Page 159 of Vile Bastards
But I am one hell of a motherfuckin’ driver.
Finish this thing, Scar, and then buy your besties some steak.
I hit the throttle and eat up the pavement, lapping the three remaining cars yet again.
They don’t seem comfortable with skirting between the wrecked vehicles the way I am. This is just par for the course back in Prescott. If I have to push one out of my way like I did with Chet Jr., I will.
That’s how I make up the time, how I turn an impossibility into a boon.
Before I know it, there’s the finish line.
I’m pumped so full of adrenaline, I’m probably glowing from my space. My lips split into a grin that, had I been able to race legit, would’ve broken my face in half. As of right now, it’s more of a drag, more of a gloat than anything else.
Take that, you pretentious pieces of shit.
I hit the brakes, skidding across the asphalt and turning in a small half-circle to face the sea of aghast faces near the fence. The grand marshal is already storming my way, and there’s more than just one asshole rich boy climbing out of his car and gaping like I’ve personally kicked his puppy.
Do I want to stick around here to see what might happen?
Fuck no.
I look around and notice Widow waiting beside another gate, gesturing with a green flag that I’m sure he stole from somewhere. Probably from a someone. Probably he beat up that someone.
I offer up a little wave, a smirk, a middle finger with an upside down cross, and then I GTFO before things get anymore chaotic.
Bohnes
The little weasel has the audacity to cry, as if its tears mean anything at all to me.
I squat down in front of the smarmy bastard and reach up a cool, comforting hand. As soon as I lay it across his cheek, Chet Jr. Cody Archer snaps at me like a feral dog, and I frown. I backhand him and rise to my feet, watching as blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth.
“Who are you?!” he screams, a repeat question that I’ve heard damn near a dozen times by now. I release a tired sigh, reaching up to rub at the bridge of my nose. It would’ve been nice to see my woman race, especially after watching the already-viral video online.
Only, I had other things to take care of.
“I’ve explained that to you several times, Chet Jr.” I move away from him and over to a table littered with sterile instruments. My captive shifts aggressively against his bonds, but I ignore him. He’s tied up more than well enough to keep him still. Besides that, he’s blindfolded, and I’m certain he’s not intelligent enough to ever recognize me based on my voice alone.
I pick up a scalpel, studying the blade to ensure that it’s sharp enough.
“My father can pay you.” He repeats yet another tired cliché, and I set the scalpel down heavily, clinking it angrily against the metal tray. Chet Jr. flinches because, despite his occasional protest or threat, he’s already urinated down his leg and wept like a newborn baby.
“Pay me?” I ask, sighing heavily again and letting my shoulders drop, my head fall back. I close my eyes against a surge of annoyance. “Why is that always the first offer your ilk makes? Hmm? Do I seem like someone motivated by money?” With another sigh, I snatch up the scalpel again, flashing a grin that I know poor Junior over there can’t see. More’s the pity; I have a lovely smile. I lean down in front of the boy, tied to a chair and quivering, my palms on my thighs for balance. “That’s not a fair question though, is it? You hardly know me. How should I explain this?”
“Where am I? What do you want with me?”
I frown again and stand up straight, tapping the end of the scalpel against Chet’s nose. He jerks away from me, making some whimpering sounds. It’s always astonished me how a bully such as this can pretend to be a victim, even for a single second. Doesn’t it just grate on their nerves, acting as if they have feelings or a soul? It certainly grates on mine.
“You are my treasured guest,” I explain, pausing briefly to look over my shoulder. The safe house door opens and in walks Alexei Grove, a mask pulled up over his face despite the fact that poor Cody over here is as blind as a bat. “Our treasured guest.” I correct myself as I look back to my captive and Alexei pauses on my right side.
We exchange a look, but Alexei doesn’t appear pleased by the situation. No, unfortunately, Cody won’t be leaving this place in a body bag the way his friend, Bryson Bolin did. Shame. But I intend on taking a souvenir anyway.
