21. Bay
TWENTY-ONE
bay
“That reign of yours didn’t last that long, did it?” Muncy drops a box of donuts on his desk with an unforgiving thud and rounds his desk to his chair. “Queen of South Shore. How long have you been waiting for that?”
I really don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but he’s been driving me fucking crazy since he half-ass arrested me and brought me to his domain of jail cells and stale air.
A squad of motorcycles followed us here—The Nameless—and even behind bars, I still feel safe.
Muncy can taunt me all he wants with his threats and small talk. I’m here to buy some time for the boys to get me out.
He steals a glance at me when I don’t answer him because I never said I was queen of anything. But I’m not entirely sure if Juice and Hot Rod have put the title out just to scare Muncy or if it’s going to become a thing.
Again, don’t want it, never have, but I don’t believe I’m privy to all the dealings Hot Rod, Juice, and Levi have conjured up in their heads.
Regardless, I’m not saying shit until I’m supposed to.
“Obviously, you’re not fit for the job,” Muncy continues, cracking open the box of donuts. “Sending a murder pic to your ex just for shits and giggles? Stupid-ass move, if you ask me.”
No one asked him. But that’s not going to stop this prick from talking.
He has no one holed up in this jail but me, and I can’t imagine how bored he must get when that happens. I wouldn’t put it past him to sit here and stroke his dick to porn all day.
The idea makes my stomach turn.
“Looks like South Shore’s little gang is starting to crumble like I knew it would. It was only a matter of time before you all started fucking up.”
Blowing out an exhale, I ignore his trudged-up fantasies and begin pacing the small cell because fuck me, don’t give me a prison sentence. Just stick me in a room with Muncy for the rest of my life. That’s torture enough.
“Did you and that blonde bitch fight over Wallace?” he asks, as if genuinely curious. “Was that why you shot her?”
I roll my eyes and continue walking back and forth like a trapped spider under a plastic cup.
“Hot Rod and Juice are on their way down the same trail,” he comments. “It ain’t gonna work out for them.”
Whatever.
“Your daddy would be awfully disappointed in you for causin’ all this ruckus.” He’s shaking his head as I crane my head over to glower at him. A jelly donut with powdered sugar on its way to his big-ass mouth. “It’s a shame what’s gonna happen to your two sisters. Probably end up in foster care.”
Dumbass.
That would never happen.
Hot Rod and Juice would make sure everything is handled. Levi would swoop them up. This shithead doesn’t know anything about how we just fooled everyone into believing the head—Levi—is gone.
“I can’t say I’m upset about Wallace’s death. In fact, I don’t think I’m going to be able to solve the case.” I hear him tsk. “Gangbangers and all that. No witnesses.” Not him trying at all, he means. What a waste of taxpayer money. “It’ll more than likely turn into a cold case.”
Is there anyone else here who can monitor me besides this fuck?
“Things are finally going to get settled in this town,” he continues. “Peace and order.”
And less work for him to have to do. Not that he does much.
“I’m up for reelection soon. I mean, I do have the popular vote.”
This time I scoff aloud because he does not have the popular anything. He’s on Emilio’s payroll, and I wouldn’t put it past either of them to rig the elections.
“ What ?” Muncy clips back. “You don’t think I have it?”
“I know you don’t have it,” I deadpan, unable to keep myself quiet any longer.
“You don’t know shit , you little South Shore slut. You think because you tag along with these assholes you mean something? Spreading your legs doesn’t constitute as being someone. You’re nothing without them.”
Maybe so.
But I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.
I’m proud to be South Shore. I’m proud to call Roger my father. I’m proud of Levi and everything I have in my life.
Muncy seems to get flustered because he doesn’t speak anymore—to my utter relief. I continue pacing my jail cell, wondering how I’m going to get out of here and what Ellie and Mae are going to think. How this really isn’t the best time to have gotten arrested, but my anger and actions led me here, so I have no one to blame but myself.
And Nessa, let’s be real here. I wouldn’t have shot the bitch if she didn’t flip, and I can’t believe I didn’t see that one coming. I truly thought it was because she didn’t want to stay behind without us, not because she wanted to ride Levi’s cock all night.
The idea pisses me off again.
Her on his arm, the way she’d want him all to herself, the way she’d chime in during our phone conversations or wanting to go out of town on vacation with just the two of them.
I’m aware enough to admit I’m hella selfish when it comes to Levi. I’ve had him with me for way too long, and I’ve grown accustomed to being his number-one female of all time. Even when he was fucking and doing whatever else on the side.
I didn’t know the rest of them. He didn’t bring them around.
It was good enough for me.
However, now with the thought in my head, it can’t happen again. This crazy-ass, weird possession I have over my best friend. Not only is it unhealthy for our friendship, but my over-the-top female starts to rear her ugly head because the concept of Levi bringing another woman into our lives is a no for me.
It’s a hell no, actually.
It’s entirely unfair when I had two guys I was screwing at the same time, and now Cairo. Plus I have a legal and real husband. Who the hell am I to say anything about what Levi does and who he does it with?
I don’t.
Regardless, I still fucking do it anyway.
Astor, get real.
Biting the inside of my lip, I need to come to grips with reality. Now that I have Levi back, he’s not going to take his life for granted again when he almost died on me. With my luck, some hot little number might come sliding up in his life and he may jump at the opportunity.
No.
No.
And no.
Something shifted between us. This wasn’t something to check off his to-do list.
“This is lookin’ familiar, Wildfire.”
And again… no .
Sweat begins to form at the back of my neck as my steps slow. The room blurs into whites and blacks, which wouldn’t be too much of a concern because that’s the color of the space, but it’s the name.
The softness of the undertone as it leaves his lips and knocks my whole world off its axis.
Slowly, I turn my head to the familiar voice and find the relaxed frame and man behind the bars caging me in.
Torin stares at me with impassive, tawny eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. Every hair on my body rises in warning, relief, and awe.
For a second, I forget everything that’s happened. He’s the man who chased me around when we were younger. The boy I wanted to be with because he would’ve treated me better than my current waste of time and space. The guy who would sneak into places he never should’ve been in just to steal a moment with me.
Torin promised safety and pretty things that made me feel beautiful and powerful. The person I began to trust before he tried to drown me in the Atlantic, knowing my fear of the water and lack of swimming skills.
Torin quickly double-crossed me with his ears covered and his emotions out of whack.
My face hardens, and we’re back. Two petty assholes who couldn’t be more different but alike.
“I thought you died,” I lie, crossing my arms along my chest to keep myself together because this is hard. It’s difficult to be myself around him because he knows me, and we’ve shared shit I haven’t given anyone else in a really long time.
And then I notice his dogs sitting faithfully next to him, Kona and Koda.
“And I heard that you asked about me once,” he replies flatly but doesn’t sound surprised.
I never said he was stupid.
And asking more than once would’ve meant it looked like I cared. Then I’d have Cairo asking me if I wanted to see him and that’d turn into a whole conversation I didn’t want to have. I learned through the subtle drops and random things I would hear Cairo say on the phone.
Pretty Boy was alive and well, that was enough.
Seeing him in the flesh, that’s more than what my brain can handle right now.
“What the hell are you doing here, Wildes?” Muncy suddenly carps out from the other side of the room, breaking through the slivers of anxiety coursing through my veins. “Visiting hours are?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Torin says with zero of the irritation or malice I’m used to when he’s challenged or argued with. He turns his head a bit, and I notice a white bandage at the back. I heard he was shot but not in the fuckin’ head. “I’ve come to bail her out.”
“ No ,” Muncy and I both say at the same time, to which dickhead tacks on, “She’s not going anywhere. She’s here on murder charges.”
“I agree,” I state a bit more softly than I’d like because he was shot in the head . No one told me that. “And you heard what the man said. Visiting hours are?—”
“The same answer applies to you, too,” Torin states, steering his focus back to me. “Get her out, Muncy. Daddy’s orders.”
Emilio.
Motherfuck. That means a visit, a thank you, and some more fake-ass bullshit is in order.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Muncy argues, the wheels on his chair alluding that he’s standing up. “And this isn’t some fuckin’ party either. You don’t waltz back here and talk to the prisoners.”
“Then lock the damn doors to this shithole. Call him.” Torin is too good at standing his ground and applying his lineage to any situation that suits him. “I’ll wait.”
“ Leave ,” I order. “I’m not going anywhere with you, anyway. You’re wasting your time.”
“We both know what I want is what I’m going to get when it comes to you, Wildfire. I’ll drag you out of here, kicking and screaming. I don’t give a fuck.”
I nod toward the German Shepherds. “Go walk your dogs.”
“Having a bit of a hard time,” he admits with a weak shrug. “But I’ll keep it in mind when I’m not limping around and taking a few shells for your boy.”
I’m not sure if anyone told him.
I’m sure they have.
However, Torin acts as though Levi’s death doesn’t mean a thing, and it pisses me off.
“You shouldn’t have,” I blurt out, even though I obviously don’t mean it. “That doesn’t mean we’re good.”
Defiantly, I walk over and plop my ass along one of the two steel benches against the wall and cross my legs.
Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Torin says simply. “I’d hate to disturb your me-time.”
“You already have.”
“As much as I’d love to watch, we need to handle some shit.”
“Save it,” I sneer, a bit of spit leaving my lips from how harshly the words escape them. “If you thought you were going to receive a warm welcome from me, you’ve got me fucked up.”
Torin’s countenance doesn’t flinch a bit. In fact, I need to remember who I’m working with here. We both might be piddling assholes who love having the last word, but we know how to play our cards right. We’re aware of what buttons to press, too, that would get the best reaction.
“And here I was, expecting you to come over and kiss my wounds better,” he coos evenly. “But I’ll admit, just seeing you again is enough.”
Near-death experiences.
They fuck you up.
The thoughts running through your head and the people barreling through are overwhelming and peaceful all in one go. I can remember them all while I was sinking deeper into the ocean. The fear was there, but there was an intense rush of love for the family I would leave behind that began to outweigh the rest.
“Sorry to disappoint.” I avert my gaze off him and to the chipped ivory paint on the wall. “You’re the last person I’d want to see here.”
“And I love that, Wildfire.”
His declaration stupefies me, prompting me to mindlessly glance over at him again and find he’s still wearing that chill demeanor of his.
Though, as infuriating as his presence is, I can’t help but be relieved he’s still amongst the land of the living. If anything, I’d be the one to end him, and I can’t. Don’t ever see myself doing it, either, if I’m being honest.
Pretty Boy still has a hold on me, which is the most fucked-up part about all this. Nessa set Levi up, and I blew her out of this world without a second thought, without any guilt residing in my head.
But this motherfucker still lives rent-free there, and I have one fuck that’s his.
“Cairo know you’re here?” I inquire with a quirked eyebrow.
Torin only bows his head before Muncy’s boots stomp heatedly against the tiled floors, hinting he didn’t get good news from Daddy Wildes.
“ Move ,” he clips out at Torin. His keys rattle angrily in the air as one enters the lock of my cell and turns with a pissed-off welcome. “Get the fuck out of my jail.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice.
If I don’t move out of here, Torin will make a scene. I’m not sure how much of one he’ll need to make with his injuries, but I don’t want to be away from Ellie and Mae for too much longer.
I also don’t want Levi to come out of hiding to get me out or start worrying himself to death.
Waltzing out of my cell, Muncy steps in front of me right as I’m about to pass. The softness of his belly presses into me, pushing my body into the bars.
“Don’t think…that because your daddy has some pull, I’m not going to get you one day,” he warns through his yellow-stained teeth. “I got you, girl.”
“You got a bullet,” Torin bawls with a sneer, stepping forward with a limp and glowering at Muncy. “Get. The fuck. Away. From her. Now .”
Muncy returns his scowl but doesn’t follow his angered command. “You’re next, Wildes. I’ve had enough of your little bitch-ass roaming around here.”
“And your fat ass is on borrowed time.”
He scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”
“I told you to get the fuck away from her,” Torin grinds out through clenched teeth. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Or what ?” Muncy challenges. “You aren’t shit?—”
Pretty Boy snaps his fingers, and both dogs growl in tandem, causing Muncy to finally recede and give me my space back.
Meanwhile, I’m out.
I’m practically halfway out the door when I hear Torin say something and the jiggling of collars commences, hinting the dogs are following an order he just gave out.
Kona and Koda pace out in front of me before both of their fuzzy asses plop down in front of the door.
Guarding it.
Bitch-ass.
“Torin,” I warn without looking back. “ Move them.”
“I will,” he replies easily from behind. “Let them do their job.”
“By blocking the door?”
“That’s what I asked them to do.” The mix of cedar and melons fills my nostrils, and he’s close.
So close my heart slows, not able to operate properly because of that one time. Those hearty threats I tossed as quickly as he threw them. Proving that Torin Wildes does not fuck around.
With anyone.
Even me.
Fingers lightly wrap around my bicep, twirling me around to face-off with him, and I don’t stop the prompt and spontaneous cock of my elbow as I slam a fist into his ribs.
To my utter displeasure—and I’m not going to lie, shock—Torin doesn’t let go of me. I don’t even hear a fucking grunt to appease my ego.
His jaw stretches, but his hold remains locked on mine. “I deserved that.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I jerk on my arm but to no avail. “But here you are, still manhandling me like you have a right.”
His free hand comes up to my face, running the pads of his fingertips along my cheek when his thumb catches my bottom lip and draws it downward. “I’ve waited for what feels like a fuckin’ eternity to see you again, Wildfire. Be pissed at me, you have that right. But whether you like the shit or not, you’re under my protection, and I’m alive. The latter is probably disappointing, I’m sure, but I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”
A mixture of dread and relief floods through my body, and it doesn’t make sense. I should want him dead. I should want this to all be over with him.
But I can’t bring myself to want either.
A life without Torin Wildes doesn’t compute. I might want to deck him every time I see him, but he exudes immortality. One of us doesn’t make sense without the other. And I know all too well how stubborn Pretty Boy is. How fate doesn’t apply to him.
“I’d love to say how proud I am of you, Wildfire,” he mumbles softly. “But you’ve been a bad girl since I’ve been gone.”
“Feel free to leave again and forget about it.”
“We both know I won’t forget about you. I own you.” I pull back on my limb again, but Torin’s grip tightens, and so do his eyes. “And you know that shit, too, don’t you, Wildfire? It pisses you off.”
“You don’t own shit. And at least I can move and not get shot.”
He smirks at me. “You’re welcome.”
“And he’s dead ,” I spit out, because I, Bay Astor, the daughter of Roger Astor, have a fucking Academy Award-winning role to play, and I need to win this damn thing.
Torin frowns.
“Anything else?” I press haughtily. “Or are we finally done here?”
“Almost,” Torin mutters. “We have a long-awaited visit with Emilio scheduled.”
“When?”
“Now.” Of course, we fucking do. “Get your ass in the car, and let’s get this shit over with.”
I’m released in the next second, which prompts me to move toward the exit.
Torin says something, and the dogs move, allowing me through the door and out into the night air.
I don’t know what time it is, but I’m ready for this to be over. Apparently, Emilio wants a pat on the back and a job well done for getting me out of jail.
He can have it.
Anything else to do with the rest of the Wildes can suck my dick.