Page 107 of Wanna Play A Game?
I whirl on him. “I don’t know! I’m not killing her, Miles. She’s mine.” I can’t keep the possessiveness out of my voice. Miles sees it, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. I look away. I don’t know how Miles is going to take it. But I think…I think this is more than a game to me. Cali brings clarity, fire, and life. I want to dig into her secrets. I want to own them. To own her. To own her soul. I’m not even slightly done with her.
And that scares me a little.
“Ours,” Miles breathes.
“What?” I suck in a breath and look at my man again. He’s bathed in the harsh light of the cell, all hard edges and sincerity.
“She’s ours,” he says.
We stand there, searching each other’s eyes. I see nothing but sincerity in his. We’ve been at each other’s throats endlesslyrecently. But right now? I feel like this is one thing we can agree on.
I dip my head in a short nod. Some of the tension goes out of him.
“I’ll lock this up so she can’t get to him,” he says.
I let out a deep breath. For a second, the dark fog clears. I nod. “I’ll talk to Ryder.”
He needs to be handled with kid gloves. I need him to think it’s his idea for her to stay. And I need to do it before he and Cali go at each other’s throats and Cali ends up dead.
Chapter 53
Cali
This is insane. All of this is insane. I can’t believe that they kidnapped him for me. It feels…good. No one ever cared about me that much.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I glance at the front door as I pass it. A mixture of emotions fills me. Day one Cali is screaming at me to run. Wiser Cali says that Ryder would be on me in a flash if I even set one foot outside. Stupid Cali says running is betraying them.
I couldn’t stay downstairs one more minute. I dart into Sawyer’s room and shut the door carefully.
Oh my god. Oh my god, did I just help kill someone?
I want to throw up.
No. No, Cali, we will not fall apart now. I splash some cold water on my face. I stare at the water as it goes down the sink as I try to zone out. No, don’t think about it, Cali.
I glance around. It’s silent.
Fuck. I need to do something to stop thinking. I need a drink. No, I need to get drunk. I almost leave the room to find Ryder’swhiskey, then pause. Ryder said he was getting some work done. The chances that he’s in the office are high.
I look around the room helplessly. There are clothes scattered around, the bed is unmade, and Sawyer’s dresser is an absolute mess.
I could look around. I’ve never been in here without him.
Ben was crying. Crying! Fuck. I start with Sawyer’s dresser, looking around the top. There’s receipts, cologne, change, watches, and junk. I rifle through it and find a loaded pistol magazine. I swallow. Is there a gun in here? I open drawers, trying to go quickly without missing anything. Nothing.
There’s a large row of bookshelves along the wall by the window. I go to it. It’s stocked with all kinds of books, sorted by the colors on the spines. In fact, it’s the only organized thing in this place. I pull out a few books wondering if any of them were secret containers, but stop after finding nothing but real books.
I spin in a circle. I know it’s a long shot to assume Sawyer would leave a gun lying around, but isn’t that what killers do?
I check under the mattress. Nothing.
There is still the nightstand with a water bottle, charger, and a dirty shirt on top. I open the drawer.
Inside are three things: a book, a flattened penny, and a picture. I catch my breath and pull out the photo. It’s of two boys with their arms around each other – maybe ten years old? They’re dirty and standing in a room of filth, but they have the biggest smiles on their faces. The picture quality is terrible.
I flip the picture around. Nothing written on it. I look at the boys closer.
One has Sawyer’s dark hair and blue eyes. He’s giving the cheekiest grin to the camera. The other boy looks similar, maybe a little younger.
