Page 155 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
I mean, come the fuck on here.
Also, if the mayor was willing to kill Emma Jean for the things she knows, what would he possibly do if we waged war on him and his people?
“Alexei,” I start, but then his eyes widen as he looks past me in the direction of the door. In an instant, he’s up and grabbing my wrist. I drop my fork—and the delicious bite of scallop stuck to the end of it—as Alexei drags me along the wall of windows and pushes his way through a side door that leads out to the golf course.
I’m still in shock that he just willingly touched me—even with his glove on—as we pass by a statue of some old guy and then continue on around the side of the building toward the parking lot. Alexei opens a gate that leads off the property and then pauses on the other side of it, his eyes focused on the bright orange paint of his ’69 Lamborghini Miura and the two men waiting beside it.
Looks like his suspicions were justified.
And here I am, with him, putting myself directly in the line of fire.
I just followed my pussy and my heart right into another shitty situation because of a cute boy.
Goddamn it.
“Come on,” I growl out, pushing Alexei’s hand off my wrist and then grabbing it with my own hand. He shudders, but he doesn’t pull away, allowing me to lead him through the shadows along the edge of the property.
Thank the dark goddess that I parked near the exit.
Yeah, it’s a Prescott thing—for good reason.
We stay to the trees as long as we can before making a quick beeline to the Chevelle. I’m not sure if the goons see us or not, but as soon as we’re both in and the doors are closed, I ease out the gate and then hit the throttle, blasting us down the road and away from the country club.
Once we’ve got some distance, I slow down, unwilling to get pulled over by a bourgeois Oak Park cop.
“Dude, you are in big trouble,” I warn him, but he’s already leaned back in the seat with his eyes closed, obviously aware of his predicament. “You probably shouldn’t go home tonight.”
Alexei lifts his head up, staring down at his gloves like they’re contaminated. I can tell that he wants to take them off, but knows that if he does, there are no antiseptic wipes, no spare gloves in here for him to use.
“Seeing as the murder took place in our residence last night, I’m aware of that. I asked your friend—Kellin Bohnes—for a place to stay.”
My blood chills as I flick a quick glance his way.
“You did what?” I grind out, thinking about how I’d enjoy slowly slicing Bohnes’ nuts off with a dull knife. He didn’t think to tell me that Alexei came to him for help?! But of course not. At least that explains how he knew about today’s meeting. “What did you pay him with?”
“My Rolex,” Alexei explains. Ah. Makes sense. “I was going to offer up something more, if he’d help with this endeavor. A third of my inheritance, if he can help me get it back. But to do that, we need to take down everyone involved in my father’s murder.” Alexei looks down at his lap for a moment before turning back to me. “I’ll offer you a third as well, if you’ll help me. Even without fully liquidating everything, there are hundreds of millions of dollars up for grabs.” Here Alexei pauses again. “The Bugatti, as well. Or a new Bugatti, if you want it.”
The offer is … well, it’s unbelievable. It’s also dangerous as hell, far more likely to end up with my being dead than actually getting any money. On top of all that, say that Bohnes and I did help Alexei Grove out, then what? How could we actually ensure that he’d give us anything at all?
“They killed my papa, Scarlett,” Alexei says, his voice low and so disturbingly pained that it almost makes me uncomfortable. I felt like that, after the accident. That pain turned into violence which turned into murder. I know exactly where this is going.
“I don’t think I can help you,” I admit, wetting my lips and shaking my head. “Much as I think you’ve got a good cause, much as that’s a good offer, it just isn’t practical. Not only is it dangerous as fuck, but I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t double-cross me in the end.”
Alexei sits back, shivering and sweating and swallowing hard, and I realize how difficult it must be for him to be stuck inside Bohnes’ car with no way to change his gloves or clean himself up.
“What you did just now, inviting me over to the country club, you knew there was a chance those thugs would show up, that I could end up with my own neck on the chopping block, and yet, you did it anyway. I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to work.”
