Page 29 of Jig's Last Dance
“Butt out,” I say, smiling with all my teeth when his brows drop over his eyes.
“Your shadow is in the parking lot. Maybe you should call him up here to defend you because clearly, you got no game.”
“You don’t know shit,” I say and walk away because I’m losing steam. Shawn gives me a questioning stare, and I nod my head, grinning when she points at her eye proudly. She doesn’t look quite as damaged as I’m sure I do, but her hair is wild around her face, and she has a bruise dusting her cheek.
She’s learned all the tricks from her brothers, so it’s no surprise she held her own. I’m losing my touch, though. I need to toughen the fuck right back up.
Of course, Jig follows and sits beside me when I drop to the log before the fire with a heavy sigh. Now that I’m not trading blows, my body aches like a motherfucker.
“What do you want?” I ask, casting him a sour glare.
He’s studying me with a solemn expression, and my heart thumps before I look away and stare at my hands. What is it about this guy? I don’t know him beyond that he makes my body sing. Otherwise, his personality is shit, and he hides behind a facade I’ve only seen glimpses beyond.
He’s also the dick who called me a whore. I shouldn’t care, but knowing he’s sitting next to me at a party he wouldn’t normally attend has me all twitterpated. And it’s stupid because he’s probably here for more nefarious reasons—either that or to spy on me.
“How’s Uncle Sal? Has he brought you into the fold yet? Maybe he’ll train you to be a killer, just like your daddy.”
My mouth drops, and I stutter, “W-What?”
“Yeah, maybe you can take on the family business, hm?”
I don’t know what to say. He just dropped a literal bomb on me. Was my dad a killer? Like how? What does that mean?
Shaking my head, I meet his brilliant blue gaze and set it aside, saying, “We’re back to this again?”
“Yep,” he says, his mouth curling in a devastating smirk.
“You’re being an asshole.”
“Oh? Maybe I’m just being honest. You got a problem with the truth, sunshine?”
Quirking my brow, I stare at him steadily until he looks away. “How about you stop with the bullshit? Why are you here? Why do you care?”
“I don’t. I’m here to party.” I narrow my eyes at his shark-like grin. What’s he playing at?
“Are you stalking me?”
His brows slam over his eyes, and I shiver at the sudden drop in temperature when he sneers. “I don’t sniff after bitches. They wait in line like good little whores.”
There’s a pause where his nasty words sink in before I turn to him with a scorching glare. “This bitch will never wait in line for a whore like you.”
With a wretched smirk, he grabs my waist and pulls me forward, where I press my hands against his hard chest. Despite the conversation, my fingers tingle at the contact as he licks his lips and says, “Oh baby, I can have you on your knees like a littlewhoreany time I want.”
Once again, it takes me a moment to catch up before I stare at him blankly. “What? You . . .” I sputter, slapping his chest.
Chuckling, he releases me, his smile growing when I fumble and snarl, “You’re an arrogant fuck.”
The moments we spent together flash before my eyes. His words make what I thought was special, dirty, and I raise my hand to slap the smirk right off his face, but he grabs my arm.
With the same wicked smirk, he proceeds to lick my lip. I spy a drop of blood on his tongue before he swallows. It should be gross, but it’s kind of fucking hot, and I pull away, averting my gaze.
“Careful, sunshine. I might think you have a little crush on me,” Jig says, his bright eyes assessing.
“You’re so fucking full of yourself. I don’t give a fuck about you,” I hiss, standing to my feet. Once again, I feel caught out, which shouldn’t matter because he’s trying to get a rise out of me.
But I’ve spent years trying to deny things that have bubbled below the surface, and to think he even suspects is pressing at my lungs. I chose to back away from my instinct, which was to get closer. For good reason. And after two fucking days of being in his presence, I’ve confirmed what I thought all along. Jig Blackstone is pure fucking trouble.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my arm.