Chapter 16 Violet #2
I press my lips into a thin line, unsure what to say now that he’s called me out. Or did I call myself out? Honestly, I don’t even know.
“You know your friend’s family is bad news, right?” he finally says.
I can’t help it. I laugh. He does know he stole five grand from me, right? That he literally runs an underground gambling ring and fights…for fun. If that isn’t the definition of bad news, I don’t know what is. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Unamused, he arches his brow. “Sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don’t.”
“Then it looks like I came with the right company.”
“You’re telling me you know Morgan?” he challenges.
“I’m telling you I know Lexie and her family a hell of a lot better than I know you.”
“That isn’t exactly reassuring.”
“Why not?”
Jagger’s attention cuts to where Ethan and his posse disappeared before returning to me.
And that’s when I see it. One of the few glimpses he’s given me behind the cocky bad boy persona he wears like a second skin.
I saw it on the quad, too. When his fingers grazed the bruise on my back.
And here it is. Again. He’s worried about me.
But why? Why would Jagger Harden worry about me?
“Just…be careful, all right?” he murmurs.
Be careful?
He wants me to be careful?
I don’t know what it is. If it’s the alcohol in my veins or the warmth of his hand on bare skin or the depth in his gaze, but for some reason I can’t explain, my head bobs in a jerky nod, giving in.
“Okay.” It’s nothing but a breath. Not even a whisper.
But he hears me, nonetheless. Or maybe he doesn’t.
Maybe he can read my acquiescence with his mind.
I’m not sure. And maybe it doesn’t matter.
It. Doesn’t. Matter.
Snapping myself out of whatever spell he’s cast on me, I steal another sip of his drink, then hand it back to him. “Here.”
“Vi,” Lexie interrupts.
I step back, feeling guilty, though I have no idea why.
Actually, that’s a lie. I was canoodling with the enemy.
With the literal source of all The Drift’s problems. And I wasn’t just canoodling, I was…
caving. To him. To his warped perception of who’s safe and who’s trouble, despite everything I’ve been through.
What is wrong with me? “Yeah, Lex?” I answer.
Oblivious, she says, “So, from what little I’ve picked up from a few other people, we’re either supposed to go to the arcade or the haunted house. Any suggestions on which is worse, Jag Off?”
Jagger shakes his head. “Not allowed to give any hints.”
“Figured as much,” Lexie mutters. “Okay, if we each take a different game, the odds of one of us walking away with the pot is higher.”
“Good idea,” I say.
“Perfect! So, what do you say? Do you want the arcade or haunted house?”
Nibbling the edge of my bottom lip, I weigh my options.
A specific amount of luck goes into any carnival game, and if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that I don’t have any.
Lexie isn’t much better, but she’s at least familiar with most of the games.
To me, they’d be as foreign as playing pickleball on Mars with an alien, and we could use every edge we have.
“I’ll take the haunted house,” I decide and grimace.
Lexie shares my sentiment, her expression souring. “Are you sure?”
I try to laugh it off. I’m not sure if I’m shaken from what I just agreed to, or if it’s because Jagger is still standing three feet away from me. “Of course, I’m sure. Why?”
“Because you hate the dark and scary things in general,” Lexie points out as if I need the reminder.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about carnival games.”
“True.” Hands tucked into the back pockets of her mini skirt, she glances around the emptying foregrounds. “Shit. Talk about a lose-lose.” She chuckles. “Good thing I came, or you’d be screwed.”
“I’ll be fine,” I decide. “And at least neither option was swimming.”
“Then we’d really be screwed.” Lexie laughs. “Can you imagine? Both of us jumping in the water and sinking like a couple of rocks?”
“Very true,” I agree, grateful for my best friend’s humor and the picture she’s painted. “So see? It’ll be fine. It’s only a haunted house—”
“You should do the arcade,” Jagger interrupts. He isn’t talking to Lexie. He’s talking to me. Hell, it’s like everyone else has disappeared with the intensity in the man’s gaze.
“Didn’t you just say you’re not allowed to give any hints?” I point out.
“If he does, it’ll disqualify us,” Lexie notes. “Or at least that’s what I thought I heard.” She looks around the carnival grounds like she’s waiting for a ref or a guard or a judge to pop out of the bushes at any second and kick us out for breaking the imaginary rules.
As if my best friend doesn’t exist, Jagger moves even closer. “Pick the arcade, Little Thief.”
The warning sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Why?”
He waves his hand toward Lexie. “Your best friend said so herself. You don’t like the dark.”
“Or scary things in general,” Lexie adds.
She’s not wrong.
I hate haunted houses. I hate anything scary or dark or eerie.
But what I hate more? It’s being told what to do, especially by a man who’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since the moment we first met.
Taking a page from Jagger’s playbook, I tear my attention from him and face Lexie, maintaining the facade that he isn’t standing three feet in front of me.
“If we’re going for odds, you should do the arcade.
You’re a hell of a lot more talented than I am with those kinds of things, and what’s the most I’m supposed to do?
Survive a little walk in a scary house?” I snort. “I’ll be fine.”
“Violet,” Jagger warns.
Lexie’s awesome and ignores him just like I had. “You’re sure?” she asks me.
“Positive.” I can feel Jagger’s sharp stare on the side of my face, but I don’t acknowledge him. “Wanna meet at the stage once we’re done?”
“I can do that.”
“Perfect.” I tack on a reassuring smile and straighten my spine. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a haunted house. See you soon.”
Well aware I’m this close to changing my mind if I give myself a minute to overthink anything, I start toward the edge of the premises where the old abandoned haunted house sits when a hand grabs my wrist and tugs me to one side.
I bite back my squeal of surprise as my back hits a wall. The rough brick digs into my bare skin and through my thin T-shirt as I glare up at Jagger Harden. “There a problem?”
“You’re gonna lose.”
“I’m not—”
“Hug the right wall, but always go left,” he growls. “Every. Single. Time. Do you understand?”
I’ve never seen him like this. Is he…worried? A chill races down my spine. “What are you—”
“Even when it’s scary,” he orders. “Even when it feels like you’re going in circles.
Even when the right feels like the safer option.
Hug the right wall. Go. Left.” His touch vanishes and he stalks away, leaving me speechless.
As he disappears around the carousel, I swallow thickly and touch my cheeks, trying to calm down and focus on his directions.
Left. Go left. Hug right. Go left.
I can do that.