Branded (Fall of Angels #1)(50)

A narrow street separated by a few bushes allows me to switch lanes.

“Watch out!” Dixie suddenly yells.

I jerk the wheel just in time to avoid a woman with a stroller crossing the street.

We swerve through the streets, going faster and faster, trying to speed away from the men chasing us. If I know Matteo well, he won’t give up without a fight, which is why I have to go through this alley to cut them off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Dixie screams, closing her eyes as the sides screech against the walls. The car scooped up a bunch of clothes from someone’s clothesline as we exit the alley, and I slide them off with the wipers. A white shirt is still stuck to the lights, though. Perfect.

Because I’m still driving in my fucking birthday suit with only a towel covering my fragile parts. I should be happy they didn’t manage to shoot that off.

“What the fuck was that, Brandon?!” Dixie yells as we swerve into the correct lane.

“The only way to escape them, that’s what,” I reply, shifting gears to full power. “Now hold on.”

I slam the gas so hard she’s pushed back into her seat. I have to drive through several red lights and slip through a gap between two trucks crossing each other. Then I take another turn and drive off.

Matteo’s car and the others seem to have disappeared.

Phew.

Guess my driving skills were too dangerous for the likes of them. But I already knew it was the only way to shake them off.

When I turn my head to look at Dixie, I burst into laughter.

Her hair is one jumbled mess, and she’s shaking like a leaf.

“What … the fuck?” she mutters, staring ahead as if she’s lost her marbles.

“That’s how you fucking drive,” I say, a smug grin spreading on my lips.

She glances at herself in the rearview mirror and rakes her fingers through her hair. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Don’t thank him. He’s not the reason you’re still alive.”

She makes a face. “Thanks,” she says with such a sarcastic undertone that it almost hurts. Almost. But not quite.

I continue driving and don’t stop, not even once we’re out of the city and in the desert. It’s not safe for us in Las Vegas. I have to find a hideout first and then wait it out as I think about what I’m gonna do with this fucking girl sitting next to me. The one girl who ruined my life somehow managed to burst her way back in with explosive power. And boy, does it fucking burn. Just like having her eyes on me at all times. I’m starting to wonder if something is on my face.

“What?” I snap.

She points at my junk.

When I glance down, I finally realize I’m still only wearing a towel.

Well, fuck.

During the chase, I had so much adrenaline I completely forgot about that. And clothes, for that matter. How the fuck am I going to get them now without people calling the cops on me?

“Here,” she says, and she pulls a pair of pants from underneath her shirt. “Figured you might need these.”

I frown. “What do you want me to do with this?”

She lifts her brow at me. “How about put them on?”

“While I’m behind the wheel?” I reply. “Great idea.”

“No, when we get to wherever the fuck you’re taking us, of course. Geez,” she yells, sighing.

Well, fuck me. After all this time, we still clash like teenagers.

Still, I’m surprised she thought of bringing something.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “I don’t normally scoop up clothes from a random bathroom floor, you know.”

I snort at her. “Thanks.”

Sometimes, I really wish I wasn’t cooped up in this small car with a girl like her.

Then again, I guess it’s just what I needed to make my life seem like less of a blur.

Now all I need to do is figure out where to go.

Naked.





Chapter Twenty-Four





Dixie



We’ve been driving for hours now, and I have no clue where he’s taking me. Every time I open my mouth to ask him, he gives me this death stare, and I immediately close my jaw.

Fuck me, I don’t remember Brandon Locklear being this intimidating.

Has my memory failed me? Or am I turning into a pussy? Considering how I cowered behind him when his uncle’s men started shooting at us, it’s probably the latter. Shit, I still get goose bumps on my arms when I think about it.

I never expected them to open fire like that. It’s as if they didn’t give a shit whether he survived. Not that I care or anything, but … they’re his uncle’s men. His fucking uncle. And none of them seemed to give a rat’s ass whether he died.

Is that how you deal with family? Not in my book it isn’t.

Then again, the Locklears are anything but normal.

Suddenly, my stomach roars out loud. From the corner of my eyes, I can clearly see him glare. Then he chuckles, shaking his head. I’m mortified.

“What?” I snap, my cheeks glowing.

“Nothing,” he says.

“Fucking hope so,” I say.

“You always this hostile?” he asks.

“To the man who killed my fucking brothers?” I retort. “Oh yeah, definitely.”