Page 161 of Filthy Liar

Ander snorted, his voice flat. “Little fucker didn’t evade properly if they arrested him. Why did he stop? He should’ve kept riding and kept his face hidden.”

“Bike ran out of gas and he had the plate on it,” Zavier chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “He’ll learn the hard way soon. Slash said they’re close to crushing his bike into a little cube to put on his shelf as a reminder of what happens when you play with fire. So, your day?”

Rory hadn’t been happy when Noah had shown up at home with a motorcycle license, but he’d been spending a lot of time in Kensington with Ethan lately, so no one was really surprised.

The kid was going to die on that thing before his eighteenth birthday next month.

“Long,” I sighed. “I was cramming with the girls when I realized I was running late. As much as I love that you came to see me, can we go? I have a class to teach.”

“We’re coming too. Logan called and said some kid is obsessed with cars and would freak out at seeing mine. So I said I’d stop by with it,” Ander grinned, and I winced.

“You’re not taking him out in it, right? That’s a huge liability problem.”

“You’re all smart now you’re a college student,” he teased, kissing my shoulder. “But no, I can let him check it out and I’ll rev it a little.”

“I’m coming with you,” Zavier said as he pulled me away from Ander, giving me a quick kiss too. “And I’ve put dibs on having a shower with you tonight.”

“No fair,” Ander grumbled, but he opened his car door and slid behind the wheel.

Zavier climbed into my passenger seat, and Ander waited for me to pull out first so he could follow.

“How long until you get your car back?” I asked Zavier as I drove, making him grimace.

“Two weeks.”

“At least it wasn’t Logan’s this time, right?” I joked, making him grumble.

Zavier had been rear-ended in his red 1969 Pontiac GTO a couple of months ago, and the other driver and their insurance company had made things difficult from the beginning. Thankfully, someone came forward with dash cam footage of the whole thing, backing Zavier’s claim.

If it hadn’t been some rich bitch from Crestford, it would’ve been handled well before now, but her parents had raised hell over it.

“I should’ve bought the fucking Silverado,” he sighed, glancing down at his phone to text. He’d wanted the truck more than the Pontiac, but the guys had convinced him to get it instead so they could all race at the track.

I’d told him he’d regret it, but I wasn’t about to remind him of that.

I told him more about my day as we headed through Pine Valley, having a quick cigarette before pulling into the parking lot at the Hawthorne Heights Community Center.

Logan poked his head out with a grin when he heard our cars, motioning for a kid to follow him.

The little boy only looked to be about seven as he stumbled after Logan, his eyes wide as he spotted the cars.

“He’s good with the kids,” Zavier chuckled as Logan greeted Ander, making me smile.

“Yeah, he is. They love him.”

Logan had been the best person for his role here. Kids stopped by regularly to hang out, usually because they thought Logan was cool as fuck. It had given him a huge purpose in life, and the guy was practically glowing these days.

It probably helped that his mother had been killed in a prison riot a few months earlier, the weight of the world seeming to be lifted from his shoulders the second he received the phone call.

She’d suffered too, which only made him feel ten times better about it.

With the boy distracted by Ander as they checked out the Supra, Logan wandered over and opened my door, holding out his hand to help me out.

“You’re almost late,” he teased, pulling me in for a hug and not being able to help himself as he gave my ass a quick squeeze.

“But I’m not,” I pointed out, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

“Greg and Frank are here. Yes, I already called Rory and Jade to let them know. Little shits walked here at lunchtime without telling anyone they’d ditched school,” he huffed, lifting his chin in greeting to Zavier.

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