Chapter 11 #2
“Like I said, give me a cigarette and I’ll leave,” Alexis continues, circling the living room, so that she’s out of reach of Patricia, Widow, and, most especially, me. Her smile is hideous.
This isn’t her surrendering. She’s gearing up for something worse.
I turn and grab Widow by the shoulders, rising on my tiptoes to press my mouth against his. Hard. Fast. A period at the end of a silent sentence: let’s GTFO, baby.
My head is spinning, the edges of my mouth glimmering with the taste of sex I just licked off Widow’s mouth. The touch of him calms me down, especially when he lays two heavy hands on my hips. Protective. I’m okay with that in the way I’m okay with a dog being protective of me.
All he needs to do—all any of these boys needs to do—is obey me. I give treats, don’t I?
We’ll go to the safe house or something for the night and put space between me and my sister.
I can kill Alexis. Ash would forgive me for breaking track rules. But if I do that, especially in front of my grandma, I’ll be giving up all my dreams and condemning myself and my crew to live a Prescott lifestyle.
I don’t want that, but it seems that Alexis does.
She’s just come unraveled and she’s not about to wind all of that rage back up.
“Why?” she jeers, maintaining the distance between her and me which I’m sure isn’t by accident. She might be brave or stupid (this bitch’s money is on stupid), but she’s got that Prescott instinct in her yet. “So you can scheme ways to keep Ash Kelly’s identity secret?”
Her brown eyes blaze with the twin fires of resentment and envy, and she’s squeezing her hands into such tight fists that blood dribbles down her knuckles and onto the floor.
Hot damn.
All this time I’ve spent loving and pitying my sister, driving her to the mall, watching horror movies with her, listening to KMZI 66.6 because of her. And she’s been using that time to spy on me.
“Alexis.” That’s me, that demonic hiss crafted of shadows and sass. “Stop. Now. This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Self-defense doesn’t count as breakin’ track rules, ya know?”
She laughs, her thin veil of civility unspooling, tangling up with blind envy. Our poor grandmother doesn’t seem to know what to do, faced with her only surviving grandchildren—both of whom are clearly deranged.
“What’s the matter, Scarlett?” Alexis asks, crossing her arms and smearing the blood from her palms over her skin.
“Where’s that reputation of yours? From what I can see, you have your fuckboys taking care of all your business.
” She scoffs at me. “Maybe you’re just afraid to show your teeth in front of Gram? ”
“Alexis, I want you to leave for the night.” My grandmother is dead serious, moving over to the coat closet near the door. She withdraws a loaded shotgun and turns back around to face us all. “Scarlett, please escort your friend off the premises.”
“Don’t have to tell us twice.” I turn to the door. This isn’t over. How can it be when Alexis knows that Aspen is really Ash? How the fuck does she know about Ash? Was it what I said to her tonight? She’s going to get us all killed at this rate.
“I know you killed Aspen,” Alexis calls out, the words rotting my toes and fingers with frostbite. That’s how cold she is. She’s seriously trying to poison Gram’s view of me? How scummy is that? I should do Alexis one better and tell Gram the truth about her.
I’ve got a long fuse, but when it burns down… My patience candle is a goddamn stub after tonight’s extensive tom-fuckery.
“Keep walking,” Widow growls in a weakening attempt to hold down both our tempers. He takes a hold of my shoulders, his grip tightening to the point of pain.
I open the front door.
My self-control has never been so complete.
The leader of the Crimson Crew can build a web like a spider and wait. I can be patient, a creepy little something crouching. That’s the key to success: refusing to act irrationally.
“Get your ass back here, you fucking coward!” Alexis calls out, but if I stay here for a single second longer, I’ll shatter and fucking stab-stab-stab her in the neck.
“I want you out of my house.” Patricia is also losing her temper with my sister. “Alexis, now.”
The thud is what draws both Widow and me back around.
Alexis shoves my sweet Gram against the wall, knocking her to the floor, and then she picks up the shotgun.
“Listen up, you psycho cunt,” I shout back at her, yanking myself away from Widow and crossing the room to stand behind the sofa.
I don’t get any closer because Alexis is holding the shotgun on me.
I also don’t need Widow to be standing right next to me in case she decides to pull the trigger.
“You kill me and you’ll be sorry. Bohnes will dismember you while you’re still alive and make you eat the parts.
” I’m threatening her when I should be placating her, but hey, simpering has never been my strong suit.
When I glance over my shoulder, I see that Widow is conspicuously absent from the doorway.
Ah. Bet he’s heading for the back door, so he can get the jump on Alexis from the other side.
That’s how deep our connection is, this visceral, grisly thing born of desperation and poverty and violence. He and I, we’re both shards of Prescott. If I were him, I’d expect me to keep Alexis distracted until backup arrived.
Not getting shot would be nice, too.
“You can’t shove me aside and discard me like a broken toy.” Alexis is staring at the floor, her hands tense around the weapon. She looks up at me, black eyes shiny and feverish. “I know what you’ve done, all the horrible things you’ve done.”
“I didn’t kill Lemon, if that’s what you’re on about.
” I know I shouldn’t let that accusation get to me, but it does.
It does because it feels true. My incompetence cost my friend her life.
I park my hands on my hips, shift my sultry lips into a silky smile, lift a mocking brow.
“You’ve been gobbling up the mayor’s propaganda along with his dick, eh?
You’re dumber than I thought, and I’ll be fair: I never thought you were smart. ”
My gaze shifts to Patricia, groaning on the floor and holding her head.
Fear strikes me like lightning, but I know logically that she’ll be okay.
Sure, she’s getting up there, but she’s a tough broad.
A fall like that isn’t going to kill her.
I want to help her up, but I get the feeling that if I move toward her, Alexis is going to point the gun right at me.
As of now, the barrel is aimed at the floor.
“Not just Lemon. Aspen, too.” Lexi peers at me with a narrowed gaze, and my stomach roils.
“You killed him, and you put Ash Kelly in his place.” She smiles, and it’s grotesque.
“Not that it matters. Ash is better anyway. He understands me. There was no right twin for you, just two wrongs. Who’s the dumb fuck now, Scarlett? ”
She cocks the shotgun, and my blood runs cold.
For just the tiniest fraction of a second there, I wonder if I am wrong about Ash. If I let those faerie-eyes of his distract me from the cold, hard truth.
“Alexis.” It’s Patricia again, hand on the wall as she struggles to stand. She turns to her granddaughter, face impassive and unafraid. “Put the gun down, honey. You were raised better than this.”
Um, so where is Widow? He should be here by now. Watchin’ my six, right? Where could he have possibly gone after seeing a gun pulled on me? That shit would’ve triggered him. He’d only have backed away in order to help—
Danger. The sound of a car outside. Quick footsteps.
A strange prickle teases the back of my neck, and I turn on instinct, snatching the edge of the front door and throwing it shut as hard as I can. A pale hand catches it the same way it caught the edge of the Chevelle’s trunk once upon a time.
Ash.