RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,113
him to see just how annoyed I am by this whole thing. He just stands there, waiting patiently for me to offer him my opinion, though, and I know the fucker. He’s not gonna leave it be until I’ve made some sort of decree. “I don’t give a flying fuck about this party, boys. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be having it. So wear a fucking bowler hat and a tutu,” I tell Pax. “And you can wear a cravat and a three-piece fucking suit if you like. And I’ll wear what I’m wearing right now, and I’ll drink myself into oblivion until it’s all over, and then we can all move on with our lives.”
Pax’s eyes narrow, and narrow, and then narrow some more. I can’t even tell if they’re still open when he says, “You’re master of this hunt this time, Jacobi. I wouldn’t go getting too shit faced if I were you.”
God fucking damn it. I knew this was gonna happen. I fucking knew it. “I’m not master of the hunt. I was master last time. Which means one of you fuckers are up to bat.”
In unison, Dashiell and Pax shake their heads. They disagree, bicker, fight and squabble about everything, but it looks like they’re of one mind about this. So typical. “Things went badly last time, so Pax and I made an executive decision. You need to get back into the saddle. You’re all over the place, and frankly we’re tired of living with an imposter.”
“An imposter. Right.”
“Yes.” Dash drops a couple of dry roasted peanuts into his mouth. “You’re currently not yourself, and we’ve decided we want the old you back. So, you get to be master, and we get to revel in whatever sick, fucked up party game you arrange for us to play, and everything goes back to normal. Sound good?”
No, this does not sound good. None of it does. As master of the hunt, I’ll be expected to do certain things. I used to revel in those arcane delights, but things have changed now. There’s Elodie to consider. I haven’t been able to shake the image of her, naked and beautiful, straddling me, the sweet sound of her panting in my ear, since last night. I’ll die an old man in my bed, all of my other memories eaten away by the ravages of time, but that memory will still be burning fiercely behind my eyelids when I go.
Elodie is mine, and I’m not fucking letting her go. And I can’t be master of the hunt and keep Elodie. There’s no way in hell.
“Do what you gotta do,” Pax says, snapping open another beer. He flicks the cap across the living room. “But this is happening, Wren. You’re gonna have to man up. Dash and I have never balked when you’ve thrown us a gig. We sure as shit didn’t kick up a fuss when you bundled us onto that plane last weekend. And that was some fucked up shit.”
He’s right. I’ve put both of them in really compromising situations before, for the sheer hell of it, because it made me laugh and watching them squirm was ten different kinds of entertaining. And my most recent ask of them could have ended in disaster for all three of us if something had gone wrong. I can’t back out of this. If I refuse to play ball with them, it’ll cause a rift in the house like nothing else. I chug from my beer to stop myself from cursing the motherfuckers out.
“In the meantime,” Dash says, eyeing me sternly. He looks like my fucking father. “Mercy’s asked if she can move in here.”
I spray IPA across the kitchen counter. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“No need to overreact. I told her it was up to you, and your word would be final on the matter. She said you were never gonna let her stay here, and I didn’t give her any reason to believe she was wrong. At which point, she called me and Pax cunting little bitches for not standing up to you, and then put a scratch in the Charger.”
“I haven’t put a single scratch on that car,” Pax growls darkly. “Not one. And I take terrible care of my things. You’ll be pleased to know that your sister is now on my shit list.”
I don’t like that Mercy’s been talking to these guys behind my back. She thinks she fucking walks on water, that