Page 25 of Dark Things
As we walk through the crowd, my eyes land on Brooks, who is trying really hard to hide himself behind a tree. It’s so comical, I almost can’t hold in the laugh, but if he’s here, there’s a reason for it, and I’ll be finding out what it is before I let Reb know.
He might be a good teammate, but nothing will get in the way of keeping Reb protected. What we’re doing might be unsafe and, yeah, a little illegal—okay, a lot illegal—but no one is going to fuck with what we’ve planned to do. And getting locked up would definitely put a kink in our plan.
I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on these boys.
10
Brooks
I’ve had this weird sensation in my chest all night. Ever since seeing the race, it’s like there’s something itchy inside of my brain, and I don’t know what’s causing it. I didn’t get close enough to the racers during the race to see or hear clearly what was going on, but I could tell there was something different about the new rider. It piqued my curiosity enough to watch the end of the race from a closer spot. And when I saw her rise up on the saddle, it was like going back in time when we used to watch Belle show-jump. Not quite the same, but the nostalgia pulled something in my chest. I’m wondering if they have anything to do with the two mercs Mario wants us looking for.
Besides the new presence on the oval, race night is the same as it’s always been: dark part of the woods, unsavory characters, and a lot of dirty money. I wasn’tsupposed to be there last night, but when Jimbo spilled about a new horse on the track, I wanted to come and see in person if they’d be a true contender.
Most of our illegal business doesn’t have to do with horses, but I’ve never been one to be unprepared, and if new money is coming to town, I need to know about it. What I didn’t expect was our new wide receiver to be there with his girl. How they even know about the little track in the woods or where she learned to ride like that remains to be seen, but I will get to the bottom of it, especially if they’re connected to Ghost and Pitch somehow.
I glance at my phone one more time before taking the last swig of my coffee. My next class isn’t for another twenty minutes, but I’ve been avoiding the quad and hiding out in the cafe. I don’t need to run into Mary today. It’s bad enough that I have to take her out again tonight to officially break up, but I don’t need her yapping in my ear all day, either.
The door to the cafe swings open with a bang, far too loud in the little space. A curse sounds from the spitfire that just walked in. Her lips pucker in annoyance, like she doesn’t know her own strength, and it’s something she’s annoyed about. It brings a smile to my face, reminding me of someone else.
“Goddamn it,” she mumbles, making her way over to the line. She’s not in the same breeches as last night, but her jeans are painted on her curvy body all thesame, and her short-sleeve purple shirt with her tattoos on display, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. She’s beautiful in a way I haven’t seen in a long time. Most of the girls here are all plastic replicas of each other, Mary included, and it’s nice to see someone living in their own style.
I can’t keep my eyes off of her, and I’m not sure I can let her leave without speaking to her. As she grabs her order, I get up out of my chair and put myself in her line of sight. She stops short and stares up at me, a weird expression on her face.
“You’re Reb, right?” I ask, noticing the shift of her feet. She’s got the most gorgeous green eyes, but what’s really caught my attention is the shape of her mouth. Her lips are so biteable.
“Yeah, and you're the huge-ass center for the Hawks,” she replies, taking a sip of her coffee, those big eyes never leaving mine.
“I am. Haunt talked about you some since the day Colt ran into you, so I figured I’d come say hi, see if you need anything since you guys are new and all.”
What the hell is wrong with me?Like I’m some kind of welcoming committee. But I do need to know what they were doing at the race last night, and I guess this could be one way for me to get the information.
“Like what? Where to get the best gym membership or a recipe for a pre-workout?”
My lips tip into a smile. I like this chick. “Myrecipes are sacred. I can’t have the whole team running around as big as me. I’d be out of a position.”
“Doubt that, big guy. There’s only so much a smoothie can do. Not everyone has giant DNA. But if Haunt has aspirations, I’ll let him know you’re the guy to talk to.”
She moves around me, but I follow her out of the cafe. She flings the door wide again, but I catch it this time. “Whoa, you’re strong for a little thing.”
Her back goes rigid for a split second, but then she relaxes and continues walking. “Must be the hinges,” she mumbles, walking quicker, but her short legs are no match for my long strides.
“So, you and Haunt. You’re a thing and all?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but there’s something about this chick that pulls on the deepest part of me. If she were open to it, I would share.
She stops walking and spins to stand in front of me, her head tipped back, chest out. “Why does the center for the Skyton Hawks give a shit about my love life?”
Her face is a mask, but her body is humming with something, anger or maybe frustration. “I’m curious. You don’t seem like the type of girl to go out with a football guy. You’re too…powerful.”
I surprised even myself with that statement, but it’s no less true. Her whole aura screams power. It’s like a mini vacuum sucking you in, forcing you to sit up and pay attention.
She tilts her head to the side and studies me for a drawn out moment. I step closer, until her breasts brush slightly against my chest, before I lift my hand and catch a stray tendril of hair that fell from her ponytail, rubbing it between my fingers. So soft.
“First thing you should know about me, Brooks—I don’t like people in my business. Second is, my power doesn’t come from nothing, it’s been honed and sharpened. Next time you step to me, wanting to ask me something, do it instead of hiding behind your dick.”
She spins to go, but I grab her arm. She shifts her weight to a back foot, but she doesn’t try to break my hold. “Why were you racing last night?”
I expected a little emotion, but she doesn’t seem affected at all. “That’s not a hard question to guess the answer to, Brooks. I bet every single jockey there last night can tell you. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure it out.”
“Yeah, but not every jockey was riding a million-dollar horse.”
