Page 21 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“How’d you like that? Guess I still am the one to beat.” I hold out my hands and curve my fingers. “Pay up.”
The way that man looks at me … I’m going to have to be very, very careful.
Unlike the others, I have a bad feeling that he’ll be back.
With a disturbing level of control, Aspen Kelly brings that intense fury under his command, the expression on his face neutralizing as he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and removes a checkbook.
“I assume you’d like it made out to ‘Scarlett Force’?” he asks, his voice careful, his every word a weapon. I smile at him.
“That’d be lovely,” I reply, not even bothering to hide the disturbing smugness in my words. I’m playing with fire here and yet, I’m going to keep on doing it. Because I live for that thrill. I’m not even sure who I am without it.
Aspen rips the check off, handing it over to me.
I move to take it and he grabs me by my wrist, yanking me through the mud in my heels. I almost stumble, but his grip on my arm keeps me on my feet. My first move is to tear away from him, whipping that trusty knife of mine out and putting it to his pretty neck.
“Hands off,” I breathe, but Aspen doesn’t look scared. Instead, his dark eyes flash with more of that deep-seated fury. He isn’t going to stop until he gets me underneath him; I can see it now.
This is going to go very badly for me if I’m not careful.
“I’ll be back next Friday. Will you be here?” he hisses, far too excited for his own good. As close together as we are, I can feel his hardness through his pants, and the feel of it makes me sick.
I don’t want Lemon going home with this guy tonight.
“I’ll be here,” I say, but I know sure as shit that if he wants to race me again, not only is he going to have to pay up big, but he’s also going to have to try me in my own car. I won’t even take a small risk of having to fuck this guy. I move the knife away carefully, stepping back and turning to get in Widow’s car again.
I head back to the parking lot, climbing out to find Nisha waiting for me. Basti is nowhere to be seen, and Nisha sighs as soon as she notices my gaze wandering.
“Our girl is planning to take off with Rich Boy for the night,” she says, and my heart goes cold. Goddamn it.
“Where is she?” I ask, and Nisha gives me a look, her brown eyes blazing.
“Don’t think I’m going to forget to ask about those freakish, bloody hickeys on your neck,” she says as I search for Basti in the crowd. I spot him near the picnic tables, gesturing frantically as he tries to get Lemon to listen to him.
Bastian might not make great choices when it comes to romantic partners either, but he’s still a virgin, so that must account for some level of taste that he has and Lemon doesn’t.
Me … I guess my taste is just as bad. Maybe worse.
I move across the parking lot in muddy heels to stand beside Basti with my arms crossed. Lemon barely acknowledges that I’m standing there.
“He just challenged our best friend for a chance at some dub-con action. Doesn’t that strike you as a little screwed-up?” Basti’s pleading as I narrow my eyes and exhale.
Dub-con. Dubious consent. I agreed to the race full well knowing the consequences, but that doesn’t make Aspen Kelly any less of a disturbed creeper. My eyes sweep the crowd, looking for either Bohnes or Widow.
The former is there, standing near his car: a black 1969 Chevy Chevelle SS.
His eyes meet mine from across the lot, but then he simply turns away to talk to someone else, accepting a bundle of cash that he slips into the pocket of his black jeans.
I ignore him, taking note of Widow’s absence. He did say he was leaving early. So why did he even show up here in the first place?
“You can’t leave anyway,” I say, gesturing at Basti to emphasize my point as I turn back to Lemon. “He drove his car; Nisha drove hers; I have Widow’s. Somebody has to drive the Pantera back.”
Lemon’s cheeks heat up with irritation.
“You stole the new guy’s car, so now I’m bound to your plans? This is bullshit, Scar.”
When I take a step toward her, that famous temper of mine rising to the surface, Basti puts out his arm to stop me. But I didn’t get to the top of Prescott’s feral social structure to be disrespected by my best friend.
“Scarlett,” Basti warns when it’s very clear that it’s Lemon who should be apologizing here. Not only is her new boyfriend a disrespectful sleazeball who threw her around right in front of me, but he raced for my cunt, for fuck’s sake!
