Page 6 of Dirty Ruck (Ruck Boys #5)

Chapter Six

Chelsea

Frost hovered just in my line of sight, clasping and un-clasping his hands.

I leaned forward to place my coffee down on the coffee table and turned to smile at him. "You okay? You look like someone put ants in your pants."

He grinned and came to sit beside me. "It feels like it. You know how much I wanted to live in a place like this, but no one else chose it. Just me." A flicker of concern crossed his face.

"I saw it," I said, snuggling up to his side. "You know I love the place, right?"

"Yeah, but I went behind everyone's back and bought it." He draped an arm over my shoulders.

"And where would we be if you hadn't?" I asked. "Still splitting our time between two apartments, while having to watch over our shoulders whenever we stepped out the door. Here, we can walk around naked if we want to."

The massive window beside us overlooked the ocean. No one could see into it from anywhere on land. The house itself was set back from the road, so they wouldn't see us from there either. The properties to either side were likewise spaced out, giving us all privacy.

Just as well, given who our neighbours were.

"We would have found somewhere quickly," he said. "Maybe somewhere you like better than this."

I regarded him for a moment. "Is that what's bothering you? You don't think I like living here?"

"I think you like to make choices for yourself," he said slowly.

"Storm didn't let you when he insisted you move in with him.

And you didn't get to do that now either.

" He seemed irritated with himself, but he didn't need to be.

He'd acted while the rest of us waited for— What?

The time to be right? When would that have happened, if ever?

But if he needed reassurance, I'd give that to him.

"I choose to be alive and not somewhere I can be targeted again," I said. "Right now, that's the most important thing. But—" I held up my hand before he could respond "—I love it here. I would totally have chosen this place. You did good. Correction, you did great ."

"You think so?" he asked. Evidently he wasn't convinced yet. "I tend to jump in with both feet and not think about the consequences until afterward. That's why I own that cottage off in the forest. It seemed like a good idea at the time." He shrugged one shoulder.

"I like it there too," I said. Especially the memories of the guys taking me there and fucking me rough and hard. "I think we should put you in charge of buying all the real estate."

His body shook slightly as he laughed. "I don’t think the others would agree. I might go off and buy something they hate, like a vibrator factory."

"I don't think they'd object to you buying one of those," I said. "I certainly wouldn't. You'd probably make a shit ton of money from it."

"Probably," he agreed. "And it would be a good front for any shady shit. Who would suspect the…" He paused for dramatic effect. "The vibrator factory?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Not me. That'd be like suspecting suspicious goings on at an ice cream factory."

"Or with a rugby union team," he said. "On second thoughts, scratch that. Us Smashers are about as suspicious-as-fuck as they come."

"I disagree," I said. "Remember when we first met? I thought you were a lot more innocent than you turned out to be. You could get up to all sorts of things and no one would suspect you."

"Don't say that too loud, there's probably people who still think I'm innocent," he said jokingly. "Maybe I should try harder to act the part. Who knows where it might get me?"

"Where do you want it to get you?" I asked. I leaned to the side to look at him.

"Nowhere," he said after a few moments thought.

"I'm already exactly where I want to be.

Right here, with you. We have a home game tomorrow night, which we're going to win.

I have five… Should I call them brothers?

Storm is a boyfriend and Atlas and Jay might be too, but saying boyfriends-and-the-other-guys-I-share-a-house-with is clunky as fuck. "

"I think brothers works," I said. "As a blanket term. Or partners. Or people-I-care-about-but-only-want-to-sleep-with-three-of-them."

His body shook again. "That's a mouthful.

And I want to sleep with four of you. For the record, I wouldn't say no to Dallas or Ramsey, but they're not into me like that.

Which is totally fine with me. They can't all have impeccable taste.

" He sniffed as though he was some high-class gentleman from two hundred years ago.

"No they can't," I agreed. Of course, it didn't come down to taste, just preference, but we could joke around about it.

His body stiffened. "I realised something."

Alarmed, I sat up and looked at him, eyes wide. "What is it?"

"I realised I might have insulted you by suggesting they don't have the best taste," he said. His eyes were also wide, but he was trying not to smile. "Of course, they have incredible taste. The very best."

I gave him a mock dubious look and settled back against him. "We all have the best taste, that's why we're here. We were drawn together by mutual awesomeness."

"Yes, we were, and, as far as I can tell, a mutual love of cheese and orgasms." He tangled his fingers in my hair, his thumb stroking my scalp gently.

"Those are two of the best things in life," I said. "What could be better than cheese and orgasms?"

"Cheese, football and orgasms," he said. "With the occasional side of beer and pizza."

"And chocolate," I said. "We can't forget the chocolate."

"We definitely can't," he agreed. "That should have been on the list sooner. What was I thinking?" He slapped his spare hand to his forehead.

"You got there eventually," I said. "So, you're feeling good about tomorrow night's game? Even with the new coach?"

He sighed softly. "He's no Coach Stanley, but Coach Davis is okay. I mean, he knows his shit. He's tight with Dominic King and Otis Skinner, as far as I can tell. That was the point, right? It was why they wanted Coach Stanley gone. So they could replace him with someone they trusted."

"Exactly," I said. "I'd love to know who else is working with them, but it's not the kind of thing you can come out and ask, you know? The moment I start poking around, they'll wonder why."

"Storm would insist you don't go around asking questions," Frost said. "We're supposed to keep playing along, right?"

"For now," I agreed. "That's what I'll do. Keep my head down and stay out of sight. I just wish…"

"What do you wish?" he asked softly.

"I wish none of us was involved in any of this," I said. "I'd like a nice, quiet, boring life, where I can be busy doing my job and being with my six men. That doesn't seem like too much to ask."

"It's not too much to ask," he said. "I want the same thing. To play football and be with you."

I looked back at him when he clearly left words unsaid. "But you don't mind being dragged into some aspects of this."

"I should, but I don't," he said. "I have to admit, I was disappointed when Ice let that man go. I know he was innocent, more or less, but…"

"You wanted to have some fun with him," I finished for him. Maybe I should have been horrified, but I was used to it by now. Ice could just as easily have kept him there for a while longer to toy with him.

"Having him watched is a better idea," Frost conceded. "If he goes to the people who hired him, we'll know. If we killed him outright, we'd never get that."

"No, we wouldn't," I said. "My brother is wise once in a while." He let the man go, then contacted his partners to organise a tail. The man wouldn't be able to go to the toilet without someone knowing.

"Yeah, he is," Frost agreed. "I've never met anyone like him. He's fascinating, in a scary kind of way. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of him. I have a feeling it would hurt."

"It would definitely hurt," I said. "But he'd never do anything to you. If he did, I'd deal with him. Trust me, he wouldn't want that."

"I bet you could be terrifying if you put your mind to it," Frost said. "And now, I'm turned on. Apparently I have a thing for scary people."

"Apparently I do too," I said. "Once I realised you weren't innocent, I saw how scary you could really be. The other guys too. It's kinda hot. Okay, it's very hot." After a beat, I added, "As far as I know, only Jay hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

"Yet," Frost echoed. "He would have killed that guy if he really aimed at you. When we find whoever did it, he'll probably rip his head off. If he can get there before me and everyone else, that is.”

He snapped his fingers. “We could grab on to a part of him and pull in different directions. Like how they used to execute people. Or dispose of them. They’d tie a rope to an ankle or foot, and the other end to one of four horses.

Then they'd ride off, tearing the victim apart. " He mimed ripping a body to pieces.

I knew what the ‘quartered’ part of hanged, drawn and quartered meant, but he made it sound even more grisly.

"Do you have to sound like you'd enjoy that so much?" I winced.

He lowered his hands. "Sorry. I've always been fascinated with historical torture devices and shit like that. Maybe we could get our own iron maiden. I bet your brother would enjoy that."

"Do I want to know?" I asked. I probably didn't, but the question was out there now.

"It was like a suit of armour, kind of," he said. "It had metal spikes inside. The person would go in and they'd close it, so the spikes impale them all over."

I made a face. "I was right, I didn't want to know. What sort of sick, twisted person came up with that? Oh, right, someone like my brother. You're right, he would enjoy that. I'll let you have that conversation with him."

They could further bond over a mutual love of gratuitous violence.

"Maybe we can turn the basement of this place into a workroom like his," Frost mused. "We could have a bunch of mediaeval torture devices in there. You wouldn't know where I can pick up an inexpensive rack, would you? The kind you stretch people on."

"I knew that one already," I said. "But no, I don't know where you'd get one of those. That’s another thing you’d have to ask my brother. Otherwise, you might have to get one made."

I didn't think it was the kind of object you could look up on the Internet and order. Although, I might be wrong there. It was, after all, the Internet. If there was a market for it, someone was ready to make it. There could be dozens of the devices all around Australia, each lovingly made by hand.

"You mean you wouldn't mind having one in the basement?" he asked.

"As long as it's soundproof, then have at it," I said.

I suspected I couldn't stop him anyway. If it wasn't here, it'd be somewhere else. Better that it be somewhere I could keep an eye on him, and the other guys if they got involved too.

"You really are the best." He kissed my hair. "I don't think any other woman would say yes to a medieval torture chamber in the basement. You know, it doesn't have to be all about torture. We could have fun down there too."

"That sounds more like my kind of thing," I said. "You might even convince me to help set it up. We could have a swing, and a wall of vibrators."

"I knew there was a reason why I bought this place." He grinned. "It's perfect for both of those things. Fun for the whole family."