19
Stars dance across the night sky as Roman drives us back toward the city and away from the disaster zone that their new favorite dealer calls home. “Where are we going now?” I ask, giddy as the high from being such a bad ass still blossoms through my chest.
Roman scoffs. “Home. We’ve done what we needed to do.”
My face twists with disappointment. “Seriously? We’re going home?” I question. “That’s lame. We should go out and celebrate. Tonight was awesome. No one died, I didn’t see that decaying body, and I fucking rocked it. Besides, I recall telling you that you all owe me a drink and I expect payment sooner rather than later. No,” I rush out, remembering that I don’t take no for an answer, not anymore. “Now. I want payment now.”
“Tough shit,” Roman laughs, though his laugh doesn’t seem so amused or genuine. “You can have a drink back at the castle. We’ve already broken our father’s rules by being out tonight. There’s only so much we can risk in one night without being caught.”
“He’s right,” Levi says. “In just the drive over here, do you have any idea how many calls would have been made to the cops? We’re wanted fugitives all over the country, on every fucking ‘most wanted’ list there is, a lot of them with shoot to kill orders. We can’t stay out longer than necessary. Besides, have you ever been detained by the FBI? It ain’t fun. It’s not really something I plan on doing for a second time.”
I let out a heavy groan, more than frustrated by their ‘old man get home to bed by 7 pm’ behavior. “Geez, for the most dangerous men on the planet, you sure know how to kill a woman’s vibe. Aren’t guys like you supposed to know a thing or two about having a good night? Because … and I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you sound like a bunch of boring fucking assholes who are too scared of their daddy to break curfew.”
Roman slams on the breaks as Marcus mutters a string of curses beside me, his jaw clenched and eyes hard. The Escalade comes to a screeching halt in the center of the city street, and had it been twelve hours from now, the city would have been packed with bodies.
Roman twists around in his seat, leaning through the center, and before my eyes even get a chance to bug out of my head, he’s there, curling his thick fingers into the front of my shirt and yanking me into him. “The fuck did you just say?” he demands as I try to channel that cool, calm, and collected vibe from back in dodge-alley.
“You heard me,” I tell him, proudly, not letting him hear the wavering in my tone. “You’re too scared of Daddy to break the rules. Live a little, why don’t you?”
“Utter those words to me again and I swear to fucking God, Shayne, I will break the jaw they come from.”
“Then prove it,” I challenge. “Take me out. Give yourself freedom and stop living by his rules. Do you hear sirens coming after us? Do you see the FBI creeping in around the corner? No. We’re free. Tonight is ours to get fucked up and enjoy ourselves. When was the last time you got to do that?”
Roman’s eyes narrow to slits as I hold his stare, willing myself not to break, and when we hear the familiar sound of Marcus lighting up a joint, his fingers loosen just enough for me to wriggle free. “The fuck are you doing?” Roman questions, looking at his younger brother.
Marcus takes a long, heavy drag and I watch as he blows out a perfect ring of smoke. “You heard the girl. She set down a challenge and I’m not one to pass up a good time. We’re taking her to get fucked up DeAngelis style, and if she dies of alcohol poisoning, then that’s on her. Let’s give her what she asked for,” he says before pausing to take another long drag. “I just need a minute to let this sink in. If I’m going out tonight, then I want to enjoy it … actually,” he adds, glancing through the front to meet Levi’s amused stare, “got any of those pills? I’m gonna need something a little harder.”
“Get fucked,” Levi says, grinning back at his brother at the idea of going out and getting fucked up like a bunch of rowdy teenagers. “You’re not taking anything harder with the pain meds I already have you on. There’s a fine line between getting fucked-up and fucked-over. You ain’t dying tonight, bro.”
Roman scoffs. “No one is fucking dying because no one is fucking going.”
“It’s cool man,” Marcus laughs, leaning forward to clap him on the shoulder. “Just drop us off and you can take your bitch ass home.”