Page 53 of Endgame

Daryl stopped me with one beefy hand to the shoulder. “And do what?” he demanded, tone hushed. “Beat the shit out of him? Over a girl who’s not yours?”

“He shouldn’t have touched her,” I roared, shoving him off.

“She kissedhim, asshole,” Daryl hissed, grabbing me with both hands now.

“I didn’t see that fucker pulling back,” I argued, furious.

“Are you serious right now?” Daryl countered, forcing me to look at him. “Dude, you were upstairs with Britt twenty fucking minutes ago.”

“And what of it?” I shot back angrily, knowing I sounded like a hypocritical shit. I hadn’t been with Britt, not in the way I’d let Six think, but I wasn’t about to say that now. I was too fucking prideful. She’d stopped by, looking for what she always wanted and I’d been more than willing to oblige – until I ran into Six.

What was she doing to me? What the hell was I becoming? I didn’t care about this shit. What did I care if a girl kissed Mason?

Because she’syourfucking girl,my brain roared and I quickly shot that shit down.

Six wasn’t mine. I had no claim over her and I didn’t want one either. She was just a girl I had the unfortunate luck of being thrown into living with.

“Whatof it?” Daryl ran a hand through his hair and muttered a string of curses. “You need to get your head out of your ass,” he told me. “If you want Sissy then stop being an asshole and –”

“I don’t,” I snapped, interrupting him.

I didn’t want her.

Ididn’t.

But I sure as shit didn’t want anyone else having her either. I didn’t give a damn how demented that made me sound, it was how I felt. If she even looked at Mason fucking Starr again tonight, I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

Mercedes

I DEBATED GOING back upstairs and burying myself under my duvet, but then I thought of what Rourke had said, and I shut that notion down.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Screw him. I would not let him win. He would not beat me in whatever sick and twisted game we were playing.

Remaining downstairs, I propped myself on a stool at the breakfast bar and proceeded to drink half my weight in beer.

By the time the crowd started to clear out, I could no longer feel my lips. Or my ass. Hunched over the counter, I nursed what had to be my twentieth bottle of beer, and watched Rourke and his friends. They were all standing around Rourke and giving him what looked like a serious talk.

What fucking ever.

I didn’t care.

I was wasted. I shouldn’t be thinking about the jerk. No. He was much worse than a jerk. Rourke was a bastard. And big. And pretty. A pretty big bastard. I snorted to myself before groaning loudly.

God, why was I even thinking about him?

He was screwing with my mind. Jesus, even thinking his name made me ridiculously angry. It was stupid – no;hewas stupid.

He couldn’t even leave my drunk brain alone.

“You here with anyone?” someone asked, drawing my attention away from Rourke.

“Huh?” Turning my head to the side, I locked eyes on a tallish, browned haired guy. He was leaning against the counter beside me and stunk more of alcohol than I did.

“I asked you if you were here with anyone tonight?” He reached forward then and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear before smiling. “Sexy thing like you shouldn’t be drinking all by her lonesome.”

“Time to call it a night, pretty girl.” Reebo’s familiar-ish voice filled my ears. “Anderson, fuck off. She’s not on the market.”

---