Page 115 of Bad Seed
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I—!”
Lights flick on in the motel. Aubry’s head cranes around to note them. With gritted teeth, he waves at me. “Get in the car.”
I let go for a second, then I latch back on. “That’s when you’ll drive off!”
“I won’t. You have to get in here. Now.” His head vanishes back inside, then the passenger door pops open.
My hands open, and I slide across the hood. “Why?” I ask, trying to keep a grip on some of the car even as I give him an opening. The passenger door doesn’t slam shut, though he’s staring around like he’s about to gun it.
“Because…”
I slide into the seat beside him and reach for the door just as the car rockets off down the parking lot aisle.
“…this car’s stolen.”
“What?” I fumble to close the flailing passenger door as the wheels pick up speed under me. Aubry hooks a hand onto my shoulder and rams me back into the seat just as I manage to lock the door in place. “You stole this car?”
“It’s easy with the right hardware,” he says like he’s done this a million times before.
“Is that what you did in the mob? Stole cars to race them on the street?”
He raises his eyebrow while keeping both eyes on the road. His hands are at ten and two as well. It’d make a driver’s ed teacher proud if he hadn’t just stolen the car in the first place. “What do you think we do in the mob?”
“I don’t know. Crime shit? Stealing cars is crime shit. Shooting a machine gun while driving past a store that refuses to pay protection money.”
Aubry starts to chuckle before he groans. For the first time he turns away from the road to stare at me. “You’re not buckled,” he warns, his voice dour.
“It’s a stolen car.” That’s hardly the least of my worries.
He stops at a light, then reaches over to grab the strap. Pulling it between my tits, he stares into my eyes while locking it in place. “There. And so help me, if you take it off, I will tie you to that seat. Understand?”
Okay. So he takes road safety very seriously. Not so much the concept of personal property, though. “What kind of mobster are you?”
“The kind that doesn’t want to see you go flying through a windshield.” Aubry full on shivers as if that’s his worst fear. “Look, we don’t do tommy guns or bootlegging. Mafia shit is basically the same tax evasion and insider trading that Wall Street pulls off. Also drugs. Lots of drugs.”
“Pretty sure that’s a cornerstone of Wall Street too.”
The light turns green, and he barely gives the car any gas. We creep along a quiet street with a bunch of darkened buildings on both sides. Aubry keeps his gaze ahead.
I tug on the strap pressing on my sternum. “You were leaving.”
“No.”
Oh sure, he just happened to wake up and felt like stealing a car to deal with his insomnia.
Breath slips from his parted mouth. “I am leaving.”
Uh-uh. No.I keep shaking my head, trying to make sense of this third betrayal. “But we—”
“Fucked. A lot. And it was…it is amazing. That doesn’t change anything.”
“I told you, I can deal with my allergy. Now that I know slurping on your cock can lead to the hospital, I’ll just have you cum on my breasts.”
The leather wrap on the steering wheel cracks. Aubry keeps wringing his hands, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Is he fighting the urge to turn around, take us back to the motel, and do just that?
