Page 84 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“Stay here and don’t move. If I notice you’ve touched anything or gone anywhere, I will cut your balls off.”
I slip past him and into the backyard, crouching behind the bushes to the right of the sliding doors. Using the shadows as cover, I search around to see where Bohnes is hiding. He’s good, too, better than anyone else.
I wonder if, like in our current situation, he’s that good on the track, too. If that’s why he won’t race me. I want to see it, him at his peak, me at my peak. I only want to be the best if I’m actually the best, not because other people are throwing races or pussyfooting around me.
Bohnes is such a clever monster. I find him just outside the back gate, moving in the direction of the front door. I’m able to slip out through the small hole in the fence and come up behind him, putting the tip of my knife against the base of his spine.
He goes completely still, the sound of the freeway traffic the only noise beside his and my soft breaths.
“Explain to me why I shouldn’t stab you right here and now,” I ask calmly, pitching my voice low so that Tommy Tits and Megan Face—who are bitching loudly about the price of stolen car stereos on the other side of the fence—won’t hear us.
“Unblock me,” Bohnes says, reaching back to grab my knife. He just curls his fingers around it and pushes it away, regardless of the way it catches and makes him bleed. He turns around then to look at me, an expression of annoyance on his face. “I want my number unblocked, so that I can check on you when you don’t show where you’re supposed to. Do I really need to start calling from other numbers? That upsets me, Scarlett. I’ve never given a girl my private number before.”
“First off, I don’t owe you shit about where I am or what I’m doing. Second, you are most definitely not getting unblocked now.” A lie. I’m pleased. I’m pleased that he came here, even if it’s obsessive and wrong and screwed up. “Fuck off out of my yard before I decide to lop the head off that pretty cock of yours.”
Bohnes smiles at me, and then sighs, reaching out to take some of my loose hair in his hand. It’s so long, he has no problem bringing it to his face to smell. Like a crazy person. Like a totally fucking crazy person, and I am all the way here for it.
Anyway, we go way back. I asked him for help after the accident, and he delivered, so I don’t really get all that mad about it.
I slap his hand away.
“I thought you were home with your sister, but instead, I see the mayor’s son pull up and well, imagine my surprise when you invited him in.”
I give Bohnes a dark look.
“Be careful with him,” he warns me, as if I need it, as if I’m stupid enough to let my guard down around that man. Although … I just left him inside with my sister. Thing is, Alexis might have mental health issues, but she’s still Prescott by blood. She grew up here same as I did. She can handle herself for two fucking minutes. “Most especially with his brother.”
Bohnes reaches out, putting his hands on my hips. I let him touch me, his fingers burning hot, even through the fabric of my oversized Daria sweater. Won this at the track from some Oak Valley bitch who wouldn’t stop complaining because it ‘cost a lot, and I ordered it online, and it’s hand-painted in New York’. Blah, blah, blah.
Anyway, the white cursive—it says Hi, go to hell—and the image of Daria’s face have started to fade after several tumbles in our cheap-ass washer and dryer. I mean, even though our set is crap, we may as well be rich over here. Ain’t nobody else on this block has a washer and dryer in their house.
“I’ve never met his brother—fortunately.” I haven’t heard much goss about the other Kelly boy, but from what I have heard, he sounds like a complete and total psycho. Worse even, than his garbage brother. His garbage brother whose mouth tasted like silk and sin, who squeezed my ass and teased my pussy with his fingers while I fought like hell to claw my way out of a lust-induced haze.
Bohnes chuckles at me, and then he steals my phone from my pocket, darting out of my reach when I lunge for him. He moves across the lawn, but I know he can’t break into it; the damn thing is locked with a pin code. I don’t trust biometrics. Any asshole can grab your hand and force your fingerprint onto the screen or flash it at your face.
