Page 124 of Heartless Legacy

That half grin appears on Saint’s face again. “Lady J. There are far more dangerous things in the world that someone like you should be worried about.”

Her phone chimes again. She gives me an apologetic look and says, “I think I’m gonna head back to school.”

I climb to my feet. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“What? No, Thea.” She shakes her head. “You stay and have fun.”

“LJ, tonight was about you having fun, because you’ve been cooped up in your room all week.”

“Thiswasfun.” This time, her smile is real. “But Damon and I haven’t seen each other in over a month, and we’ve been playing phone tag all week. This is the first time we’re both free.”

I’m heading towards the side of the roof where the RV is. “We rode together. It’s not like you can walk back.”

“I won’t be. Damon sent a car for me. It’ll be here in a few minutes.”

When I turn back to face LJ, I make the mistake of catching Saint’s eye. Quickly looking away, I ask, “Are you sure, LJ?”

“Yes.” She chuckles. “Yes. I’m sure I want to go back to campus and talk to my boyfriend.”

“Okay.” I smile at her. “I’ll walk you back to the front gate.”

“Stay.” She insists. “The next race is starting soon. I mean it, Thea. Don’t worry about me.”

“LJ, you just made this grand declaration about being safe with me. I’m not living up to that expectation if I let you walk through a crowd of racers and their rabid fans alone.”

Saint says, “Oak will make sure she gets safely to the gate and into the car theboy-friendsent.” I glare at him for the emphasis he puts on the word boy. Saint instructs his guard, “If anyone so much as looks at her funny, put a bullet in them.”

To LJ’s credit, she doesn’t even flinch. She simply shakes her head and says, “No need to have your guy go through all that trouble.”

Saint drawls, “No trouble at all, Angel.”

I move to follow LJ when Saint calls out to me. “She’ll be fine with him, Tink.”

It’s nothimI’m worried about, but I keep my thoughts to myself. I watch as The Wall helps LJ down onto the RV, thenonto the ground. He doesn’t touch her, and even though bodies are pressed close, no one else does either. He’s such a huge block of muscle that people move out of his way or they get shoved aside like worrisome mosquitoes flitting in his face. I watch until I can no longer see his hulking figure.

“Sit, Tink.” Saint commands, reaching into the bag The Wall had with him and pulls out a six-pack of beer. He yanks one off the plastic sleeve and hands it to me before pulling one off for himself. “Interesting spot you picked for sky gazing.”

I retake my seat, cracking open my drink, and watch the crowd. “You don’t like the view?”

“I’m choking on exhaust fumes. What’s not to like?”

Soon, I spot The Wall heading back towards us, a group of Skullz not far behind. He takes up position on the RV instead of coming all the way up to the roof where his boss is sitting. The other Skullz fan out next to and near him. One of the guys is collecting bets.

When I told LJ we can see everything from this spot, I meant everything. Including the pit area where the cars for the main event are pulling up. There’s a Toyota Supra I’ve glimpsed around town a handful of times, pulling into the pit. The profile of the driver getting out of it is one I’m intimately familiar with.

My next swallow takes my drink down the wrong pipe, and I rasp out between coughs, “You let Canyon Falls students race The Devil’s Asshole?” It’s the name given to the most difficult race at all the Inferno Skullz’s racing events. The staging crew is already at work rearranging the barricades and obstacles on the course. Saint turns to the pit. “Their money spends, and cars burn just like everyone else’s.”

The configuration of the course changes all the time, so there’s no way to prepare ahead of time. The racers get three practice runs before the race. There will be six headlining races, of ten laps each. The first place winners of those races will moveon to the final event and then the champion of that race walks away with the purse, and any car of their choosing. If it’s parked anywhere on the grounds, then it’s up for grabs. I listen to the bets being called out below. The fan favorite is some guy making a name for himself in amateur motor sports.

I locate his car and watch as he navigates the course during his practice runs. He’s definitely the one to beat. Pax is in fourth place, at the end of his first practice lap, and if he granny shifts that second and seventh turn during the actual race he won’t qualify at all. The drivers he beat were slower, but they handled the turns smoothly.

There’s a delay in the event as they clear debris off the course. I climb down off the roof and wind my way towards the barricade that separates the spectators from the drivers. I hop over it and head to the pit where the racers wait their turns.

I ignore the person telling me I can’t be on this side and dodge the owners of the hands that try to grab me and their offer to take me for a ride. Pax pushes away from his car, and the voluptuous set of tits in his face as I approach.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, glaring at me. He’s mad. Inside I’m smiling. Is he mad I used his face for a seat or because I left him hard and unfulfilled?

“I came to talk to you about the race.”

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