Chapter 22
Scarlett
I’ve gone wild over shit in the past. Over my best driver, Evelyn. My best friend, Lemon. My sister, Alexis.
I have never lost my mind the way I do over Bohnes.
First thing, I know the average height of a semi-trailer. I’m a stunt driver, remember? The de Tomaso Pantera is a race car, built for speed. It’s got a low profile, so no skin off my back there. I go underneath it.
Widow is right beside me, Ash on my left, Alexei bringing up the rear. We all manage to scrape underneath the trailer, far enough ahead of my girls that they’re able to stop safely. Can’t say the same for the public.
Six cars have crashed in catastrophic ways, likely resulting in severe injuries or death. One of them is crunched against the front of the semi-truck like a metal accordion. Not Bohnes though. That car is red.
I’m sure I’m not the worst person on planet earth (I’ve met hundreds of others who’d safely qualify before me), but…sorry. Fuck the public. Fuck them all. Kellin Bohnes is unaccounted for and if I didn’t have to stay perfectly calm to find him, I’d be freaking out.
In my rearview mirror, there’s a mess of metal and screams instead of two steady lanes of traffic. Doesn’t matter.
My mind fractures into sharp slivers as I turn the wheel and rocket across the opposite side of the road while there’s space in the traffic. People are starting to stop, rushing to help. First responders will be here soon, too.
“There are men in the back!” Widow is yelling into the phone as I come to a stop at the edge of the road. Glancing out my window, I see Ash slip behind the trailer, sliding his sword through the door handles. Blocking them. Widow joins him, chains slung around his neck.
Alexei spills from his car in a tsunami of violence, his mask levitating like a decapitated head.
The wood is painted white while his clothes are colorless voids, giving serious black light theater vibes.
The fanged mask floats up to the driver’s door of the semi-truck and then disappears inside. Blood sprays the front windshield.
I open my car door, putting one heel on the grass, panting as I stare at the Chevelle down below.
It’s starting to rain again and the hill in front of me is muddy and steep.
The woods start just beyond the edge of the road.
Bohnes is nowhere to be seen, but there are plenty of tire tracks from a slew of other vehicles.
The Ferndale Hill Cemetery is on the other side of these trees. Our mausoleum.
Bohnes once said to me, in reference to that mausoleum: if you’re ever on the run from anyone or anything, you can come here.
I add Nisha and Bastian onto the group call, barking orders without explanation.
“Nisha, take Gram to the church and wait there. Let Burt know that we’ve been unavoidably detained, but that we’ll be there soon. Everyone that was with me, stay with me. We’re heading to the boneyard, weapons out. We’ve got trouble.”
As I’m talking, I’m slipping back into the Devil and taking off in the direction of a side road that’ll lead me straight through the trees and over to the cemetery parking lot.
It’s hard to leave the scene of Kellin’s accident, but I know he’s not in the car.
If he’s not calling me, it’s because he can’t.
I should’ve never let him drive the fucking Chevelle! But it’s not about that at all, is it? Because this wasn’t an attack aimed directly at Bohnes. It was a land mine that didn’t care about casualties or the innocents swept up in the storm it caused.
We easily all could’ve died.
A traffic accident though? Convenient, but ridiculous. Nobody drives like we do.
I’m calling Bohnes even as I know it’s pointless, driving one-handed at speeds well over a hundred. The words My Dark Love Bohnes are on the screen, taunting me.
Someone put up cones across the small dirt road that branches off toward the cemetery parking lot. I purposely run them over, slowing to a bit of a stop when I see the roadblock up ahead. Several large black SUVs are preventing us from going any further.
Nope.
I put the car in reverse and start backing up, spinning around only once everyone else has done the same.
We park the cars on a gravel shoulder at the end of the road, across the street from some random middle-class neighborhood.
Usually, keeping the public around helps keep the underground shit on the down low. Not today, Satan.
I climb out of the car again, allowing the fractured splinters of my mind to shift around until a new plan begins to form. This is a big operation. Jonas and Co. are going full-tilt today, and we don’t have time for a battle royale.
Bohnes. Bohnes, Bohnes, Bohnes. Kellin. My Kellin. I want to tear my hair out and claw bloody ribbons into my own face. Think, think, think.
The other boys are standing around me, studying the scene with their own individual expertise.
“We need to go in low and slow, not fast and fiery,” I whisper suddenly, turning to Ash because he’ll know best what Jonas is trying to accomplish here.
He has his sword with him, but Widow’s chains are conspicuously absent.
They’re all still wearing their tuxedos, but they’ve taken off the wooden masks by this point, faces still covered by the balaclavas.
“There’s probably an entire mercenary army up ahead, no? ”
Keeping myself from going into a Tasmanian devil rage is getting harder with each second that ticks by. Bohnes could be dying. Bohnes could be dead.
“These men will have been instructed to kill Bohnes and Widow at all costs,” Ash says, his eyes fucking crazy wide, unhinged and feral with those insane ghoul-iris contacts.
He’s breathing wildly, fingers twitching at his sides.
“Now that this situation is obviously more than a traffic accident, Jonas won’t push for your death or Alexei’s.
Not mine either, not in such a basic way.
” Ash looks askance at Widow. “You and Bohnes, you are absolutely today’s main targets. ”
“A stealthy mission will be quicker and less dangerous,” I murmur frantically, sounding a little bit like Ash. I start to pace, rapidly, frenetically, kicking gravel with my polka dot heels. “My crew can stand by a few blocks over in case something goes wrong. Less people is better though.”
“The four of us can handle this alone,” Alexei agrees, fitting the metal thimble to one of his bloody latex thumbs.
His eyes are still somehow his, even with the contacts in.
He’s studying me, a drip-drip-drip of red sliding down one of his latex-clad fingers to the ground beside him.
There’s already a decent sized puddle of blood beneath his shoes.
The guys don’t ask why I’m so focused on the cemetery. They all know about the safe house, what the pin is, and they’re smart enough to have figured out that that’s where Bohnes would go in a situation like this. There was a lot of blood on the grass beside the Chevelle.
I can’t focus on that. Feelings are luxuries. Actions save lives.
“What if we parked at Pussy Point instead?” Widow suggests, looking back at the road like he’s just waiting for those SUVs to make their way over here.
There could easily be snipers in the trees, too.
We’re at that point in this game. I don’t like Widow standing out in the open like this.
“We could use the trail that runs down the side of the hill. It’s gated during winter, but easy enough to climb. ”
On another day, I might get jealous just hearing Widow mention the hookup spot that overlooks the city.
I glance over my shoulder at the twenty or so cars that belong to my crew, each of them waiting for their next order.
Kellin, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me fall in love with you, stitch my dark soul to yours, and then fucking die. I can’t handle it. I’ll ruin everyone else’s lives in pursuit of you.
I nod, feeling the discs in my spine like steel saw blades. Ramrod straight. Shoulders back.
“You heard Mr. Force,” I say, looking right at Jennifer with a confident, easy smile on my face.
My mind is shattering, don’t mind me. She’s wearing a red dress with a black lace petticoat, her brunette hair gathered into a high ponytail.
“We’ll take care of this, grab the other Mr. Force, and rendezvous at the church. ”
“Yes, Queen.” Jennifer turns to Tuesday (dressed in turquoise sequins, like a ratchet mermaid) and the pair of them execute the order immediately.
My crew is good, but if we go in there guns blazing, some of my people will die.
It’s inevitable in war, I know that. But Alexei is right: we can handle this on our own.
Being married to these guys is like being married to a fucking tactical team, like some undead SWAT squad with their spiked leashes puncturing my palm while I try to bring them to heel. That brings me comfort. I find so much goddamn comfort in that.
I don’t have to tell the boys to get back in their cars, they know that’s what they need to do.
“I won’t let him go,” Ash is muttering to himself over the open phone line, following me and Widow down the road since neither he nor Alexei know anything about Pussy Point or Prescott in general.
I’m coming baby, I think to myself, struggling to maintain control. I’m coming, Bohnes.
That’s what a leader does: keeps calm so everyone else can freak out.
I shift gears, realizing that my hands are trembling.
I just have to hope that Bohnes is doing what I would do in his situation: holding on.
That’s it, the only thing he needs to do.
Just don’t die. We can handle literally anything else. Just wait for us. Wait for us.
KMZI 66.6 is on. I’d turn it off, but I don’t have the headspace to do anything but focus on my driving. I can’t waste even one-percent of my energy doing anything but focusing on Bohnes.