Page 15 of Crushing Clover

They stood around me, glaring.

“I was thinking she can clean the house,” Saint John grumbled. “If she’s not locked up, she needs twenty-four-seven supervision.”

“For how long?”

“Six months.”

“What the fuck?” Rush shouted. “We’re already strapped for time. He can’t expect us to fucking babysit!”

“We’ve never made the rules where he’s concerned.” Lucky shrugged. “Seriously, though…free pussy for six months? Yeah, our life really sucks.” He headed toward the kitchen area and its large, marble-topped island.

“Who’s Arabella?” I asked quietly.

“You are, you dumb little shit. I don’t know what Warren’s game is by shoving you back into our lives, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it,” Rush snarled. “Or be nice to you.”

Fantastic. This was going well.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rush demanded. “Really.”

They were angry, but how was I supposed to prove I wasn’t the woman they were so pissed at? “My name reallyisClover—”

Rush got into my face so quickly, I flinched back.

“Stop with the lies.” He poked my collarbone, with a cruel finger. “What do you think gives you the right to show up here like this? I don’t care what stupid-ass name you’ve given yourself. You can’t fuck us up anymore.”

“I’m not fucking with anyone,” I blurted. “I was sold off to pay my ex’s drug debt.”

“She’s not here because I felt sorry for her,” Saint John reminded him. “Warren is threatening to sell the restaurant out from under us if we don’t cooperate. He did say, however, that we’re allowed to kill her and dispose of her if we want to. How hard can it be to take her out in a boat and dump her overboard?”

“What’s the big deal?” Lucky objected. “It’s six months.”

“We’ll never get rid of that bastard,” Rush spat. “He’s going to keep doing shit like this to us. He’ll always find some way to keep us trapped. But my question is, what does Arabella have to do with any of this?”

“I don’t think this is her,” Lucky said cautiously.

“Either possibility is so fucked up, I can’t decide.” Saint John narrowed his glittering black eyes. “Say something else,Clover.”

“Like what?”

His lip curled.

“I don’t know who Arabella is to you, but I’m not her.”

“Clothes off,” he barked.

Already?

My stomach dropped like I was hurtling down the first hill of a rollercoaster while fully aware the track was broken.

“Lucky, help her out.”

The most heavily tattooed one came closer, studying my face with his golden eyes. “Panties off, or everything?”

“Strip her naked,” Rush instructed. “Let’s see it all.”

Instinctively, I tried to bat away Lucky’s hands, but he caught hold of my arms and stripped off my hideous yellow dress.

My bra and panties were new, and at least the white fabric was less obnoxious than the yellow dress.

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