Free Dangerous Games by Selene Chardou

it’s so dangerous for us women to go on these runs with you guys then what the hell is Fiona doing with Brandon?”
    “He always takes her,” Dylan responded with little interest in his voice. “Fiona has always idolized you, ya know, and after you left, she kind of tried to become strong like you. Unfortunately, that also means cheating on her boyfriend sometimes but Brandon puts up with it because he loves that skank. I don’t know what any man would see in my sister because she’s such a self-centered bitch but somehow, they are literally yin and yang. He calms her dumb ass down.”
    “Ease up, Dylan,” Finn responded. “Fiona is a great girl and although I wish Brandon would just go ahead and put a ring on her finger, he’s worried the cheating might not stop even after they get married. I keep tellin’ him she’s the kind of woman who needs security—”
    “My ass! Brandon is doin’ the right thing you ask me. Let my sister stew a bit, and once she learns to keep her panties on when she has a girl’s night out, then he can ask her to marry him. He’s a tough guy and wouldn’t lay a hand on her, otherwise, I wouldn’t allow him anywhere near my sister. Yeah, I know, he’s only half-black and it’s not his fault, but I don’t trust those kind of people.”
    “I realize geography isn’t your strong suit but this is coming from a guy whose girlfriend is half-Dominican? You do realize that is a country in the Caribbean that shares a border with Haiti?” I questioned sarcastically.
    “Um, it’s not like I plan to marry her and she’s hot as fuck…”
    “Are you as dumb as you look or do you just get off acting that way?”
    “Fuck off, Evie!”
    “Will you shut the fuck up, Dylan, before your mouth writes a check your ass can’t cash?” Finn interrupted in a brusque voice. “Jesus, sometimes I wonder if it is worth taking you on these runs due to your insipid talk alone.”
    By the time we arrived to the club, a very cool architectural piece completely made of glass and right on the border of Manhattan proper and Harlem, the blood in my veins was pumping at maximum efficiency. I worried if they had doormen who checked for weapons or if there was a metal detector because we were all in trouble if that was the case since we were all packing heat.
    My worries turned out to be unfounded as we all approached the club and were waved through by the bodyguards and avoided the metal detector or body pat-downs altogether.
    It was one of those cool clubs I wasn’t expecting since both Finn and Dylan had gone on and on about how they would be dealing with Haitians. You would have never known it by the musical tastes playing at the time we entered the club. Lots of cool New Yorkers—mostly white—were dancing to a re-mix of Deftones “Change (In the House of Flies)”. The place was filled to capacity and all the bars were clogged with people either sipping on or ordering drinks.
    The atmosphere was charged, and it was obvious a great deal of the crowd was more than merely drunk. There were definitely pharmaceuticals and other illegal substances involved. I was glad I hadn’t drunk anything, and was as sober as Brandon and Finn. Both Fiona and Dylan were flying obviously though they hid it quite well. However, they were family, and once I’d seen them high, I would never forget. Neither of the siblings was sober in any way, shape or form.
    We walked several flights of stairs and passed tons of club goers until we reached what looked like a freight elevator. Brandon possessed a key and inserted it into the elevator before it opened.
    “Ladies first,” he murmured in the same Bostonian/Northern Irish brogue Finn possessed, and both Fiona and I got inside before the men boarded. It took us up a couple floors before it jerked to a stop.
    The doors opened and a group of Haitians were seated around a round table. There were a couple of women—the requisite air-headed blonde types—but they were both