Page 22 of Falling in Reverse

“They didn’t.” I squeeze his hand as if doing so will make it that way. “Levi hasn’t shot anyone yet. No close-range rings or pops.” He nods and tucks his head into his folded arms that are resting underneath him. “I’m sorry for bringing you out here. I thought…I didn’t think?—”

“It’s not your fault,” Travis mutters into his sweatshirt. “I’m okay.”

Except he can’t hide his frame from shaking at being surrounded by two rival gangs that will do anything to gain what they want.

This right here, stealing from each other, is a common occurrence. The Forsaken Crew know damn well not to try to pull their supply through South Shore’s ports but they do it anyway.

And Travis doesn’t deal with shit like this.

He’s my outside source that keeps me safe when I need it. When we’re out racing around town, looking for a pink slip to take from somebody, he lets me know if his dad got a call for a disturbance. If we’re out runnin’ dope and Sheriff Muncy is roaming the streets in his patrol car, I always know where he’s sitting.

Travis might be book smart, but he’s also learned all the cop lingo, has radio on when I’m out doing shit I shouldn’t be, and has been on lock with being protected by us.

“We’re okay up here,” I profess gently. “I promise.”

“Tell me something…anything.”

“Umm…” I quickly search my brain for anything clever to say, but promptly fall short. “Dad’s got Ellie and Mae kicking his ass in Connect Four. They don’t understand how to let him win so he doesn’t get irritated that he can’t beat a twelve and eight-year-old.”

“Maybe you should have them play Juice and start building their college fund.”

I smile. “That’s not a bad idea. We should make a night out of it. Wanna come over for pizza? I’ll set the day up.”

“Yeah…that would be great.” Bullets hit the metal of the shipping container we’re on and Travis jolts.

Out of comfort, I mindlessly wrap my arm around his back and snuggle closer to him. “Remember that asshole Frank McGritty? He was messin’ with you in seventh grade, and we glued his ass to his seat.”

Travis nods. “Yeah. He got so pissed, he shot up and took the whole desk with him. He sucked.”

“You and I said we didn’t like it here anymore and that we wanted to leave South Shore.”

He snakes his head around and looks at me, our faces but inches from each other. “Where would you go, Bay? If you had the choice…to leave right now.”

“Somewhere with a beach. And sun. No Forsaken Crew or The Nameless. Just us living a really boring life.”

“Boring is good.” He bobs his head through the continued gunshots below and whispers, “I like boring.”

“One day.”

“Promise?”

“Anywhere you want. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t promise yourself to someone, Wildfire,” a voice leers suddenly from behind us. “Especially when I told you that one day…you were going to be mine.”

SIX

torin

I’m really beginning to think she forgot about me.

All my dark promises whispered in her ear. The way my hard cock felt in her palm when she stroked me that one time and drove me wild.

I’ve always had a hard-on for Bay Astor.

However, it didn’t always start out like that. The chick was—at the time—timid, quiet, and a bit annoying, but still hot as hell.

Back in those days, Bay Astor was a prize.

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