Page 38 of Jig's Last Dance

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Page 38 of Jig's Last Dance

Did Castinetti orchestrate this? Or is it a coincidence? Is there any such thing? But if Castinetti is involved, why?

“Alice?” Jig says.

I meet his searching stare. I have nothing to hide, but I still raise my chin when he cocks a brow, his bright eyes narrowing. “I told you what I know.”

“I don’t think you have,” Cyn says.

Beside him, Rain shifts, but I have no time for those fuckers because Jig turns to me in a huff. Shrinking under his stare, I say quietly, “I don’t know what more to say.”

“Why would Castinetti send you to John?” Jig asks, leaning into my face.

I stare into his beautiful blue orbs and sigh. “I don’t know, but I think I’m in deep shit.”

He scoffs, “Of course you are. You’re Castinetti’s little soldier.”

“Dude, back off,” I snarl. “I’m not his anything, and McCafferty isn’t exactly a fucking pussy cat.”

Jig crosses his arms over his chest, and I roll my eyes. “What?”

“You expect anyone here to believe you didn’t come here because of that monster?”

“Jig,” Rain says, but I bulldoze right over her.

“I don’t expect anything from a loser like you.”

“A loser? Ha fucking ha,” he sneers, but I spy darkness behind his eyes and drop my gaze. What is his deal? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

“You don’t get to judge me when you’re sitting pretty with a fucking monster yourself,” I say.

“Enough,” Bastion growls. “We’re wasting time. Alice isn’t going to tell us shit.”

“What the fuck?” I say, spinning toward him. “You have a problem with me?”

He shrugs, his brows dropping over his eyes, and I step back uneasily. Unfortunately, Jig is right behind me, and he wraps me up, his arms warm against the underside of my breasts.

Stiff in his hold, I absently note his erection, but I don’t have time to comment because Bastion barks, “Yeah, I have a problem. Your dad is scum. You’re scum. Feel me?”

Sucking in a breath, I try to breathe through the pinch in my chest, caught between defending my dad and the reality that these people hate me because of him.

With a mental shake of my head, I rasp, “Really? And your dad is any better? He still upstate, Bastion?”

There’s a preternatural stillness, and my skin erupts in goosebumps before Bastion stands from his lean on the wall. I shiver, annoyed that Jig can feel my reaction, but to my surprise, Jig says quietly, “Bro.”

Bastion glances at him with eyes so cold I flinch and says, “What? You picking pussy over us?”

Jig goes rigid before his arms drop away, and he says coolly, “Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

“Really?” Bastion sneers. “Because Alice Patterson belongs to the dark side, Jig. You ready to play there?”

With a crinkled brow, I glance between them, unable to decipher whatever the fuck Bastion is saying.

Jig clenches his hand, his mouth pulling into a grotesque smile. But we’re saved from whatever he was about to say when Rain intervenes. “Jig?”

Jig slowly turns his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes soften, and she gives him a secret look that makes my chest burn. But it works because Jig sags and turns away.

With that, Bastion stalks toward the door, and I exhale shakily, only to suck it right back in when Bastion stops before me, leans into my face, and says so quietly I have to strain to hear. “Your piece of shit father is the reason mine’s in prison.”

Dazed, I stare after him until he’s out the door. Is it true? I don’t know. But I guess I can add it to the list of fucking unknowns.




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