Page 15 of Vile Bastards
I take a drag on the clove cigarette, allowing my eyes to slide shut for the briefest instance. I’m exhausted. Escaping the Russian mob and a crew of meatheads, corrupt cops, and an assassin sent by the mayor?
Well, you tell me how many people can pull that one off.
“For Scarlett,” Alexis repeats, looking down at me. She reaches up to adjust her glasses. “I bet you know how she ended up in the hospital in the first place?”
It’s phrased as a question, one that I’m not going to answer. Of course I know. I know everything that happens in Prescott. I know that the mayor’s assassin ended up on the doorstep of his fancy countryside mansion (because I put him there as a warning). I know that Scarlett’s Pantera is sitting in the driveway, polished to a shine. There’s some damage to the front end, but that Widow’s doing.
I know that Scarlett was dead when we dropped her off at the hospital.
I stand up as her grandmother’s car pulls onto the block and eases up the driveway behind the Pantera. There’s another car parked across the street that I’ve been ignoring for the last hour. Widow opens the door and steps out, and our eyes meet across that great distance. He narrows his in warning, but as far as predators go, I’m as dangerous as they come. He’s a barracuda against a shark.
Kill him, Bohnes. Strangle him for letting this woman leave the track on Friday.
Only—sigh—I think Scarlett’s hold on my heart is softening it. I haven’t killed a single other one of her fuckboys, not even when I had a prime opportunity to shoot Ash in the head or, at the very least, allow Ralph Shipman to kill him.
Shame.
I just hope this overwhelming empathy doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
Scarlett’s grandmother—Patricia Force—steps out of the car first, offering me up a strange look. I know what I look like: white hoodie with a rib cage on the front, a single red heart beating inside of it. White joggers with holes in the knees, stuffed into combat boots covered in buckles.
Skin that’s too pale, eyes that are too blue, a mouth that looks like a razor blade.
I’m not exactly the type of guy a girl brings home to her mama, you know?
Patricia offers me up a small nod which I return, trying my best to ignore Widow as he crosses the street to stand beside me. It’s only been two days since we dropped Scarlett off at the hospital but having spent most of that time with Adrian truly makes me question my kind heart. Things really would be so much easier if he were dead.
“Ugh,” Scarlett groans as her grandmother helps her out of the passenger side of the vehicle. It’s incredible that a person can die and come back like that, isn’t it? I bend down and put my cigarette out on the toe of Widow’s boot, and he goes entirely stiff.
“Do not test me, Kellin,” he hisses out, but as I rise to my feet and meet his eyes, all I see is a damaged boy desperate for love. Disgusting. He has nothing on me. He is not the same sort of monster that I am; I am not entirely convinced that he’s a monster at all.
Scarlett—living, breathing, beautiful Scarlett—comes around the front of the car with her grandmother’s arm around her waist. It’s a bit comical, seeing as the older woman is in her seventies and is maybe five-two at most.
My eyes meet those of my darkest darling, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
Emotions ricochet beneath my skin, a pinball machine with flashing lights and swinging flippers, metal balls pinging off the sides, activating everything. I fall to my knees before her, and I don’t even care.
I’ve finally found someone to be monstrous for, and it is glorious.
“Scarlett.” The word is a near whisper, one that makes Widow scoff, and Alexis gasp. The grandmother, I must give credit to. She offers me a curious look before turning her attention to Widow and then Scarlett.
“Take a minute with your friends, but then I want you to come in and climb in bed.” Patricia pats her granddaughter’s hand, moving past me as if people falling to their knees around her grandchild is a semi-common occurrence.
Knowing Scarlett as I do, I wouldn’t be surprised.
“Scarlett,” Widow chokes out, exhaling and squeezing his hands into fists at his sides.
She looks at the pair of us before turning her attention to her sister.
“Give me a hug,” she commands, and the other girl hesitates briefly before obliging.
“Mom and Aunt Anita should be here any minute; they went to pick some things up for you.” Alexis draws back, looking Scarlett over and shaking her head. “I still don’t understand how you ended up in the hospital in the first place …”
