Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
He pauses the cigarette before it reaches his mouth. “And if I told you that I was?”
I kick off the car. “Now, why would I expose all my signals? I wonder what I would do?” Bas Blackwell was the stray I dragged off the street the night War so ruthlessly put my ass in place.
Literally.
I didn’t know who he was, and I didn’t care. I broke into War’s garage, pushed his RX4 down the driveway before starting her up down the street, and picked up the first guy I saw. It just so happened that Bas was in our estate. I didn’t ask why at the time, or even now. I probably should have. In hindsight, I know that if I wanted to be the brat I always get called, I could shoot up this entire spot and be the fucking problem.
But I won’t.
Not yet anyway.
Bas swipes the curve of his lip in an attempt to hide his chuckle. “Okay, Halen. I’ll be seeing you.” Then he’s back in his car as fast as he came.
“Shit, you slept with that?” Stella taps her foot, her head bent to the side. “He’s cute.”
“He’s regret,” I correct, watching his taillights disappear. But why was he here, that’s the question. I haven’t seen Bas Blackwell in a long time. The last time wasn’t something I wanted to relive.
“Okay, well!” Riv claps her hands, breaking the silence. “I don’t know about you guys, but I kind of want to race. What do you say…” She bounces around me, her high heels clapping against the asphalt.
When I don’t answer, River’s hands come to my cheek as she forces my focus. “Since coming back from Perdita, I can see it in your eyes, Halen. So, I think we should race.”
“You see what?” I widen them at her.
“The look of your brother.”
Twenty minutes later, everyone has split into their collective groups. Stella sprays a line below the entrance sign to Cirque de Diavolo as River fixes her makeup with one hand while looking into a small compact mirror, and clutching her Desert Eagle in the other.
“You want to set the track?” Stella leans into my window after I’ve positioned my bumper parallel to the starting line. Not everyone is focusing on the race, since a lot of groups are scattered around, dancing, smoking, and burning rubber, but I want to be the first one to put tread down on this particular track.
For one, I didn’t know where I was going, so I just hoped that whoever I was racing knew that. It should have been Stella. She acts like she isn’t as big of a car girl like the rest of us, but you put that girl behind any wheel and she’ll smoke you off the line.
My muscles relax when I inhale the smell of hot exhaust pipes and rubber. “Of course! Who am I up against?”
There’s always someone who needs to be humbled in the car scene. I liked to be the one doing the humbling.
Dad’s name flashes over the front screen of my phone and my smile falls. “Hold that thought.”
My finger hovers over the screen. He’s never had to discipline me. In fact, he refused to. Probably explains a lot now that I look back to my past—and current—choices, but it’s why I’ve always felt soft around him. He’s never had to raise his voice at me.
Bishop Vincent Hayes doesn’t have to raise his voice at anyone, because his name alone is enough to scare everyone. Except me, apparently, since I have decided to play on his nerves since suspecting he’s been playing favorites.
I swipe, blocking one ear before I have a chance to wind up my window. It’s impossible to get silence at these things, but at least I can hear his words.
“Halen.”
I swallow but my throat is dry. “Dad, I’m just out.”
“Doing? You were supposed to be home. Preparing for the ritual this weekend. You can’t be out doing whatever you’re doing with your car friends.”
My eyes rest on the endless pit of darkness up ahead. It looks like the street materializes into nothing.
I ignore his words and focus on his tone, putting some of my training to work. It won’t work. Dad is a master at everything that I was merely just learning, but there’s a coat of honey over the harsh edge of his tone, as if he is wondering what exactly we are doing here and why we aren’t with the boys.
“I’ll be home later, Dad.”
I hang up my phone, breathing in a shaky breath.
Lowering the window once more, the wind picks up and curls its fingers in my hair as I brush it back behind my ear. Fear prickles down the crux of my spine when I feel it.
Shaking off the skepticism, I turn to Stella, who has reappeared at my window. “At least you can’t run anyone off a cliff here…”