Chapter 11 #3
Scarlett, naturally, has looked over to see him. We’re anticipating being attacked at any given second. We’re all on edge, even if it doesn’t look like it to the outside eye. We’re professionals.
“I want to call in my favor,” he says, moving into the room and quickly closing the door behind him. With the security shades still down, it’s dark in here. Bohnes blends into it in a way that shouldn’t be possible with his sun-starved skin. It should glow, shouldn’t it?
He moves into the room in a way that promises me this: if he were to try to kill me, we would probably both die. Shit. I keep my faith in Scarlett and remain where I am, waiting.
I owe this guy. Track rules are…they’re everything. I understand it now.
Be a man, Widow. Take it like a man.
“Right this very second, huh? This is when you want to call in your track favor? Just say you were watching us and got jealous. Be honest.” Scarlett snorts, trying to sit up.
I won’t let her move. She pauses and looks at me, deciding she’s okay with it.
Stays where she is as Bohnes approaches the bed and sits down on the side of it.
He stares at me from inside the hood, so I can’t see his face. I know he’s looking at me though, the way an animal in the woods knows when it’s been spotted by something else. Who’s the bigger predator? Who’s the prey? Doesn’t matter now because we both belong to Scarlett.
“I was watching you and I got jealous,” Bohnes repeats, shrugging like he doesn’t care. Isn’t ashamed. “And since I have a favor to call in, why not now?”
“Just spit it out,” I say, feeling my skin get hot and tight. If I hadn’t just cum, I’d be a lot angrier. “What do you want?”
“Two things.” Bohnes holds up two fingers.
I think. My eyes are adjusting. Scarlett shifts under me, rubbing her body against my cock.
I nearly bite my own lip off. “The first one is: I want you to get up and leave this room. Immediately.” Creepy, coy smile in the dark. “Well, as soon as I’m done talking.”
My gaze fills with red, knocking out the shadows with this crimson haze. I almost scream. He’s…kicking me out? I’m trembling now. Scarlett feels it and takes control, putting pressure on my grip.
“Let me up,” she commands, and her voice is so sharp that it cuts straight through to me.
I let her go and sit back, forcing myself to calm down. I’ve been practicing patience for years. I can do this. I broke track rules to have Scarlett, and it was worth it. What do you want, you goddamn phantom?
“And the second part is: during those weeks you’re able to fuck Scarlett without birth control, I want to fuck her as well.” Bohnes’ voice is cold there, a final decisive blow against me. I feel it in my skeleton.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Scarlett laughs, making his proposition sound ridiculous.
She tosses her hair, wearing his sweatshirt and my cum in another man’s bed with clothes that will be washed by yet another guy.
Ash has been doing laundry for everybody (with a bit of help from Alexei).
“Now I’m supposed to have two kids instead of just one? Screw that.”
“No, no,” Bohnes corrects, flashing his teeth. He’s just bumped the light on his phone, casting an eerie glow on his face from below. He shifts and the light goes off. “Just one. Best sperm wins.”
I’m up and off the bed now. If I don’t move, I’m going to—
Keep it together, Adrian. Keep it together. I turn and throw my fist at the wall. That’s it. Just a few dozen rapid punches, like I did in the woods the other day. A release of all the violent energy I can feel coiling up in me. I want to charge at Bohnes, put him in his place.
I won’t though.
I won’t.
I stop, panting, staring at a cloud of drywall dust. Turning back to the other two, I see that Scarlett’s hit the button to open the shades. Crappy winter sunlight steals across the room, lighting up the blood I have all over my knuckles. I’m going to scar them if I keep doing that.
“Do you think that’s fair, Widow?” Scarlett asks calmly, sitting up in that bed like a queen.
She’s tossed the dirty sweatshirt and has the sheets pulled up to cover her breasts.
Wet. Waiting for my tongue. I have to walk out of this room to pay Bohnes back.
That’s reasonable. It’s reasonable, and I hate it.
I should race him again and see if I can win next time. I think I could now. I’ve learned a lot from Scarlett.
“I…yeah. It’s fair.” I want to hit the wall again, but I don’t. I’m going to walk out of this room and close the door behind me. That’s it. I have to do that. I have to.
“No, it’s not.” Scarlett sighs, reaching out a hand to Bohnes as he goes tense. “What’s right is this: if Widow and I have a child, then I’ll also have a child with you. I’d really rather not have any children at all, but I’ll let you make the final decision on that. I trust your judgment.”
“You trust my judgment?” Bohnes repeats, and it’s like a prayer or something. “You’re guilt-tripping me into not accepting this deal.” He smiles again, and it’s sharp. “Well, I do accept. If Widow gives you a child then I absolutely will. So. I trust his judgment.”
The room goes dead-silent.
Now, the three of us are having a moment. It’s weird because Bohnes is not my romantic partner in any way. I don’t want to fuck him. I definitely don’t want him to fuck me. But I can coexist with him.
“Yeah. I’ll make the final decision on whether we have children or not.
All of us. It’s my decision.” I turn and walk out of that room as quickly as I can, closing the door behind me.
I can’t breathe, I think, staring at the ground.
Focused on my feet. I’m still wearing my boots. My dick is out though.
If I have a child with Scarlett, so will Bohnes. If I don’t, then he won’t.
I fix my pants, pacing the hall and trying to convince myself not to punch another wall. If this is my house and I really do live here, then I’m not living a life where I leave unpatched holes in the wall. My father did that. I fucking hate that. I won’t do that.
I’m going to have to learn how to fix it myself—and also install a punching bag, if this insane house doesn’t already have one.
I go downstairs in a daze, so angry that if someone breathes wrong in my direction, I’m going to lose it.
I tell myself I’m paying Bohnes back, that after this, we’re on equal footing again. I tell myself that Scarlett is going to be proud of me for my actions. I want to kill somebody. I want to take my frustration out on the world.
“What car are you planning to drive to the track?” Ash asks me as soon as I set foot in the kitchen. Alexei is in there as well, wearing gloves up to his elbows and scrubbing the coffeepot.
Breathe, Widow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. This isn’t the worst deal ever. Bohnes is a shrewd motherfucker.
“Car?” I sound furious, like I’m going to go on a rampage.
I hop up to sit on the edge of the island.
It’s bigger than most people’s kitchens.
Alexei gives me this horrified look, seeing my denim-clad ass on the counter.
But then he catches the expression on my face and turns away again, skin rippling with goose bumps.
“You want the Bugatti again or something?” I sound even madder now.
“No, actually, I spotted a Shelby Cobra in the garage and, well, for old times’ sake.
” Ash throws his head back and laughs at that, turning his gaze on me like he’s searching for camaraderie.
I want to fucking go nuts on him, pick a fight.
I wet my lips. “I’ll drive my dead twin’s favorite car, erasing his memory with my undying love for his murderer.
” Ash taps a finger against the side of his head, smirking. “How cathartic.”
A deranged laugh escapes me. I’m still pissed off, raking my hand over my hair in agitation. I’m also bleeding profusely from split knuckles and sweating like crazy. Ash can see it. He knows what he’s doing. Like dismantling a bomb.
Bet he got good at it because of Aspen. That thought makes me feel like shit. Who wants to act like a violent psycho to the people they care about? There are plenty of assholes around who deserve that behavior from me. Not these ones.
“I’m going to drive Papa’s favorite today,” Alexei says, drying the coffeepot. Emma Jean touched it. Guess it’s contaminated. I can agree with that. “The L88…”
He freezes. Stares at the wall. Grief pours into his eyes and my hands tighten against the edge of the countertop.
“Your dad had good taste, man. You know I love a sixties ‘Vette.” I force myself to say it calmly enough that both men relax visibly. They can tell I’m calming down on my own.
Alexei takes his gloves off and throws them into a trash can with a motion detector. The lid opens and closes automatically.
God. I want to destroy somebody on the track since I can’t destroy anybody with my fists.
“I’ll take the Stingray,” I say. “No way we’re not tearing down the fences and racing tonight.”
“You want to race someone in particular?” Ash asks curiously, sipping coffee as he leans against a counter across the room from me. His eyes say he already knows the answer to that—and he agrees.
“You,” I whisper, looking right back at him. Alexei watches us both as he puts on a fresh pair of gloves: leather ones this time. Driving gloves. “All three of you.”