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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
*Vincent “Vee” - Road Captain*
Brodi lifts his chin above the bottom of the window, looks through it, then slides down the side of the building, plops to his ass on the ground, and drops his head back against the building.
An ascending, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” comes though my earpiece. “Fuck!” he yells again, closing his eyes and slamming a fist against the ground.
I refuse to ask. I don’t want to know. Not officially. I need to get out of here.
Dazed, I take out my phone and call Kal. When he answers, I explain that “Something came up with Jess—” Just as I am about to vocally assume we need help, Brodi can hear my end of the call in his bluetooth and says, “She is dead, Vee.”
Fuck you, Brodi. “Sh-she, Jess, is dead. Get the police out here, stat.”
I rush out one final sentiment, “I’m leaving, Kal. I can’t do this anymore,” but Kal hangs up too soon.
Brodi hears it though, jumps to his feet, and starts sprinting across the yard toward me, fast as lightning, just like his damn bike and tattoo.
“Stop!” he yells into our bluetooth, but I rip it out of my ear. “Stop!” he yells louder, his raw voice reaching me across the remaining distance.
With not enough time to put my helmet back on and get out of here before he catches up to me, I toss it to the ground, turn on my bike, and speed away to get out of this goddamn state as fast as possible.
