by L. J. Woods
Isaac and the guys aren’t too far ahead when I call him and it doesn’t take too long before he swings by to grab us. Not without questions of course.
“We’ve been back in Eden for a few weeks and you’ve already seen a fucking murder?” he asks, Rayne under my arm in the backseat. “When I said get pussy, I didn’t mean gangster pussy.”
My foot kicks the back of his seat, but I’m fucking grateful the guy came through.
“I’m not a gangster. My brother is,” Ray says. “Those guys are … bad people so if anything we did the world a favour. August will take care of it.” She looks out the window. Not convincing.
August was always the menacing one of the two siblings. Older. Always getting into trouble.
My mind flashes back to the fuckery from last year. “We know people.”
“King knows people,” Isaac corrects.
“Whatever. If you need help, you can ask us.” I’m already wondering how I’m gonna fix this. How I’m gonna keep us safe.
"Did you kill someone?" Her question fires off, Isaac almost veering off the road.
"You told her?" he asks, his brown eyes narrow when he looks in the mirror.
"No, I— " Then it clicks. "King."
"So you did?" she asks again.
After today I guess honesty is the best thing going forward. "We didn't do it." Isaac's grip tightens on the wheel when I start. "But we were all there when Damien's aunt died. If she didn't die, Damien would have and we all helped clean it up."
Silence.
She blinks at me but it’s hard to get a read. “I should get home.”
“Home?”
Ray nods, “My brother’s there.”
While it’s not reassuring, it’s what I do.
After stopping at the house for a real shower and a better change of clothes, I’m the one to drive her back over the tracks in Isaac's Jag. She keeps her hand in mine but she’s quiet the entire way.
“You sure you don’t want to stay with us?” I ask, pulling up to the closed garage.
“No, I gotta figure this out with August.”
Then I finally ask the question. “What exactly happened out there? What am I a part of? I was honest with you. Be honest with me."
“It’s better if you don’t know, Perez. Believe me.”
That doesn’t make me feel better but I silently vow to keep my eye on her. “How do I get a hold of you?” We left our phones torched to shit in my old ride.
“It’s best we don’t … not until I figure this out.” She reaches for the door before I stop her, that warm spark shooting through me with her hand in mine.
“We did just do … you know, that together.”
“Sex?”
“Not surprised that’s all you can think about.” She folds her arms but her scowl isn’t as deep as it was weeks ago. “I meant lighting my car on fire with a dead man inside, Loca.” My stomach twists when I say it but as fucked up as it is, as fucked up as this, I’m using the moment to my advantage. “We’re talking about this. Over drinks.”
I wince. Shit, am I really asking my fake girlfriend on a post-murder date?
“Don’t try that bossypants thing with me anymore, Perez,” she sighs. No heavy-lined eyes. No black lips. Just Ray. And it makes my stomach feel all kinds of weird. “From your hockey performance today, believe me, you don’t need me to be your fake girlfriend anymore.”
“This isn’t about that.” I try another angle, shifting in my seat. It hasn’t been this hard with any other girl and if she was any other girl I’d call it a day. But it’s clear Rayne is so much more. “I’ll leave you alone.” Maybe. “But we’re in this together. I want an explanation.”
“No,” she shakes her head but I don’t let go.
“Ray … I’ll give you space until then, but after what happened on that road …” In that bathroom. “You gotta give me something.”
“Fine." Her shoulders drop as her eyes search mine. “Friday evening. Just me and you and try to keep your cock in your pants next time, Perez.”
“If only you meant that, Rose.”
Shaking her head, there’s a hint of a smile on her lips before she leaves and that’s enough for me to pull her back until her lips touch mine again.
Our lips meld together, her sigh knotting my stomach and I give her something to remember me by. Besides the dead body in my burnt-up car.
There’s a cheesy grin on my face as I head back over the tracks, one I haven’t had in some time. There’s a lightness in my chest and I want to celebrate with a bottle of the good shit. But as I turn the wheel, the blood under my nails brings a heaviness back to my chest. A stirring in my stomach.
You killed a man.
Don’t let those girls bring you down.
My hand bangs on the wheel, a flurry of confusion clouding over me. And now I need a drink for a different reason.
Stopping at a light, the road dark ahead, I make a plan to call King the minute I’m back at the house. I’m about to bring my foot to the gas when the light turns green before a loud noise startles the fuck out of me.
SMASH!
Glass falls to my lap, my driver’s window shattering.
There's a flash of black before something comes over my head and everything disappears.
Twenty
Rayne
When my mom said not to be prey, I don’t think she meant to be a murderer instead.
My boots pace the creaky floor, my nails down to their beds.
August and the guys are always here bumming it in the garage but when I need them, they’re out of sight. Haven’t seen him for the last couple of hours.
Headlights shine through the window and my ears perk up, listening for the sound of a rumbling motorcycle.
Nothing.
The shirt I wore from Christian’s still sits on my shoulders and it doesn’t help to keep him off my mind. Especially when I find myself sniffing it as the events of the day play on my mind.
Fresh. Spicy. Him.
I’m tempted to call him but I’ve already got him into enough trouble. He’s an accomplice if not the murderer himself.
Finally, the rumble of a motorcycle signals August is back and I head for the door. Headlights light up the garage before the sound of Dead Kennedys thumps from inside.
“August!” I’m at the door of the garage, my hand on the railing leading down. “August? I really fucking need you right now.”
“What, Ray?” He stops me from going into the garage, his body filling the frame of the door. His voice comes with thunder and I’m not sure what they’ve been up to but whatever it was, it’s got him in a bad mood. He takes a step forward and I take a step back before he tugs me closer to him by my shirt, the smell of whiskey strong on his breath.
When I push him away he takes a long whiff before he pushes me back and I almost stumble. “I can smell the rich dick on you,” he scoffs.
I scowl. “I need your help. Something really fucked up happened today.” Something I can’t come back from and now I know I’m as fucked up as my brother.
“I took care of it.”
“You …” My brows furrow. “You know?”
“Of course, I fucking know. I know everything that happens around me, sis. You know that by now.” He eyes me up again. “Now get some rest. You look like shit.”
SLAM!
He shuts the door in my face.
Christian keeps his word.
Kind of.
While we haven’t hung out, he doesn't exactly keep his distance.
It’s Wednesday afternoon when I’m finally able to grab some leftover belongings from Lexi on campus.
“So is he like … your bodyguard now?” she asks, standing in the hallway without a care in the world in a strappy neon one-piece. She signed up for the swim team and wants everyone to know it.
“More like my stalker.” Looking back isn’t necessary. I know what she’s talking about.
Or who she’s talking about.
She looks over my shoulder again, pink nails pushing away a strand of blonde hair. “Perez is one hot stalker.”
Should it bother me that Lexi eyes Christian like a piece of meat? No. But it only reminds me that he’s likely been with half the school and I’m yet another notch on his belt.
Grabbing my mom’s backpack from her hold, I tell her thanks before turning around to Chrisitan, leaning on a column with his phone in his hand. Time to put a stop to this.
As I approach him, he doesn’t look up from his phone but I notice a black eye and a scar on his nose. I stall, unsure if they’re from the … accident, but my hand reaches out to touch it almost instinctively.
He pulls back before his eyes bore into a mine. A sly smile grows on his face like we didn’t commit murder over the weekend instead of seeing a movie like a normal couple. “Is that from—” Stopping myself, I take a step closer with a glance over my shoulder. We shouldn’t talk about that here.
When I turn towards him, his lips are inches from mine. “How can I help you, Ray?” he asks, his tone casual and nonchalant.
My brows furrow, my eyes on his lips. “Don’t act like you’re not following me.” Being near him doesn’t make this any easier. The smell of spice and expensive cologne makes me want to rip his stupid letterman jacket to the floor. “You said you’d give me space.”
“I was, but now you’re invading mine.” That smirk makes me want to slap him and kiss him at the same damn time and thinking about doing that only makes my thighs heat. “Speaking of space …” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out another phone. It’s newer and shinier than the one I had before. “If I can’t see you, I’m at least gonna text you. I gotta make sure you’re safe, Loca.”
I stare at the phone for what seems like forever in his hand before he inches it forward.
My shoulders drop before I snatch it. It’s only a matter of time before Dad asks where my phone is and avoiding his lectures is best for my mental.
Instead of a thank-you, I can’t fight the sass coming out my mouth. “Like you’re texting right now instead of being the stalker you are?”
He smiles and I can’t tell what it means. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I call his bluff. “Bet there’s nothing on that screen.”
He flicks his screen around.
Allie: I miss u too
Christian: So come visit.
Waving the phone away, I fight the urge to slap him again, heat rising to my skin, a pang in my guts.
Not even a week since we hooked up and he’s texting this Allie chick. And he’s being fucking blatant about it.
Christian Perez is darker than I ever expected. And he's a player too.
“Keep your distance, Perez.” Tightening the straps on my bag, I notice Isaac not too far away. He tries to hide his face behind his phone but I point him out. Kinda hard to miss in that pink shirt. “You too, Johnson.”
Christian calls behind me, “See you Friday, Ray!”
Perez: Happy Friday
There’s no happy ending when it comes to Christian Perez.
Sure, things could’ve worked before but who we are now, who I am now, we’re only setting ourselves up for failure.
That’s why I shouldn’t be on my way to his car after class. Especially not with a fresh trim and crisp bangs. Especially not in a leather mini skirt I borrowed from Lexi who keeps way too many “backup outfits” in her giant wooden locker.
I know better than to toy with fire but there’s something about Christian Perez that keeps me drawn to him. Even after all these years.
I’m also a woman of my word. I said Friday, so I’m sticking to it.
His brows raise when he sees me on the roof of his new ride. A motherfucking emerald green Bugatti. It hits me that it didn’t take him very long to swap his charred car for a new one when my dad’s been driving the same Camry for a decade. But I try to ignore it. I’m also trying to ignore the thud in my heart as a smile grows on that smooth, chiselled face.
“Rayne Rose.” My name rolling off his tongue makes me almost drool but I need to get my shit together. I owe him an explanation. Nothing more.
“Christian Perez,” I greet him in the same manner. Cordial. Because that’s all this is.
He tells his entourage, Hoffman, and Johnson, goodbye as they make kissy faces and sexual gestures at us. Giving them a finger, he walks over to me, bringing his face close to mine before he opens the door to his car.
The interior is even sexier than the outside. Smooth tan leather, the smell of a new car in the air. It makes me wanna vomit and orgasm at the same time.
“Looks like we still have a date.” He leans on his new car door in a green cashmere sweater and beige slacks.
“Not a date.”
His eyes catch mine, sunlight hitting it just right so it has that little sparkle. “Like my cock wasn’t deep inside you last weekend?” My mouth tightens. So does my jaw but he chuckles as he walks around to his door. “C’mon, I want to show you a place.”
I don’t know what he has up his sleeves but dammit those shiny eyes and that quick grin have me intrigued. I give in, climbing into the cool, comfortable upholstery and I’m starting to think Christian Perez has become my biggest weakness.
“Impressive,” I say as he starts the car, a bit of envy and disdain rolling through me.
“Wait until you see my cock.” The engine roars when he steps on the gas. “Wait, you already have.”
“Drive the car, Perez.” Raising the volume on the radio doesn’t help to distract me from his charms but it’s not long before that gritty, bloody bathroom comes back to my head. And when he starts to sing along to some old Frank Ocean, it’s all that much harder to ignore.
For a guy who saw a man die on the side of the road, Christian’s being pretty relaxed about the whole thing. Or he could be doing the very thing I’m doing. Burying it all. So I ask, “Are you okay?”
“Now?” His eyes dance with mine when he glances my way, dazzling in the sun pushing through the windshield. “Yeah.”
Fuuck him. And fuck the flutter in my stomach.
The music lowers, a phone symbol appearing on his dash. “Dad.” He mutters in Spanish before he pulls over. “I gotta take this.” Hugo always had Christian on a short leash. Looks like that hasn’t changed.
I nod and he smiles, resting a hand on my knee and it’s the fucking flutters all over again.
“Christian! Where the hell are you? Leo says you’re not at the venue.”
His brows furrow. “What venue?”
“You gotta be fucking kidding me, kid. Get your ass to The Palace. Now!” His yell makes me jump, Christian’s jaw tensing. “Or did you forget? Like you forget anything important?”
Hugo’s so much worse.
Christian sighs, “I didn’t forget, I’m helping out my …” He glances my way again. “Friend.”
Why does that feel like a sword through my gut? Especially when he takes his hand off my knee.
“Guess what, kid? I don’t give a flying fuck! You think you can afford a car like that with your work ethic?” Hugo laughs, his voice even more menacing on the car’s stereo. “Keep. Your eye. On. The prize! Don’t be a fucking ungrateful asshole and fuck this up! You hear me!? I risked it all for you kids I—”
“I’ll be there soon.” Christian ends the call, his hands gripping the wheel like he’ll pull the damn thing off.
The look on Christian’s face makes me nervous to say anything, face rigid, eyes glaring at the patch of road ahead.
“Guess this isn’t a date after all.”
That shakes him out of wherever he is and I’ve always felt bad for the way Hugo treats him. Like the Godzilla version of my dad. Hockey dads are intense but Hugo is a monster.
His grip loosens before he glances at me, slumping in his seat. “I forgot about the annual Casino Night at The Palace. It’s a—”
“Hockey thing,” I finish, his head hitting his sea
t. “I remember.”
My heart sinks. Like I was looking forward to this thing that’s not a date but it’s for the better.
“Come with me,” he says, those green eyes hopeful when he takes my hand. It’s warm. Comforting. "Might be a little fancy but I don't care."
I shouldn’t be around Christian. I should take this as my chance to hit the abort button. Run. Forget any of this happened.
So it surprises me when I say, “Yeah, okay. It’s a date.”
Twenty-One
Christian
Being with Rayne Rose is a bad idea.
So bad it might kill me.
After my senior year of high school, safety is what I should be after. But Ray is far from safe. Especially after what happened on Sunday.
I’m not talking about that Wire shit we pulled up by Lake Montauk.
“Keep fucking around, Rich Boy, and next time, we won’t be so nice.”
If being part of a murder wasn’t bad enough, Rayne’s brother and his henchman found me on my way back to Eden. Bag over my head, they pulled me out of the car and beat me until I went numb.
They sent a strong message, leaving me with scars and bruises. Leaving me carless. A reminder of what happens when I fuck with the wrong girl. Had a lot of explaining to do to Isaac about what happened to his Jag. He thinks I should take the warning and back off. He’s right.
And if I wasn’t so stubborn, if she wasn’t so addicting, I’d be going to this thing alone. I’m playing with fire, and if I’m not careful, I’ll get burnt.
“The last time I hung out in a room full of NHL stars I was in something fancier.” Rayne looks down at her outfit when I glance at her. A crop top that has her cleavage sitting right, a skintight leather mini that shows off her smooth legs in those boots. Her fishnets blur some of her tattoos but the ones on her arms, hands, and neck are on display.
And she’s perfect.
Taking her tattooed hand in mine, I squeeze it. “You always look stunning, Ray. Tonight’s no different. And … we really don’t have time.” Bringing her thumbnail to her mouth, she nibbles on it but I pull her hand to mine. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be there for an hour max. Just gotta show my face and shake some hands.”