Page 73 of Made in Love and Blood

Nico arched an eyebrow. “Ah, Perry.”

“James. Just so you’ve got the right name, Nico.”

“And Lucas is the brother, right? Yeah, I remember him.”

“Didn’t you go to Elmswood after that for a little while? That’s what I heard. What school did they put you in after that, huh?”

Nico barely reacted, but he felt Frankie’s gaze turn on him questioningly.

“You’re lucky Mr. Doucette didn’t notice you in there,” James continued. “Isn’t that part of the deal you signed to get out of Elmswood? No attending any functions or events related to Ashbourne Academy?”

“Keep talking,” Nico returned, “and we’ll see how well you do it with my fist down your fucking throat.”

“Oh, threats,” said the girl at James’ side.

“Shut up, Nat,” Frankie snapped, joining the fray.

No, Nico couldn’t have that.

She didn’t need to fight his battle.

“There’s the car,” he told her, pulling her further away from the other two with a pat to her backside and a kiss to her cheek. “Go get in, babe.”

She gave him a side-long look that he held until she was totally out of his peripheral vision. Then, like the cold motherfucker he had learned he needed to be to deal with people like James, Nico gave the bastard exactly what he wanted.

He threw his cigarette to the side at the same time he stepped toe to toe with James and then proceeded to reach out to wipe his hand on the lapel of the guy’s tux. Once, twice, and then a third time to be sure. The same hand he’d just used to pat Frankie’s ass.

“That’s the closest you’ll come to that girl ever again,” Nico said lowly, inching closer by leaning in. There, forcing James into a staring contest the guy couldn’t win, he added, “And if you say another word in her direction, I’ll run you over with my fucking car, and make sure to feed your intestines to her little dog. Try me.”

On the drive back to the estate after the two had stopped at her favorite food truck, Frankie finished a vanilla milkshake while she stared at him from the next seat over.

“What?” he asked her, tired of the silence.

“You went to Elmswood?”

“For six months. It took a judge, a couple of lawyers, and a lot of fucking money to get me out of there.”

She snorted. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“It took me two phone calls where I just cried to my dad.”

The facility meant for troubled youth who came from especially privileged backgrounds dealt with everything from rebellious behavior to mental health issues. They also continued a teenager’s education while within the facilities walls.

“My dad didn’t care how much I hated it, or that I was there,” Nico admitted, keeping his eyes on the road.

Frankie reached over with cold fingers to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You burnt someone’s car on a school day? In the school’s parking lot?”

He scowled. “The idiot almost got me busted for drugs all because I wouldn’t keep selling to him. He thought it was funny to spike people with acid as like an initiation type shit, and I just—”

“Hey,” she said softly.

Nico glanced her way.

“It’s okay.”

“I reacted. It wasn’t an appropriate response to the situation given I wasn’t ready to accept the consequences. Elmswood did teach me something. Alongside a list of medication and diagnoses I never cared for.”