38. Beau
38
BEAU
The box of donuts sits on the passenger seat, a sugary little surprise I picked up while waiting for my girl to get home. She left the roadside motel about an hour ago. It was a small, cabin-style place forty-five minutes outside Arbor Heights, where the third Gauntlet race was held.
It was a test of acceleration—one of those zero-to-sixty benchmarks. Arbor Heights is all high hills and bluffs, making it the perfect place for a quarter-mile downhill drag race for the twenty drivers left in the Gauntlet.
I damn near had a heart attack when some Camaro fuck tried to edge Peach off the road last night. So I did what any man would do when his woman was threatened: I edged him off the road instead. He’s definitely one of the ten not advancing to the semifinals.
I’m not sure if I should feel some kind of remorse about it, but my tolerance for motherfuckers is at an all-time low. The Gauntlet brings that out in me.
So when I see Seven Pines Garage on my way to surprise Peach at her house, my foot hovers over the brake. Last night’s race flashes through my mind, the Camaro’s swerve burned into my brain. Word on the street is that the driver, Trent Wallis, is Seven Pines.
It begs the question: What does Seven Pines gain by knocking Peach out of the Gauntlet?
I don’t have the answer to that yet, but Nate Thomas will. Seven Pines has their fingers in a lot of pies, and none of them are clean.
Fuck, I don’t even know how deep my girl is embedded in Seven Pines, but that’s a conversation for another day.
And if Thomas happens to get the message that Eloise is mine now, then two birds, one stone. I saw the way he looked at her in Echo Ridge. And I fucking get it.
She’s a goddamn vision, too good for me, for sure. But now that I have her, I’ll never let her go.
I pull into Seven Pines Garage, parking in one of the available spaces. My truck looks too shiny, too new parked next to a half-stack of rusted out heaps of metal.
I’ve learned a long time ago not to judge a book by its cover. Though I can admit that I’ve already judged him before I even pulled up. But that has nothing to do with this garage and everything to do with a certain peach-haired goddess.
The building itself is a sagging rectangle, paint peeling from its weather-beaten walls. A couple of guys in greasy coveralls mill around, eyeing the Hellcat as I park.
I cut the engine, leaving the donuts behind, and step out. The air smells like oil and bad impulses, but I push past it. I’m not here for Nate’s bullshit—just answers. If Seven Pines has someone playing dirty in the Gauntlet, that’s information I need to know.
Inside, the garage is dim and cluttered, classic rock music blaring into the air from the four open garage bays. Three figures huddle over the opened hood of the only car, heads bent low, and a pair of legs sticking out from underneath it.
I stop next to the feet and rap my knuckles on the wall. I know better than to surprise a man when he’s underneath a car like that. That’s how accidents happen. And when I bloody this asshole today, it’s going to be on purpose.
A dark-haired guy pops his head out from underneath the hood of a truck. He tips his chin up and says, “Drop the keys in the office.”
“Nate Thomas here?”
“Nah, check the office,” he calls over his shoulder as he continues working.
I tip my chin in acknowledgment and walk outside toward the glass door in the corner of the building. I push open the office door, the hinges creaking in protest. The smell of stale cigarettes assaults my nose as I step inside the cramped space. An ancient metal desk sits in the corner, littered with greasy invoices and empty beer bottles.
A man sits behind the desk, back to me and boots propped up on the desk. “Keys go outside,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Lookin’ for Nate. He around?”
“Who’s askin’?” The man drops his boots to the concrete floor, slowly spinning around in his chair.
Levi fucking Walker. Owner of this garage and head of the Seven Pines Crew. I don’t think we’ve ever met, or if we have, it was unmemorable for me.
“You’re on the wrong side of town, Carter,” he says with a grin too feral to be polite.
My brows arch with surprise. Apparently, my reputation precedes me. Good. that should make this easier then.
“Where’s Thomas at?”
Levi shrugs and leans back, kicking up his boots to the desk once more. He drags a hand over his beard. It’s a patchwork of color with dark blond, gray, and reddish hues.
“Working, I suspect.”
I sigh internally. “I was just in the garage. He’s not there.”
Levi flashes a grin, somehow managing to make dimples look menacing. “Not that job, Carter.”
So, Seven Pines shit, then.
I turn to leave, but Levi’s next words make my blood run cold.
“I’m surprised, Carter. You run around the Alley like you’re the king, and you’re not even going to ask me about your girl?”
I freeze with my hand on the door handle, his words hitting me like a sucker punch. Slowly, I turn back to face him, my jaw clenched tight.
“What did you just say?” My voice is low, a dangerous edge to it I barely recognize.
Levi’s grin widens, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement. He leans forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped loosely in front of him. “Oh, you didn’t know? That pretty little thing you’ve been running around with lately? She’s mine .”
Something erupts inside of me at his claim, this insidious version of myself without all the social constraints.
Rage surges through my veins, hot and pulsing. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
“You’re mistaken,” I grind out through gritted teeth. “Eloise isn’t anyone’s property. Least of all yours.”
Levi barks out a harsh laugh, leaning back in his chair. “You really have no idea, do you? That girl’s been tangled up with Seven Pines long before you came sniffing around.”
My stomach twists, a sinking feeling settling in my gut. Pieces of a puzzle start to connect, which is fucking wild, considering I didn’t even realize there was a fucking puzzle.
I should have though.
I jumped headfirst into this thing with Eloise, and despite all the time we’ve spent together—all the secrets we’ve shared—I’m realizing now how much we’ve skipped over. Day-to-day stuff. The kind of details that ground a person in your life. It might’ve been a misstep, though never a mistake.
Can’t say I enjoy this feeling. Like the wind was knocked out of me.
Walker laughs, dragging a hand over his jaw. “Damn.”
I arch a brow, not finding the humor in any of this. “Something funny?”
He shakes his head, his gaze flicking over my shoulder for a second. “After all this time, you finally wander into my side of town, and this is what you say?”
“Yeah, I’m still not finding the humor in it, gotta say. Should I call the cops and explain you’re running an illegal operation out of this shitty garage?” His laughter fades into a cruel smirk. “Only if you want your little girlfriend to end up behind bars. And then what’s gonna happen to those sisters of hers, hm?”
I shrug, unfazed by his threat. “You’d be surprised what money can do in this town, Walker.”
He leans forward, bracing his palms flat on his desk. He bares his teeth a little when he says, “Oh, I know exactly what money can do. Son .”
The hair on the back of my neck prickles. “The fuck you just say to me?”
His mouth twists into a sinister smirk as he stands to his full height. “Ah, it all makes sense now.”
I fucking hate that I’m still standing here, but he’s got me, and he knows it. He strolls around the desk, stopping just in front of me, and gives me the most bullshit, condescending look I’ve ever seen.
“What’s that?” I grind out, my words scraping their way up my throat.
“You’re surrounded by cunts who keep you in the dar?—”
I don't let him finish that vile sentence. My fist connects with his jaw in a sickening crunch before the last syllable leaves his mouth. The force of the blow snaps his head to the side, spittle flying from his lips.
He braces himself on the desk, one hand cradling his jaw as laughter tumbles out of him like loose marbles. It bounces around the office, sharp and piercing.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Walker.”
He looks up at me, bent over and clutching his face, flashing me his bloody teeth. “There’s the Walker temper.”
My heart squeezes, a part of me shriveling at his words. I don’t know if it’s true. But I know I shouldn’t have had to find out from him. My parents should’ve been the ones to tell me.
And I won’t give this motherfucker the satisfaction of a reaction.
I lock down my emotions, shoving them into the dusty corners of my soul. Then I look at Walker with all the pity I can muster—turns out, it’s a lot. He flinches, his brutal laughter ringing hollow now.
“I’m a fucking Carter, Walker. Don’t forget it. Or I won’t be so nice next time.”
“This ain’t Rosewood, son. The Carter name doesn’t hold as much weight in Avalon Falls as you think it does.”
I ignore the sting in my knuckles as I pin him with a cold stare. His words about the Carter name echo in my head, but I refuse to let him see how they rattle me. Instead, I let a humorless smirk tug at my lips.
“You know, for someone who claims to run a crew, you sure are dumb as hell. A name doesn’t make a man—you, of all people, should know that better than anyone.”
Levi sneers, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. “You think I’m scared of you, pretty boy? You’re fucking wrong.”
I let out a short, harsh laugh. “I don’t give a fuck if you’re scared of me or not, Walker. But you should be scared for your boy, Trent Wallis.”
Levi’s eyes narrow, his sneer faltering for a split second before he schools his features back into a mask of arrogance. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I step closer, getting right in his face. “I’m talking about how your boy tried to run my girl off the road last night during the third Gauntlet race. And how I returned the favor and put him in a fucking ditch. Next time I see him, he’ll be lucky if he walks away, yeah?”
It’s maybe an exaggeration. I’m not committing to anything just yet. But if I find out Walker or Thomas had anything to do with Trent’s little stunt last night? I’ll make good on my threat.
Walker’s eyes flash with anger, but there’s something else there, too. Surprise, maybe. Or respect. He studies me for a long moment, jaw working as he chews on his words. But after a beat, he keeps them to himself.
I decide I’ve had my fill of Levi Walker for the day. Maybe for the rest of my life.
Taking a step back, I square my shoulders and pin him with a final, cold stare. “I don’t give a fuck what you do here, Walker. But Eloise Hawthorne is mine. Spread the word to your little crew: You fuck with her, you deal with me.”
I don’t wait for his response. I stride out of the dingy office, slamming the door behind me hard enough to rattle the glass. The anger still pulses through me, hot and demanding, urging me to turn back and finish what I started.
But I keep walking, my boots crunching on the gravel as I head back to my car.
I climb into the cab, gripping the steering wheel tight enough that my knuckles turn white. My heart pounds against my ribs, the fury storming inside me refusing to settle.
I’m not going to waste an opportunity to see my girl. And I sure as hell don’t want to bring all this baggage to her front door.
I’ve got five minutes to get my shit together before I see her.
Which is fine.
I only need four.