Page 15
Story: Pretty Little Psychoy
“Railing some chick over there.” As if on cue, a moan echoed around us, making me snort.
“I hope he gets ants up his ass. Doesn’t he have any class?” I crinkled my nose, leaning back against my car and observing the empty space around us. The others weren’t here yet, and no one else would risk hanging around this place so late. The crime rate here was ridiculously high.
“As if you’ve never shoved your fingers up some chick’s pussy while in public.” He scoffed, giving me an amused glance, the smoke from his cigarette swirling into the night sky. “I doubt you have an issue with putting on a show.”
“An audience doesn’t faze me, no.” I shrugged, placing the tip of my bat on the ground and twirling the handle in my grip, the scraping sound loud in the quiet air. “Where are the others? Turbo texted me and told me to be here by ten, but I guess I’m the only one who got that message.”
“Turbo and Slick should be here soon. Blake’s coming too. She had something to do on the way though so she’ll probably be late.”
“No offense to Blake, but I’m not waiting all night for her. I’ve got shit to do,” I retorted, and he raised an eyebrow, tossing his cigarette butt out the window.
“The fuck do you have to do this late? It’s not like you’ve got anyone lying awake in bed waiting for you to get home.”
“Bite me, asshole. I want to stop by Harley’s Bar on the way home and see Landon.” I scowled at him but was quickly relieved when the sound of rumbling engines slowed close by and pulled into the parking lot.
Turbo’s black 1994 MK4 Supra came into view, the headlights almost blinding me in the process. Mine was nicer, but I respected him for the effort he’d put into his. It was a pile of crap when he’d first brought it to these races a few years earlier, purchasing it as a wreck, but now it was flashy as fuck with a shit ton of time and money under the hood. The bodywork didn’t look half bad either.
I didn’t bother to ask him where he got the money because he’d either lie or I’d get sucked into whatever illegal crap he was involved in. I knew he was a huge player in the underground, and he had more than just illegal street races happening as his business.
I had enough of that shit from most of my family being involved with the street crews, so I never bothered asking him for details. I’d never heard his real name used in conversation at home, which was a relief. Ander Lavaro was someone my parents definitely wouldn’t allow me to associate with. He was the enemy if he was involved in dealing drugs or weapons, which was why the less I knew, the better.
To me and the rest of the racers, he was just Turbo, the car fanatic.
Slick pulled in behind him in his black 1984 Mustang, both of them switching their cars off and climbing out. Slick leered at me like he always did, but Turbo gave me a nod. I had zero respect for Slick, he was a piece of shit, and I’d heard a rumor that he’d knocked some chick up and beat her when she refused an abortion.
I didn’t even know what his real name was. He wasn’t worth my time. He hated me, but he wanted to fuck me because he saw me as a challenge. No girl would willingly get in his bed, I was sure of it. I had no idea why Turbo associated with him outside of these races, because he wasn’t too bad of a guy.
“Where’s Blake?” Turbo asked, his attention on me as if I held all the answers. I rolled my eyes, placing my bat behind my neck and holding each end with my hands.
“Reid said she’s coming, but she’ll be late.”
“She’ll be coming when I shove my dick up her cunt.” Slick snickered.
“You probably wouldn’t know how to make a woman come even if she directed you.” I laughed lightly, running my eyes over him with disgust. “And I doubt anyone would willingly take their panties off for you to find out.”
“Watch it, whore,” he spat. “Or I’ll shove that bat of yours right up your filthy cunt.”
“If you think you could pry it out of my hands to begin with, you’re delusional. I’d beat you to a pulp with it before you got the chance. Don’t try me, fuck face,” I warned, tightening my grip around it and preparing to swing as he took a step in my direction, but Logan materialized in front of me, his muscles bunched as he stared Slick down.
“You think you can lay a finger on a woman and get away with it, asshole?” he growled, clenching his fists by his sides. “Try and throw hands at me instead and see what happens.”
Slick sneered at him, but Turbo rolled his eyes and stepped between them before it could escalate any further. I’d seen Logan throw fists before, and he was just like all the other Heights born kids. Scrappy as fuck.
“We’re not here for that. Get in your cars and let’s get this race started. I have business to attend to when I leave here so I don’t need your childish pissing contest.”
Logan didn’t move a muscle until Slick backed off and stalked to his car, and once he was away from us, Logan turned around and gave me a smirk.
“Can’t take you anywhere without you causing a scene, can we?”
“You didn’t take me anywhere. Where’d your girl go? It was bad enough that yourromanticdate was in the bushes, but then you bailed on her too?” I chuckled, relaxing once Slick was shut inside his car away from us.
“She had things to do. She took off, not me.” He shrugged, not fazed that she was now wandering around in the dark alone. She must have been local with good self-defense skills, or he would’ve taken her home. He was a playboy, but he wasn’t a complete asshole.
“You were that bad she ran away? Damn. Next time give her my number so the poor bitch can at least get off,” I teased as I placed my bat by my side, laughter leaving me as he gave me a gentle shove.
“Fuck off, Donovan. You should be nicer to me. From what I’ve heard, your sister wouldn’t like to know you’re an adrenaline junkie with a death wish.”
I stopped laughing, my face becoming a void of emotion as my voice turned cold. “Are you threatening to out me to my family, Donahue?” I pushed him backwards, his back hitting the hood of Reid’s Challenger as I pressed my bat against his throat with a hand on each end to apply pressure. “Don’t fuck with me. You think Beckett’s the only person who can ruin your life? Think again.”
Table of Contents
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