Page 23 of The Hate We Breathe
“Understood.” There’s movement on the other side of the phone and Viks doesn’t ask his question again. My lack of answer makes it obvious that I don’t have any idea who could be doing this. I’ll have to go back and try to remember if there’sanyone in Silverwood that’s hated the Donovans, or, more specifically, Juliet before this all started.
With a scowl at the spray-painted question on the lockers, I pick up the towel I’d finished with earlier and try to wipe it off. It doesn’t come off that easy, and I only manage to spread the paint around, but by the time I’m done, the question is smudged into nonexistence.
Disgust fills me as I toss the towel into one of the bins and shove my feet into my tennis shoes before picking up my bag. I open my mouth to say something to Viks when my phone vibrates and I glance at the screen.
Darrio Vargas’ name and number pop up at the top of the screen.
“Fuck.” I grind my jaw. “I gotta go, Viks. Talk later.”
I don’t give the man a chance to answer as I end the phone call and answer Darrio’s. “I’m on my way,” I snap as I jog towards the exit.
“You fucking better be,” the bastard growls. “You’re late.”
“I had practice.” As far as excuses go, it’s a lame one, and we both know it, but Darrio doesn’t argue.
Instead, he merely barks into the phone, “Get here.Now,” before hanging up.
Another curse makes its way up my throat, but I’m out of time. I pick up speed as I head out of the sports building and to the parking lot. Lex’s SUV is already gone—as are the guys and Juliet. I race to my Indian, throwing a leg over the saddle of the bike before I clip my backpack onto my chest and crank the engine.
Kicking up the stand, I steer the bike out of its spot before roaring out of the lot moments later. Cold air streaks over my exposed skin, reminding me that I’d leant my hoodie to Juliet during practice, but it doesn’t matter. The temperature hardly touches the rage festering in my chest.
JULIET
“We said we were sorry.”I glare at the back of Gio’s head as Lex drives, ignoring the pleading whine from the man in front of me. Gio flips around when I don’t answer him and blinks wide puppy dog eyes at me. “Come on, don’t be mad.”
“If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have lied in the first place,” I snap.
“Technically,” he argues. “We didn’t lie—you didn’t ask if we’d heard about the fuckwad’s funeral.”
I cross my arms and harden my glare. “I’m not buying it,” I state. “You’re all on my shitlist, including Nolan.” Even though he’s not here right now to face my wrath.
Gio groans and flips back around to face forward. There are some small grumbling noises, but otherwise, he doesn’t try arguing further. I glance out at the passing scenery, wondering what Nolan could be doing that he’d been left behind at school. When I’d asked about him, Lex and Gio had merely said he’d had some work to do and wouldn’t be home until much later.
My gaze flashes back to Gio’s seat and then Lex’s profile. They hadn’t exactly said that he had work for Darrio Vargas, but I’m not stupid. They still work for the man, so I suppose Nolan must be doing something for him. My lips twist in irritation, but what they do for money shouldn’t be any of my business.
Drug dealers. Gang members. Thieves. Petty criminals.
They are all of those things and more. I knew that before I ever got into a relationship with them. Which makes me wonder…
“Are you guys going to continue to work for Darrio Vargas when you go off to college?” I ask.
Gio’s mumbles cut off abruptly and the muscles of Lex’s shoulders go rigid beneath the cut of his t-shirt. Neither one of them looks back when Gio voices an answer. It’s a single word.
“No.”
Tilting my head to the side, I pass my attention between the two. “No?” I repeat, curious. “Is it that easy to quit? Will he let you go when it’s time?”
A speaking glance passes between the two men in the front seat, but it’s too fast for me to decipher. I lean forward, scooting slightly into the middle of the back bench seat. My seat belt pulls tight across my hips, preventing me from moving all the way over.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demand.
Lex sighs and finally looks up in the rearview mirror to meet my eyes. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, baby,” he tells me.
I narrow my eyes on him. “Bullshit.”
“Jules.” Gio’s voice is hard and even—all earlier trace of his whiny playfulness erased. I turn my attention to him as he twists his head to meet my eyes. “When we finally leave this shithole town, we’re leaving behind that life.”
“How, though?” I demand. “Your father doesn’t strike me as the type of man who’d let?—”
