The senator’s wife glances over at our table, sipping her champagne with a hungry look that makes my insides curdle. Cash and I exchange an uneasy look. He gets up to leave the room, rubbing his neck on his way out.
“What’s up with him?” Devlin asks, oblivious as he bites into a breadstick.
“Probably had his eyes on her too,” Noah says with a shrug, frowning at something on his phone.
He’s not the only one.
I pause on a picture.
Jessica’s been tagged in a photo of her and that guy Jackson. She’s sitting on his lap.
My spine goes rigid.
What is she doing sitting on his lap? And why is she smiling like that? Does she like him? Is he the reason she won’t give me a damn inch? Why does he have his arm around her waist? Is he fucking her?
I won’t deny I have a streak of violence, but I prefer to keep things neat. Easy. Convenient.
Kill a traitor with a plastic bag or cling film around his head. Choke him until the lights go out or drown him.
I can think of a million ways that don’t ruin my shirt. But this?
As I reach for my drink, I imagine hacking that arm off his shoulder with a machete.
The drink trembles in my hand, almost spilling down my front.
Why is he touching her?
There’s that eye twitch again. I down the drink, picturing a hundred ways to eliminate the competition. Why not use a saw or a rifle? No, a crossbow or tossing him off a fucking building sounds even better.
I set the drink down and type out a message.
Kane:
Who’s the fucking guy?
The text remains unread. What’s taking her so long? Are they making out? Fucking? Does he have his hands all over her? And does she like it?
I examine the photograph. It’s dark outside and hard to see. Where the hell are they?
Kane:
Don’t make me come to you.
Minutes go by. She still isn’t checking her phone. I call her, but she sends it to voicemail. What the hell?
“Who’s the girl?” Devlin asks, tilting his chin toward me.
“No one,” I mutter.
Noah tries to peek at my screen, and I quickly shove my phone into my pocket.
Maverick is staring at me blankly from across the table while his sister and her friends gossip.
Devlin has a death wish. He proves it when he bites into another breadstick and says, “No one, huh?”
Crunch. Crunch.
“She must have a tight pussy for you to stare at your phone like you’re about to kill someone. I’ve never seen you lose your cool over anything.”
