“I won’t let him win,” Jerrett whispers against my cheek before his lips graze my skin. “Trust me. I promise to make it as easy and pleasurable for you as I can.”
He leans back, my dark eyes catching his. I can see the truth and flecks of anger burning in the brown depths. My chest rises and falls as I let him strip the thin material of my camisole from my body. Eventually, I lie back down, nodding my head, giving him permission to keep going, knowing this could be worse. At least it’s Jerrett.
Jerrett took my virginity that night at the demand of my father. A symbolic gesture was made that I wasn’t a pure, innocent, child worthy of ransom. I was a woman, a killer, and one of his many disciples. Jerrett had been true to his word; it wasn’t as horrible as it could have been. He did everything he could to make me comfortable and enjoy the experience as much as I could, instead of feeling as if I had been raped. Jerrett knew what he was doing when he chose to be gentle instead of forceful, and in the end, he did pay for it with his life. He was carried out to the courtyard the next morning, hands tied behind his back, while my father aimed a gun at his head and assassinated him as an example of not following orders. It still sickens me that my father planned for my virginity to be stripped away. It would have broken me if Jerrett hadn’t told me about my father’s plan. I’ll forever be thankful he had been gentle.
I breathe in and out, pushing down the guilt I feel over Jerrett’s death, and turn back to my cousin. “So your dad agreed to this?” I find it really hard to believe.
She rolls her eyes. “You know my father will agree to anything Uncle says. All it took was a little doubt about your flirting abilities from his sister, and Uncle was on board. Now I get to spend the next three months with you, before having to return home and start looking at my marriage prospects.” She sticks out her tongue at the last part.
“Well, at least you know if your future husband isn’t good to you, I can always kill him in his sleep.” I smirk at her. She smiles back, but it’s not genuine. The traces of happiness in her eyes have dimmed. “Evi—” I start to say before she cuts me off.
“No moping! Let’s get to Florida and get this job done, so we can spend some quality beach time together.” She grabs my hand and starts leading me to the house. “I already have feelers out for tickets to the race and I’m putting out feelers for the clubs to see if any of them have VIP sections reserved. I heard it’s a three-day event.”
I nod my head, having read some of the same information as well. I frown a little, though, realizing I didn’t even think about checking into clubs. My plan was a little more old school. I had just planned to tail him after the race. Begrudgingly, I can understand where Evita may be useful.
“Go shower and change.” She pushes me toward the door, making me laugh.
“What?” I point to the grass stains and dirt on my elbows. “Are you telling me this is not the look motocross guys go for?”
Her nose wrinkles. “No. No guy. Ever.”
I laugh at her expression, running up the stairs and grabbing a few things out of my closet before jumping in the shower. When I’m done, I quickly braid my hair, so it hangs down my back and throw all my makeup and hair products in a bag. I slip into a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a tank, before waltzing out of the bathroom.
“You’re lucky I love you.” Evi blows wisps of hair out of her eyes, pointing to the large suitcase sitting upright by my door.
“You packed for me?” I smile and rush over to her, hugging her around the waist.
“Yes!” She laughs. “Let’s get going so we can get to our first hotel before it’s dark.”
“You’re the best, Evi,” I tell her, while gripping the handle on my suitcase and rolling it back to the stairs. At the front door, I nod to the security detail, who look a little on edge. For once, they will be staying here while I am on a solo mission to seek my father’s vengeance.
I set my bags in the trunk next to Evita’s and climb in the passenger seat. She takes out her phone and pulls up her Maps app. “This is going to be the longest drive ever,” she pouts and turns her big eyes to me, “Can’t we fly?”
“Security,” I remind her and flip through her music.
“Fine. Alright, let this epic girls’ trip slash revenge plan commence!” she yells into the air, and I laugh and cheer with her. I’m happy not to be on my own in this. I hit play on Don Omar’s “Danza Kuduro” while we head for the United States border.
After the almost two-day road trip, we finally make it to Tampa, Florida, and quickly find our hotel. Evita was able to get us into a hotel close enough to the races that we could walk if needed. Judging by the crowd outside, we are not going to find any parking that close by. Once we get into our room, I quickly shoot my father a text about our arrival before jumping in the shower. I take my time conditioning my hair and shaving absolutely everything, before using sugar scrub until my tan skin glows.
By the time I get out, my eyes look more awake and my skin is silky smooth. I dry my hair before adding some curls and running my fingers through them. I’m about to pull out my makeup bag when a small tendril of doubt creeps into my mind. I frown. “Evi!”
She pops her head in the bathroom. “Yes?”
My mouth open and closes. I can’t believe I’m doubting myself right now after doing the same makeup routine for a year. “What do I do for a motocross race?”
She grins. “See, this is why I needed to be here. Go more neutral for today. Once we find the after-party tonight then we can spice it up more.”
I nod as if her suggestion makes sense. Once she leaves, I reach for my phone and pull up Pinterest for neutral makeup tips. I follow the guided example then opt for my darker pink lipstick, refusing my lips to look anything close to bare. I like color.
In the room, Evita lays an outfit out on the bed for me before slinking past me to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on before I step into the jean shorts she picked out. They slide on and mold like a second skin around my curves and ass. I turn in front of the mirror, admiring how cute they actually look. I take the shirt next and throw it over my head. The black material is a little long, so I scoop it up and tie it right below my belly button.
“You look like a biker chick,” Evita grins, when she steps out, and I notice she is wearing white shorts and an electric green tank top now.
My brow rises. “Is this what girls wear to these things?”
She shrugs. “I have no idea. I was going for casual and sexy but not slutty. We don’t want to be confused for groupies or track bunnies.” She shudders and I laugh.
“Are you almost ready?” I ask, looking at the time on my phone again. The race starts in forty-five minutes and we still have to walk there.
“Almost,” she calls before skipping back to the bathroom. “Just have to finish my eyes!”
I pace around the room and am constantly drawn to the window overlooking the parking lot. Groups of people leave, every now and then, all of them dressed similarly to me except for one group of five girls who are wearing the shortest skirts and shorts that barely cover their cheeks with bikini tops. Must be the track bunnies Evita was talking about.