3. Bay
THREE
bay
“You Broke Me First” by Our Last Night blares through the speakers of the minivan I’m driving. I grip the steering wheel tightly to hold back the tears and anxiety that have been coursing through me since yesterday.
I won’t fail my family.
Not over bills or the fact that I almost had to tell Mae that she couldn’t go on her field trip at school because I couldn’t fork the cash.
The thread of my resolve and, somewhat, sane mind are starting to shred, and I need to make a hustle move to pull in this week’s groceries and such.
Hence my subtle dope run that Levi handed over to me with strict instructions not to stroll into The Landings.
I probably don’t have to tell you where I currently am.
The other route is long, tedious, and I’m already tired, and in a granny van. However, it keeps me out of territory that I shouldn’t be in.
Period.
What Levi doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He has enough on his plate right now, with booby trapping the house and I’m doing this quick trip for a couple hundred so I can keep buying Dad’s medication and keep up with the girls’ things.
It’s more than what I make in tips at The Stowaway, which is a bar I work at, and I need a big night. One that can last me a few weeks instead of a few days, because if we get one more red notice on the house, the bank is going to come knocking on the door, and I might catch an assault charge.
However, in light of my chaos, it’s a blessing that I didn’t lose Dad the night of his heart attack turned stroke. Without him, my sisters would be parentless. They’d go through life with just me, and I’m not anyone to be a role model for. I can barely keep myself together, let alone two young girls. They need a stable household and I’m not it.
Because I could get myself killed for this.
Again, I’m no model citizen for my sisters to take after. Especially when I know the risks. While I purposely defy fate for this shit and roll through The Landings like we’re not constantly at war.
Getting caught here isn’t going to be a safe look for me, nor will it be a good way to end the night since I have half a pound of weed hidden in my grandma mobile.
I’m mindlessly in the zone when a black truck suddenly whips out from a side street, almost colliding into my front end.
Slamming on my brakes, the backend of the van fishtails a tad to the right, and everything not bolted to the floor comes flying to the front.
An old McDonald’s fry container hits me in the back of the head, flicking my temper on like a light switch.
Thankfully, I save Mrs. Thames’s van from getting assassinated on my run. Getting her a new one to replace the one I’m borrowing to study at school would’ve been a bitch, and she’s such a sweet neighbor for allowing me to borrow it in the first place.
Steadying my thrashing heart, the blacked-out truck doesn’t move from in front of me, and that’s when all the red flags immediately begin waving around in my brain.
I’m in The Landings.
And this is bad.
Very bad.
The driver's door pops open, causing an exasperated groan to thrust from my lips.
Yeah…I’m in trouble and probably should’ve listened to Levi.
Behind the door slides out a man in all dark clothes. Underneath the streetlight displays a leather jacket that fills out his broad shoulders, along with ripped jeans.
His head slowly cranes over in my direction when the passenger door unclicks next, alluding that he’s not alone.
Gang territory.
Guns.
Merciless reputation.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, allowing my spine to hit the uncomfortable back of my seat.
I need to get out of here.
No joke.
However, if I dip, I’m automatically guilty and thrown more on their radar. So the best action to take is an innocent chick who’s just cruising the streets and minding her own business.
Adjusting my ass into the driver’s seat, I feel my knife in the back pocket of my pants because I refuse to carry a gun. It’s too risky getting pulled over with an unregistered weapon, and I can’t serve any jail time, for obvious reasons.
The dude in the leather coat ambles closer. His chin tucked into his chest, which doesn’t give me any indicator of who he is and what kind of mess I’m in.
Maybe he’s coming over here to see if I’m okay?
Wishful thinking at its finest because he’s not.
Not him.
Definitely impossible when he lifts his head and reality slaps me in the face with zero remorse.
Because in front of me stands the notorious Torin Wildes in all his cocky, arrogant, I’ve always wanted to beat his ass one day glory.
My gut sinks into the withering pits of hunger, but that’s a normal feeling for me. Nor is it really a concern right now.
You really should’ve listened to Levi, Bay. What the fuck?
I’m so beyond screwed, it doesn’t even fully encompass the word. And there is no way I’m getting out of this without a fight.
Torin is the Prince of The Landings.
The gangbanger who’s always been at war with Levi.
The instigator who had gotten me in trouble with my ex on more than one occasion.
And he didn’t stop.
Wouldn’t stop.
Torin didn’t give a shit what consequences I had to face because he believed, in his entitled head, that he had free access to me and my body even though I was spoken for.
And I’ve been dodging him for years.
Years that may work in my favor.
“Hey, are you guys hurt?” I ask, as if I give a fuck—first of all—but there’s an undeniable tremble in my voice, and I’m suddenly reintroduced to pools of tawny brown eyes that bore into me as if he remembers exactly who I am. “Did you call the cops?”
“Do I look like someone who calls the cops, Bay?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
And double fuck.
His voice is deeper than I remember. Gingerbread-colored hair with tints of red, angry-glossed eyes that don’t look amused that he had to stop, and a set of full pink lips.
He’s absolutely beautiful with those boyish features and the charm that drips off his perfect skin.
Torin almost fully got to me once.
I was a sucker for those cover model GQ looks and the dirty words he whispered in my ear.
If time allowed, Torin would’ve been balls deep inside me without much more effort. However, that’s not what causes goosebumps to line my arms and a cryptic chill to run up my spine the more I look at him.
It’s his eyes.
Those self-assured irises that stare back at me inflict the possible truth that he knew it was me the whole time.
And not only am I screwed because I just got caught in enemy territory but because he’s one of the top-tiered leaders of The Forsaken Crew.
South Shore’s biggest rivalry since before I was born.
“Name’s Jade,” I deadpan, praying to everything holy that he doesn’t recognize me.
Back in the day, I used to be a bleach blonde because that’s what my ex preferred.
What he demanded.
However, what works against me now is that I’m always with Levi. And all of us have been in the same place, at the same time, while I was more than likely at my best friend’s side.
All Torin had to do was ask who I was, and the answer would’ve gotten to him.
He’s The Landing’s Royalty.
A fucking prick.
A prince who uses that power like the air he breathes. He just takes it as if he’s privileged to it.
The cops work for him. He even has Sheriff Muncy as his lap dog.
“Jade, huh?” He leans his forearms along the edge of my window, a black watch encrusted in, what looks to be diamonds, resting along my door.
Despite that, he casually accesses me, studying my features as I close my hands into tight fists in my lap.
“I hear you might be the chick who’s running drugs through my streets.”
I cock my head in challenge. “And who’s that?”
Torin doesn’t pry his golden irises off me, subtly searching me for clues and it makes me antsy.
He’s so fucking beautiful, I had almost forgotten how much. I was actually hoping that this day would never come when we would ever be this close again.
“Don’t tell me you forgot about me, Bay.”
My heart collides hard into my ribcage, and before I can deny it—because there’s no way in hell I’m going to just say hey, how’s it going? How have you been— a loud crash of glass pierces through the air.
I jolt, realizing that the back sliding door has just been busted out and that’s when the full-fledged rage of my temper snaps and I’m in fight mode.
Unlocking the door, I shove it open, hitting Torin in the chest first and sending him back a bit.
I think more out of surprise than anything before I’m on the other dark-haired wonder who just batoned the fuck out of Mrs. Thames’s ride.
How the hell am I supposed to fix that tonight and get it back to her by morning?
My fist speaks for the lack of sleep I’m going to receive tonight, slamming into the side of his head so hard that I bow over from throwing all my weight into it.
His hand promptly comes up to where I hit him, and that’s when I kick the baton out of his grip with my heel so he can’t use it on me and form up for another hit.
And that’s when Torin takes the golden opportunity to hurl me up in the air like a rag doll, wrapping his forearm tightly around my waist and guiding me to the front of the green van.
“Looks like I finally found you, Astor,” he sneers, as I begin kicking vigorously at his shins.
I jab my elbow back and hit his ear, listening to the hiss of pain escape through his teeth as he drops me ungracefully to my feet and replaces his grip around my body with a fistful of my raven hair.
He yanks hard, issuing a small whimper to crawl from my throat, and that only upsets me more.
I mercilessly twist around, feeling the roots of my scalp being ripped from my head as I deliver a gut punch to Torin’s stomach.
I connect, but he doesn’t let go.
In fact, he shoves me backward and into the bend of the hood, our chests smashing into each other as he sandwiches me to his hard body.
“I’m not in the fucking mood to fight you,” he grounds out, those untainted features twisted into a pissed-off scowl. “Knock it off, or I’m going to knock you out.”
I scoff, my confidence in that scenario soaring pretty high right now. And I make sure to deliver that message clearly when I thrust my forehead into his square, shaven chin, receiving the aftermath of my horrible decision-making.
“ Motherfucker !” he roars before my skull is promptly hurled back in response through the handful of locks he has of mine. My whole neck is exposed to him, and if he has a knife, he could easily slit my throat for all the trouble I’m making. “Need some help here, Black. Is it in there or not?”
“Not,” the other dude says with just the same amount of rage as the guy holding me. “Unless we take this whole van apart.”
Which he would have to, because what dumbass would cart around bags of weed in the backseat, out in the open, with a seatbelt around it? The dope I’m carrying is under a toddler’s car seat and the floorboards—watch Borderline Wars on A&E, folks, the show is dope as fuck.
“Get off me, you desperate piece of shit,” I ground out, gaining his immediate scowl and sliding two of my fingers into the pocket of my jeans to gain my own weapon. “If this is your idea of feeling up someone because you can’t get any?—”
“You better shut your fucking mouth while you’re ahead,” he warns me, then gives up some of his grip so I can peer straight up at him. “You think I didn’t remember what you looked like? You gotta give yourself more credit than that, sweetheart.”
“I think you should, asshole.” I meet the force of his glare and flip my knife open, just to reach over and press it into his throat. “I don’t like getting touched, Pretty Boy. Let me go…or you’re going to watch your own blood pour onto this dirty cement.”
He slowly licks his bottom lip in response, and I can see the indent the sharp blade is making against the sun-kissed skin there before his black Glock is introduced to me and my chin. Shoving the cool metal underneath and pushing my head heavenward.
“You think that was a good move?” He presses the weapon deeper into the soft part of my flesh in silent warning that I better let up. “One pull versus one swipe, and you’ll have to make sure you hit the right spot and deep. Which one do you think is faster?”
“Wanna find out?”
You’re so fucking stupid. You and that big-ass mouth.
“Only if you don’t mind having a funeral where your daddy doesn’t find your body,” he returns flatly. “Then, yeah, whenever you are.”
“I’m not some?—”
“Where have you been, Bay?” I’m sticking with my story. There’s no way in hell I’m admitting to my identity, because I neither trust him nor do I want a reunion. “You don’t think I know who you are? That I haven’t kept tabs on you? That I don’t know that wherever Levi Wallace is…that my girl is with him.”
My nostrils flare because I’ve never been his girl. And it’ll be a cold day in hell when that ever comes to fruition.
“You don’t look happy to see me,” he vouches calmly, even with a sharp blade to his throat. “Is it because I didn’t call?”
“Go fuck yourself,” I leer, attempting to calm myself down because I know that Torin loves to taunt and dangle shit in front of his prey.
“Admit it,” he orders gruffly. “I wanna hear you say that you’re the girl I’ve had a hard-on for years over.”
“Sounds like you’re searching for a ghost.”
The click of a hammer warns me of his impatience.
Yet, what’s interesting is that five years ago, Torin would’ve yanked on that trigger rather than asked questions later.
“Those lips,” he mutters, his eyes falling to that exact spot. “You’re built differently, thicker and older, but I’d remember you anywhere.”
I’m not flattered.
However, I can only spin this lie of not being Bay Astor so much. Torin caught me, fair and square, and technically, if he knows I’m close to Levi, that might work in my favor.
“What do you want, Torin?”
His smile is victorious and wide, lighting up those golden embers in his eyes as if he just hit the jackpot. “What I’ve always wanted, Wildfire…you.”
Wildfire.
His little pet name for me back in the day.
“Are you saying that you’re pathetic enough to actually still have a crush on me, Wildes?” I tsk my unimpressed feelings toward that idea to make sure my point is made. “Get off me.”
“Or what?”
“Well, there’s this knife that’s going to make a hole in one of your arteries. Or I’ll forget this meeting took place and not tell Levi that you touched me.”
Torin doesn't lose the self-assurance of who he is and the upper hand that he kinda has now. “Sweetheart, when have you ever known me to be scared of Wallace?”
Never.
Nonetheless, it’s the only card I have to play.
“You really want to lose a hand?” I solicit with a perked brow. “C’mon…you’ll need it later for when you jack off to thoughts of how you could have me.” I knit my face into a scowl. “But you didn’t . And I’m not amused nor honored by you putting your grubby-ass hands on me.”
“But you’d allow Matteo De Leon?”
I’m. Going. To. Cut. Off. His. Entire. Dick. One. Day.
The mere mention of my ex-boyfriend makes my skin uncontrollably crawl. It still has an underlining sliver of fear racking through my body. I’ve never been treated nor had a man possess me the way Matteo did.
And it wasn’t in the pleasurably, toe-curling kind of way.
“I did,” I profess, because it’s not a lie and Torin knows all about it. Not only was it public knowledge, but Matteo made sure that everyone was made aware not to touch what was his. “And I bet that kills you, doesn’t it?”
Torin’s hard body presses firmer into mine, and my next exhale is a little jumpy—damn the thing all to hell. He smells like melon and cedar, and I like it. Shouldn’t, and it’s a stupid- ass thing to realize now, but I do. “Matteo De Leon isn’t here to protect you anymore, baby. And I’m thrilled that he dumped you on your ass like the little South Shore slut you are.”
“Slut?” His opinion of me doesn’t hit anywhere that he wants it to because he’d have to matter for that to take effect. “Why don’t you run along home before your daddy wonders where you are? I’m surprised he doesn’t keep his precious son locked up so no one can take out one of his heirs.”
“As you can see, I’m grown as fuck now.” His gold eyes narrow with irritation and maybe awareness that he can’t really do what he wished to do in the first place. I hope. “And we’re both not in the same places we used to be.”
No.
I’m in a much safer and stronger one with Levi now.
“You’re right,” I agree. “Which you’d do best to remember where I currently reside.”
“You fuckin’ Wallace now?” I hold his gold eyes with confidence, which I believe is causing doubt in his brain because he scowls. “How high you’ve come.”
“I wish I could say the same about you, but I wasn’t handed anything.”
“No, you just fucked your way to the top.”
I lift my shoulders a tad so that he doesn’t accidentally pull on the trigger of his gun. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
He leans closer, and I immediately tense against his warmth and the way his eyes feel like they’re burning into my soul. “You might as well come clean, Wildfire. I don’t like to wait.”
“About what?”
Torin suddenly eases up on my hair before fully letting go and takes a small step backward. Then suddenly jerks his head, giving me silent permission to take off.
I stare at him for the briefest of seconds, in shock that he’s letting me go, then think better of standing around waiting for an answer.
I’m not going to question him.
Wasting no time with the window of opportunity, I stride back toward the driver’s side, running right into the other dude with onyx hair. Longer at the top, running all the way past his eyes, it’s faded along the sides. His earlobes are gauged out and his colorless, almost black eyes study me like he couldn’t give a fuck if I was manhandled or not. His strong jaw is hard—I would know because I hit it—and peppered in dark stubble.
“Make sure you ice that,” I inform him, before rounding his body and quickly getting back into the van before one of them changes their mind.
Throwing the still-running vehicle in drive, I move around their illegally parked truck and head to my delivery spot.
I need to call Levi to tell him I’m running a tad bit late.
Because, if I’m only a minute behind, he’s going to freak.
And I’ll be leaving everything else out about my family reunion with his rival.