The Probability of Violet and Luke(41)



For this very reason, I try to keep Violet out of the loop of what the plans are, but the problem is the girl knows her shit.

It’s nearing eight o’clock, but the sky is still bright, the sun blaring it’s heat down on the city and desert land that surrounds it. We have the windows rolled down, but it still doesn’t help with the sweating factor, but part of that might be because I’m in the backseat with Violet, trying not to be so damn nervous about the entire situation.

“So what’s up with this The Warehouse place?” Violet asks from the backseat of Cole’s 1970 Dodge Challenger. She’s wearing that short dress I didn’t want her wearing and it hugs her body perfectly and leaves little to the imagination. “Because it sounds like a place where the mafia would hide dead bodies.”

Cole glances at her in the rearview mirror inquisitively while Ryler smiles, rolling his window all the way down. “Well, if it was, I’d think you’d be a little worried that we’re taking you there, wouldn’t you?” my uncle jokes as he retrieves a pack of cigarettes from the dash.

“You would think so,” Violet says amused, the hot breeze flowing through the cab blows stray strands of her hair into her face. “But if you guys are in the mafia, you’re not very scary, nor are you packing a gun so escape seems possible.”

“And how do you know we’re not packing any weapons?” Cole asks, his gaze landing on me and I can tell he approves of Violet, which would be just great except that she doesn’t approve of me.

“Well, you’re both wearing tank tops and there’s no place to hide them in there. None of your pant or short pockets look bulky and I made a mental note that neither of you had one in the back of your pants.” She relaxes back in the seat, folding her arms, restraining a smile.

“Smart girl,” Cole remarks as he slows the car at a stoplight. The busy sidewalks are buzzing with excitement, neon lights flashing on every building, and I can practically smell the slot machines on the inside of them. “Luke, I like this one. You should keep her around.”

So do I, I want to tell him but instead say, “Yeah, she’s not so bad, I guess.” I nudge her in the side with my elbow so she knows I’m messing around.

“What can I say, I like to prepare myself,” Violet says, not moving away when I rest my shoulder against hers. “You never know who the crazies are.”

My body stiffens, wondering if she meant it how I took it. But she seems calm and content, so I’m guessing she’s just chatting and didn’t really think much of it. Still, it reminds me that one of those ‘crazies’ she’s referring to is my mother and what one of those ‘crazies’ did was murder her parents, which led to her spending most of her childhood in foster homes, which led her to Preston’s and her messed up life. All because of my mother and some unknown guy.

Ryler rotates in his seat to look at us and signs something to Violet, something amusing I’m guessing with the way Violet laughs and he smiles.

Violet shrugs. “Knives aren’t scary. You can run from knives.”

Ryler’s brow arches as he rests his arm on the back of the seat, still signing.

“It sounds like I’m speaking from experience, huh?” Violet muses as Ryler nods. Then Violet shrugs again, not willing to divulge any of her past, something I’m used to. But I know enough about her and she had a shitty childhood, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran from someone with a knife. Fuck, what if it was my mother. I never did get the details of what exactly happened that night.

“You’re a pretty tough chick,” Cole remarks then looks at me. “You know, we could use her tonight.”

“No,” I say sharply. “She’s not here to get involved in this.”

“Well she’s here,” Cole says, getting a little annoyed. “So technically she’s already involved.”

“She’s just here to watch,” I argue, balling my hands into fist. “Nothing else.”

Violet’s eyes are on me, not necessarily glaring, but she doesn’t look happy either. “What’s up with you and the whole protective thing?” she says it quietly, but Ryler still hears her and sensing a fight, turns back around in his seat and proceeds to smoke.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” I tell her with a shrug. “It’s not like this is some new f*cking revelation. I was the same way while we were…” I want to say dating, but where we really ever officially dating? Yeah, we went out on one or two dates, but our relationship was so brief—too brief.

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