"Hey!" I shout after him. "I still need a ride back."
"Oh, no," he calls over his shoulder. "Hell no, you're on your own."
God, he's being such a wuss. I roll my eyes and jog to catch up with him, grabbing his arm and immediately dropping it when he stops and glares down at me. "You owe me," I state.
He scoffs. "In what universe do I owe you anything, Ava?"
I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest. His eyes dart down to my cleavage, but when I clear my throat with a meaningful growl they jump back up to my face. "You handed out my number, jackass," I snap. "To some rich bitch."
"Yeah, well, from what I hear, you two have been fast friends," he replies. "I fail to see how that means I owe you."
I shake my head. "The fact is, you sold me out. You also never texted me those locations you promised. I had to find out about this little district from Corina and her boy toys." He narrows his eyes at me, waiting, and I groan. "Fine," I snap. "Stay. Give me a ride back and I'll give you the earnings."
"What if you lose?"
I twist my tongue in my mouth and slide it through my teeth in the facsimile of a predatory smile before releasing it and grinning. "Do I really look like a loser to you?" I ask. Jake eyes me again, obviously doubtful. "And you might want to be careful in how you respond," I tack on. “I won’t hesitate to take out your ride like I did Kate’s and then where will we both be?”
“Rideless?” he guesses in a dry tone.
“Yup.”
He sucks in a breath and shoves his hands through his hair, yanking at the strands, turning and stalking a few feet away before halting and pivoting back around. Jake jerks his hands out of his hair and points at me. "You're a goddamn siren," he accuses. "You've got a fucking hot ass and a gorgeous face, but you lead men to their deaths."
I ignore the ass comment. "Don't be such a drama queen," I scoff. "I didn’t seduce you. Now, are you in or out?"
Jake storms towards me and then right past me as he follows the people heading into the building, cutting a glance my way when I reach his side. “You’re really not fucking Carter?” he clarifies.
“Why the fuck does everyone think I am?” I snap back instead of answering. “Have they seen him with his tongue down my throat?” This question I do answer. “No, they haven’t.”
“What about you with yours down his?”
I punch him in the shoulder and shove past him into the door when we reach the main entrance. The warehouse is large and perfect for an illegal fight night. It’s situated in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Jake had driven even further than the day I’d taken the bus out of town for some lake cliff diving, but with how many people are currently crowding the interior space, it’s clear that despite the location, it’s popular and well known.
Already, there’s a certain electricity in the air. It hovers over everyone, a building anticipation of the night’s events to come.
“You know,” Jake says absently as he finds his way back to my side, “you never answered my question.”
“You never answered mine,” I point out.
He shoves his hands into his pockets as we find a good spot towards the back—it looks like someone has carted out old bleachers and people are starting to claim their watching spots around what looks to be a large black fenced-in cage.
“People may not have seen the two of you sucking face,” he finally says with a glance around—I assume to make sure the closest people are too absorbed in what they’re seeing to eavesdrop on our conversation. “But everyone can sense the shit between you two.”
“There is no shit,” I insist.
Jake’s dark eyes shoot down to me. I look away. “Bullshit.” I stiffen. “Anyone with eyeballs can see the tension between you and Dean Carter. He’s all but declared you his—something he’s never done before. And if you’re the type of girl I think you are, then you need to be real with me. You know it. Otherwise, you never would’ve used him as a threat to make me help you get here.”
I inhale sharply and grit my teeth, hating that he’s right. “Dean Carter,” I start, feeling the venom on my tongue, “is an asshole.”
Jake rolls his eyes. “That is nothing new,” he states.
“Yeah, well, I’m new here. His level of assholery is still fresh to me.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Depends…” I let the word slide off my tongue as I scan the crowd, searching for a mass of people all circling one person. That’s where I’ll find the bookie.
“On what?” he presses.
“On if you can keep your trap shut and stop handing out any and all information I give you.”
There. Across the room, a small head bobs up and down as people thrust cash out at him. I stand up. “I’ll keep it a secret,” Jake blurts. I jerk and look down with a frown.
I consider it for a moment, debating and searching for any source of weakness in the information I possess. Pursing my lips, I glance back to the bookie before returning my focus to Jake. “There’s nothing going on between us,” I finally say. “Dean Carter is an enemy as far as I’m concerned. He staked a claim to prove a point. One that I do not like. So far, though, they’ve left me alone. As long as they continue to do so”—I step over one long bench and then completely off the bleachers—“I’ll let them keep their thrones,” I finish with a grin before turning around and disappearing into the crowd.
It’s hot. Ungodly so, but after a quick conversation with the bookie to see who’s lined up on the docket—not that I would recognize any of the names, but it’s nice to familiarize oneself with the competition—I head back to Jake. Cutting my way through the crowd sideways, I avoid wandering hands and shove those who get too close.
A familiar tingle of excitement hits me in my core. A hungry monster making herself known. Which is the very reason I’m here tonight. I’m so exuberant that I don’t even turn around and punch a guy in the face when he knocks into me and turns, cursing low beneath his breath. Doesn’t matter. I’ll get all this juice out one way or another tonight. I find Jake in the same place I left him with his phone in his hand and a frown on his face.
“Back,” I say, popping a squat on the bench next to him and making him jump.
He slides his phone back into his pocket quickly—I narrow my eyes … too quickly. “Where’d you go?” he demands.
“Bookie,” I say, nodding back the way I’d come.
His head turns and I drop mine to the outline of the phone in his pocket, but as he shoves his hands into them, I scowl. There’s no way I’ll be getting it to find out what the hell he’s hiding. And I know he’s hiding something. No one would jump like that if they weren’t guilty of something.
“You should’ve told me,” he says when he glances back at me. “I could’ve introduced you. Could’ve given you a better layout of who you should bet on.”