Page 55 of Monstrous Serpent

He shrugs one shoulder. “We got the money back, but that prick’s out there still.”

“She coming to any games this year, or no?” I toss a fry into my mouth.

“Maybe.” He pushes the wing basket to the edge of the table and sits back. His nose crinkles as the smirk spreads. “So. How's Jenkins?”

The fry goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough, pounding my chest.

“That good, huh? I'm assuming since nobody got a group text asking for a cleanup, he's still alive.”

I clear my throat. “Yup.”

“Surprised. Especially since he went after Kincaid.” Rua shakes his head, leaning back and draping his arm across the top of the booth.

“He came at me too.”

Rua waves me off. “That’s been going on since last year.”

“Well, fuck you then.” This time, I toss a few fries into my mouth. “Nobody seems to care he busted my lip open.”

“Aww, poor baby. But, again, you two go at one another every game.” He waggles his brows. “Kinda reminds me of Killian and Jackson.”

I snort. “Yeah, no. I don’t get turned on by getting my ass kicked.”

Except that’s not totally true. There’s something about Jenkins when he’s furious and bleeding and looking at me like he wants to kill me.

Rua watches some preppy-looking guy laugh as he strolls by. “Think he’ll let me choke him as I ride his dick?”

“Jesus, fuck.”

He laughs. “Anyway, back to your Titan problem. Kincaid put me through the sheetrock for trying to give him a lap dance. My ass was on his lap for four seconds. So, you’re telling me Neander-monster just let Jenkins go?”

I shove the rest of the burger in my mouth and chew.

“Oh, shit! What happened?”

“Nothin’.”

“Swallow before talking. I’m so not into giving the Heimlich.”

I finish chewing, then swallow. “It’s none of your concern.”

That wicked grin of his shows up. He steeples his fingers and drums them, brow quirked. “Spill it, or I’ll tell Calix.”

Fucking hell.

“Hunter’s locked in. Doesn’t want to kill him. And somehow, focusing on Jenkins is keeping him level. For now, at least. And I’m not complaining.”

For more than one reason. But Rua doesn’t have to know all of it.

“Kincaid must be a blast to play Fuck, Marry, or Kill with.”

I chuckle. “To him, everyone’s kill.”

“Except for you.”

I stare at him, leaning in. “What about the time I ate his stash of marshmallows freshman year? Blackwell almost called the cops. My eye was swollen shut for days.”

We both laugh. And it feels good.