53. Bay
FIFTY-THREE
bay
My aged and hideous baby blue ice cream truck cruises the evening streets like it’s any other warm night on a Wednesday.
I’ve actually been stopped several times and had the obnoxious ass music on when I went through residential areas to keep up with my low-key disguise.
Levi’s idea worked, buying cheap Dollar Store popsicles that I barely made the kids pay for, but with whatever change they had in their pockets because—just no. I have a few bags of weed shoved in the back. I’m not charging up the ass for flavored ice.
Stopping at a stoplight, I realize I only have about three miles out before I’m out of The Landings and in the clear. I’ve already texted Levi a few updates that I was fine before sending him another about how far away I am.
When the light turns green, I’m on my merry way, before a sudden thrust to the side of my truck sends it careening to the left on two tires and finishing its untimely journey of slamming into the hard concrete. Glass shatters in my ear and, even with my seatbelt on, my whole left side hurls into the metal door.
I feel the throbbing pain immediately in my skull. My vision catching up to focus on my surroundings as I blink at the steering wheel and the fact that I’m still conscious.
Slowly swiveling my neck to the center console, my cell is nowhere to be found—shocker—so I begin to move my legs.
Bad idea.
A sharp gasp hurtles past my lips when I move my right leg sending a shock of pain straight up my whole thigh.
“Pull the fucking truck back upright!” I hear a male voice roar out through the sound of my own labored breaths. I’m not sure if he’s a bystander, cop, or if I’m more fucked than twenty seconds ago, but I need to get the hell out of here.
Car accident.
A truck full of weed.
In The Landings.
Sounds pretty Emilio Wildes-Forsaken Crew to me right now.
The ice cream truck begins to rock back and forth, causing more glass to crack underneath the weight as it attempts to get back on all four wheels.
I’m officially done running.
With an apparent target on my fucking back in The Landings, I’m no good here. I don’t know who he has been fucking following me—Cairo, Torin, Reeve, or some other asshole—but this is too much. I’m not gonna die over pot.
After several failed attempts by whoever is trying to flip this heavy-ass vehicle—which is the stupidest idea ever—more glass and metal breaks and whines in the process.
My heart sprints dread through my entire body and the only thing I can think to do is run when I get out of here. Praying to God that my legs aren't so jacked that I can’t. I think I slammed it underneath the steering column and it’s just bruised.
Surprisingly, my poor ice cream truck rights itself, bouncing onto all four tires before the back doors are swung open within the next five seconds and the distinct thud of boots hits the metal floor with purpose.
They don’t sound like they’re looking to see if I’m okay, but who’s behind the wheel and what they have to deal with.
Before I’m about to turn around, my seatbelt is unfastened with a click, and I’m hauled from my seat to my feet. I’m flanked by another man before two sets of hands clutch onto each of my biceps.
Like a prisoner of war.
I try to move and get one of them off me, but we’re stepping on freezers and random shit that’s fallen to the wayside and my leg is screaming in tortured agony for rest already.
I’m, thankfully, lifted down underneath my armpits to the solid concrete and immediately notice how cars that are passing by don’t bother to stop to help access the damage or if anyone is alright.
Red flag number two has officially waved in front of my face as warning prickles of my flesh to take on-the-spot heed.
Scanning the area, one, two, three—six men stare at me in front of classic and rusty Cadillacs and Buicks, I think, of all different shapes and sizes. The heat and force of their fixated gazes have me shifting uncomfortably in unease as they all stay deathly quiet amongst themselves.
“Get your hands off her and load the grass.” The sharp order cracks through the air, sending my whole body snapping around toward it.
My eyes practically bulge from my head as Reeve stands there in a black tee and gray shorts that show off his tattoos. His facial features are twisted and angry, another thing I haven’t seen grace him yet and I’m confused.
But then I think about what he just said before in the woods, the movie theatre. He warned me, I didn’t listen, but did what I always do.
“Don’t touch my shit,” I growl at him, and out of my peripheral, I see a few men shift their weight around. He’s part of the Forsaken Crew, and even though I don’t know what he does, or what the hell kinda power he welds, this is what it is.
I’m a girl on the wrong side of town with drugs and a possible consequence or two waiting for me.
Reeve jerks his head. “Go take a seat, Astor.”
Astor?
“How about we pretend this never happened?” I counter slowly.
“Excuse me?” His eyes crinkle as if I’m stupid as fuck and anything I ask of him is inquiring just as much. “You’re runnin’ through my streets, and you want me to look the other way?”
I know that Reeve and I have never come to this conclusion before, but I honestly thought he’d be the easiest to get by. And, that’s not to say because he’s dumb or anything, just that he’s more easy-going.
“Reeve—”
“ Go sit the fuck down until I figure out what I’m going to do with you,” he leers the moment my attention locates two guys in the back of my ice cream, lifting the bags of my delivery. My money. Prior to me being able to take one step to stop them, Reeve shows up in my line of sight again.
He’s angry.
So freaking pissed.
A vein in his temple ticks and that easy-going facade that he’s always wearing is so far from gone that I’m not quite sure what to do with it, where he put it, or how to handle this.
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” he grounds out, his jaw so tight I’m afraid it might break. “You were caught before and you’re still pullin’ the same bullshit. How many fucking times did I have to tell you? Was there a magic number that I needed to get to?”
“I—”
“You wanna let me take her?” A man shows up to his side then, littered with piercings on his face and a deep, nasty scar running from his bottom lip to his chin. “I’ll get that mouth to stop running.”
Reeve stretches his jaw, but he doesn’t acknowledge his crew member’s nauseating question. Instead, he keeps his hazel eyes locked firmly on mine and when I don’t utter a word he asks, “You wanna go with him?”
My brows clash angrily together that he’d even ask me that. “I want you to let me go.”
“Go?” His crew member repeats then nudges Reeve as if I’m joking. “We picked up a funny one, eh, boss?”
Reeve doesn’t respond, only bores daggers into my face as if he’s about to strangle me to death.
He wouldn’t hurt me.
At least, he didn’t peg me for someone who would.
However, I’ve been misjudging a lot of things lately and Reeve would definitely be disappointing if I have to fight for my life here with him.
“How ’bout we take her around the alley,” another deeper voice vouches. “I got?—”
“Shut up,” Reeve snaps, not bothering to give them a passing glance. “Load the shit up and keep your fucking mouths closed.”
He reaches out for me then, but I recoil back. I’m not going with him anywhere and he’s not about to make an example out of me.
“Make this easier for yourself, Bay,” he grounds out, closing the distance between the two of us and blocking off my view of the men behind him. “Don’t do what you normally do.”
“And what’s that exactly?” I’m panting from the adrenaline jump-starting in my body, and I can’t get it to slow down so I can focus and think.
“Start your shit.”
“You hit my truck.” He averts his hella pissed gaze as if he can’t look at me and the situation together. “I need a doctor to?—”
“We both know you’re not gonna go to a fucking doctor. You can barely pay the bills at home.”
It’s the way he says it like it’s my fault we’re in this predicament.
I mean, it depends on which angle you’re looking from. Except, I would’ve rather gone with Torin and Cairo’s way than what Reeve just had done to me.
“What now?” I mutter. “You’re putting me deeper into debt here, Reevie?”
“ Don’t call me that.” My eyes mindlessly fall down the length of his body, and I stop at his hip, where a gun resides holstered. “You gonna make a run for my gun next?”
“No—” He seizes hold of it and surprises the hell out of me when it shows up shoved underneath my chin.
My fingers flex to keep my cool. Everything in my life rushes through my head at warped speed. I can’t be another dead body on the street. I told Levi I had this and I obviously don’t.
I underestimated Reeve, believing he might be the best person to manipulate, but he just drew a weapon on me.
Yeah, girl, you don’t have shit.
“It’s either I let them have you,” Reeve says coolly. “Or me.”
“You beat me up?” I try to sound confident, but it falls short. It only takes one squeeze of that trigger and I’m a goner. My family is screwed. “Don’t get it twisted, Reeve .”
“Nah, baby, I mean you’re either on your knees or bent over the hood of one of these cars.”
“ What ?” I hiss back, staring at him as though he’s lost his entire mind. Who the fuck is he runnin’ with?
“I can’t get checked out here. You understand?” His voice dips into a whisper, and I give him a curt nod because I do.
He has a role here, which eases back some of my anxiety about him being someone I couldn’t ever trust or be in the same room with without wanting to throat-punch him.
“I have to hit you.”
My brows link up. “Wh—” The back of his hand crashes into the side of my face so hard that it’s official that he can throw a solid hit if he ever needed to.
Nice to know.
My head snaps to the side on impact, and I feel the dull pain on the inside of my lip, from my teeth cutting the soft flesh there. The already throbbing pain in my head intensifies and my temples ache for aspirin.
“I’ll get your dope back,” Reeve utters as I allow my hand to run tenderly down the side of my face. “Give me a day.”
His fingers dig lightly underneath my bicep, and he yanks me forward toward the small group of his men pending his next command. Cocky smirks and wandering eyes greet me back. And I even see one dude adjust himself openly against the zipper of his jeans.
Reeve whips me around before slamming my spine into the back of a red Audi. I’d admire it, but kinda in a mess right now.
“You gonna fuck her in the middle of the street, Rev?” one of his cronies muses with so much excitement in his voice that you’d think he was going to Chuck E Cheese. “Rip her shirt so I can see those tits.”
My gut clenches and not in the I’m about to come just from those words kinda way. If Reeve does any of that, I’m gonna have his balls in a jar for the public to see.
“Look at me,” Reeve orders through a growl. “And keep your fucking hands to your sides.”
“Touch me, and I’ll kill you,” I warn, rocking my head side to side. “I’m so fucking serious.”
“You don’t walk out of here, McQueen. Not without a message being received.” He presses his chest into mine and twirls a piece of my long hair around his finger. “Follow my lead…I’m gonna try?—”
I shove him, only getting a foot of space between us. “Get off me!”
Whoops and hollers of enthusiasm answer me back and they prick at my nerves. They like the fighting aspect of this. The whole fact that I don’t want anyone to touch me since—you know—my body was kinda tossed around like popcorn in a bag.
Reeve glares at me. “I can’t, but I’m not gonna hurt you…too much.”
“What the fu—” The hammer of his gun clicks in warning and my curse word falls to the wayside.
He’s not fucking around. And I don’t know what he has to prove here, but he got the short end of the stick. Torin and Cairo could do or not do whatever they wanted.
Reeve has a posse of assholes and rapists.
“It’s me or them…” The barrel of the gun presses into my temple before he’s dropping his voice again. “Say you want it to be me. Please, Bay…give me permission.”
I clench my teeth together, because he can’t be…there’s no world that I’d let him shove anything in me in front of these fucking freaks. “You want me…to give you permission to rape me.”
He frowns, and I’m not gonna deny the fact that he looks just as unhappy to be here as I am. The gun disappears from my head before it’s shot, the rippling bang of it piercing my ears and making me cower back against the car.
“Say it.” He bends over my retreating frame and frantic heartbeat, hovering his mouth an inch over mine. “Tell me you want me instead of them, McQueen. Please .”
I open my mouth to tell him yes, but it’s not quick enough. A man with sandy brown hair and dark olive skin settles himself right next to us.
“How about a two-for-one?” he presses, licking his bottom lip and giving me a sure wink. “You can ride two dicks, can’t you, dope girl?”
I expect Reeve to tell him to back off, but maybe I was giving him too much credit for him having the power play over these guys.
Again, I don’t know his position, and his silence against both questions has my skin crawling.
“I’ve been waiting three days to run into you,” the fucker continues. “I’ve heard how hot you were and was hoping I was gonna be on duty to catch you.”
“And, what?” I finally press through the dryness of my throat. “You can’t get a girl to pay attention to you, so you rape them?”
“Oh, darlin’, I can get every girl to fall on their knees for me?—”
“Then go find one of them,” I carp out. “And leave the adults to fucking talk, you ugly piece of?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Reeve asserts sternly and steers his gaze to our new guest. “What did I tell you to do? You think I wanna be out here all fucking night while you flirt?”
The guy glowers at him. “You preppin’ yourself up to fuck her, or do you need one of us straight guys to do it for ya?”
A slow and sinister smirk graces Reeve’s handsome features before his hand wraps around my throat, squeezing it in warning for me to remain still and silent, when he takes a step toward his buddy. “I’d fuck you both if I was guaranteed that my big cock wouldn’t fall off in that infested asshole of yours, Greevy. You curious about me? Because this is the second time you’ve mentioned how I fuck guys, and all you gotta say is the words fuck me and I might consider poppin’ your cherry with a few grand to the side for me takin’ the chance.”
Well, fuck me .
Reeve is bi? That unnecessarily made him ten times hotter in my head, and I’m still standing in this shitty situation.
“You wanna fucking die ?” his buddy snarls out, getting into Reeve’s unaffected face. “Faggots don’t belong in this world. How the hell are you supposed to have my back when you’re checking out my ass?”
“There’s nothing to look at. Trust me.” The guy moves then, but Reeve’s gun shows up aimed at his groin. “You gotta fucking problem with me? Take it up with Wildes. You don’t wanna follow orders, I’ll watch you bleed out and fuck her on top of your dying body.” His tone drops another octave. “Get the hell away from me.”
Greevy’s nostrils flare, but he follows Reeve’s orders, and I’m left just staring at the mellowed-out guy who wanted five minutes of time and my phone number once upon a time.
“You’re not getting that dope back,” Reeve mutters as if something just crossed his mind. “But I got the money, and shut the fuck up because I know you’re not a charity case. You’re no piece of shit to me and I wanna help. Whoever’s drugs you’re running is gonna need the cash and you don’t got it. I got no problem with South Shore, baby, and I definitely don’t have a problem with you.”
I meet his hazel eyes and force my next question. “What are you gonna do?”
He takes a deep breath—which automatically doesn’t look good—and says, “I gotta either beat you, baby, or fuck you. And don’t get me wrong…” The gun in his hands comes right back up to my face and against my mouth. “I really wanna fuck you.”