Page 48 of The Games We Play

“Fuck you.” I laugh.

He shrugs. “You act as though I don’t know how it feels to be on a run instead of in bed with your bitch’s ass rubbing against your dick in her sleep. Go call her.”

I stride to Whip’s room but before I can get there, King stops me. “You get a drink?” he asks.

I show him the beer bottle in my hand. “You should talk to Whip. The Righteous Brotherhood are up in their faces. Said they are cozying up with the Russians. Made me wonder if we got played with that deal. What if they’re connected? Those guys had a mix of accents.”

King’s eyes narrowed. “We found no identification, or the one who got away.”

I shrug. “Maybe we need to look harder. Search all known Brotherhood members. See if we recognize anyone.”

“I’ll get Vex to dig deeper, and I’ll run that shit by Wreck, Whip, and the guys here.” He glances in the direction I was headed. “Where you going?”

I can’t tell him the truth, so I wink over his shoulder at one of the girls that was checking me out. Deflection as a strategy works. “Grabbing a shower in Whip’s room before I grab some more drink and then hit that.”

King lazily takes her in. “Save time and take her and the beer into the shower with you.”

I force a grin. I have no intention of fucking around because waiting for Iris is its own reward, but I’m not telling King that. “Later, Prez,” I say before heading to Whip’s room.

When I get there, I lock the door behind me. Pictures are tacked to the wall. Him and Anna, their kids. Man, they’ve grown. I wonder what Iris’s views on kids are. Can’t assume just because she teaches little kids that she wants them or can have them.

I’d like them, but I want Iris more.

I debate texting versus calling, but I need to see her face. When she answers the video call, something warm settles in my chest. I don’t even have a reason for calling her beyond simply wanting to be in her orbit for a while. I guess that means we’re dating now.

“Hey, Spark.” There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and she looks ... sad.

“You okay? Tough day?”

She sighs and flops her head on a pillow on her sofa. “Meh.”

All thoughts of talking dirty fly out of my head. Instead, I want to know what’s going on. “Tell me, little chick. You hurting?”

“Feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“Funny.”

She shrugs. “Thomas and Michael, my younger brothers, came today, and it brought up some stuff for me. You met Thomas when he carried me from your pool table.”

I’d forgotten about that guy, but I’m glad he’s a relative rather than competition. “I remember. What stuff did it bring up?”

“When Dad died, we were facing foster care or worse, and with Michael being autistic, I worried what could happen to him if we weren’t with him. I begged Cillian to take care of us so we could stay a family, but I guess I didn’t realize what I was doing back then. I sometimes wonder if we’d all have been better separated, but away from him.”

I lie back on Whip’s bed. “Cillian’s an asshole.”

She huffs. “I’ll let you tell him that. And he can be. Some days, I think he just sees us all as pawns.” She pauses for a moment, and from the way she presses her fingers to her lips, I wonder if she feels like she said too much. “But in some ways, he isn’t. And that’s what makes it hard. He provides Michael with so much extra expert support that costs a lot of money.”

“It’s a solid way of laundering cash,” I say, and she rolls her eyes even though she must’ve had that thought herself.

“So, Michael showed up?”

“Yeah. Thomas brought him on the train because he’s obsessed with train schedules and stations. It’s great for him to lean into that fun and adventure while learning to be as autonomous as possible. But people stare and can be dicks.”

I know that sense of worry. When younger kids came into my unit. Their first day out on patrol, I had to bury the urge to walk them through every step. Check that doorway. Don’t forget to look up at spires and windows. Never take anything that glints or reflects in the sun for granted. But you have to let them find their own way and focus on your shit.

“The world can be a cruel place. I get that.”

“Yeah. I guess you do.”