Page 81 of The Games We Play

“Yup,” she says, popping herp.

Silence stretches between us, and I suddenly realize Doc never returned to join us. “Where did Doc run off to?” I mumble.

“Probably hiding and afraid that we’ll blow up if we’re in the same room.”

I chuckle and sip on the disgusting hot liquid.

“The way I see it,” she starts. “We can either sit here in awkward silence or address the elephant in the room. Rip off the adhesive bandage and call this what it is.”

I set my cup on the table and lean back on the opposite end of the couch as her.

“Which do you want to do?”

She drops her gaze and picks at the hem of her—my shirt. “Silence would be easiest. Hurt less,” she whispers, and I curl my fingers to keep from reaching for her. “We could simply fuck and bury our shit deeper.” My cock stirs at that idea. “But I need to hear the truth. From you. And please, don’t lie. All everyone seems to do around me is lie.”

I take a fortifying breath and keep my gaze steady. “I told you I’d give you answers to anything you wanted to know. And I promise I’ll tell you the truth, even if it isn’t what you want to hear.”

She nods and I wonder if she changed her mind when we sit for so long and she doesn’t ask a question.

“What do you know about my mom?” She catches me off guard. Out of everything she could ask me, this was not it. “Doc said you grew up with my dad. He and your brother were best friends, at least as much as they could be, I guess, so I thought maybe—”

Suddenly needing something stronger than tea, I rise from my seat and head to the kitchen for the whiskey. I didn’t expect her questions to dive into my life, but I promised, and this is the least I can offer her.

Roxy runs past, and I feel bad for the poor thing. “Maybe she could use a shot, too?”

Tess laughs, and I relax a little while listening to the soft sound. “I’ve tried. Didn’t work.”

I down the glass and pour a second before returning to the couch.

Here goes nothing.

Forty-One - Tess

I sit with theweight of an elephant crushing on my chest as I wait for his answer. By his expression, I think fucking was the only thing he wanted to do, but I have to push aside my wants and get answers. There is still so much I don’t know, and I need to knoweverythingabout my prey.

“Yes, I knew your mom. Yes, my brother and I grew up with your father. Well, Lance did, and then he told me everything he witnessed,” Xane starts like he’s contemplating his words. “Your mother was the daughter of a powerful man in Russia. During the…auction, she was the most sought…prize.”

My stomach churns, and suddenly, the hatred mom had for dad—for me—it all makes sense.

“Your grandfather bought her as a gift for your dad as a way to bring him into the fold.”

I set my tea down. Xane pours more whiskey and offers me the glass. “Thanks,” I mutter and cough as the strong burning sensation slides down my throat. He takes the glass back and pours himself more.

“My father worked for your grandfather. He was his most trusted ally. I grew up in a twisted world but was kept hidden. Dad saw potential in having two sons with the same face and only letting the world know about one. It’s all I knew, and while I don’t agree with everything they do, it’s who I am, and I never got out. Dad taught Lance and me how to kill. It came easier for me. I have this ability to—” He struggles to find the words. “It’s like I’m watching everything from the side of the room. I’m the one who pulls the trigger or whatever the killing blow is, but I’m not the one in control. Killing haunted Lance, so he went a more technical route.”

The thunder grows quieter, farther away as the storm moves, and Roxy’s pacing slows to a jog. “Did Ryan know—about you or any of this?”

Xane inhales deeply, and I could kick him for strutting in here, only dressed from the waist down and in sport shorts to top it off. It would be so easy to slip them off.

“No. If you look up Xane Collins, you’ll find an obituary where he died in a submerged car accident at eighteen. I didn’t want any traces of me or my family if anything were to happen. I met him once, Ryan when he was born, but I kept my distance. I make a lot of enemies, and I never wanted to risk bringing any of it home to Lance. His wife didn’t know about our world, and when she found bank statements for large sums that Lance couldn’t explain, she left. I keep tabs on her, make sure our demons don’t find her.”

“If Ryan didn’t know youwere you—then?”

Xane downs another glass. At this point, we’re going to need more whiskey. “I was blinded by rage, hate, and hungry for blood to avenge my brother. There are decisions I regret, and how I went about it is one of them.”

“Like me?” I say, barely above a whisper, but I must face the truth. I wanted to rip the bandage off. I just wish it didn’t fucking hurt so much.

“I should,” he responds. His answers are getting quicker as if the whiskey is releasing him from his worry about how I’ll react. “But no. I regret not telling Ryan his dad was dead and pretending to be him for the last year. It wasn’t the plan at first, but he never questioned me. Guess I was hardly around for him to catch on that something was amiss. The lake house was me wanting to spend time with you as myself. It was a selfish and ridiculous idea. I thought for sure Ryan would catch on then.”

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