Page 14 of Driftwood Daffodil

I shook my head and pushed off my Rover, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Darry nodded and followed me into the trees while Atlee jumped up and whooped to the sky.

The only thing Atlee liked more than pussy was ruining someone’s day. Judging by the bat he was merrily arching through the air, Simon was about to get his shit fucked all the way up. Worked for me. Until Atlee started clacking the edge of his weapon off Cypress trunks.

Darry and I both stopped to cock a brow back at him.

Atlee shrugged at our glare. “What?”

“There was a reason we didn’t drive up to the house.” I whispered in a growl.

Wouldn’t want Simon running out the back door before we even got there.

Atlee muttered under his breath and hung his head like we’d just taken away his favorite toy.

“He’s a little pent up.” Darry leaned in and added, “Kendall wouldn’t let him fuck up the quarterback.”

My brow rose. “That’s who tried to feel her up?”

That surprised me a bit. Randal wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew his place. The whole team did. They learned that lesson when we tried to fix the first game of the season and the running back wouldn’t play ball. He wasn’t on the team anymore. I was pretty sure he left town.

“You know, Atlee,” Darry’s coal eyes gave a lazy roll. “The guy probably looked at her for too long.”

That was fair. Atlee once broke someone’s arm because he accidentally brushed against one of his sisters. Kind of ironic considering he’d already pounded his way through half the pussy in school. And that was before adding in his obsession with virgins.

Mind you his baby sister Alex didn’t help. That girl flirted with anyone who smiled at her, which didn’t go over well with their father. He shipped her off to boarding school last week.

As far as Antonio Fiore was concerned, his daughters were only good for one thing. Marriage. In order for that to happen they had to be virgins. No self-respecting made man would lock their son into an arrangement for used goods. Unless those goods were used by the prospective husband of course. At that point it was more about maintaining the girl’s honor than anything else.

That didn’t mean it didn’t happen. I was just waiting for Atlee to fuck the wrong girl. Then again his father would kill someone before letting his son marry into what he considered a second rate bloodline.

And God forbid she wasn’t Italian. Atlee’s dad was old school. Sometimes I wondered if that was why he fucked around so much. Sooner or later he’d be tied down to someone he didn’t want.

Thank fuck I didn’t have a sister. A Mancini would’ve been the first on Antonio’s list. Not to mention, I might have to killone of my best friends. I knew the sick shit Atlee was into. Just the thought of his knife going anywhere near someone I was related to made me want to smash his skull in. How he was handling this Romeo and Kendall crap I’d never understand.

At least it wasn’t Darius. The stuff he did to chicks made Atlee’s little blood play games look like nap time at preschool. I wasn’t entirely sure what he did to girls, but every chick he’d ever fucked went white when they saw him after.

A blue two story came into view as we broke the tree line. Usually places this close to the east side of town were run down, and especially if they were this close to the bayou. But all in all this was a decent little piece of land. The yard was clean, the grass was neatly cut, and the garden to the left of the house appeared well cared for.

The roof however could use some work. A few of the shingles were flapping in the breeze, causing a small ticking sound to ring out as we marched across the grass.

Atlee practically skipped up the steps, where he tapped the tip of his bat off the door while Darry and I joined him. If his goal was to mimic a knock, he failed. This eerie, hollow beat was carried in the breeze brushing past.

Needless to say the door didn’t swing open to welcome us inside.

Darry blew out an agitated huff and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. “Why did we bring him?”

“Siiiimon,” Atlee sang while clacking the bat on the door again.

I nodded at the sparkle in Atlee’s bright whiskey eyes. “That’s why.”

Fear didn’t become an issue when Atlee Fiore was involved. He was a horror movie all on his own.

Movement in the left window caught my peripheral view. I turned just in time to see a pair of wide eyes duck behind a faded green curtain.

“Fucker’s trying to hide.”

That caused a spark to flash across Atlee’s already gleeful face. “Aw come on Simon. We just want to talk, Buddy.”

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