Page 56 of Blood & Throttle

I stare up at the ceiling, not for answers, just because it’s better than looking at Riot. The cracks and peeling paint aren’t judging me. They aren’t pretending not to care when they obviously fucking do.

He’s barely looked at me since I told him everything.

Not a word. Not a glance. Just silence and tension.

And now I feel like a dumbass for opening my mouth. For thinking he might actually understand. That maybe, for once, I wasn’t the only broken thing in the room.

The chair scrapes across the floor and I glance over.

Riot moves like he’s got all the time in the world, reaching under the cot and pulling out a beat-up duffel. He sets two bottles down with a clink. A deck of cards follows.

I raise a brow. “What’s this? The part where you get me drunk enough to forget I overshared?”

He smirks, slow and unapologetic. “You think that little story of yours scared me off?”

“Didn’t hear you say much after it.”

He shrugs, leaning back in the chair, tattoos catching the low light like inked shadows. “Didn’t have to. I listened.”

“Well,” I mutter, folding my arms, “you’ve got a real weird way of showing you give a shit.”

His eyes flick to mine. “I’m not a ‘talk it out’ kinda guy, Sin. But I figured you might need something to do besides stare holes in my ceiling.”

“I wasn’t staring,” I lie.

“Sure.” He leans forward, grabs the cards, starts shuffling with one hand. “You were mentally redecorating. How about a game?”

I squint at him. “Poker?”

He nods once.

“And the bottles?”

“Moonshine,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “Stole it off a dead guy in Sector Ash.”

“Charming.” I eye the bottle. “Is this your version of therapy?”

He grins. “If it works, it works.”

I exhale a sharp breath, sitting up straighter. “Fine. Deal me in.”

Riot’s gaze rakes over me, and there’s something in it—something hot and dangerous. “You sure? I don’t play nice.”

“Good,” I say, plucking a bottle from the crate. “I’m better when it’s dirty.”

His smirk curves slow and wicked. “You keep saying shit like that, Little Stray, and I might have to test that theory.”

Heat flares under my skin, but I ignore it. Barely.

I motion to the cards. “Let’s just play, Romeo.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he deals the first hand. “Careful, Sin. You’re gonna make me think you’re actually starting to like me.”

I meet his eyes dead-on, raising my cards without breaking the stare. “Don’t get cocky, Carter.”

He grins. “Too late.”

I sit up, one leg hooked over the edge, moonshine bottle cradled in my palm. My shirt is slipping off one shoulder, but I don’t bother fixing it. Let him look. If he gets distracted, that’s his problem. Hell, maybe I can use it.