Page 4 of Dare To Take

Eli

“How’s that?” The tattoo artist hands me a mirror, and I tilt my head to examine the result.

“Perfect.” I hand him three folded hundred-dollar bills. More than the tattoo costs, but worth the over-payment for him fitting me in at short notice and not asking questions.

“You know how to look after it?”

I wave a hand at the tattoos covering my arms. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay. Any problems, you know where to find me.”

We shake, bump shoulders, and I walk out. My car is parked a few feet away and someone calls my name just as I reach it.

“Hey, Travers.”

I pocket my car key and turn to face Evan Ridley.

Why the fuck is he here and not at school?

“I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here.” He echoes my thought and waves a hand behind him. “Had to drive Jace for a check-up and his dad didn’t want him stuck with the school medical team. Someone attacked him over Thanksgiving. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

I lean against the side of my car. “You know the answer to that.” I’m not stupid enough to admit to it out loud.

He chuckles. “True.” He turns away, then swings back. “Oh. Say hi to Arabella for me. Everyone misses her at school.” He licks his lips. “Especially after that little video. The guys are all lining up for a turn.”

I straighten, and he steps back, lifting his hands. “I’m just saying. She might want to watch herself when she comes back. Her friends will look after her, though. We won’t let anyone touch her.”

“Sure. Like when she trusted you to drive her home and you made her take her top off.”

His smile drops away. “You know that wasn’t me, Eli. I wouldn’t do something like that to her.”

“Right.” I unlock my car, throw the door open and climb in.

“See you around, Eli. If the school lets you back in.”

My car’s engine drowns out anything else he has to say, and I slam the door and drive away.

***

I’m barely inside the entrance hall of the house when my dad bellows my name. I swear the fucker has a tracker on my phone. He’s breathing down my neck constantly and seems to know the second I return from anywhere.

Instead of heading straight up to my room, I walk down the hallway to his study and knock on the door. I wait for his instruction to go inside before entering.

“Sit down, son.”

Great. Another chat.

I pull out the chair opposite his desk and slump onto it. “What am I being blamed for now?”

“No one is blaming you for anything.”

“They’re not? Because it doesn’t fucking look that way from where I’m sitting.”

“Language.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late to start parenting me now? Why don’t you just go back to your fucking trophy wife and leave me to deal with all this bullshit myself?”

“Enough! I am sick and tired of you speaking about Elena that way. She has been nothing but kind to you, especially after what you did to her daughter.”

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