Page 160 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
But I must’ve really got him good because he gurgles for just a few seconds and then goes still.
I just sit there, covered in blood, half-naked for real this time, and stare.
What … what the hell just happened?
My head lifts up, searching for headlights in the darkness. Nisha isn’t here yet, but I can’t let her see this. I can’t. It was an accident … mostly. But that doesn’t change the fact that Mayor Kelly’s son is dead, and that I killed him. Who’s going to believe me that he attacked me first, that he tried to rape me? The mayor will bury me with fancy lawyers and money.
My family will never get out of Prescott or, even worse, they’ll be pushed out by the new development and left homeless.
I can’t let anyone see what I’ve done.
No face, no case, right?
I shove up to my feet, yanking my skirt back on and zipping it up before I decide to tackle the body. Getting a dead person in a trunk is difficult, even with the help of another person. Emma Jean and I just barely managed to heft that goon into the Pantera earlier.
With a growl, I strip off my heels and chuck them aside.
It’s my entire life on the line right now; I won’t lose my future to some perverted rich boy.
Even as I’m putting my arms under Aspen’s still-warm body and dragging him toward Bohnes’ car, I can’t seem to banish the memories of him, wild and beautiful in the rain. How did we get from that to this?
With adrenaline blasting through my veins, I lift the body up with a scream of frustration and then fall forward, letting the weight of him tip forward into the trunk. Next thing I do is lift his legs up, folding them so that he fits.
I gather the bloody shirt, tossing it atop his body. The gun and knife follow along, and then I use up the last of my disposal wipes to get as much blood off of me as possible. I even use the pencil skirt to wipe myself down, changing into the jeans and t-shirt that I had on earlier.
For a minute, I just stand there, staring down at the body.
“Fuck you, Aspen,” I breathe, and then I start to shut the trunk.
It comes to an abrupt halt, and my entire body goes ice-cold. My gaze snaps up and then …
I can’t even believe what I’m seeing.
My mind refuses to accept it as I blink through the pain and shock, staring into a pair of wild, broken eyes. The face is pale and aristocratic, the lips plump and inviting, the upper even more so than the bottom.
“H-how?” I breathe, but I think I almost knew. At the end there, especially. Because of the cut on his hand, and the cologne, the accent, all of those things. More than all that, the eyes. I knew because of the eyes.
The man lifts the trunk slightly, peering down at the comatose form of … whoever it is in there. He turns back to me, but he doesn’t seem angry or upset. At least, not in the way someone might expect upon seeing their dead twin.
“You asshole!” I scream, and then I’m punching at Aspen’s … Ash’s … whoever’s chest. “You fucking monster!” I beat on him, and he lets me, until I’m sagging against him, and he’s grabbing me by the upper arms.
Ash … Aspen.
Twins.
Identical twins.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. I thought, maybe, but … this is movie shit.
He crushes his mouth to mine, and he tastes as good as he smells, like an English garden in the pouring rain.
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” he murmurs, that hint of a British accent in his voice again. “Gomennasai. I’m so damn sorry. I never imagined that he’d find out, that he’d come here.”
I jerk away from him, turning and pacing a small circle before I spin back. Tears are running down my face, but I can’t even explain what I’m actually crying about here. There are too many conflicting emotions hitting me all at once.
I killed two people today.
Two.
And both of them are related back to Mayor Kelly.
Shit, Mayor Kelly’s other son … is standing right in front of me.
I stare at him, tall and beautiful in a black suit jacket and slacks, a pair of shiny dress shoes on his feet.
“Which one are you?” I whisper, and he smiles at me. Unlike how I felt when the other twin smiled at me, this one makes me feel a little dizzy, even under such shitty circumstances. “I mean, I know you’re the one that I slept with, but … are you Aspen or Ash?”
I don’t even have to ask which one of these assholes shot Evelyn—the dead one in the trunk did it, clearly. The dead one in the trunk threw Lemon around. The dead one in the trunk was the one mocking me at the party … and the live one confronted me outside the women’s restroom.
