Twisted Games: A Dark Gang Romance (Boys of Briar Hall Book 3)
Twisted Games: Chapter 16

The thrum of bass and loud conversation filtered through the heavy black steel door leading to the underbelly of Sanctum. Corvus thudded his closed fist on the door twice before Pinkie opened it for us, stepping aside to allow us through.

“Good luck tonight, Rook,” he said as we entered.

“As if he’ll need it,” I replied sweetly, throwing Rook a wink behind me.

I already figured as much, but it seemed the rules about being armed in Sanctum did not apply to Saints. We went down to the private fight club without so much as a second glance, never mind a pat down the likes of which I had endured last time.

Though if you had half a brain cell, you could see that we were all armed to the teeth. Tonight was the night. In a precious few hours, the deadline Diesel gave the Aces would be up, and as far as we were aware, there had been no word from them. The guys had contacts on Ace turf, though, and word was the streets of Edgewood were getting hella tense these past few days.

Arms passing hands.

Meetings held in private locations not usually used by the gang.

Security around Lenny Ace’s place tripled in the last forty-eight hours.

They weren’t running. They were getting ready to weather the storm.

Unless a miracle happened and they realized how very outmatched they were, there would be blood before the end of the night was through.

“Hey,” Corvus said, his fingers touching my wrist to prod me to stop once we reached the bottom of the stairs. He jerked his head for the others to go ahead, holding only me back with him in the shadows.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying not to let the tension I was feeling creep into my voice.

I was worried about him. About what happened on Monday. I could only imagine how it went with Diesel. He’d been ignoring all of Maxine’s attempts to get ahold of him. Refusing to so much as look at any of the online commentary. He wouldn’t talk to any of us about it. Or anyone else, either.

If anyone so much as looked at him funny at Briar Hall, he would growl in their direction like a poked bear, and they’d scatter. It didn’t stop the fangirls from attaching notes to the windshield of the Rover or in his desk at homeroom.

Most were smart enough not to include their names. The ones who weren’t… well two had already completely unenrolled from Briar Hall after barely five words from my mouth.

“Corv?” I hedged when he didn’t continue straight away. I knew he was worried about me, too, but for an entirely different reason.

His jaw flexed. “Look, I know you think it was the Kings who took out your dad—”

“I won’t kill anyone,” I said before he could finish. “Not tonight, anyway.”

“Sparrow…” he warned.

“You can’t ask me not to nail the motherfucker to the wall and rip out his intestines if I replace him. Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if it had been Dies who was taken out?”

It was still a sore spot, I could tell. But regardless of what happened between them, I could tell that Corvus would still raise the entire city of Edgewood to ash if an Ace took Diesel down.

He made a low sound of agreement in his throat, and I nodded. “Look, I know Diesel needs this alliance right now, but there will come a time when he no longer does. And when that time comes, I want to have a name. I want to be ready.”

He nodded quietly to himself.

“I’ll help you,” he said, surprising me. “When the time comes. But we keep this between us. I’m sure Grey and Rook know exactly what you’re doing too, but the others don’t need to know.”

“What? You think I don’t know how to not draw attention?”

That brought a small smirk to his mouth. “You? Draw attention? Never.”

I punched his arm. “Jackass.”

“Wait, Sparrow. One more thing.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Corv, I want to get a look at the other fighter.”

He held my gaze for a few seconds before asking me for the one thing I couldn’t give him. “I don’t want you talking to Diesel.”

“About?” I asked innocently.

“You know exactly what about.”

I shrugged, adopting an innocent expression, batting my lashes. “Sorry, no idea what you’re talking about, Bones.”

“Ava Jade,” Corvus called after me, but I was already gone, weaving through the crowd toward the bar, where I knew Rook would be having one of the three ounces of whiskey he was ‘allowed’ before a fight.

I kept a vigilant eye on every face in attendance, easily discerning the Saints from the Kings, and the bloodthirsty rich citizens of NorCal from the gang members.

Soft hands, clean fingernails, unlined faces—definitely the bankers, lawyers, and corrupt high ranking officers.

Unarmed with callused hands and taut jaws—the Kings.

Armed, ready, and wary—our people.

I saw the guy whose eye I took during the hunt trial sneering at me from across the room. I gave him an apologetic shrug, and he looked away as I caught up with Grey and Rook.

“So,” I said, glancing around to the other side of the ring and the drawn curtain set into the wall beyond it. “Where’s the other guy?”

I had to shout to be heard over the din of conversation and music, the smell of whiskey rolling off Rook much stronger than three ounces worth. I didn’t worry about him fighting wasted, but I did worry about the survival of the other guy.

“Not here yet,” he muttered.

I took the shot glass poised between his fingers and slung it back, grimacing as it burned a path down to my stomach.

Rook lifted a brow at me. “Sorry, I needed that.”

He turned to the little bar window cut out, tapping the shot glass on the polished cement bar top to signal he wanted another.

“How much have you had?”

He lifted his replacement to his mouth, but paused to shoot me a dark glare. “Not nearly enough,” he said before slamming it back and I made myself shut up about it.

The guys hadn’t had a call from Julia in weeks, and I was beginning to see just how much Rook needed them to stay sane. His darkness was so close to the surface that in the right light I could almost see it. Surrounding him like an inky aura with claws and teeth. Demanding to be sated.

This fight wasn’t a good idea tonight, but there was nothing I could do to stop it now. Rook would never back down, and I’d never expect him to.

The Kings might’ve been in for more of a show than they bargained for…

I stepped past Rook to slap my palm on the bar, getting the bartender’s attention. He was a slender guy with a shock of green hair in a black Sanctum t-shirt. I didn’t think I’d seen him here the last time. It had been one of the girls from upstairs bartending if I remembered correctly. His nametag read Johnny.

“A water,” I told him. “And a Guinness.”

“Who’s the Guinness for?” Grey asked as the bartender turned to get my order ready.

“Me.”

He looked at me askance, with a knot between his brows.

I took the frothy black gold from the bartender and pushed the water into Rook’s hand. “We were broke a lot,” I found myself telling him. “But Dad always kept a few Guinness stashed away from Mom in the kitchen. It’s filling and the taste isn’t half bad. It grew on me.”

Grey frowned, his brows drawing to cloak his eyes in shadow.

I hadn’t meant to trigger him.

I took a long swallow and passed it to him. “Want some?” I asked with the closest thing to a smile I could muster, trying to erase the sour mood I’d just brought on.

For as often as we didn’t have food, unlike Grey, I didn’t starve. Not much, anyway, and not often. We lived close enough to several stores with poor security, which meant that if it got bad enough, I could pretty easily lift a few Twinkies from the low shelves to keep us fed for a day or two.

I’d had options.

By the sound of it, Grey hadn’t.

Grey took the proffered beer and sipped it, still brooding. And shockingly, Rook was also sipping his water, even though the look on his face told me he thought it tasted more like donkey piss.

I laughed quietly to myself, still gauging our surroundings as Corvus finally made his way over to us, his cold stare passing over the faces in the private club.

“He’s in the back,” Grey told him. “On the phone. Sounds like there might be a problem with Rook’s opponent.”

Corvus nodded.

It would be the first time he’d seen Dies since Monday. The guys had been sent on a few errands and were still getting updates on shit with the Aces and what our game plan was, but as far as I knew they hadn’t spoken.

Grey passed me back my Guinness, and I wrapped both hands around it, gulping down another few mouthfuls to quell the hunger pangs in my stomach. Rook had been with me at Briar Hall earlier, and we wound up doing some ‘light’ sparring in the living room to get ready for tonight. Once we were both sweaty, eating was the furthest thing from our minds.

Besides, we had a huge fucking mess to clean up by the time we were done. It was a good thing Becca wasn’t around because I was sure she’d have something to say about the cracked TV screen and the half of the sofa that was now concave, the legs busted off.

I couldn’t even remember how it happened or whose fault it was.

“Whoa,” Grey warned, taking the Guinness back before I could finish it. “Slow down, babe.”

I licked my lips, knowing he was right. Tonight wasn’t the night to get tipsy. I didn’t think we had anything to worry about on our turf, but Diesel could give the order to attack the Aces any time after the deadline was up. And right now, I didn’t think he had a proclivity for patience.

My gaze hooked on a man hovering near the entrance, watching us.

I squinted at him, giving him an annoyed sneer until he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest.

The guys chatted about the fight, but I couldn’t seem to focus on the conversation anymore. Something about the guy was bugging me.

He was pale. Tall. Broad through the shoulders but lean, with brown hair and narrowed blue eyes.

“AJ?” I heard Grey say, realizing it wasn’t the first time.

“Hmm?”

“I was asking if you’d—”

“Who is that?” I asked, inclining my head to the guy across the room. Something about him seemed so familiar, but I just couldn’t place it.

“One of the Kings,” Corvus answered, and I should’ve known he’d do his homework on them, especially since making the alliance. “Don’t have a name for him, though. I only managed to get intel on the major players. He’s likely low on the food chain.”

“Does something about him…”

“Seem familiar?” Grey finished for me, and I sensed him growing nearer to my side, trying to covertly get a better look at the guy.

And then it hit me.

“He fits the description,” I said in a low voice.

“What description?”

“Becca’s. He’s about six feet. Brown hair, long on top. Pale. I don’t see any ink.”

“Becca’s guy was an Ace,” Rook said, bored.

I shook my head. He was right. I was probably just seeing things that weren’t there. But I had a right to be on edge.

I shivered. “Whatever, the guy gives me the creeps.”

“Me too.”

I spun at the unfamiliar voice, replaceing a guy standing a couple feet away from us, a pint of golden beer in his right hand. The jeweled crown tattoo around the base of his index finger giving away his status as a King. He looked… familiar, but then again he also looked like half the male students at Briar Hall. Great cheekbones, even better skin. With sandy blond hair cut short, a chin dimple, and a classic Cali tan.

But overshadowing it all was the weathered veneer of a man who’d already seen some shit in his short life.

Truly though, if it weren’t for the roughness of his hands, the wicked gleam to his eyes, and the style of his clothes, the guy could’ve passed for the son of one of the bluebloods in attendance here tonight, too.

But he wasn’t that. He was a King.

“What?” I cocked my head at him.

“He’s creepy as fuck,” the guy repeated.

“Isn’t he one of yours?” I asked, a rhetorical question, really.

The guy nodded. “Yup.”

He turned, feeling the unanswered query still lingering between us.

His brown eyes roved the length of me before continuing. He leaned in closer, conspiratorially, making Rook growl low from behind him. Guy had balls, I’d give him that.

“His name’s Aries,” the King whispered to me, the smell of his grapefruit and sandalwood cologne strong in my nose. “He’s always been kind of a loner. But he’s lethal when Maverick needs him to be. He’s the one we use when there’s a message that needs sending if you catch my meaning. He’s also our one man cleanup crew.”

My stomach churned.

The guy they sent in when they needed to send a message…

Could that fuck be the one who took out my dad?

Unconsciously, my hands balled at my sides. I only realized when Rook dropped a heavy palm on my shoulder, shocking me back to the present. He dragged me back a step, pulling the King’s attention.

“And you are?” Rook asked, his smile all teeth.

The guy stretched out a hand to Rook, inclining his head respectfully. Clearly he already knew who they were. “Drake.”

Rook’s upper lip twitched, but he took Drake’s hand.

“And you must be Rook Clayton.”

Drake nodded to Corvus and Grey. “Greyson Winters. And Corvus James. Your reps precede you.”

“Afraid yours doesn’t,” Corvus said gruffly, staring openly at the guy.

Drake frowned, but there was still a smile lingering at the edge of his mouth. He wasn’t offended, or at least he was doing his best to appear like he wasn’t. “Well, shit, man. Way to call me out. We can’t all be the sons of a veritable street god.”

“Touché,” Grey put in, throwing a covert elbow into Corvus’ ribs. Reminding him that we were trying to make friends here, not enemies.

The guy snorted a laugh.

Corvus gave the guy a nod. “Enjoy the fight, man,” he said before stalking away, likely gone to scope out the competition for Rook.

“What crawled up his ass,” Drake whispered playfully, tossing me a wink before he turned to the bar for another drink.

Rook eyed him as he turned away, and I gave him a hard look. Play nice, I mouthed to him. The guy had paid me barely an ounce of attention. I pitied the fool who one day tried to actually pick me up in front of them. That guy barely flirted and Rook looked close to smash mode. Grey too, actually.

“What are you smiling at?” Grey asked me, confused.

I shook my head, clearing my throat. “Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes on me, as if he just looked hard enough he could see straight through skin, muscle, and bone to see exactly what I was thinking.

I heard Diesel over the music and peered to my left from the corner of my eye, replaceing him walking toward the high top table where he usually sat during the fights. Either the injury to his ankle was healing really well or he’d just gotten hella fucking good at hiding it. I detected almost no limp whatsoever.

He stopped, turning to bark something at Pinkie, who was following him. Pinkie nodded before taking off in the other direction, leaving Diesel to sit alone, adjusting his battered leather jacket with a sneer on his lips.

Now was my chance.

I rolled my shoulders back, wishing Grey had let me finish my beer. “I’ll be right back,” I told them, not waiting for the protests I knew would surely follow before picking my way through the crowd.

Diesel’s gaze snagged on me as I approached, watching with a wary distaste as I dragged the tall stool opposite him out from beneath the table and plunked my ass atop it.

“Ava Jade,” he said, cold blue eyes burning into me. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I leaned over the table so he would hear me without the need to raise my voice. It was one thing saying what I was about to say to him, it would be another thing if he thought people could overhear us.

“You’re being a dick,” I told him, careful to keep my voice even, watching his face for changes in his expression.

He managed to keep a level of neutrality, but the slight downturn of his lips gave him away, even concealed by his beard as they were.

“I think I misheard you,” he said.

I shook my head slowly. “You didn’t.”

“If you think—”

“Hear me out, and then I’ll fuck off.”

A vein throbbed in Diesel’s neck, but he said nothing else. Probably just wanted to get rid of me as quickly as possible. I was banking on that.

“I don’t know what you said to him on Monday—”

“That’s between me and my son.”

I waited, not letting his defense wake the dark within. This needed to be said. And it needed to be said in a way that he might actually listen.

“I know it is,” I replied coolly. “Which is why I don’t know what you said. What I do know is that he’s been a shell of himself since then.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. Good. Maybe I was on the right track, then.

“He won’t return any of his manager’s calls. He’s completely given up on an entire part of himself. An entire chunk of his soul.”

“That’s fucking dramatic.” Diesel scoffed.

“You don’t get it, but that isn’t a good enough reason for you to take it from him.”

“He lied to me. I’m not having this conversation.”

He jerked his head toward a Saint nearby. Axel, I thought his name was. Get her out of my sight written in his stare.

I lifted my leg, letting my black skirt fall up my thigh to reveal the blades strapped there. I held Axel’s gaze, daring him to interrupt.

He glanced between Diesel and me, hesitating.

“Let me finish,” I told Diesel. “And you’ll never hear another word about it from me.”

His jaw tightened, but Diesel gave Axel a little nod, rolling his eyes.

“Corvus lied to you because he knew you wouldn’t understand. He knew you wouldn’t condone him spending his time doing something that could take him away from all of this, regardless of how important it is to him.”

“What’s your point?”

I swallowed down the frustrated rage trying to claw to the surface, clutching the bottom of the table to keep from flying over it at him. For a guy who clearly cared so much about his sons, he was being so fucking dense about this.

“My point is that he’s been The Bone Man for years.”

I let that sink in.

“And has he ever once shirked his duties to his family? To the Saints?”

He didn’t like being reasoned with.

“He’ll resent you for this,” I continued. “Whether he understands your reasoning or not. His music is a part of him.”

There was so much of him, of his soul, his heart, in every word he sang. It would be a fucking crime to stop him from creating.

“You wouldn’t chop off his arm, would you?”

“You don’t understand our ways.”

“I don’t?” It was my turn to scoff.

Diesel’s attention wandered, catching on something to our left, and I followed his line of sight to where Corvus was standing with the guys again near the bar. Grey pointed at us, and Corvus lifted his head, going white at the sight of me sitting across from his father.

“He asked me not to do this,” I added. “But I care about him. I care that he’s hurting.”

Diesel looked doubtfully at me but said nothing.

This was the part my body physically fought against me saying, but Corvus and the shit with Primal Ethos was only part of the problem.

There was a rift between this father and his sons. And a large part of it was my fault.

A bigger part of his was his own damned fault, but regardless of who was to blame, I wouldn’t take sons away from a father who would do literally anything in this world to keep them safe.

If only I’d been so lucky.

“All I’m asking is for you to consider what forcing him to stop might do to him. He can have both.”

“If that’s all—”

“I also know that I have been the cause of a lot of tension between you and them.”

He lifted a brow.

“Even though the vast majority of that shit is your own fucking fault,” I added, completely unable to help myself, then I sighed. “I don’t want to carve a rift between you.”

“Oh?”

“Which is why, I’m…”

He tipped his head slightly to one side, light eyes glinting with triumph.

“You know what, I’m not going to fucking say it,” I decided. “I’m not sorry. I know you don’t trust me. You don’t like me. And frankly, I don’t give a shit. I don’t need you to like me. But I will try harder to not want to slit your throat… for them.”

A slow smile spread on his mouth. “All right.”

“All right?”

A Saint approached the table, clearly drunk, with two shots held between his fingers. He set them on the table in front of Diesel, sloshing half their contents over the wooden top. “Hey, Dies,” he said. “Happy Birthday man! Have a shot with me.”

“It’s not my birthday,” he told the Saint. “Not for a while yet.”

“Oh shit man, I thought it was today. Gives me time to get you something; though, eh?”

Diesel shook his head, getting annoyed. “Crowley,” he said, eyes indicating me across the table. “I’m in the middle of a chat with our newest member. Do you mind?”

“Oh fuck, yeah man. Sorry.”

The Saint left both shots untouched on the table and left, giving me a wicked side eye as he went.

“Where were we?” Diesel said, pushing the shots away. But before I could open my mouth to say anything else, we were interrupted a second time.

Pinkie returned, leaning down to whisper something in Diesel’s ear. His jaw tightened, and he cursed between clenched teeth.

My pulse raced in my chest, adrenaline spiking in my blood as my hand unconsciously went to my thigh, assessing the immediate area for threats.

“Relax,” Diesel told me, sensing where my mind had gone. Then his stare deepened, considering me in a new light.

“You still have a line on Alpha?” Diesel asked Pinkie without taking his eyes off me.

“Yeah. You have someone for her?”

He nodded toward me. “We promised our new comrades a show. Make the call.”

Pinkie turned, vanishing back the way he came, cell phone to his ear.

“Am I missing something?” I asked, skin still tingling as the burst of adrenaline began to fade.

“It seems the fighter we lined up for Rook soiled his big boy pants and took the first bus out of town.”

I lifted my brows, scowling.

What a pussy.

Diesel nodded, agreeing to my unvoiced sentiment.

“But our new friends,” he said, sweeping an arm over the gathering of Kings, Saints, lawyers and bankers. “Still expect a show.”

“So you’re replacing the fighter?”

“Fighters,” he corrected me, and the smile crawling across his mouth made my insides shudder.

“Looks like you have a chance to prove that you meant what you said,” he continued, running his tongue over his teeth. “You are now tonight’s fighter, Ava Jade. I suggest you go get ready.”