“Shit, the poor thing. I hate that she got dragged into this. I’ve been going out of my way to keep her away from Dynasty for this very reason. But do you know how freaking hard it is? She’s heard the rumors about it just like everyone else has and she’s more curious about you four than ever before.”
“Babe,” Cruz says with that signature cocky grin. “She’s not curious about Dynasty, she’s curious about how we fuck.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the way my cheeks flame the brightest shade of red at the casual, blunt way he talks about it. He laughs before continuing. “Come on. Get on with it. I want to see this motherfucker smeared all over the road.”
Wanting to get it over and done with, I straddle my bike and let the engine roar. The sound instantly reminds me that Carver actually owns it, and the fury at the boys’ deceit makes me rev it louder.
King steps around my bike as we stand at the top of my long driveway. He walks over to the keypad and starts entering the code and as it slowly peels open, I look back at the guys behind me, each of them wearing a hungry expression as they gawk at my ass in my leather pants, straddling the bike.
The gate slides open and just to be an asshole to the neighbors, I hit the throttle and take off, leaving a thick black line across the road as the dead man’s body drags after me. I shoot down the center of the road, being as obnoxious as possible as I drag my trophy around the street. I fly all the way down to the main gate and then turn, but on the way back up, I ride straight over the sidewalk and start making my way back to the end of the road.
By the time I hit my gate again and circle back around with the guys watching closely, people are starting to come out of their homes, wondering what all the noise is about. I quickly glance back to notice my attacker’s clothes are tearing to shreds but I really couldn’t care less.
Cruz cheers for me as I pass, and Carver puts on a show of disapproval for the people in the houses nearby.
I bet this isn’t a sight they get to witness every day, and as I notice that it’s not only Dynasty heads walking out to see, but their families, guilt tears through me. I’m sure even the children have seen their fair share of dead bodies. Hell, most of them saw me kill Royston Carver right in the middle of their precious ballroom, but this isn’t exactly my finest hour.
I keep on the throttle and stand as I ride, my hair whipping out behind me as I fly back down toward the main gate, keeping on the sidewalk. My bike howls, the sound echoing down the road and getting the attention of every last fucker here.
I see people standing out on their top balconies watching the show with their mouths hanging open, some people seem pissed, while others put the puzzle pieces together and cheer right alongside Cruz.
By the time I get to my third lap, there’s more than just black tire marks staining the sidewalk, but I keep going, a little blood and guts never slowed me down.
As I ride, I try to pinpoint all the homes of the assholes I need to be watching for. I really should have asked the boys who lives where, but I figured that it really didn’t matter. I was so fucking wrong. From now on, I’m going to make it my business to get to know my enemies. I’m going to know their names, their wives’ names, where their children go to school. I’m going to know who their pool man is by the time I’m done. But most of all, I’m going to get inside their heads and find out exactly what makes them tick.
As I approach Matthew Montgomery’s house, the third on the left, I can’t help but notice the pissed off scowl stretched across his face. He’s such a little bitch. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with this, but he’s definitely not the ringleader. He’s the kind of man to follow someone’s lead and fall in line. When they say jump, he says ‘yes master, can I also offer you some round-the-clock ass-wiping services too?’ He’s a sheep, and because of that, I find myself bringing my bike to a stop right in the center of his driveway outside of his gate.
I grin up at the dickhead watching me from his front steps. “I think this might belong to you,” I call, my throat instantly hating me as I step off my bike and pull out the keys. Matthew just gapes at me, too shocked with what I’ve done to even argue. So, without another word, I walk away, leaving the gory, messed up body behind and laughing as the blood slowly seeps out, staining his polished concrete drive.