Page 14 of Fatal Collision
“You look lost, pretty girl,” comes a voice near my ear, and I spin around to see a man smiling down at me. He’s drunk by the looks of it. That loose grin of his is too wide, and his glassy eyes are struggling to focus.
I turn to leave, but he curls his fingers around my wrist. “Where are you going?”
His lemony cologne pricks my nose as he pulls me back. I try to shove his chest, but he’s oblivious to my growing distress. His smile grows, and his hand on my lower back creeps dangerously close to my ass. “What’s your name?” he asks, breath laced with alcohol.
“Let me go.” I press hard against his chest again, searching the crowd for Chris or his friends. I don’t want to act like the damsel in distress, but this guy is too drunk and strong to realize that I don’t like this.
“Let her go, Evans.” Kane’s chilling voice turns the blood in my veins to ice. The stranger stumbles with me in his arms, his drunken grin aimed at the silently fuming man standing by a sleek black sports car.
“Ravencourt, my man.” He slips his hand to the curve of my ass and drags his long fingers over my skirt, touching me in a way that makes me want to punch his lights out.
Kane’s cold eyes follow the movement and darken, but the lethal shadow that flashes in their depth is lost on the stranger, who cups a handful, feeling me up despite my protests. If my brother were here, this guy wouldn’t live to see another day. But, honestly, the subtle clenching of Kane’s jaw terrifies me more thanmy brother’s rage. Kane reminds me of a storm you don’t see coming until it’s too late.
“Awesome race the other day,” the stranger continues, hiccupping. “You left that Falls loser in the dust.”
I shift my hips away from the guy’s growing boner, and Kane locks eyes with me. What I see in the look he gives me is anger, yes, but threaded through with a possessive danger that makes my breath catch.
“I suggest you take your hands off her,” he orders the guy, still looking at me, “or you can wish your lacrosse career goodbye.”
The stranger struggles to focus as he blinks down at my face. He cracks up laughing, and I swallow hard. This drunk fool is asking for trouble.
He turns us toward Kane like he’s presenting a gift. “We can share her.”
Noah and Maverick, having noticed something is off, excuse themselves from their sea of women and make their way over to us.
Kane scoffs as he readjusts his Rolex on his wrist, a subtle move that seems ritualistic more than something done out of fury.
“I don’t share,” he says low.
Everything happens in a blur. One moment, Kane is adjusting his expensive watch with a slight smirk that lacks warmth, while observing the stranger with a chilling calm from beneath his dark lashes. Next, a sickening snap of bones precedes an agonized, shrill cry that cuts through the thumping bass and growling engines.
“Shit,” Maverick calls out, shoving people out of the way, and Noah cackles behind him.
The man is on his knees, sobbing and cradling his useless arm. “You broke my wrist.”
Kane opens the passenger door without even glancing at the guy. “Get in,” he says to me, and my eyes widen.
“What? No,” I blurt. “I’m not getting in the car with you.”
We’ve attracted a crowd of drunken, rowdy people salivating for a whiff of drama… a hint of juicy gossip to spread like an infectious disease.
I skate my anxious gaze around the strangers, worried someone might recognize me and report to my brother, if he isn’t around already. Shit, I have to get out of here.
“Get in the car, Jessica,” Kane repeats, his tone hard. “I won’t ask again.”
Phone cameras are out now.Fuck my life…
Before I can hesitate or argue, I climb into Kane Ravencourt’s disgustingly sleek car. He shuts the door, and the sound of the hard slam reverberates through my rattling bones like a cell door slamming closed and cementing my fate.
I debate whether to make a run for it while he circles the vehicle. After all, I’m quick on my feet, thanks to years of daily jogs. Running off would be easy.
But I stay put because the tinted windows hide me from the bustling crowds. It’s safer in the car than outthere, among the thick throngs. If anyone from the Falls sees me with Ravencourt, the son of one of the founding fathers, I’ll be in big trouble.
We never hang out with the elite in the Heights outside of supplying them with drugs or mowing their fucking lawns.
Kane slides in behind the wheel and shuts the door. The woodsy cologne he wears mingles with the scent of fresh leather and something else… something clean, a hint of fresh laundry detergent.
He makes sure my seatbelt is fastened, and I feel his eyes burn into the side of my face before he sits back and revs the engine. The seat rumbles beneath my bare legs like a growling beast, the vibrations settling between my thighs.
