Perversion (Perversion Trilogy #1)(24)

“Can’t you just stay here with me and wallow in our misery?” Gabby whines. “Read me another one of the fairytales you wrote?” She sighs when she realizes I’m not going to budge. “Why again is this one thing so important to you?”

“I can’t explain it. I just…it just is, okay?” I place my hands on her shoulders. “It will be fine. I’ll be in and out and back here in no time.”

“Leo could have given you bad info. This could be a trap of some sort. It might not even be where he lives.”

“Leo’s done nothing but help us since the day we got here. She’s one of the only ones. I trust her.”

Gabby pushes my hands off her shoulders. She looks unconvinced at best. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror hanging behind the door and looks with disgust at the yellow rose tattoo on her shoulder. The rub turns into a scratch until she’s practically clawing at it. I grab her hand and force her to stop before she hurts herself.

We are required to show Los Muertos colors at all times. Gabby’s is her tattoo; Marco insisted since she’s blood. Mine is a little more low-key. My yellow Keds. And since I always make sure to walk through every mud puddle that I come across, they were more brown than yellow.

“Remember, a yellow rose stands for friendship,” I tell her. “Don’t scratch at our friendship.”

She smiles, but it’s a sad one that doesn’t reach her glassy brown eyes. “I trust Leo, too, EJ, but you should also trust me when I tell you this isn’t a good idea.”

“I do trust you, more than anyone, you know that, but you of all people should also know that just because I trust you, doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you.” I give her a peck on the cheek and sling my backpack over my shoulder.

Gabby huffs. “Fine. Then, I’m coming with you.”

I shake my head. “No, it’ll be easier for one person to sneak around Bedlam territory at night. Two will be more likely to get noticed.” I flip the hood on my black sweater over my head. “Be back in a jiffy. If I’m not back in a couple of hours, uhhhh…just wait longer.”

“EJ, wait.” Gabby follows me to the door. She smiles genuinely this time. She grabs my hand and locks our pinkies together. “Best friends know you’re crazy and still choose to be seen with you in public,” she says, reciting a favorite quote of ours. She takes her other hand and covers where our pinkies are linked. “By anonymous internet quote,” she adds.

I reply with another. “Best friends are like fairytales. They’ve been there since once upon a time, and will be there until forever after.” I place my other hand on top of hers. “Man, that anonymous internet quote really knows his stuff,” I say.

“Her,” she corrects with a laugh. We drop hands. “Be careful, EJ,” she says as I open the door. “There are still so many quotes out there we’ve yet to read.”

I nod.

And then I’m gone.





Ten





People like us?

What the fuck did she mean by people like us?

The girl in the alley is nothing like me. I’ve been hardened over the years both in spirit and body.

The girl, on the other hand, was soft.

I couldn’t see much of her eyes in the shadows and because her hair was in her face. But I felt her soft, rounded, and perky tits against me. Her hardened nipples pebbling through her sweat soaked t-shirt. Soft, tanned skin. Long, pin-straight hair the color of whiskey.

The only thing that wasn’t soft about her was her fucking attitude. The way she stared me down as if she could somehow take me down with only her determination and will.

It was downright adorable.

Something about the way she stared me down made my cock instantly hard. I’m not some kid who walks around with a hard-on every day at the first pair of tits he sees bouncing by. I haven’t had that kind of immediate connection with someone since…her. Emma Jean. Tricks.

I’m not going to think about a girl from my past right now.

This wasn’t just a connection. This was a raw attraction like I’d never felt before.

When faced with a bloodied man in an alley holding a knife, she reacted the complete opposite way of how someone should react. I knew she was afraid. I could smell the fear seeping off her skin, and yet she barely faltered. She stood her ground. I didn’t even get to tell her the real reason for the blood on my chest before her friend called for her.

People like us.

I’m stuck on her words, repeating them over and over again in my head. Her locket is burning a hole in my pocket. I want to take it out and inspect it further, but seconds after I arrived back home, I was recruited to revive Sandy’s piece of shit minivan for the millionth time this week.

The van doesn’t need a revival.

It needs a fucking coroner.

The unmistakable sound of tires rolling along the pavement catches my attention. I lift my head from under the hood. I straighten, wiping the grease from my hands with an already dirty rag. My smile is nothing less than smug when I spot the unmarked black town car rolling by at a painfully slow speed.

Fuckers.

I salute the car with a gesture whoever is inside can’t misinterpret. Hint: it involves both of my middle fingers. I chuckle to myself when it speeds away into the night. I turn my attention back to the engine and the task at hand.