Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

Chelsea

"Out with it." Storm crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at me, his best firm expression on his face.

"Out with what?" I said lightly. I sat cross-legged on the couch, wearing one of the guys' track pants and another one's T-shirt. Both were too big, but they were so comfortable, I couldn't bring myself to regret rummaging through drawers to find them.

"Whatever is bothering you," Frost said more gently.

Dallas sat beside me and snorted. The good cop, bad cop routine wasn't lost on him either, it seemed.

"You went to see someone, and came back looking more upset than you were when you left," Storm said. "Where did you go? What the fuck has you looking like you need to watch your back?"

I closed my eyes and exhaled softly out my nose. Was it that obvious? Apparently it was. I hadn't been trying to hide my thoughts, not really, but it seemed I should have.

"Is it a journalist?" Frost asked. "Is someone poking around again?"

"It's possible," I said. I leaned my head against the back of the couch. "I spoke to Dominic King. He knows about my past."

Storm dropped his hands to his side. "Fuck. Is he going to?—"

I held up my hand. "I don't think so."

I told them about the conversation. Everything except the veiled threat, that King would expose my past if it suited his purposes to do so.

"That wasn't who you went to see this afternoon," Frost observed.

"I went to see my brother." I looked down at my lap. "He has a theory that Atlas killed Bruce Fergus for Dominic King. So the GM position would open for him." I let them absorb my words.

"Why?" Dallas placed one of his hands on my knee.

I explained what my brother said about Dominic King wanting to accumulate power in Dusk Bay.

"He thinks Atlas is working for King?" Storm asked. He looked ready to chew rocks. His jaw worked in obvious annoyance.

"He doesn't know," I said. "If he did, then him killing Bruce had nothing to do with me after all. Isaac thinks I should talk to Atlas. Try to find out what his agenda is." If he had one. This was nothing more than speculation. Again. Fuck knows we were wrong the first time. We could be wrong this time. I wanted to be. I hated doubting any of them, not when Atlas and I were becoming close.

"I knew that guy was a prick," Storm snarled. "He's working for the fucking enemy."

"Maybe," I said. This was exactly why I was reluctant to say anything to these three. Storm, in particular, was always going to jump to conclusions. His dislike for Atlas wouldn't let him respond any other way. "It's only a theory. Everything could have gone down the way Atlas said it did. And for the reasons he said they did."

"I know you want to think the best of him," Frost said slowly.

"So do you," I pointed out. "It's just… It's one hell of a coincidence that he made exactly the opening Dominic King needed."

"Fuck coincidences," Storm said. "I don't believe in them. I knew there was a reason I didn't trust Atlas fucking Underwood. Or Jay fucking Lang."

"Yeah, it's because you only trust Storm fucking Keller," Dallas said darkly. "You've never given Atlas a chance. Now you're ready to throw him under the first bus, based on a guess."

He looked at me and his expression softened. "I know it's your guess, but it's still just a guess. Do you think he'd work for the people who want to rival Daze and the people she works for?"

"I don't want to believe it," I said. "I think he's a good guy. There's always the possibility he doesn't know who he's really working for."

That happened before. Probably often. Someone gets hired to do a job and the person doing the hiring lies about who they are. Mob folk weren't always known for their honesty. Not when it suited them to twist the truth.

"But you do," Storm said. "Otherwise you would have talked to him already. You would have let him rule it out." He cocked his head at me, challenging me to disagree with him. The problem was I couldn't, not exactly. But it wasn't that simple either. I needed to make them understand that.

"There's one thing I learned growing up here in Dusk Bay," I said slowly. "It's to be very careful who you accuse of…anything. We already know Atlas is capable of killing. I'm scared I might back him into a corner and?—"

"Then you don't go anywhere near him," Storm interrupted. "If the motherfucker lays a hand on you, I'll rip it the fuck off his wrist and smack the shit out of him with it."

"I hate to say it," Dallas said, "I agree with Storm. Unless we know we can trust Atlas or Jay, then you shouldn't be around them."

"I agree with both of them," Frost said. "I like Atlas, but if there's any doubt in your mind about him, I'm not willing to take the risk with you."

I wanted to argue, but this was exactly the kind of shit I'd spent my whole life trying to avoid. "Then I don't go alone," I said. I closed my eyes again.

"What is it?" Dallas asked.

"My brother suggested his boss might want me to spy on Dominic King," I said slowly. I didn't need to open my eyes to know what their reaction would be. "If he asks me to do that, he won't be giving me a choice."

Now I opened my eyes. "He might want you to do the same thing."

"I can do that," Frost said a little too quickly and with a bit too much enthusiasm.

"So can I," Dallas said. "We'll be around him anyway. Enough that no one will suspect us, or think we're paying too much attention to him. We know how to play it cool."

Storm grunted. "Better be worthwhile. I'm a fucking footy player, not James Bond."

"You'd make a perfect James Bond," Frost told him. "You look good in a suit."

"You all do," I said. How had I gone from dating three hot football players, to dating three potential mafia spies? Did they really understand what they were putting their hands up for? If anyone so much as suspected what they were suggesting, they could end up dead. Or with 'accidental' injuries that would end their careers.

In the back of my head, I felt like I was dating five. I hoped like hell Atlas had a good excuse for what he did. I didn't want to think he'd looked me in the eyes and lied to me. If he did, his life would be significantly shortened by my brother or one of the three guys I was currently sitting with.

"You'd look amazing in a slinky black dress," Dallas said. "The kind with a slit all the way up your leg." He squeezed my thigh.

"And just enough fabric to cover a hidden knife," Frost said. "But to show lots of cleavage. Not too much, just enough to distract the enemy."

"I think you've been watching too many movies," I said flatly.

They both smiled. They didn't seem to mind the teasing accusation. Neither denied it.

"It would be a scalpel," Storm said. "Because she's a doctor."

"Yeah, we figured that was why," Frost said. "That would be easier to explain than a knife. You never know when you might need to perform emergency surgery."

I shook my head at them, but they'd effectively lightened the mood.

"Nothing says 'subtle' like a slinky dress. People are less likely to pay attention to me if I'm wearing—" I waved down at my present outfit.

"Not a chance," Dallas said. "It doesn't matter what you wear, people will pay attention. You could wear a paper bag and people would stare."

"They probably would stare if I wore a paper bag," I agreed. "I'd look pretty strange."

"You'd look adorable," Frost said. "I might get myself one, so we can match."

Storm shook his head. "You guys are ridiculous. Let's focus on what's important here. We need to deal with Atlas."

His words brought the mood back down to Earth with a crash. He was right, but the return to reality wasn't all that welcome. Joking around was much more fun. Something I'd like to do a lot more of, but apparently that would have to wait until later.

"We need to talk to Atlas," I corrected. "No killing him." I looked around at all three of them, but my firmest expression was for Storm. We didn't need him to run off half cocked and punch Atlas' lights out based on what was nothing more than a theory. We could be wrong.

"I agree not to kill him if he's not fucking with us," Storm said. "If he is, then all bets are off."

His grey eyes looked like a thundercloud about to burst. He was so certain he'd been right about Atlas all along. What if he was? What if he wasn't? Would he let up on the other player if he found out we were all on the same side? What would it take for them to trust each other? Was it too much of a stretch to hope they might like each other some day?

A girl could hope. Judging by the wrinkle on Frost's brow as he frowned, he was hoping the same thing. On the other hand, he'd be almost as willing to kill Atlas as he would to fuck him. I knew which one I'd prefer to watch.

Spoiler alert: fucking.

"We should do this away from the stadium," I said. "Away from Dominic King. If he has any idea we're having this conversation, he might come after us regardless of Atlas."

"Another candidate for having his hand ripped off and getting smacked with it," Storm said. He mimed pulling off his left hand and hitting someone with it repeatedly.

"That's very specific," Frost said. "Do you have some fetish about ripping off hands? Or just smacking?" He grinned.

Storm snorted. "Both. Only when people deserve it." He eyed me sideways. "I'll also smack Chelsea if she decides to try to talk to him without us. Or does anything to risk herself."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I said lightly. "Or better yet, do. I like a good time." I could still feel the pinch of Dallas's teeth on my ass cheek. The sting of the marks he left behind. Right beside the bruises from Storm's fingers.

"I'm seriously thinking of handcuffing you to my bed and leaving you there," Storm said. "You'd be safe from all sorts of shit like that."

"As much as I like that idea, when you guys play away, there'd be no one to feed me," I said.

Not to mention other things I couldn't do for myself if I was tied to the bed. I didn't mind feeling helpless in the right context, but that wouldn't be it. Especially if, in spite of Storm's assurance, someone broke into the apartment. I'd have no way to run or even fight back. No, better to use the handcuffs when the guys were around. Anything else would be potentially dangerous. And not at all fun.

"I could stay," Dallas said. "We could alternate between feeding and fucking. With the occasional bath in between."

"Now you're threatening me with a good time," I told him.

That sounded pretty fucking perfect right now. But I couldn't lie back and do nothing until I knew what Atlas's deal was. And Jay's. And, given his growing closeness to both of them, Ramsey. Dallas told me about the conversation they had on the plane and that he seemed like a good guy, but he could be in it up to his eyeballs as well.

"I'd never threaten you," Dallas said. "But I'm always ready to give you a good time." His hand wandered up my leg and under the waistband of my track pants.