Treachery

Luca

The Inferno boys aren’t so bad.

Sure, Ezra still scares the hell out of me every time his lethal gaze slides my way. And yes, I shouldn’t trust any of these guys as far as I can throw them. But when they settle down and focus on something other than destroying the lives of those around them, they’re fun to be around.

For the first hour or so, it was uncomfortable sitting at a table with a group of guys that have more reasons to hate me than like me.

They want something from me, and I’m not inclined to give it up. The situation isn’t exactly the easiest, but after a few beers and several poker hands that I lost quickly, they relaxed in my presence and began joking with each other rather than focusing all their hatred on me.

Honestly, this isn’t an unfortunate place to be. The scenery is quite nice, the music is loud, and each guy is a work of art that Mother Nature created to screw over womankind.

Every one of them is tempting in their own way, like a box of chocolates with different centers, your fingers shifting back and forth because you can’t decide which to eat first.

Gabriel sits to my right, and I scan my eyes around the table, taking a moment to study all of them while they’re focused on the game.

Taylor tosses a few chips at the pile in the center. His hair isn’t as dark as Ta

He has a nerdy look to him, the bookworm type. But it’s the kind of look that doesn’t turn you off. Instead, it makes you wonder about what goes on inside such an intelligent, complicated brain.

Still, I wouldn’t mess with him. He’s just as tall as the other guys, his shoulders just as broad, and he has a muscular physique that you want to trace with your eyes.

Beside him is Ezra, who I quickly scan past for fear he might find me staring, my gaze landing on Sawyer Black. I know nothing about this guy except what Clayton told me. And Clayton wasn’t wrong to label him a pothead that likes to party a bit too much.

While the other men are only on their fourth beers, Sawyer is on his seventh. He’s lit two joints in the time we’ve been sitting here, often passing it to Jase or Mason, but smoking most of them himself.

Yet, he doesn’t appear messed up.

If anything, he’s holding his own better than the rest of the guys, his brown eyes bright with humor, his smile wicked every time he casts his gaze my direction.

Twice now he’s winked at me, but I don’t think it’s an intentional flirtation, just something he does because it’s a part of his personality.

Unlike the rest, he has lighter hair, a little longer and disheveled, but it works on him in a way it would never work on Gabriel or Ta

Sawyer is the type I can see surfing or bumming around on the beach if we lived in a place with sunshine. And I find myself wondering how it’s possible he suffered through law school to become an attorney.

Next to him is Jase Fucking Kesson, my eyes sliding along because he’s the last person I want to look at right now.

Whatever happened between Everly and him is the reason for my current nightmare, which makes it difficult for me to like him.

I vividly remember the night he burst into my dorm room looking for her. Pure rage was in his expression, his stare pi

It’s a large part of the reason I need to find Everly before they do. I don’t trust him not to hurt her.

Beside him is Mason Strom. I never met him while I attended Yale, but I do remember seeing him walking around campus with a blond on his arm that put other women to shame.

Mason isn’t a face you forget, though, which is why I remember seeing him. He has light blue eyes rimmed in inky dark lashes, his features refined in a way that comes with notable families.

He’s just as sophisticated as Gabriel, and a dark presence like Ta

Wondering about the woman I saw with him at Yale, I’m nudged in the side by an elbow, my head swiveling right to look at Gabriel.

“You ready for another drink?”

I shake my head. “No. Two is enough for me. I’m not falling for that trick again.”

“What trick is that?” he asks, his lips quirking into a teasing grin.

“You know what I’m talking about, Gabe. You were the one handing me drinks at the last party.”

He leans back in his seat, a smirk stretching his lips as his eyes study me.

“Fine, how about we make a deal? Just like old times.”

Laughing, I shake my head again, not falling for the trap he can so expertly set.

“I seem to recall the last time I made a deal with you, I lost.”

“Actually,” he says, “you won. Ta

Tilting my head, I hold his stare. God, I’m smarter than to trust him, yet I find myself asking anyway.

“What’s the deal?”

“It’s an easy one. You relax and let yourself have a good time, and I’ll make sure that nobody sitting at this table messes with you tonight.”

When I don’t respond, he lifts his brows.

“I’ll go one better. How about I arrange for you to have a friend you can trust? Someone who isn’t one of us.”

Blowing out a breath, I scan my gaze over the group again and wonder who the friend can be.

“All I have to do is relax and have a good time?”

Gabriel nods. “And have another beer, if you’re so inclined.”

A roll of my eyes. “Fine.”

“Excellent choice.”

He taps his hand on the table. “Mason, when is Ava supposed to get here?”

Mason looks up from the cards he’s holding, his eyebrows pinching together as he grabs his phone and checks the time.

“Son of a bitch, she should have already been here.”

I watch as he throws his cards down on the table, folds, and storms off with the phone lodged between his shoulder and ear.

Turning back to Gabriel, I ask, “Who’s Ava?”

“The woman Mason loves.”

“His girlfriend?”

Taylor pipes up. I had no idea he was even paying attention to our conversation. “No. Mason is engaged to someone else.”

That’s right. I remember Clayton telling me about that.

I look at Gabriel again. “Why does Ava put up with that?”

He shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. This has been their situation since freshman year in college. We’ve given up on figuring it out.”

A few minutes later, Mason returns with the blond I remember from Yale.

Still as beautiful as ever, she’s dressed casually in a long sleeved henley and a pair of jeans that hug every curve. She has friendly brown eyes, closer to a whiskey gold, really. As soon as they land on me, she smiles.

Mason keeps a protective arm around her until they reach the table, his mouth crooking in a frown when she whispers to him, pulls away and comes to grab a chair to sit by me.

In truth, she’s still near him since nobody sits to my left, but he doesn’t seem pleased with even that much distance between them.