Chapter 46
Scarlett
I’m so discombobulated by fucking everything that all the arrival of Burt does is make me laugh.
Accepting a hand from Bohnes, I rise to my feet beside a quaking and bloody (and probably still very much in need of medical care) Ash.
Widow and Alexei help one another up, so that we’re all standing and facing that beautiful old car together.
Trusting Bohnes to keep Ash steady, and Widow and Alexei to keep each other steady, I lead the way up the hill to the edge of the road. My reptile brain is still locked-on. If it weren’t, I’d be a melted love puddle in front of these boys. Ash is safe. They’re all safe. I stabbed Jonas’ eyes out.
Burt and his weird, lurking driver are waiting there for us. Above Burt’s head, the driver holds another of those sinister black umbrellas that I saw at the reception, presumably to protect him from the sun.
“Well, kids,” Burt says, an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth, brown eyes raking us from head to toe. “Didn’t think you’d be able to keep the mayor’s spawn alive. Kudos.”
“So, uh, we’re solid, yeah?” I ask, repeatedly flicking my eyes back to the boys—especially Ash—to reassure myself that they’re all okay.
Not sayin’ we’re out of the woods yet. There’s a lot of trauma to unpack.
When we get home, after the med team checks Ash out, and we’re all alone in our room together, I’ll probably cry.
Nah. I will cry, for real. Sobs. Weeping. Snot. All that good stuff.
“Deal’s a deal, Mrs. Borisov.” Burt reaches into his pocket and pulls out a leather portfolio, handing it over to me.
At a nod of his chin, his driver extends a meaty hand with the Vega’s keys sitting in his palm.
With two shaky hands of my own, I accept both items. The keys I hand absently over to one fuckboy or another.
Inside the portfolio, there’s a treasure trove of dreams, freedom, and reward that at this point means absolutely nothing to me.
It was never really about the money or the stardom or the cars.
It was never even really about the adrenaline.
It’s about love and belonging, friendship and family.
I understand that now.
The first item inside the portfolio is the title for the ‘59 Facel Vega Excellence. Underneath that, there’s a contract from Tricked Out Talent.
I’m not given time to read it. I’m not asked if I want to change my mind.
Instead, Burt reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a pen that’s worth four-figures, easy.
Flipping to the final page of the contract, I sign my name in blood and seal the deal.
Scarlett Motherfucking Force.
Lights, camera, action.
One copy of the contract stays with me and the other is handed back to Burt, all while we stand on the side of the road in the middle of the countryside in Marcola.
Cows call out from their nearby pasture.
The river burbles merrily, unaware that it nearly swallowed my boys—and my heart and soul along with them.
Overhead, a falcon circles in its search for prey.
Ash coughs again, jerking my attention forcefully back to him. He’s bleeding everywhere, and that scar… He lost his fucking kidney today and then nearly drowned. Before all that, he was assaulted and tortured and threatened by his own father. We need to be done here. We need to leave.
I. Am. Finished.
Lastly, in the very back of the portfolio, there’s a death certificate with Aspen Borisov’s name on it. Yeah. Borisov. Burt legally changed the name of the only ‘living’ Kelly twin before this was ever issued. Now, in death, Aspen belongs to the mob. Righteous.
Ash doesn’t have to be Kelly or Borisov or even Force. All he needs to be is Ash. Just Ash.
I look up and find Burt staring back at me with, if not sympathy, then at least a mutual understanding.
“Jonas had his son declared dead at the hospital. Figured I’d save you the trouble and bring the certificate myself.
Remember our deal, kiddos. Live like you’re dead, Kelly.
” Burt points at me, deadly serious. “And pay your tithes.” He turns to his nephew with a sideways smirk. “See you at the office on Monday, son.”
Just then, a parade of police vehicles pulls up alongside us. Nobody gets out. Their lights are on, but there are no sirens.
Burt walks over to the back of one of the SUVs and waits for his driver to open the door. When he does, we’re all treated to the sight of Jonas Kelly, bandaged and handcuffed, slumped against the door on the opposite side.
“May I have a quick word with my father?” Ash asks, his voice scratchy but not weak. Wounded, but not lost. Burt shrugs a single shoulder, leaving space for Ash to put one knee up on the seat. In a voice too low for me to hear, Ash says something to Jonas that makes the blind man stiffen up.
In a louder voice, the most perfect goodbye ever invented, one that implies a permanent separation. Ash told me before that its literal meaning is if it is to be that way. Today, in a voice that’s full of hard-won triumph, Ash drags out each syllable with purpose.
“Sayonara.” Ash moves away from the SUV, and I loop an arm around him, unwilling to let him go for even a second. If he thought I was psychotic and obsessed before, he hasn’t seen shit yet.
Jonas doesn’t say a word, a bandage wrapped around his head, his lips pressed into a flat line.
Whatever happened to him between the HDLC office and now, it must’ve made quite the impression on him.
“See you around, kids.” Burt climbs into the back of the SUV next to Jonas. His driver joins him, dragging the door shut behind them, and off they go.
We’re left behind with the Vega, the Bugatti, and the Chevelle.
Tucking the leather portfolio under my arm, I walk Ash over to my new car and encourage him to crawl into the backseat.
Bohnes kisses me on the lips before heading over to the Chevelle.
Widow does the same before claiming his rightful place in the Bugatti.
For Alexei, he gets the honor of driving the newest shiny toy in my big ol’ garage of pretty, shiny toys.
“Come on, Doki-Doki Boy,” I whisper to Ash as I slide onto the seat beside him and Alexei closes the suicide doors for us. My hand presses against the cool skin of my lover’s cheek as his dark eyes stare into mine. “Let’s go home.”
If I said we both weren’t crying on the drive back, that’d be a lie.
But you wouldn’t tell, would ya, friend?
In Prescott, snitches get stitches and end up in ditches.
The world is cruel and dark. It’s also full of love and beauty.
Refuse to be normal, to be complacent. Surround yourself with good people who know the meaning of love and trust and honor, of integrity and genuineness.
It’s worth it, to suffer through this life of unknowns, deceit, and lies.
They’ll try to take that from you, all those slithering, silver-tongued liars out there.
Hold strong to your integrity. Tell your story. Listen to other people’s stories. Question everything.
Nobody will ever know the truth about Scarlett Force, the woman. They’ll only know the tales about the Legend.
Only you and I, dear reader, will ever know.
I warned you not to read my story, but you did anyway. I hope you understand why I tried so hard to scare you off in the beginning: love and truth are not for the faint of heart. These special moments with the people I cherish, that I care about, all my soft, weak vulnerability, I’ll let you look.
Just this once.