Sweet Retribution (Ruthless Games 2)

He scrubs a hand over his chin, turning back to me. “Are you sure you’re all right? Are those guys giving you a hard time?”

I huff a small laugh. I don’t have any idea how to describe my relationship with Theo and Ryland, and I’m also well aware that to an outside observer, nothing about my current situation would probably make any sense at all.

“No, they’re not.” I shake my head, letting my expression grow more serious as I meet Duke’s worried eyes. “It’s complicated, but I’m all right.”

He doesn’t look all that convinced, but he nods. “Okay.”

Then he surprises me by stepping out from behind the bar. He squeezes my shoulder, which for Duke is pretty much the equivalent of a hug. “Take care of yourself, will you, Ayla? Be smart. Be safe.”

My chest tightens a little as I blink at him. It’s the most fatherly piece of advice I’ve ever gotten, from someone I never would’ve expected to become a father figure.

I nod, feeling suddenly awkward. I’m not great with shows of affection. “Yeah. I will. You too.”

That’s a lie too, but it slips off my tongue easily. I’m done playing it safe or worrying about being smart. I’m out for vengeance, and I want the men to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

Even if it’s not safe.

“Good. If you need work again down the line, there’s a spot for you here.” He gives my shoulder another squeeze before stepping back.

“Thanks. For everything.”

I shoot him a genuine smile, then turn and hurry toward the front door before I do something even more awkward, like try to hug him goodbye or something. Duke’s a good guy, and those seem to be in dangerously short supply sometimes.

When I step outside, both Ryland and Theo are watching me from the car. I slide back into the front passenger seat, and Theo tilts his head a little, examining my expression. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” I make a face. “Or as well as it could. He was understanding, considering he doesn’t really get any of this.”

“Well, the good news is, I don’t have to ask if you’re free on Saturday night,” he says.

My brows furrow. “Why? What’s happening Saturday night?”

“Luca D’Addario is throwing a party.”

Chapter 12

Crying.

Someone is crying.

I’m in a big, empty room. Shadowy figures move around me, but none of the shapes have enough form to be recognizable. I’m alone, but not alone.

Invisible, maybe.

My fingers tighten around the stuffed elephant in my hands, gripping its large ears. The stuffed animal’s fur is dingy and it’s missing an eye, but I cling to it like it’s valuable anyway.

It is.

To me.

To him.

He’ll want it back.

The crying gets louder, so loud that it makes my skin prickle and my heart race. I look around at the shadowed, formless figures around me, wondering why none of them are doing anything. They’re the ones who can. They’re the ones who have the power to fix this.

But they make no move, and the crying continues. It goes on and on—until suddenly, it stops. And I realize with a flash of dread

that that’s worse.