Page 116 of Restless Hawke

It was all an act.

A fucking game shesworeshe wasn’t playing.

So were her tears this morning.

And the last thing I want to do is reveal that—yet again—I let a snake into our lives.

I’d much rather wallow in my own self-pity and stupidity, but Bishop needs to know. They all do…eventually. It’s not something I can keep quiet about.

Which means, no matter how painful it might be, I have to tell Bishop and everyone else.

“She’s working for fucking Satriano.”

Bishop’s steps falter, and she grabs my arm, halting my progress and pulling me off the main walkway and to a quieter area near the wall. “What?” She stares at me, waiting, and when I don’t answer fast enough, she digs her fingers into my skin. “Coen, explain!”

I suck in a long breath, trying to steady my heart that doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. “She fucking played me, Bish. From the first fucking minute I saw her, she was working an angle.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was working for Satriano the whole time. Getting close to me, watching me, ensuring I would play. Ensuring I wasn’t going to bolt and disappear, ensuring I wasn’t going to fuck him over.”

Her lips open and close a few times, her shock evident, as is the concern in her gaze. “Oh, my God, Coen?—”

I jerk out of her hold. “I don’t need your fucking sympathy right now. I have a tournament to win.”

She narrows her eyes on me. “And what about her?”

I move back into the flow of people wandering the casino floor, stalking toward the door of the tournament room, wanting to get this started and over with as quickly as possible. Needing to so that I can get home and try to figure out some way to forget any of this ever happened and that she ever existed.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about her. I told her to stay the fuck away from me. If she gets within a hundred fucking yards of the room today”—I pause and motion to the casino—“you get her the fuck out.”

“Of course.” Bishop squares her shoulders, putting on her game face. And I’m not looking at my cousin anymore. I’m staring at the badass Saint trained her to be. “That’s why I’m here, to protect you. I’m sorry that I didn’t realize I needed to from her. I really thought you two were?—”

I freeze and whirl to face her. “You thought we were what?”

She offers a half shrug. “The real deal. I don’t know. I mean, it was obviously a sexual thing to start, but I saw the way she looked at you at dinner and when she showed up last night, wanting to talk to you…it seemed like it mattered. Like you mattered.”

Which somehow makes it all worse.

“Yeah, well, it turns out she’s a really fucking good actress and that’s it.”

Really. Fucking. Good.

“I’m sorry, Coen. Have you told?—”

“No!” I cut her off a little too harshly. “And I’m not going to—at least not right away.”

Her brow furrows. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter. She’s out of my life now. Out of the picture. She won’t be back to cause any more trouble.”

“Are you sure?”

“She wouldn’t dare try. And it’s irrelevant if she does. Satriano just lost his spy.Ifinally hurthim.” For the first time since I woke alone this morning, I feel my lips start to curl up into a smile. “I finally got the upper hand.”

“How so?”

“He doesn’t have any way to monitor what I’m doing anymore and can’t be used against me as any sort of leverage if I don’t do what he wants. And that means I took back a little bit of control from that bastard.”