She licks her lips. The pink tongue that pokes out makes me forget why I’m here. But the cards have been dealt and the game is still being played.
I try to focus, but it’s tough as nails.
“Sorry,” she says. Her voice soft, her finger dog-earing the page in her book, not even eyeing the table. “I was distracted.”
Rizz laughs. “Busy reading your porn?”
She rolls her eyes, not arguing, still not making eye contact. It’s like she knows these men well enough to know they don’t deserve her full attention. “I don’t see why they don’t serve you. They’re your girlfriends, aren’t they?” Her words are strong, but her gaze is on the floor like she is scared of meeting anyone’s eyes.
“Keep your mouth shut, Sugar. Do your damn job.”
Sugar blinks wildly, keeping what I can only assume are tears at bay. She doesn’t bite back. Instead, she swallows and tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. And I sure as hell don’t like the way they are treating her.
Rimmed pushes his front lips together. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re nothing but an extra mouth to feed. At least they put out.”
“Hey, that’s my sister,” Rizz growls.
“Right, and you really like this arrangement?” Pussy Juice asks.
“Family is family. Until tomorrow morning, when I give Sugar to Marco— “
She cuts him off, her words soft and pleading, “Can we not have this conversation tonight? It’s Christmas Eve. I’ll get your drinks. What do you guys want? Bud Light?”
They grunt in agreement and she starts to walk away. I have to speak to her.
“I’ll have a whiskey,” I tell her.
Sugar stops and turns to face me. Her eyes meet mine. They are deep blue pools of water, swimming with tears and I see she’s far more rattled than she let on with her brother. “Who are you?” she asks, looking at the guys, then at me, trying to place me.
“I’m Smith.”
“And you’re friends with my brother?” she asks, eyelashes fluttering. Making judgments on me as she takes in the room. Smoke in the air, empty beer glasses, a pile of chips. The other women enter the room, finding the laps of their men and I clench my jaw. Wishing I had never walked back here. This isn’t where I belong, not by a fucking long shot. I should have stayed put at the bar. I could have met this woman under different terms. Now she is just lumping me in with these other guys.
“Not friends,” I clarify. “I’m here to win.”
“Win what?” she asks, practically daring me to pick her up and push her against the wall, to run my hands all over her skin and make her mine. Here and now. She’s all I want. The self-control this moment takes is excruciating.
Rizz laughs, his smile broadening. “Hey, let’s finish this hand, Smith.” He looks at his cards, a smug ass expression on his face. He pushes his last pile of chips to the center of the table.
I nod, sitting back down at the table. After taking another look at my cards, I push all my chips to the center of the table, calling his bluff. Rizz lifts his eyebrows and the other guys whistle low. “What’s it gonna be, Rizz?” I ask, daring him.
He sucks air through his front teeth as he makes a decision. He has no more chips on the table. Looks like he is out of options. But then he gives us all a wicked grin.
“Sugar’s gonna cover my bet.”
I feel her stiffen beside me. My cock gets fucking stiff too.
Rizz nods. “Yeah, you like thick virgins?”
“What are you doing?” Sugar asks, her voice rattled.
“I’m gonna win this hand but might as well make you sweat for it. Tomorrow you’re going to Marco at the Badlands as a little Christmas gift. Let’s make sure you know how to do the deed before you’re his property.”
I want to punch the fucker in the goddamn face, treating this woman like a piece of property to buy and sell, to trade. I can practically feel Sugar’s rage because I feel it too. Rising up in me.
“Fine. What do you got?”
Sugar gasps behind me, and I understand why. I’ve just agreed to a deal where she is the gamble. The way I see it, she spends the night with these fuck-ups, or she spends the night in my cabin – a cozy little place where she can actually get some much-needed rest. With me she is safe but staying with these losers there is no guarantee for her protection.
Rizz gives a cocky grunt as he shows us his hand. A flush.
“Well shit, guess you got lucky, Sugar,” Pussy Juice laughs, slapping his knee. “Still gonna be a virgin come Christmas morning.”
“You call this lucky?” Sugar asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t watch this,” she says, leaving the table and heading for the bar.
“What do you got, Smith?” Rimmed asks.
I place down three aces. The tension in the room is thick, and I know Rizz thinks he got me. But then I set down my last two cards. Two queens.
Full house, aces full of queens.
“Fuck you,” Rizz growls, his anger at losing to me, a stranger, is palpable. “This is bullshit.”
“Keep the money,” I say, not wanting their dirty cash anyway. “I’m taking the girl.”
“You’re stupider than I thought,” Rizz laughs and I push away from the table, grabbing the fool by the collar.
“Don’t follow me,” I grunt.
Rizz pushes at my chest. I let him go. “I need her by morning. You can have her until then, understood?”
Sugar
My brother is a piece of work. Always has been. Some things never change, do they? He’s the only family I’ve got and what good does it do me? I should have left a long time ago but that’s easier to say when you have something to fall back on.
I’m a high school dropout, former foster kid, a girl who at nineteen has exactly one person in her corner and that’s barely saying anything. Rizz wants the MC boss, Max, to give him more power. Any power, actually. My brother and his friends are out of money and low on fuel. He’s hoping to get me to Wyoming to give Marco a Christmas gift. An offering. Me.
And what does it say about me that I am still here, playing along? What kind of person am I that I haven’t run?
I’ll tell you what kind.
The scared kind.
Because there’s actually something scarier than being a gift to a powerful man… and that is being on the streets and being taken advantage of without anyone to call on to help me.
But this threat… the threat of giving me to that beast of a man at the table? Smith, was that his name? With dark brown eyes, a thick beard, forearms that make me think he could actually pick me up and carry me to bed.
It’s too much. Too much to even consider.
Tears burn my eyes as I leave the back room. I head to the bar, ordering a round of beers and wiping my eyes. Focus, Sugar. Focus. Don’t let those guys get under your skin.
Still, embarrassment rushes through me. The way Smith looked at me when Rizz made the offer of a thick virgin — all I saw was disgust in his eyes. He wasn’t interested in me. At all.
And he was exactly the kind of man I would want.
Strong. Silent. Smart. And I’m sure he will win the game.