He’s nothing to me.
Angry at my momentary weakness, I kick the window, knowing that repairing the damage will cost more money than I’ve seen in my entire life.
I’m officially out of shits to give.
Tired of Sin pushing me around, of using my garage for his family’s selfish reasons, of feeling a warped connection with him despite everything that’s happened, I give it everything I’ve got. Hopefully, I’ll either smash the glass so I can escape when I’m ready or piss the guys off enough to dump me on the side of the road.
Neither happens.
The boys ignore my violence. Sin winds down his window, a match in his hand. With a practiced movement, he coaxes a small flame to life.
Then he throws it behind him.
I watch the match arc in the air before landing in a pool of clear liquid.
The eruption is instantaneous. A flame leaps from the propellant, the blaze intensifying as it swallows the gasoline. The fire grows brighter, stronger, the heat emanating from it stifling.
Spinning to the front, I slam my fist against the back of Saint’s seat. “Drive.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Saint slams his foot on the gas, and the car’s tires screech as they find purchase on the pavement. Burning rubber, exhaust fumes, and smoke fill the vehicle.
I choke and splutter, trying to clear my airways. Throat burning and eyes stinging, I cover my mouth with my sleeve as we speed from the garage.
We roar through the partly opened gates, tearing one of them from its hinges. It flies into the air, flipping once, twice, before crashing to the ground.
With the wind whipping my face, I take one last look at the garage.
It’s engulfed in flames. Orange and red ribbons of fire lick the walls, turning them a charred black. The cars within it quickly morph into heaping molten wreckage, each spitting plumes of smoke through the open doorway.
Sin and Saint are silent.
Slowly, I face them both. You’ll pay for this.
Chapter Thirteen
Temple
“Where are we going?” I glance around, but it’s pointless. The second Saint turned north, I was lost.
Girls like me don’t travel outside of Bayside unless we’re running from violence or the cops. Since I’ve had enough of both to last me a lifetime, I keep a low profile. Once I graduate, though, I’m gone.
The guys don’t respond.
Sin’s Ferrari is ghosting us with Angel at the wheel. Staring at him doesn’t offer up any answers, either. Annoyed, I check my phone, thinking GPS will help. Only, my black screen tells me otherwise. “Stupid thing. Always running out of battery.” I slide my cell into my pocket. “Stop the car, I want out.”
No one answers.
I kick the back of the driver seat. “I said, stop the car.”
Saint throws up his hands. “I’m trying to drive, here.” He thrusts one hand through his hair before gripping the wheel again. “Jesus. What the fuck is with you, girl?”
Leaning forward, I grit out, “Call me girl again. I dare you.”
He looks at Sin. “You’re fucked in the head. You know that?”
Sin shrugs.
My eyes dart to Sin. He’s facing the other way, staring out the window, but the ancient stereo casts a soft light so I can see his reflection in the glass.
He’s watching me.
His gaze threatens to weaken my anger. But I hold on to the mental image of the garage burning to the ground, of my future going up in smoke, of the kids in need of a social worker now going without.
All because of him.
Breaking eye contact, I consider my options. There aren’t many. Unless I want to smash the window, jump from a moving vehicle, and break every bone in my body, I might as well stay where I am.
When the car slows, I’ll make them pay.
The wide, empty highway rolls on. With my window down, the cold air washes over me. Goose bumps pepper my skin, and I bury my hands into the pockets of my hoodie to keep warm. There’s no way I’m winding up the window. If I do, Sin’s intoxicating scent will fill the car, and I won’t let him mess with me again.
I hate that he smells so good.
The darkness outside is interrupted by occasional streetlights. Gradually, more appear, bright buildings and traffic rousing me from my reverie. I must have been lost in thought for ages.
Focus, Temple.
The engine roars as the car darts in and out of traffic. Eventually, Saint peels off the highway and navigates the city streets, not seen by any cops. He takes us down a series of backstreets, each narrower and more decrepit than the last, until finally pulling up next to the curb.
“Nice digs,” I mock, gesturing to an overturned trash can and scampering rats. “Are you planning on staying here for a while?”
“Let’s go.” Sin gets out the car.
Saint does the same, and, deciding it’s better the devil you know, I do too.
Angel pulls up behind us, the window lowering. Sin and Saint walk over to the driver side.
I glance about me. The abandoned building next to us screams junked-up squatters. “Why are you parked here?”
Angel glares at Sin and then me. “Did we say you could talk? You’ve been here for all of five seconds, and you’re already pissing me off.”
Saint opens his arms wide like I’m the bane of his existence. “Dude, she throws her weight around more than Sin, and you know what he’s like.”
“Control freak.”
“Exactly,” he affirms.
Ignoring them, I point to the Mustang. “You can’t park there.”
Sin pays them no attention either. “Didn’t ask your opinion, babe. Last I checked, you weren’t invited.”
“Last I checked, I didn’t throw myself in the backseat.” I get all up in his space. “If you thought I was going to stand by and let you destroy my garage, you’re stupider than you look.”
He dives his fingers into my hair. “And how did that work out for you?”
Logic and desire war inside me, making it impossible to answer.
He tugs. “Not so talkative now, are you?”
“Let go of me.”
He leans in close, his lips almost brushing mine. “Beg me to.”
Instinctively, my core throbs. Shocked that despite everything, my body still wants him, I push him away. “Never going to happen.”
Saint gives a low whistle. “Guys, this foreplay is hot. Make sure I’m around when you bone, okay?”
Sin stares at me.
I glare back.
“Okay, this has gone on long enough. It’s getting weird.” Saint taps the hood of the Ferrari. “Angel? Any ideas on how to stop them from doing… that?”
Uninterested in their opinions, I return to the previous topic. “I’m telling you, you can’t park here. By the time you finish whatever it is you’re doing, the cars will be stolen.”
They don’t reply, so I take it as an invitation to keep going. “Look, I need a ride back to Bayside, and you guys won’t be any good to me without wheels. So whatever your little plan is, change it. Find somewhere else.”
“There are no security cameras here,” Angel grits out.
“I know.” I gesture to the alleyway. “Look around you. No surveillance means no evidence. In a place like this, people do whatever they want and get away with it.”