Chapter 6
Scarlett
I wake up snuggling Widow.
Snuggling him.
What the hell happened last night? I mean, I know what happened, but eww. That was…that was fucking disgusting. Well, not fucking disgusting because it definitely wasn’t fucking. Something like… I literally can’t make my brain say lovemaking.
I push his arm off of me and sit up, groaning. Feels like I have a hangover or something.
“What?” Widow mumbles as I search around my nightstand for my phone.
I’m up thirty minutes before the alarm. It’s Friday, but we’re skipping school.
Gee, um, a stupid Prescott High class that I’m already acing anyway?
Or heading up to P-Trip to meet a dude from Hollywood? Might be a pervert, might be legit.
Guess we’ll see.
I shoot off a super quick text.
“You. Me. Last night.” I sit back with a shrug and a sigh, holding my phone in my lap. Alexis never came back last night. If she had, Widow would’ve told me. I slept well, goddamn it. “It’s a lot.”
“Is it?” He sits up and stirs his hair with his fingers, frowning.
“Why do you say that? We’re in love. Where did you think we were gonna go with this?
” He snorts at me, like I am the ridiculous one.
“Obviously our relationship was going to get more tender over time. Did you hear a single word I’ve ever said to you? ”
“Jesus Christ, what have I unleashed?” I slither out of bed and away from him before he can touch me. All that does is make the bastard smirk and shake his head, frowning again as he seems to realize how much hair is in his face.
“Who’s the best barber in Prescott?” he asks randomly, and I give him a dark look. I’m over here obsessing about last night, and he’s asking about barbers?
“Uhh, Treasure’s fuckboy. Can’t remember his name.
Everyone just calls him that guy that Treasure fucks.
” I reach my own hand out and ruffle up Widow’s hair a little.
He gives me a look that’s a little too soft for my liking.
He’s super into me, isn’t he? Stupid fuckboys.
How did I let this happen? I love him, too, but I have to make sure I say it to Bohnes first. “Why? You gonna cut all that pretty hair off?”
“Maybe.” He drops his hands, but he leaves mine where it is.
I snatch it back as he smirks at me, those eyes of his like a pair of yellow moons.
Shit. “Would you like that? Not that I think you could get any wetter for me. Look what we’ve done to this bed.
” He sits up and points at the massive wet spot with his finger.
Ugh.
“I have P-Trip today, you fucker.” I hit him in the shoulder, and he frowns at me. “Stop trying to throw me off my game. The mayor could send another battalion of cheap muscle at us and we’re toast. We’re a talented crew of freaks, but we’re only human. Sometimes numbers do matter.”
“You think I can’t flirt with you and watch out for the mayor at the same time?
” He laughs like the cocky bastard he is and stands up, shaking his head.
He’s not wearing pants. I look away and search quickly for my own clothes.
As soon as I pick the shirt up, I can smell it.
Him. I can smell him. Bohnes. I spin around just in time to see him step out of the closet, a single pale hand sliding over my mouth to stifle any possible scream. Not that there was gonna be one.
Nightmare.
My heart is pounding as he releases me, and I resist the urge to throw my arms around his waist. He was the person I texted as soon as my eyes flicked open. My words read: I made love with Widow last night, and it’s awkward. Come quick. I see that my text message was a triumph.
Bohnes was summoned successfully.
“You sure came fast,” I mumble, letting the huge tee slide over my head. The black billowing fabric falls to cover my body just before Bohnes leans down and puts his mouth near my ear, cupping my ass with his right hand.
“A phrase the likes of which you’ve never said before now.
” He flashes those sharp teeth of his. “At least…not to me.” He looks pointedly at Widow and is promptly ignored.
“Did you miss me, my adorable little epitaph? Just admit it. Don’t hold back.
” Bohnes spanks my ass before squeezing it again.
I notice that the shirt I’m now wearing reads Sick in the Head.
My mouth twitches. Think he left it here the day before yesterday or something. I’m proud to be wearing it.
“Get your fucking hand off me before I break it,” I growl at him, and he immediately complies. That makes me suspicious. He’s up to something. Widow, too. They’ve got their own secrets for sure. “Coffee?”
“Black, like my—” he begins, and I wave my hand absently.
“Black, like your heart. I know. And Widow is a proper Prescott brat, so I’m sure he has no problem drinking whatever’s available.
” I laugh at that and point at him, winking in time with my words.
Like nothing is wrong. Like life is still easy for me.
Pretend long enough at something and become an expert at it.
“My coffee’s better than most though, don’t lie. Better than Wesley’s even.”
“Put some underwear on,” Bohnes snaps near my ear, skirting around me to stand in front of Widow.
Mr. Lawless has jeans on now, and he’s not freaking out about my Nightmare’s presence.
I’d rather these idiots keep secrets from me than fight with each other.
If this crap bonds them, by all means. Men are so easily amused.
I smile softly and yank on a pair of sweatpants. The underwear is going to be a no then. I won’t be told what to do.
“Your other fuckboy is downstairs,” Bohnes says absently, like he just now remembered leaving the son of the Russian mob in my living room. “And that extra one, I’ll see its head on a pike.”
My blood is molten as I scowl at Bohnes.
“Win that race, bitch, and we’ll see.” I walk right up to him and grab him by the front of his shirt. It says The Lurking Class on the front of it. Hah. Funny.
“I can tell you were hanging out with Adrian last night, calling me bitch like that.” Bohnes puts his inked hand on the back of my neck and leans down, looking me dead in the eyes. “Lovemaking, huh? Are you trying to punish me for my hard stance on Ash Kelly?”
“Your only flaw is that you think you own me, Kellin. Otherwise, you’re literally perfect.
You know that, don’t you?” I pat his cheek lovingly, and he grabs my ass again, diving his hands right into my sweatpants to hold my bare cheeks.
I’m crushed into his chest, wrapped up in the smell of burnt sugar and cloves.
My safe space. “Basti and Nisha will be here any minute. Let go of me.”
He resists my order because he just can’t fuckin’ help himself.
“Not everything is about you,” Widow tells him, dragging a t-shirt on like it’s painful.
Maybe it is? His neck and shoulders are covered in bite marks and hickeys.
I bruised him up pretty good last night.
“We made love because that’s where we’re at as a couple.
Don’t pretend you two haven’t already done it.
” Widow shudders like the very thought of me and Bohnes being tender together disturbs him.
Can’t say I blame him. We’re like worshipping bats.
“We could stop talking about this. It’s P-Trip day, Adrian.” I roll my eyes, dragging Bohnes’ hands out of my pants and pushing them back in his direction. He pretends to lick one palm, like he’s wounded. I refuse to smile. “Kellin, it’s P-Trip day.”
“Which means it’s like nothing to you?” Widow asks, lifting a dark brow.
He looks sooo cocky this morning. What have I done?
I almost throw up. Feelings, I don’t do those well.
I have emotional intimacy issues for sure.
“If I were you, I’d be stressing about tomorrow night. Who gives a fuck about today?”
“For the record, Burt Cramer is a plant for either the mayor or the mob. This is a mistake.” Bohnes smiles, and it’s all teeth.
He has a lot of extra eye shadow on today.
Smudges under his eyes. A black beanie. Somebody plans to go creeping later.
“But it’s nothing I can’t handle, so go on.
Indulge yourself.” He waves two hands magnanimously at me, like he’s giving permission.
Widow has this look of grudging approval on his face, like he agrees with Bohnes.
My bedroom door opens with an imperious slam and there’s Alexei, wearing a bright red hoodie with black and white striped drawstrings.
Black joggers with devil horns on either side of his hips.
Red boots with black laces and lockpick aglets.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, pushing his fingertips back against it until it snicks shut.
Alexei’s ironclad attention slams into me, like a pair of his poisoned needles being inserted into my eyes.
He plays with the fingertip of a black latex glove, snapping it dangerously.
He is absolutely feral this morning. The expression on his face reminds me of Halloween night, when he shot Ernest Bolin’s son in the head without a second thought.
There’s a finely honed possession in Alexei’s stare, the sense that he’s never been told no and, even if he was, that it wouldn’t matter because he’s always gotten what he wants anyway.
Rich. Connected. Loved, most of all. I’m choking on the intensity, wondering if he’s going to come over here and put his hands all over me like he did at the safe house.
“Is it okay for you to be here?” I wonder aloud, thinking, of course, about my snake of a sister. “Aren’t you a wanted man, Marie?”
Alexei peers out at me from behind his black face mask, using his fingers to pull it down so that I can see his mouth. I’m starting to think he does that on purpose, like he knows how pink and perfect his lips are. The lips of a wealthy sophisticate. He smiles at me and it’s very sharp.