Page 67 of Bad Blood
Her lips tilted upward ever so slightly. “There’s a certain tradition to it, don’t you think?” She sat down on the arm of the couch. “Truth or dare, Dean?”
For a moment, I thought he would refuse to answer.
“Truth.”
Lia looked down at her hands, examining her fingernails. “How long are you going to be mad at me?”
You don’t sound vulnerable. You don’t sound like the answer could break you.
“I’m not mad at you,” Dean said, his voice cracking.
“He’s mad at himself,” Michael clarified loftily. “Also: me. Definitely me.”
Dean glared at him. “Truth or dare, Townsend.” Those words weren’t issued like a question. They were a challenge.
Michael offered Dean a charming, glittering smile. “Dare.”
For almost a minute, the two of them were caught in a staring competition. Then Dean broke the silence. “Agent Starmans is downstairs patrolling the perimeter of the hotel. I dare you to moon him.”
“What?”Clearly, Michael had not been expecting those words to exit Dean’s mouth.
“The termmooningarises from the vaguely moon-shaped form of the human buttocks,” Sloane volunteered helpfully. “Although the practice dates back to the Middle Ages, the terminology was not common until the mid-1960s.”
“Really?” I asked Dean. I was a natural profiler. He was my boyfriend, and I had in no way seen this coming. Then again, hehadpromised the universe a significant reduction in brooding if it returned Lia to us intact.
“You heard the man,” I told Michael.
Michael stood up and dusted off his lapels. “Mooning Agent Starmans,” he said solemnly, “would be my pleasure.” He stalked to the balcony, let himself out, waited for Agent Starmans to pass by, and then called down to the man. When Starmans looked up, Michael saluted him. With military precision, he turned and bared his backside.
I was laughing so hard, I almost didn’t hear Michael as he came back in and turned to Dean. “Truth or dare, Redding?”
“Truth.”
Michael crossed his arms over his waist in a way that made me think Dean was going to regret that choice. “Admit it: I’ve grown on you.”
Sloane frowned. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Fine,” Michael said, grinning, before returning to torture Dean. “Do you like me? Am I one of your closest bosom buddies? Would you cry your little heart out if I was gone?”
Michael and Dean had been at each other’s throats for as long as I’d known them.
“Do. You. Like. Me.” Michael repeated the question, this time with gestures.
Dean glanced at Lia, whose presence was a reminder that he couldn’t get away with lying.
“You have your moments,” Dean mumbled.
“What was that?” Michael cupped his ear.
“I don’thaveto like you,” Dean snapped back. “We’re family.”
“Bosom buddies,” Michael corrected loftily. Dean gave him a dirty look.
I grinned.
“Your turn again,” Lia reminded Dean, nudging him with the tip of her foot.
Dean resisted the urge to target Michael. “Truth or dare, Cassie?”
