Page 100 of Vile Bastards
I drop my cigarette to the ground, crush it out with the toe of my boot, and slip back into the shadows. Ash cleans himself up with a curse, using a handkerchief from his pocket. A handkerchief.
As I said, he’s a scummy little dweeb.
My lip curls up of its own accord, and I follow after him through the trees. Predictably, he heads back to the clearing. But not to leave. Oh no. It’s not like he came out here to mourn the dearly departed Lucy Bree Hall. Did Scarlett ask him why he’d come? Doubtful. She likes this scaly, toxic viper far too much.
I have to make sure his fangs are removed or—at the very least—that when he bites, it isn’t Scarlett that he’s aiming for.
Ash removes a heavy coil of rope from his trunk, tossing it on the ground beside the pond. Next, he strips down to his boxers, folding his suit neatly in the front seat of the sedan. I yawn and pat my mouth dramatically.
Christ, rich boy, hurry the hell up.
He dives into the water with the coil of rope slung over his shoulder which is odd, but not entirely surprising.
If he didn’t come out here to mourn, then he came for something else.
“What a waste of my time, chasing fuckboys around,” I murmur, pushing my hood up. When Ash sees me coming, I want him to see the reaper. I want him to understand that I’m coming for him, that even if my gun is pink, it’s fully loaded, and I have no qualms about putting six rounds in his chest and dropping him to the mud.
I could strap a cinder block to his body, roll him over with my boot, and push him into the water. It’d be cathartic, certainly. Oh, it’d be fun. But I can’t do that to Scarlett.
Ash surfaces with a gasp, swimming to the shore with the end of the rope clutched in one hand. He climbs out, shivering, teeth chattering, and then ties it to the bumper of the car. Ash climbs in wet, puts the car in reverse, and pulls back until the tarp surfaces, popping up over the edge of the pond and landing in the grass. He takes a minute to put his head on his arm, draped over the steering wheel and panting, and then he climbs out and heads for the body.
My lips thin into a tight line, and I slide the pink handgun from my pocket, stalking out of the trees and putting it right up against the side of Ash’s dripping skull. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even hear me coming.
I’m your Nightmare, Scarlett Force. I will do anything for you. Save this boy, kill this boy. It depends on your whims and his good behavior.
“What are you up to, Kelly boy?” I whisper, leaning in toward him as he stiffens up, still panting and shivering from the cold. He turns to look at me, his eyes even darker than usual in the gray midmorning light.
“I should’ve known that you’d show up here,” he growls out, bending down to check the tarp. It’s solid, no holes, but still, even I wouldn’t want to unwrap it. He rises up to his feet and I drop the gun by my side, watching as he returns to the trunk to retrieve a second tarp. He rolls Lucy onto it, wraps her up, and goes about securing the edges with duct tape.
“If you don’t explain what you’re doing—and explain it quick—I’m going to shoot you.” I lean in toward him, like a lover. Only, I’m not his lover. I’m death on swift and quiet wings, here without vendetta or vengeance. Just simple business. That’s all the world is to me: business. The only real, true thing is Scarlett.
I expect that’s the way they all feel about her, this strange and curious collection of fuckboys. At first, both she and I were under the impression that she needed to stretch her wings, test her limits, experiment. Freedom, that’s what we both thought this thing was. Fear, too, because she’s right: when romance works, it’s everything, but when it’s not … when it’s not, it’s hell.
Only, it’s none of those things anymore. This is happening because Scarlett is brilliant, magnanimous as the sun, and she’s sailed into a sea of shadows and taken some of the monsters home with her.
She is real and nothing else matters.
That’s why Ash Kelly, Alexei Grove, and Adrian Lawless are as obsessed with her as I am.
“You know I’ll do it, Kitagawa.” I chuckle. I looked up Ash’s mother, a beloved actress worldwide, worth millions in her own right, a true beauty, a philanthropist, a kindhearted humanitarian. Not that any of that matters; it never does. She made a mistake in the one place that it can really and truly hurt: romance.
