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Bishop narrows his eyes at me. “Yes, you fuck. Because no one except me knows even half of what you have been through.”
I shrug. “Demons make good pets.”
Bishop shakes his head slowly before finally changing the subject. “What do you make of everything Hector went over with us last night?”
“It is what it is. I mean, remember the legends we were told around the bonfires?”
“Yeah.” Bishop stares. “But now they’re coming back, and they’re coming back the year I take the gavel.”
I lick my lips. “Doesn’t matter.”
“How does it not matter? We’ve got REU reopening, as well as Riverside Prep moving back to the old building, that’s going to set shit off. I won’t be surprised if a war erupts, and aside from that, we still have to fly back to Perdita to check on Nate’s little fuck toy to make sure she’s doing things right.”
I blink slowly, my mouth falling open. “A few things, one, I wouldn’t call her his fuck toy around Tillie, unless you wanna be chopped liver, and two, good. Let them come. Bring a motherfucking war.”
“You freaky fuck, not all of us like the taste of blood.”
I separate my index finger and middle finger and bring my hand to my lips, licking the middle. “Don’t knock it before you try it.”
Bishop shakes his head. “Sick bastard. And to think—”
“How fucking long has she been up there for?” I stomp across the kitchen toward the wide-opened staircase. “Saint! Hurry the fuck up!”
She walks down the right wing of stairs, coming to the middle and staring at me before taking the first step on the main staircase. “I took twenty minutes, Brantley. Jesus Christ.”
She walks—even slower—down the stairs, her fingers flexing around the burned wooden rail. “Can’t say that name in this house,” I say, just as she lands on the step above me. She’s still not eye level, but close enough. “Might erupt into flames, and we don’t want that.” I catch what she’s wearing. White Gucci crop that hangs loosely off her small frame, skinny jeans that hug her thighs, and Givenchy sneakers. “You know, for someone who has been locked in a house all your life, your fashion sense sure hits the spot.”
She smiles, rolling her eyes slightly while taking the final step down. “You’re the one who gave me too much money and not enough things to do…”
“Yeah, well try me today, because I can think of a few fucking things…” I growl, just as Bishop enters.
“So where are we going?” she asks, her smile way too fucking bright to be this close to me.
Bishop puts a cigarette in his mouth. “To Riverside.”
Saint
I like fast cars. I think I found that out about myself the first time Lucan drove us home in his Porsche. I voiced this with Brantley, too, which is probably why he opted buying me the pretty white Tesla that sits in the garage. I’ve driven it twice, and both times were only around our driveway.
I run my palm across the soft leather. “I like the Aston Martin, but when can I drive the Tesla?”
Brantley ignores me, flooring it until I’m being pressed into the back of my seat. Figuring he’s not going to talk, I push play on some music.
He turns his head toward me, and my eyes move to the front of me. “You might crash.”
“What’s with you and Bishop?” His attention is back on the road again, but I know it’s me he’s waiting to hear speak.
“I don’t know.” I try the words out. “Why?”
His long fingers start running across his upper lip, and I’m momentarily distracted by the movement. I shuffle in my seat. “Why?”
“Do you like him?” he asks, and his fingers tense around the wheel. “And answer me honestly, or have you forgotten, I know when people lie.” He doesn’t turn to face me when he finishes, which is a good thing because I’m not sure he’d want to see the expression on my face right now.
“What do you mean like?” My blood feels warm as it reaches my heart faster and everything inside of me is moving at speeds I can’t catch up with. Thud. Thud. Thud. What is happening? My palms twitch and I run them down my thighs to wipe the sweat away. I can hear my heart pulsing in my ears. “You mean, like as in like him?” I turn to face Brantley when he doesn’t answer me. “Are you crazy? That is—no.”
“Why not?” he answers, and I have to take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. Maybe Tillie is misinformed? His face is expressionless, but the side of his jaw is tight. Ahhh, he’s annoyed. Well, I’m starting to think, so am I. The Tech N9ne song playing in the background isn’t helping either. He’s talking about ripping his heart out, and right now, all I want to do is rip my hair out. My heart rate picks up, my pores release bulbs of sweat as everything in my vision turns red. My mouth opens, and just as the words are about to spill out, the corner of his lips curve in a smirk, yet his eyes remain on the road.
