Page 38 of Pursued-

“Why would I want to be with you, if you don’t even care about whether I’m happy? At least Alberto pretends to care about that.”

I don’t answer.

She pulls free of my grip and untangles her torn clothes from her body. “Will you get up, so I can get the top sheet?”

I rise, putting my cock away and zipping my pants. She takes the sheet and wraps it around herself. She looks especially small wrapped in the folds of the queen-sized sheet. It fractures my resolve.

My highest priority has to be keeping her alive. Nothing else will ever matter more than that. But she has a way of getting to me, with just a look, and she’s doing it now.

Chapter

Ten

RACHEL

“If I’m going out, she should be allowed out too,” Zoe says.

We’re all standing around the kitchen island. C has called in a number of the C Crue soldiers to provide a show of force as Zoe and C go to a banquet at the high school to celebrate the dance team’s performance at the national competition. It was Zoe’s first year coaching, and her team placed in the top five.

“C, Rachel helped choose the music and create the mix we used,” she says, leaning into him. “I was so pressed for time. I couldn’t have done it without her.”

C looks at her. “Hey,” he says, shaking his head. She puckers her lips close to his, flirting shamelessly as she imploreshim. His hand slides to her lower back, squeezing her ass as he gives her a quick kiss. “Not my call, baby.”

“Please,” she says.

“Not my call,” he repeats.

She pouts, then sighs. She turns and looks at me, then over at Sasha speculatively.

“Why don’t you try that, Raven?” Trick asks, sitting on a barstool and taking a swig of Jack and Coke.

I feel Sasha’s eyes on me. I don’t look at him. I’m not like Zoe. As a performer, she’s front and center, all in, and so charismatic anyone would give her anything. I prefer to be down in the orchestra pit or on a corner of the stage where the spotlight has trouble finding me. Plus, right now Sasha and I aren’t on good terms. He’d probably let me beg and then say no, to remind me I’m his prisoner again.

“Never happen,” I say and then walk quickly away. I don’t really see what’s in front of me. I’m waiting to see if he stops me. He doesn’t.

I find myself in the game room, at the wet bar. I find Plymouth Navy Strength Gin and pour three fingers into a glass, add ice, a splash of tonic, and a lime wedge. I drink it standing up and make another.

I’m wearing one of Sasha’s T shirts over a pair of Zoe’s drawstring shorts. It’s like a sinister pajama party for just me. Everyone else is dressed in their own clothes and free to do what they want. Except me.

“Challenge him to a game. If you win, we all go to the school,” Trick says.

“Stop egging me on. Things are bad enough,” I say softly into my glass.

Trick comes to stand next to me and gives my shoulder a nudge with his elbow. He pours mostly Coke into a glass with maybe half a finger of Jack Daniel’s. He drops the leftover lime on the cutting board into his glass.

“Come on,” he says.

“I don’t know how to play pool.”

“I’ll play through for you.”

I glance at him. His clear blue eyes have a mocking glint I suspect is very dangerous.

I take a huge, poorly planned swig of my drink. I’ve made it so strong I have to exhale a cough. “We’re in a fight.”

“So what?” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “I think he’s in a fight with me ninety percent of the time. Doesn’t stop us playing pool or cards.”

An arm around my waist lifts me sharply from the floor, making me spill my drink so icy liquid hits my thigh.