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“Probably.”
“May as well come in then.”
The bulb from his remaining lamp casts a spotlight on his bare chest as he lounges back against his pillows. I slide onto his bed with one bended knee, my opposite foot flat on the floor. “Was it awful?”
His throat moves as he takes a long sip from the bottle. “Ain’t my first time in lockup.”
My lower half clenches. Jesus H Christ, when did I become such a stereotype? The good girl lusting over a bad boy for the simple sake of being bad. “What happens now?”
With a kick, he catapults himself off the mattress. He guzzles down the last of his beer, then hurls the bottle against the wall. Brown shards erupt on contact, glittering glass dappling the floor.
A sharp breath hits my lungs. I sit in silence as he stalks back and forth like a caged animal, fury twisting his features into something vicious.
“They said they’d drop the charges ...”
The burden on my shoulders lifts. “But that’s great news! It’s over, right?”
He stops his maniacal pacing and stares daggers at my heart. “If I fight him and lose.”
My mouth goes dry. “What do you mean lose?”
He rolls his eyes, sinking his fingers into his hair. It spikes through his fists in raven spurs. “Friday Night Fight at the club, I’m expected to throw the match and hand that fucker my title.”
My jaw drops. “They want you to lose on purpose?”
“Well, he can’t beat me on his own merit,” he snaps, his eyes narrowed to darkened slits. “Skinny punk ain’t even in my weight class.”
“And if you don’t agree?”
“An assault charge on my permanent record? Possible jail time? My mother can kiss half her income goodbye, that’s for dang sure.”
“But they can’t do that.” The pitch of my voice is a borderline shriek. “Tell them what happened! Tell them you were defending me! You can’t just sit back and let him blackmail you.”
“You have no fuckin’ idea how the world works, do you? You’ve always been lucky enough to be on the other side.”
My stomach tightens. My eyes begin to water, but I blink my tears back. “Don’t do that. Don’t drive a wedge between us with this your side my side bullshit. We’re on the same side, Jace.”
He spins around and drops to the edge of the bed. I crawl up from behind and lay my hands on his thick shoulders. “So you throw the fight. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Besides everybody thinkin’ that Pretty Boy beat me? I could lose my place at the club. Jimbo keeps me on ’cause I’m a winner. I bring in a line at the door. Everything I worked for, gone in a flash.”
I lay my cheek on his back. “You’ll still have me.”
I meant it as a joke. A cutesy quip to lighten the mood, but he sweeps his arm behind him and gathers me onto his lap, his blue gaze hard as sapphire. “You’re no one’s consolation prize.” He thumbs the purple bruise coloring my cheek. “I don’t regret a fuckin’ thing, but now I gotta pay the penance. I’ll fight that rapist fuck next week, and I’ll lose.”
Chapter twenty-two
Fire swims in my veins. I cut last period gym and raced over to Red Drum High School as fast as I could. Now, sitting on the trunk of Troy’s Porsche, I stare up at the sign reading into the irony for the first time.
Red Drum spelled backward ismurderwith two d’s. Which is exactly what I’m going to do to Troy if he doesn’t stop blackmailing Jace.
The school bell shrieks. People begin pouring from the doors and scattering across the quad. I shield my eyes from the sun, my gaze roving over every face until I find the one I came to see.
“Get off my car,” he snaps, weaving between the others in the lot.
I slide off his precious Porsche and rest my butt against the quarter panel. “I wanna talk to you.”
“What about?”
