Page 22 of Play The Game

Plan.

Destroy.

Ms. Vivienne, not realizing the danger she’s in, leans across the desk next to ours to read some guy’s paper instead of picking it up, and pushes her ass into Harley’s arm. The guys across from us groan lustfully, but Harley’s hand clenches in mine.

He’s not like Ash, with a family to prove he’s nothing like. No, if a bitch threatens Harley or his family, he’s not going to waste time finding a peaceful resolution or take the backseat. He’s going to deal with the fucking problem.

He wants to deal with this problem.

I lean into him and whisper, “Do you want me to take her out?”

His smirk gets wider on his face. “Stop flirting with me, Mounty.”

When the class finally fucking ends, Ms. Vivienne calls out as we pack up. “Mr. Arbour, if you could please stay behind. I have something to discuss with you.”

My gaze snaps up to her face at the same time Avery’s does. Harley glares toward her, but Ms. Vivienne only smiles seductively back.

Fuck that.

I lean in to make a show of whispering to him, “I’ll slit her throat and watch her bleed out if she touches you.”

Harley grins back at me. “I’ll warn her.”

I don’t get to find out if he does, though, or what the bitch wanted from him, but we do survive the day without me having to kill anyone, so it’s not all bad. I actually forget about it entirely until Avery and I get back to our room for dinner, cursing at myself under my breath.

Avery sighs and flicks the coffee machine on for me. “He didn’t tell me, either, but I ran a check on her and she’s a ghost. Her file is full, but it’s all clean. I had someone trawl through her entire existence online and nothing. I thought she had to have a statutory rape hiding somewhere.”

I groan as I pull my shoes off, my feet aching from the stupid heels after weeks of my comfortable Docs. Avery starts fussing with pots and pans in the kitchen, not cooking, but scrubbing maniacally. I understand her rage completely.

Which reminds me.

“The word slut is officially off-limits. If any-fucking-one calls me a Mounty slut again, I’m pulling their fingernails out with pliers,” I grumble, and Avery raises an eyebrow at me.

“Is that a hypothetical or is it in your skill set?”

I cut her a look. “It’s in my skill set.”

She tilts her head and hums under her breath. We’ve never discussed the specifics of what I can and have done before. I wait a minute, but when she doesn’t reply, I say, “Problem?”

She smirks. “Of course not, I’m just filing that information away in case a situation arises. It’s good to know all the tools we have at our disposal.”

I laugh at her and grab the cup of coffee she holds out to me.

SIX

Harley texts us to meet him in the dining hall for breakfast the next morning, so Avery makes us both coffees to go.

She doesn’t look up from her phone the whole way down, trusting me to lead her there safely with her arm tucked tight in mine. I’m so distracted by my own thoughts and worries of what the fuck the history teacher wanted with him that I don’t notice the guy steeping into our path until we slam into him.

I grunt at the sharp pain that shoots up my leg and Avery, thankfully, manages to keep me upright thanks to her firm grip on my arm. With barely more than a glance, she makes an assessment of whoever the fuck we’ve hit and her fingers fly across the screen of her phone.

Glancing up, I find a Darcy smirking down at me.

Now, I know it’s not Thomas Darcy, because he was a senior last year and this guy is a good foot shorter than him, but the likeness is striking.

I mentally nickname him little Darcy.

“What do you want, asshole? Some of us have better places to be than standing around like fucking creeps,” I snap, and Avery giggles at my attitude, lapping it up.