Page 90 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
Nisha pulls up next, practically stumbling as she gets out of the car and makes her way over to us. She stares at the wet spot on the road before looking up at me.
“Scar,” Nisha breathes, looking into the back of the trunk as Bohnes strips off his gloves and drops them into a Ziploc bag. I do the same with mine. He takes that bag and puts it in the trunk beside Evelyn’s tarp-covered form. Nisha’s gaze slides over to Bohnes but, despite his current status as my fuckboy, she knows he keeps his mouth shut and gets things done. “What do we do about Evelyn’s family?”
“You say nothing,” I tell her, looking over at Bastian next. “You hear me? Nothing at all. We don’t know where Evelyn is. The last time we saw her was at school today. That’s it. Kids go missing from Prescott all the time. Far as we know, she’s just another runaway.”
I reach out and slam Bohnes’ trunk down, making both Nisha and Bastian jump. We’re the only ones left; I sent all of the other girls home to decompress, but not before hearing their sides of the story.
Since Evelyn was working point, she’s the only one who got a good look at the fucker in the Cobra, but now? I have a license plate. Because my girls are that good. Juana, who saw the gun go off and witnessed the pink spray as the projectile tore through Evelyn’s skull, noted the license plate on her phone as soon as she realized what was happening.
So. A black ‘63 Shelby Cobra. A single male driver. Young. Dark hair. A license plate that I can match up to Aspen Kelly’s. If I hadn’t literally been standing next to him during this whole nightmare, I might think he was the one who did it.
Question is: who the fuck has access to his car? His father? His brother? One of their family’s nameless hired goons? A friend? A cousin? A housekeeper?
I want to scream.
I have to win that race on Friday. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. Not just to protect my own body and my own dignity, but for Evelyn. Because she deserves that. She deserves justice.
“Go home,” I tell my best friends, looking first at Bastian and then over at Nisha.
“I’m not leaving you with—” she starts, but the look I level on her clearly says that I’m not in the mood for arguments. Basti and Nisha back me up but, at the end of the day, I’m the boss. “Fuck, Scarlett,” she grinds out, but then she turns on her heel and heads for her car and Basti does the same.
I look over at Bohnes.
“You’re not coming with me,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the side of his car. He offers me up a smile that turns grotesque under the lights of a passing car.
The driver continues on his or her merry way, and I look back over at Bohnes.
“This isn’t just a job. This is my girl, my crew.”
He’s already shaking his head and pushing up from the side of his car to come over and stand beside me. We both make sure to keep well away from the wet spot where the bloodstain was before he poured whatever chemical concoction over the top.
“I can’t give you all my secrets, Scarlett Force,” he says, reaching out to tease some of my hair with his fingers. He drops it without sniffing it which is nice, but …
“What is this going to cost me?” I ask, and that makes him laugh.
“I already have a body in my trunk, and you want to know the price now?” he queries, looking up at the faint kiss of a silver moon through the trees. “Maybe you should’ve asked that before I rushed all the way out here?”
“I’m asking now in case I need to lift that body out of your trunk, put it in my car, and figure out what to do with it.”
“Mm.” Bohnes reaches out to grab my wrists, pulling me close enough to him that I can feel his body heat through my clothes. “How about this? You let me take you on a proper date, and fuck you in a proper bed, and we’ll call it even?”
I glare at him, even as my heart leaps into my throat, and I feel like I might choke on the utter ridiculousness of his proposition.
“A date?” I say with a caustic laugh. “You want to take me on a date in exchange for disposing of a body? Don’t be stupid.”
“Stupid?” he asks, gritting his teeth and tightening his fingers where they wrap around my wrists. “What part of that is stupid, Scarlett? Go on a date with me or pony up fifty grand.”
