Page 86 of Traded

“Knew I liked you,” Mac beams. “She’s a keeper.”

Boone extends his arm and plants his elbow on the table. He raises an eyebrow at my open mouth. “You and me, Ragdoll. Let’s see if you can take it as well as you give it, hm?”

The low murmur sends heat flaring up my throat.

Swallowing, I scooch forward. When I slide my fingers into his, Boone sucks in a breath.

He closes his hand around mine gently. “What do I get when I win?”

My eyes fly to his. “Um. Bragging rights?”

“Not enough.” He shakes his head slowly, not looking away. “Dinner.”

“What?” My laugh locks into my throat. “No.”

Boone nods in understanding. His thumb rubs in slow circles against my skin. “Not dinner, then. Coffee. At Georgio’s booth. Twenty minutes in the same space. And you’re not allowed to run away, Ragdoll. I’ll be timing it.”

I tug my hand free, but his fingers recapture mine easily.

“I miss my friend.” The words are quiet and earnest and unexpected. “I’d like to see her again.”

This feels…. dangerous. A prickle spreads over my skin—

“Am I interrupting?”

Yanking my hand from Boone’s, I shrink back into the leather walls of the booth. Liam looks between us coolly. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Heaviness sweeps over me until it feels like he’s holding me in place with nothing but disapproval and seething anger. I cantasteit. My teeth clamp together, holding back a noise I’m certain I don’t want to let free at this table.

Boone straightens, but Mac cuts in easily. “My bad, Kessler. We coaxed her over while she was waiting for food. Pretty much held her hostage.”

“I’m sure.” There’s no smile. Nothing at all, except a dawning horror as he slides his hand to the nape of my neck. Beside me, Yukov breathes in deeply, the arm and leg at my side tensing. “Time to go. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“She hasn’t had her food.” Boone gets to his feet. “Should be any minute now.”

“She already ate.” My eyes stay pinned on the floor. The back of my throat is burning as he nudges me from the booth with his fingers pressing into my neck. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

“Sure.” In the corner of my eyes, I see Mac’s hand clamped on Boone’s arm. “Good luck with the game.”

Liam doesn’t respond. His arm slides around my shoulders as he leads me away from the table, my legs close to stumbling. “I—”

“Not here.” His grip feels punishing. “You’re lucky it wasn’t Carter who found you.”

Am I?

I shrink further. “Can you move your hand? It hurts.”

He shifts back to my neck, his fingers tightening as he tows me across the lobby toward the elevator. He raises a hand to the porter with a laugh as I try to keep my expression even.

When the doors slide closed, my back meets the glass of the mirror.

“Jesus, Rosie,” Liam snaps, glaring down at me. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to hurt you. What the fuck were you doing with them?”

“I…” I swallow as he waits for an answer. My hands sink into the hoody, gripping the material and twisting. “I woke up, and my phone was broken so I went to order food.”

“You should have come to me. I would have sorted it.” He leans over me, and my body manages to shrink further. “Next time, you tell me first. You don’t go whoring yourself around to the fuckingAces.”

Every word drips with disgust. At me. His lips curl as he looks me up and down. “You smell like fucking Yukov. Must have been a good time. Carter’s going to flip.”