Page 71

I snap my gaze at Boone, who sits back relaxed like he’s at a spa, rubbing the top of Vixen; his rottweiler, head. “Shut up. I’m delegating.”
The only time Boone speaks thoroughly is when we play chess together. He’s a moody son of a bitch, but he’s become a genuine friend to me. I am closer to him than I am to my own blood brother. That’s sad, but it’s the cards I’m dealt with.
“You’re only procrastinating because you know I’m going to win.” His accent made it hard for me to understand, especially when English was already difficult as fuck for me to comprehend. But I understand him easily now. His H’s are O’s, his Y’s are E’s, and the actually H is not available in their language—which so damn confusing, but we make do.
“That is far from the truth.” I rub my chin, my elbows on my knees. To be real, he’s right. I haven’t won a game since we started playing three years ago. It’s pathetic, but I won’t give up until I win.
“Sure.” Boone watches the board with a blank stare, brushing his fingers along Vixen’s head, who's watching my hand movements. He’s had the bear of a dog since I met him. He was a puppy when he got here; now he’s larger than life.
If I move the knight, then I can get further ahead. I go for the kill. Satisfied, I lean back with a grin. Boone stills and looks at me with a bored expression. My smile drops as fast as it came once he pats his dog’s head. He doesn’t even sit up; he only stretches out his arm, moving his king and knocking off my knight. I don’t show my aggravation, I only rub my chin.
“There’s a symbol I’ve been seeing during our invasion. Spotted it again at Fred’s,” I inform Boone while I set a piece ahead.
“A symbol?” He immediately takes his turn. Knocking my place away.
Dick.
I rummage in my pocket, tossing the pendant across the board. Boone pauses, taking it and rolling it over in his palm for inspection. “Hell, is it? It’s butt ugly.”
“I don’t know. It looks like a centipede that’s wrapped in palms.”
Boone shakes his head with a grimace before sliding it back to me. The metal sends a scraping sound through the room.
I grab it, pushing it back into my pants pocket. “I think it’s connected to something cult-like. They seem to all wear it.” Getting back into the game, I push my piece forward.
“It’s weird. But it makes sense. It could be a trafficking gang thing.” Boone moves again.
“That’s what I have in mind.” I focus again, shifting my chess piece. I feel good about that move.
Typical Boone, he makes a tsk sound before moving another piece, knocking my pawn off, and then my knight, and then myrook. Until I realize I lost. I dim my gaze, flicking them to him as he sends me a bored smirk. He wins yet again.
“Good game, you bastard.” I throw my queen on the board.
“Maybe I need to find a real competitor.”
“Damn, that stings. Trying to get rid of me so soon?”
Boone quiets; his eyes tell me he is pondering thoughts, and that strikes curiosity in my mind. I remembered his reaction to that picture the other day. I don’t indulge in the conversation—if he’s ready to talk, then he will.
“Nothing like that.” He stands, his dog perking up. Vixen trails to the bar behind me. Grabbing his usual whiskey with a lime on the side. Whoever said that shit is a good combination?
“Just old skeletons.” He passes me a water then plops back in the chair, leaning fully back, and spreading his legs.
I’m not the sentimental type, and I don’t coddle grown ass men, but there’s something appreciative when you have someone to talk to without seeming like a weak and emotional man. Twisting the cap off, I bring the bottle to my lips.
“Well, if you need to talk…” I tilt my bottle in his direction. Notifying ‘I’m here.’
“Thanks.” He stares off into oblivion for minutes. I prefer silence most of the time. Lately, my thoughts are filled with one person. Anita. The beautiful disaster.
“How’s it going with Venom?” Boone cuts in, drinking his whiskey.
I gulp the water. How is it going? I don’t know how to answer that. “She’s fine.” I won’t go into detail about the massacre we accomplished together last week. It was invigorating. A delightful experience to see. Fred was left in pieces and his limbs scattered about. I lean my head back, spreading out my knees, and resting my arms on the leather armrest. I shut my eyes. Forgetting Boone is there altogether.
The minute she went ape shit, I stood there for a split second salivating like a hungry dog. Watching her beat the living daylights out of him and not having shown any drawback actually made my dick hard. The only regret I felt was pulling her away. It was for her own good.
If I didn’t, she would have broken her wrist by bludgeoning that idiot. I can’t allow that. Him being the reason my little snake hand was destroyed only made me furious. However, after witnessing the most euphoric act, I knew I couldn’t contain the thoughts anymore. Iknewat that exact moment, the way my dick hardened, the racing beat of my heart, the actual drool that dripped from my very fucking tongue…
That Ineedto fuck her.