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Ispend two hours taking all my frustrations and anger out on Xander, and then another couple of the guys come over to get involved. Apparently, taking on the prez’s granddaughter is a thing they all want to be a part of. And I’m more than happy to indulge them as each of them has a different technique and varying skills that they’re more than willing to teach me.
By the time I’m showered once more and dressed in normal clothes, I feel like I can take on the world. Or maybe Theo, at least.
Although the thought of fighting him off after he’s climbed through my window doesn’t seem like a good idea. Maybe I can just kick his arse if he tries a stunt like he did in the shower yesterday morning again. He fucking well deserves it for that.
“I thought I was going to have to come and get you,” a deep, rumbling, familiar voice says when I finally make my way out of the locker room.
Being inside that silent room after the last time was pure torture. The whole time I was in the shower, I was looking over my shoulder, listening for any kind of clue that he might just appear.
I hate that I’m a little disappointed that he never did.
I shake the ridiculous thoughts from my head as I make my way over to my uncle.
“How’s it going, kid?”
“Yeah, not bad,” I say. “You good?”
“Always.” He winks, taking my bag from me and wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
“Killed anyone today?” I ask as casually as if I’m asking about the weather.
“Not yet, but it’s still early. Only been awake an hour.”
“Good night, huh?”
“Sure was, kid. But your ears are way too young and innocent for details.”
“I highly doubt that, Cruz. Try me.”
He looks down at me and laughs.
“Because I’m not already dicing with death spending time with you. I don’t need to corrupt you any more than you already are.”
“Pfft. You’re aware of the estate I grew up on, right? I’ve seen people shooting up and fucking in public all my life. Not much can shock me now—even your questionable morals, apparently.”
“Your mum’s a bitch. Sorry.”
“Agreed. Now are you going to feed me or what?”
He laughs, coming to a stop beside his bike which is parked next to mine and making it look like a toy.
He throws my gym bag over his body to save me from carrying it and climbs on.
“Usual place?”
“You know it.”
The rumble of his engine vibrates through me as I get on my own much-less-powerful bike and turn the engine.
“Let’s go then,” Cruz barks, flipping his helmet down as I pull mine on and taking off across the car park.
I trail him across the city and squeal in delight as we weave in and out of the traffic, exactly like Dad refuses to do when we’re out together.
He insists on being a sensible parent, setting a good example. Problem is, I know exactly how he likes to ride his bike when he’s alone, and hell, I crave that adrenaline hit as much as he does. Even if my bike only does about three miles an hour in comparison.
It won’t be long until I can play with the big boys. Excitement zips through my veins as we damn near jump a set of lights before Cruz pulls his beast to a stop outside our favourite place.
He drags his helmet off and runs fingers through his hair, more than aware of the three women standing outside the shop next door to the place we’re going.
