Page 134 of Vile Bastards
“Then what did you come over here for, exactly?” Alexei asks, refusing to lean against or touch any single surface. I noticed he didn’t eat either, just pushed food around on his plate so it looked like he did. I can respect that, at least. He lavishly praised my grandmother’s cooking, too, like he actually has manners or something. “No, wait. Allow me to guess: the image of me rutting into Scarlett was enough to drag you over here in an effort to remedy the situation?”
Oh, wait. Never mind. He has no manners at all, does he?
“You said prove it, so I did.” Ash turns those dark eyes on me, but I pretend not to notice. Bohnes is watching him carefully, like he might stalk him out of here and kill him. I snap my fingers, drawing both of their attention back to me.
“Let’s just forget all of this and figure out who’s going with me to P-Trip tomorrow.”
“I’ll ride with you,” Widow offers quickly, and Bohnes returns that with a scowling smirk.
“Oh, will you, Lawless? Are you sure you don’t want to push her into the Columbia River while you’re there?”
Widow snorts, but ignores the quip, focusing on his cigarette instead. The metal ring on my finger burns, but I don’t want to deal with that issue today, not in front of the other guys, especially not with my family here.
Surprise, surprise: I don’t like either my mom’s or my aunt’s new boyfriends. Having a spat with them on the premises doesn’t sit well with me. Don’t trust ‘em as far as I could throw ‘em. What if they’re the mayor’s plants or something? One of them had the audacity to tell me that I should smile. Bohnes pulled a knife on him from behind, but I was able to remedy the situation without bloodshed. I asked the guy if he’d like some advice on healthy eating to get rid of his beer belly. He didn’t seem to enjoy me policing his state of being any more than I enjoyed him doing it to me. Go figure.
“I assume you’re not coming, Marie?” I ask, and Alexei gives me a look.
“It wouldn’t be particularly intelligent of me to show up there, now would it?” he asks as Ash glances in the direction of the gate, like he’s considering making a run for it—with me in tow. “I pride myself on at least being marginally intelligent enough to know when and where I should show up somewhere.”
“I’m going to assume that comment wasn’t directed my way,” Ash grits out, pausing at the sound of a man’s gruff snort from the other side of the fence.
“Can’t even enjoy my fuckin’ yard in peace,” Megan Face slurs, likely drunk off his ass and taking a short break from beating his pregnant wife. I usually ignore him unless he addresses me directly—in which case, that one time he did, I smashed all his car windows and spray-painted the words wife beater on his garage door.
The boys all turn toward the fence, pausing and going silent, as if they’re a unit or something. Man, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it? If they were a group all on their own. Trying to direct four very different energies and motivations is a pain in the ass. Pure havoc. Chaos. Mayhem. Anarchy. What have you.
If I could wrangle them all into some semblance of a unit? That’d be victory right there, nice and sweet.
“Your neighbor should learn some manners,” Ash suggests, and I can see that he’s edgy as hell. He wants someone to take his frustration out on; they all do. I mean, if they were going to pick a random target to beat up, Megan Face is prime for a whoopin’. Not only does he kick the crap out of his pregnant wife, he screams derogatory slurs at our neighbors two doors down, drives his truck over their lawn with the intention of leaving ruts, and called me a saucy tart to my face once.
I should’ve killed him, but I really was trying to keep my body count down. At this point? I don’t even know what my number is, but it’s certainly a lot higher than the number of dudes I’ve taken to bed.
“Even a dog can learn to sit; that man is dumber than a Pomeranian with a concussion.” I shrug, fully aware that the idiot in question can hear me.
“What’d you say to me, squaw?” Megan Face demands, and then an empty can comes flying over the fence and hits me in the shoulder. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s disrespectful as hell. Plus, a racial slur? Really though? I cock a brow because I know that I don’t have to lift a finger to punish this twat; somebody else will do it for me. Ash surprises me by lunging forward first and hopping the fence. He uses the trash can to get some height, and then he’s just over it, and I can hear Megan Face yelling. “What the—”
