Page 145 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“Okay, you’re funny,” I say, purposefully pointing at her while I drive with one hand. “I thought at first that I didn’t like you, but I’ve changed my mind. Anyway, no, I haven’t met Ash Kelly. I’d love to see a picture of him, if you have it.”
“There are no pictures of him,” Emma Jean explains, looking at the neck strap hooked to my seat. The seatbelts on my side of the car are modified for racing, including a neck strap that keeps racers from meeting unfortunate accidents on the track. One time, about three years ago, a freshman girl smashed her car into the half-wall by the cage and snapped her neck, died instantly. Her father was there at the time, showing her the ropes of the track he used to race, so we escaped the picket line nonsense, but it was tragic nonetheless. “None at all. I can’t find a single photo of the man anywhere. He’s practically a ghost. The brothers were both born in Japan. They spent time in various boarding schools throughout Asia and Europe before moving to the States.”
That would explain the kiss of a British accent that comes and goes, I realize, glad that I decided to take this chance on Miss Emma Jean. This is proving far more fruitful than I expected. In the back of my mind, I can’t stop thinking about that glossy pamphlet and what it means for my neighborhood, my crew, my family and friends. But this is important, too.
Maybe—probably—all of these things are related anyway.
“Because of all that, I’m having trouble tracking down witnesses or records on either of them. As such, I’ve been tailing Aspen Kelly as of late. That’s how I got the pictures.”
Bohnes was watching us, too, that night. Either Emma grabbed her photo quick and took off or else he knew she was there and let her take that picture. Hmm. But would he really do that? Only in exchange for something good.
“You think Mayor Kelly had his son kill his political opponent? Why not just hire a goon to get it done? That’s what those rich types usually do anyway.”
“Maybe. But this wouldn’t be the first violent incident involving Ash Kelly. I managed to track down one of his ex-girlfriends. He got her pregnant and then beat her until she suffered a miscarriage.”
Yikes. I find it suddenly hard to swallow.
“Well, I heard from Alexei Grove that nobody in the upper echelons of Springfield knows Ash Kelly personally either. They don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Did Aspen say anything about his brother?” Emma presses, wearing her ‘investigative journalist’ hat as she cups a hand over her mouth to hold back her nausea. I slow down, but not for her sake. No, I just don’t want her to vom all the fuck over my ride. “Anything at all, even if it seems insignificant.”
No way I’m going to tell this chick about Evelyn’s murder. Puts me and my crew at risk, and it’ll hinder my chances at finding and killing Ash Kelly. That is, if he’s even still in town, if he hasn’t hopped that plane to Tokyo and taken off.
I could tell Emma that, at least. Maybe she’d know if he really got on the plane or not?
“His brother told me he was leaving the country,” I explain, and Emma Jean perks up, leaning in closer to me, eyes shining.
“When? Where?” she breathes, and I raise both brows.
“Uh, last night. Last night is when Aspen told me that, at his engagement party. Said his brother was bookin’ it to Tokyo this weekend.”
Emma shakes her head, sitting back and poking at her lips with the corner of her phone.
“If he’d left already, I would know it.” She looks back at me. “At least, if he took his family’s private jet. If he were flying commercial …” She trails off, turns her phone on, and starts a voice recording. “Look into flight manifests for Eugene and Portland airports.” Emma ends the recording, still staring out the windshield in thought before she looks at me again. “How did you get an invite to that party? Just out of curiosity.”
I figure a misplaced truth will suffice as my answer.
“He’s engaged to my ex-bestie, Lucy Hall.” I’m not giving anything away here that Emma Jean won’t already know.
“She invited you?” she presses, but I just shrug absently. “Does she know you’re fucking her fiancé?”
I grit my teeth at that. Not my finest moment. But I … I let myself believe those wild eyes of his, let myself fall into his bullshit willingly.
“I am not dating Lucy Hall; I promise you that.”
Ugh. I’m a piece of shit, aren’t I? A horrible, awful piece of shit.
“I have no idea,” I admit, pursing my lips into a thin line. It’s getting close to the time I need to leave to meet Alexei, so back in the direction of the house we go. “It was only a one-time thing anyway, and I don’t think that Lemon would care, even if she did know. She’s that delusional.”
