Five Brothers, page 12
Iron watches me with those eyes, and my cheeks warm like he’s touching my face, but he’s not.
I raise my chin a little higher.
“If you’re not interested…” He starts to back away. “You better tell me now. I have to be at the police station in ten hours, and I plan on getting laid one last time. I’d like it if it were you.”
My eyes catch on fire, and the laughter bubbling up is about to pop out of my pores. Is he serious?
“Sure, absolutely,” I taunt. “Let’s do it now. Upstairs or in your car? I’ll just climb on and start bouncing.” I start to walk and pull him along. “If we do it quickly, you might have time to fit in another girl. Or two. Come on. We can be back before the beer runs out.”
I drop his hand and keep walking, leaving this fucking party. What a mistake. Asshole.
But he grabs me.
I pull against his grip as he yanks me in. “I’d like it…” he grits out, “if it were you.”
Why?
Because he liked it last time?
I jerk free as people around us turn to look. Maybe I want him with me tonight. Maybe it would’ve been easy to seduce me into staying. In a dark hallway. Up against a quiet wall. As he kissed me and slid into me nice and slow, over and over for an hour, and then took my smell with him tomorrow.
It wouldn’t have been hard to get me to stay. I knew that when I walked in here tonight. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy being seduced.
I tip my chin at him. “Truth or dare?”
His mouth twitches with a smile as he remains quiet for a moment. Then he replies, “Truth.”
“How would you fuck me?”
His eyebrows twitch in surprise, and I see a guy next to me falter in his dancing and look at me.
Iron squares his shoulders. “I want you to ride me. On the pool chair outside.”
Someone close by laughs, and others around us stop, taking notice of our confrontation.
Iron takes one step toward me. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
“Open your vest,” he tells me.
Not “take off your jacket” or “remove your hat.” He’s going straight for skin.
I undo the three buttons holding the vest closed over my bare chest, watching him the whole time.
But he’s not looking at my eyes. He stares at the open sliver, an inch wide, appearing from sternum to stomach and revealing only a tease of the mounds still covered.
The hair on my arms rises, and I can’t hear the music anymore. All I feel are his eyes like a tongue running up that slice of skin.
“Truth or dare?” I ask him.
“Truth.”
“Are you big?”
People laugh, Iron smiles. “Ask your friend,” he tells me. “What was her name again?”
Amy.
I fist my right hand. He’s going for broke tonight. Seeing how far he can push me.
“Truth or dare?” he says.
“Dare.”
“Take off your hat.”
I do, tossing it behind the recliner in the corner.
I steel my spine. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“Will I come with you?”
A snort goes off, and a few more people have stopped to watch us.
Iron steps, closing the distance between us and looking down at my open vest. Sweat dampens my skin, and my nipples harden against the fabric.
“You’re almost coming right now,” he says.
I arch a brow.
“Truth or dare?” he asks.
“Dare.”
“Drop your jacket.”
But it’s a whisper, and heat pools between my legs.
Holding his gaze, I pull the Mad Hatter’s fitted red jacket off my shoulders and let it slide down my arms to the floor.
“Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he replies.
“Do you go down?”
A woman behind me expels a breath.
Iron grins. “I always return a favor.”
More laughter.
“Truth or dare?” he challenges.
My heart skips a beat. I’m taking off something important now.
But I get in his face anyway. “Dare.”
He stares at me, something playing behind his eyes. Probably the knowledge that this won’t end how he wants it to if he asks me to get naked in the middle of this party.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he squats down in front of me, slides his hands up my thighs, underneath my skirt, and I let him pull my panties down.
It feels like no one in the room is breathing. I step out of my lacy black underwear, while he looks up at me and slips them into his pocket.
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
He smiles. “Truth.”
I reach down where he still squats in front of me and touch his face. I want to memorize it, because he won’t have the color from all the work in the sun on his skin when he gets out of prison. “Are they going to be okay without you?” I ask.
His smile falls.
I faintly register the whispers, and I can feel Trace off to my right, clearing his throat.
Iron rises, the fun over, and he’s not amused now because he wants to get laid. It’s his own fault that it has to be tonight or nothing.
“Tryst Six…” I muse, pushing him some more. “Tryst Five when Liv left. Now it’s Tryst Four, I guess, without you.”
“Ohhhh,” someone goes off.
People shift nervously. They can tell Iron’s pissed.
“Dare,” he grits out, changing his answer.
“Fine. What do you want to do?”
“Tape your mouth shut,” he growls.
I smile, my chest bubbling with excitement. I look up, toying with him. “If you had bothered to seduce me instead of taking for granted that I was a sure thing, I would’ve let you tape up my wrists, too.” I bite my bottom lip, watching his eyes drop to my mouth. “Because, Iron, my favorite part isn’t the fucking. Color me shocked that you’re the one who understands that the least. What a disappointment.”
Laughter and howls go off. Iron cocks an eyebrow. At least Trace indulged some foreplay.
“Or is that why you go after teenage girls?” I ask Iron. “Because we’re just that easy.”
A woman laughs quietly next to Trace, and I look over to see him and Aracely smiling, amused.
Iron tosses him a glare, his younger brother throwing up his hands in defense.
“I love you. I’m on your side,” Trace says.
Iron turns back to me, and I notice his hand is still in his pocket with my panties.
“Hey, Army?” he calls out, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
“Yeah?” Army replies from somewhere behind me.
“We still got any red paint?” Iron asks him.
Excited laughter and chatter erupt around the room as if that means something. I shoot my eyes left and then right.
Then back to Iron. The corner of his lips tilts up. “I think it’s time for a few rounds of Red Right Hand.”
Everyone starts moving, someone’s hands shooting into the air while a woman lets out a squeal.
Red Right Hand?
Army passes me, coming up to his brother. “That is the best idea I’ve heard in a while.”
I look at him, and he looks at his brother.
“Are you sure?” he asks Iron. “She’s young.”
Iron raises his drink to his mouth. “Old enough to be doing our brother all night long for the past six months.”
“Oh, I know,” Army mumbles. “We could all hear it.”
Ugh. Liars.
Snickers go off, Dallas chuckling as he walks by, and I watch Iron throw the rest of his drink back and swallow it.
“Outside!” Army announces.
People move, shouts and laughter beginning again as they make for the nearest exit. Some out the kitchen door that leads straight into the garage, while others pile out the front door in a steady stream down the steps.
I don’t wait. Twisting on my heel, I grab my hat and coat and follow everyone outside, joining the river flowing to the side of the house and to the open garage.
I step through the crowd of costumes. Everyone else appears to know what’s going on. Army, Trace, Iron, and Dallas take up positions in front of the onlookers, my car that Macon was working on today sitting behind them.
Army uses a key on his chain to pry up the lid on the can of paint that looks like it’s been opened a dozen other times. The sides of the can are lined with streams of red, the label long since faded and worn.
I pull on my coat again and replace my hat as I watch Iron plunge a brush into the paint, bringing it up and then down on Trace’s hand—his right one—slathering it.
He does the same to Dallas and Iron, and I look to Macon, but he’s not moving from the couch. Turin Wilcott’s hand is still up his shirt.
“Celli,” Iron calls.
I jerk my gaze, seeing Aracely head over, joining Iron and his family.
“Is this going to mess up my clothes?” some girl asks.
“Oh, yeah,” another mumbles.
I lean closer to the guy next to me. “What is this?”
“Red Right Hand,” he tells me. “Like tag with a twist.”
People start to head into the street.
“Ten rounds,” the guy explains. “When the music starts, you run into one of four garages.” And he points over our shoulders to the buildings side by side. “One—two.” And then he gestures to the Jaeger garage we’re standing in and the fire station next door. “Three—four. You’re safe once you’re inside. When the music starts again, you run again. When it stops, you better be back in one of them.”
I check all four safe houses, seeing all the garages are open. One is being set up with a table of liquor. Great. Everyone will be rushing to that one in between rounds.
“You can come back to the same garages multiple times,” he says, “but you can’t stay in the same one for two consecutive rounds.”
Meaning, you can’t just hide out. Everyone runs.
“And the paint?”
He points to the Jaegers—and Aracely. “They’ll be in the street. As you run, that’s when you’re not safe. They’ll tag you with the paint. Every handprint costs you a piece of clothing.”
I button up my vest.
“The object of the game is not to get tagged,” he states.
Obviously.
I can leave. This isn’t how he’s going to get me naked.
I charge over to Iron and dig in his pocket, scowling up at him as I search for my keys. Is he trying to be a jerk? If we fuck, it has to be insane. Not because I’m his prize.
I shove my hand in his other pocket and feel my keys but also something else. My underwear.
Iron looks down at me, his chest pressing against mine, but something catches my attention.
I shift my eyes to the right. Macon stares at me.
Again.
A banner hangs on the wall above his head, the hourglass emblem billowing in the breeze. He doesn’t blink and barely breathes, and Turin notices, following his gaze.
But mine doesn’t leave his.
And for a second, something somewhere inside of me hurts.
I slip my panties out of his brother’s pocket and step into them, careful as I pull them up underneath the skirt. I try not to look back at him, but I can’t help it.
Macon’s attention isn’t on me anymore, though. It’s on the street and the bottle nearly empty at his side.
“Love your costume, Krisjen,” Dallas coos. “We’ll have no problem finding you in a crowd.”
Yeah, a lot of people are wearing black. Won’t be hard to pick out all my green and purple and orange.
“Did they explain it to you, newbie?” Iron strolls behind me as I head to the street with the others. “You had a good education. What’s the Red Right Hand?”
“It’s from Paradise Lost,” I reply, joining the crowd in the middle of the road. “Divine vengeance.”
Maybe not a good education, but definitely a Catholic one.
He tips his head at me. “You know where you’re going?”
“I’ll protect her.” Trace wiggles his eyebrows. “If she wants me being the only one to see her naked tonight, that is.”
I sneer. “You’re such a gentleman.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead, and I jerk away.
I face them, the night breeze calm but thick, something heavy in the air. I’m already sweating.
I face them as they stand in the middle of the road, digging my heels into the ground and ready for the music to start.
Iron grins at me, but then he pulls off his jacket and rips open his shirt, tossing both on the ground. He gestures his brothers over and tells them something I can’t hear, the whole time stealing glances over at me.
“Shit,” I murmur.
“Hey, why can’t I be a Red Right Hand?” a man shouts off to my right. “How many times you guys want to see me naked?”
“It’s for everyone else, Chon,” Iron shouts. “They’ve heard how big you are. As hosts, we have to accommodate.”
Everyone laughs. When was the last time they played this?
Macon had to have at least once. Maybe a long time ago?
A drop lands on my hand. I tilt my eyes up, seeing a flash of lightning cut through the sky.
“Are you ready?” Army calls out.
The whole crowd howls. “Whoo!”
The wind picks up, and a distant roll of thunder follows.
“I think it’s about to rain,” I say.
But Dallas just smirks. “It’s a water sport, princess. You’re gonna get wet.”
Snorts go off around me. God, I hate him.
“Where the River Flows” starts over the speakers, lightning flashes, and Iron rubs his red thumb across the rest of his dripping fingers.
“Run!” someone shouts.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I can’t help my smile, nearly choking on my laugh as I race off.
I barrel for the garage across the street, every step taking me closer to the bright lights inside, and the nineties black sedan sitting up on cinder blocks in the center.
Commotion fills the small street, feet pound the wet dirt, and bodies fall to the ground.
Iron’s naked chest appears out of the corner of my eye.
But a guy crashes into my shoulder, making me whip around, and I suck in a breath as I plummet to the ground. My palms hit hard, breaking my fall. “Ow!”
Shit.
I look around, searching for Iron. Fuck. Where is he?
“There you are,” I hear instead.
My heart stops, and I jerk my eyes to the left, seeing Aracely walk slowly toward me while everyone runs around like the world is ending.
Oh no.
She dives down, reaching for me, and I yelp, quickly rolling away as fast as I can.
Scrambling to my feet, I catch sight of Trace leaving a red handprint on someone’s back, while Dallas grabs a girl by the back of the neck and pulls her in for a kiss, smearing paint all over her skin like her throat’s been cut.
Iron stands beyond, slowly stalking as he watches. Amusement laces his stare, but something else, too.
Why isn’t he chasing me? He’s not chasing anyone else.
Running, I cross the threshold into the opposite garage, the music stops, and I halt, everyone laughing as they discard clothes, one woman going for it and taking off her entire one-piece catsuit. Another pulls down the top of her maid dress to sit at her waist, her red lacy bra covering her breasts. I lock eyes with her, both of us starting to laugh.
Rain kicks up dirt as I look across to the Jaeger garage, seeing all the boys coat their hands in paint again, and then come to stand back in the middle of the road.
Turin Wilcott slides a leg over Macon’s, straddling him and bowing her forehead to his. She takes his hands and places them on her hips for him, like he can’t make his own damn decisions.
I shout out to his brothers. “So how do I win this game?”
Army whips his hand around, throwing off the excess paint. “Oh, she’s confident, isn’t she?”
He smiles, and I wink.
“I have a judge in my back pocket. What do you have in yours?”
His smile falls, Dallas shakes his head, and Trace leans down, planting his hands on his knees and getting paint all over his jeans as he pants and zones in on me.
“She just fucking asked for it, didn’t she?” he says.
Oh, yes, I did.
Iron stalks back and forth, the music starts, and we all dash into the rain.
“Ah!” someone shouts next to me, followed by a woman squealing.
The rain falls harder, dousing my hair, and people slosh through puddles, whipping to and fro as they’re grabbed by red right hands.
Aracely comes for me, and I’m not sure why she’s bent on getting me naked, but it’s probably to humiliate me.
I grab the back of a guy’s shirt, whirl him around, and block her advance, pushing him at her. She tags his shirt, and I run, hearing her yell, “Bitch!”
Followed by him. “Brat!”
I laugh and see Iron as I pass, but I keep running as screams fill the air.
I leap into the garage across the street—the firehouse next door to the Jaegers—and check myself for any marks.
Others forfeit more items of clothing, taking shots off the makeshift bars set up in every shop, and Iron stands in the rain tipping his chin at me. “You’re fast.”
I dig in the ball of my foot, getting ready again.
“Round three!” Army shouts. “Ready?”
“Whooooooo!”
The music starts, everyone runs, but I step out, one slow step after another. Iron matches me, walking for the other side, through the throngs of people, his eyes only on me.
