Page 32 of Hate Game

Damn.

I pound on the door. “Open up, Rue. I have to take a piss.”

“Use the downstairs bathroom. I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what the fuck?”

The door opens, and Rue sticks her head out. “I’m getting ready. Now scram. Piss elsewhere.”

My bladder and wood from hell forgotten, I grasp her jaw and jerk her face close to mine. Her eyes are made up in this smoky hue, and her lashes are dark and long as fuck. On her pouty lips is a shade of mauve that gets under my skin. The shade gives her this older girl vibe. I prefer softer colors, like pink, on my girl.

My girl? Rue isn’t mine. She’s Red’s girl, and I slipped up last night. If Red catches wind of my betrayal, there will be discord in the family. Family is everything, and I won’t let a girl drive a wedge between me and my cousins.

“Take your time.” I head for the stairs.

“Can you drop me off on the Eastside? Red is busy.”

Her words stop me.

“What business you got in that shitty part of town?” Scum of the earth lives there, making their living off people’s addictions and thirst for violence. “I don’t want you anywhere near there.”

“You forget I am Eastside born and raised.”

There is no forgetting on my part. I fully understand where she comes from and how she came to be in my life and Red’s. Rue’s family moved into one of my parents’ rental houses in Delridge. A year in, Gina lost another job and couldn’t keep up with the rent. She and the girls moved back in with her brother when Rue was fifteen. One day, Gina left town and never came back.

Rue caught Red’s eye long before she caught mine. They’ve known one another since elementary school. I don’t blame him for taking her under his wing. She is tiny, willful, and smart. Her smarts could be her saving grace, except she listens for shit. Right now is a prime example of her listening skills.

“If you won’t drop me off, Shay or Winslow will.”

Not if I can help it. I march to my room, find my phone, and fire off a text. “I let them boys know if they come near the house, I’ll shoot out their tires with my shotgun.”

Her pretty brown eyes widen. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Want to test me?”

“Pfft, how do you have their numbers anyway?” She narrows her eyes. “Are youbluffing?”

Damn, she’s good.

Her eyes light up. “You are. God, you have a horrible poker face. Remind me to play a round with you.”

“Regular poker orstrippoker?”

She flips her long hair over her shoulder. “You wish it was the latter.”

I smirk. “Can’t say it, eh, Regret?”

“Stop with the name-calling,Woody.” She stares at my crotch and shakes her head. “I hate that yours is bigger than Red’s.”

“Wait, what?” Did I hear correctly?

“That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it?”

“What do you think?”

I march forward. She slams the door. I stick my hand out, and the door bounces off my meaty palm. Rue skitters back. I catch her chin between my fingers and give her body a slow perusal from the top of her head to her bare feet. She’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tight-as-fuck T-shirt with the words “hang loose” across it. Her breasts aren’t hanging loose. They are round and perky, her nipples pushing against the cotton like my cock wants to do to that sweet spot between her legs. I shake my head.

Jesus H. Christ, what the hell is wrong with me? I can’t let what happened earlier in the field happen again. I let go of her chin and step back. “You’re Red’s girl, and I don’t poach on what’s his.”

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