“Speaking of those who don’t,” I mutter under my breath, turning my attention on Grayson. “What’s going on with your family? Do you think there’s a chance your dad might jump ship?”
He presses his lips into a hard line. “I’m sorry, babe, but there’s no fucking chance in hell. My father is a fucking bastard. The only thing I have in common with him is my name. I’ve been trying to get in his head, but he’s a stubborn fuck, and my mom is just as bad. Fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if after hearing Royston’s plan to take over, that she’d pressure my dad to do the same.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Shit, really?”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to worry about them just yet. They don’t strike while the iron is hot. They’re the type to wait out all the bullshit and just when you think you’ve won, when all the other fuckers have been knocked out of the game, they’ll come and fuck shit up and claim all the credit. They’ll want everyone to see them as the heroes who could do what they couldn’t.”
I gape at him, feeling as though I understand him just a little bit better. At least, the chip on his shoulder and the frustrated, conflicted attitude make sense. “You don’t think they have anything to do with this?” I question, glancing at the guy across the pool.
“Nah, they don’t play well with others. This is someone who wouldn’t have the balls to step out on his own.”
I let out a sigh. At least he was able to narrow down the list of suspects, but now I have to watch my back. Just fucking perfect.
I turn back to Carver. “So, you want to play double agent?” I ask, eyeing him carefully, and knowing that despite how desperately I want to give him hell, I will always trust him. He’s proven himself time and time again, and one of these days, I’m going to have to stop questioning that.
“I think it’s the easiest way and our best option,” he tells me. “The only way for us to win this is to get ahead of the game.”
Cruz’s sharp glare snaps to Carver’s. “Winter’s life isn’t a fucking game.”
“I fucking know that,” Carver fires back at him. “But that’s not how they think. She’s just a chess piece they want to play, but we need to make sure that when they do, we’re already in front. There’s no prize for second place. You either win or you lose.”
I nod. “So, what now?”
“Now,” he says, a grin kicking up the side of his lips as he glances across at the hitman who is more than likely dead, “we take out the trash.”
CHAPTER 16
“Are you sure this is really a good idea?” I ask, studying the grins that stretch wide over all four of the boys’ faces.
“How are you possibly questioning this?” King laughs, kicking his foot out and connecting with the dead guy’s hip. “This is the best idea Carver’s ever had.”
“I hate to say it,” Cruz says, flashing me that perfect grin and smoldering green eyes, making me forget why I was even questioning this bullshit in the first place. “But you need to make a stand. What better way to show these dickheads that you’re untouchable? Besides, why not let your crazy run free every now and then? Nobody wants to fuck with a crazy chick.”
My face twists into an unsure cringe as I glance down at the body chained to the back of my Ducati. “You sure?”
Grayson nods, a wicked, sinister smirk on his lips. “Three laps should do it.”
Carver scoffs. “Four. Three to prove your point, one for good luck.”
I roll my eyes and go to grab my helmet but Cruz steps into me and takes it out of my hands. “Sorry, not today,” he says, propping my helmet against his hip. “You know I’d usually never tell you to ride without it, but I want them to see your face, see that they couldn’t touch you.”
“But they did touch me. I died in that pool.”
“I know you did, and so do the fucking boys, but they don’t need to know that. Just race down the fucking street with your head held high and give them that same hard stare that you usually give Carver when you think that he’s fucked you over.”
At the mention of his name, I can’t help but slice that same hard stare back to him only to find a smug grin playing on his lips. That fucking asshole. He’s such a cocky fuck. Not wanting to linger on Carver, I turn to King. “Ember?”
“Out like a fucking light,” he tells me. “I put her in the bedroom beside yours at the back of the house so even if she does wake up, she won’t hear shit, and I doubt she’s going to come all the way out here to find you. She won’t feel like walking around for a day or two. He got her pretty hard.”