"So, Dean," I say, emphasizing his name. I flex my arms. "Care to tell me why you thought it was necessary to bring me here? Do you want to piss me off?"
A cold smile filters across his face. "You and I both know you're not pissed off about this," he says. The blood in my veins freezes. I know that, but how does he know that? Dean folds his arms and stares at me as if he's waiting for something. I don't know what and I bide my time as I consider my response.
My gaze slides to the two guys remaining—keeping vigil at my sides as if they're bouncers in a club and they want to make sure no one can come near me … or rather, that I won't go near their bosses. Too bad for them, I think. They've got no clue what a little girl like me can do. They're obviously athletes of some kind—football if their size is anything to go by, but size has nothing on smarts.
I decide that now is as good a time as any to prove that. I twist one arm free of the zip ties, but hold onto the plastic ring, keeping both of my hands behind my back. Brax looks up and locks onto me, and my back straightens. A smile lifts his lips and he glances over to Dean, who shakes his head subtly. I narrow my eyes, but since neither of them say another word, I don't halt my plan. The green light is flashing and I'm feeling a heady mixture of anger and eagerness.
"So," I start casually, "which of you actually put the bag over my head and zip tied me?" I ask the bodyguards. "Was it one of you or one of the others?" If luck is on my side, it'll be either one or both of them.
They glance at each other and then with a shrug that determines how very little they consider me a threat, the one on the right answers. "We did," he says. "Orders are orders."
I grin. Ahhh, sweet lady luck. She did love me after all. "No problem. Just wanted to make sure before I did this."
They frown and look down. "Did what?" the one on the left asks just a split second before I bring my hands around my front and punch him in the face before turning, grabbing the back of his friend's head and bringing it down just as I bring my knee up. There's a muffled crunch against my leg and then I'm shoved away.
"The fuck!"
"Bitch!"
I laugh, taking a step away from them and towards the butcher's block. Abel, Brax, and Dean—all three of them don't move a muscle as they watch me round the island and reach for one of the knives. Perhaps if I were more pissed off and less amused, they would have more reason to be concerned, but right now—I'm more curious than anything else. It takes a lot to get me to that kind of dangerous point. I use a sharper one to cut through the remaining zip tie and drop the plastic on the counter before reaching for one of the shots and downing it.
Red hot fire slides down my throat. Not as good without the lime and salt, but still … not bad. "Ahhh," I say on a sigh. "That's top notch shit."
Brax grins and takes a shot of his own before pushing another my way. This time, he hands me a cut lime and a salt shaker. "You're staying for the party then?" he asks.
"Nah." I pour salt on my hand, lick it, and take the shot. The lime goes in my mouth as I slap the glass back onto the counter before turning and striding for the doorway. "But thanks for the fun."
As I pass, a hard hand grabs my arm. "You're not leaving, Avalon." Dean’s words slide over my skin, making that unhealthy darkness that festers within me respond. I tip my head back and grin.
"Oh?" I ask. "And who's going to fucking stop me?"
His eyes glitter. Smoky and hazy with something unknown. Curiosity holds me bound. I don't even mind that he's grabbing me without my permission. For now … anyway.
"No one," he says, "but you'll stay."
"Oh? Why's that?"
Finally, he grins and releases me. I almost hate the feel of his skin leaving mine. He spreads his arms wide and takes a shot glass that Brax hands him. Swallowing, the workings of his throat mesmerize me for some reason. "Because you're curious," he replies.
With that, he nods to the others. Brax and Abel go for their guys—the ones who made the mistake of underestimating me—and they drag them out of the room. Just before Dean leaves, he turns and gives me a grin. "Enjoy the party, Avalon.”
12
Dean
"Think she'll stick around?" Braxton asks.
I honestly don't fucking know. She's a wild one, that much is clear. A challenge—just like I said I wanted. She’d sent the first invitation back with a big ol’ Fuck You scribbled in red pen. Braxton had found it absolutely hilarious, but it had only made me want her here all the more. I want her to see it—the power we hold. I want to teach her a number of things—the first of which being that no one can tell me no, least of all a nobody like her.
Sitting back against the lounge chair on one of the rock platforms surrounding the pool, I tip my head back and stare at the top of the overhang. A deep sigh of irritation moves through me. The desire for something more, a distraction from what we’re going to head into tonight pulses in me.
“Hey, she came,” Abel says, refocusing my attention as I bring my head back down.
“Only because we forced the issue,” I remind him. That, too, isn’t surprising.
One of Eastpoint's cheerleaders passes by below, throwing come hither glances up our way. Abel leans forward and gives her a wink. She giggles and turns her cheek away, but I know she'll likely be in his bed before the end of the night. That is, if she hasn't already been. Like the rest of us, he's got his own rules—one of which is to never fuck the same pussy twice.
"Well?" Brax presses. “You never answered me. Do you think she’ll stick around?”
I shrug. "Maybe."
"Are we gonna drag her back if she does leave?" he asks.
I recline and pick up my beer, letting it dangle in my fingers. "Don't know yet. Whatever we do, we'll have to be careful. She's feisty."
Abel grunts in response. "That shit at the station was a fucking fluke. I didn't know she was going to go for my balls like that."
A laugh erupts from Braxton. He slaps a hand down on the table between us and shakes his head back and forth. "You should've fucking seen your face, man," he chortles. "You turned vomit green!"
Abel punches him in the side. "Shut the fuck up, motherfucker! Like you would've been any better if she shoved your balls up into your body cavity."
"She's got touchy points," I comment. "She didn't like you touching her."
He eyes me. "Yeah, well, she didn't seem to mind so much when it was you." That was true. My eyes narrow as the back door slides open and the object of our discussion makes her presence known. So she didn’t leave yet. I watch her as she turns her head, scanning the yard before her gaze meets mine. My gut tightens. There’s something about her that niggles at the back of my consciousness. I don’t know what it is, but it’s interesting. It’s dangerous, too. Like ambrosia to my fucking need to control. I want to pin her down and watch her squirm.
"You still planning on fucking her?" I find myself asking.