’t a good thing. Color me naive once again, but there’s so much about my dad I didn’t know.

Still, he was team Castinetti. And I’m firmly in McCafferty territory now.

“What?” Jig chuckles. I glance at him, squirming when his smile slowly fades.

My dad never advertised his job. I guess these guys are closer to the shit than I thought unless Bastion did know and spilled the beans.

“Well?” Cyn barks and I flinch.

“I think I should go,” I say, pushing away from the table.