“We actually have an enormous fucking problem,bro,” he replies, mimicking CJ.
CJ glances at me again with a question on his brow. I honestly don’t know what to say here. I’m not with Christian or Zeke, but according to them, I might actually be. Apparently you don’t have to give verbal consent anymore?
“Listen, man, I don’t want any trouble. She told me she wasn’t seeing anyone.” CJ throws me a go-to-hell look, and it clearly pisses the wrong person off.
Grabbing him around the throat, Christian rushes him back until they’re in the pool table area. Then he lifts CJ clear off the floor and body slams him onto the table. I let out a shriek, covering my mouth as Zeke wraps his arms around me.
“Hey, take that shit outside!” the bartender yells from across the room.
But Christian doesn’t acknowledge him. He keeps a struggling CJ on the table, grinning down at him.
“The next time you even think about touching her, I’ll skull fuck you.”
I swallow hard, freezing in my spot as I glare at Christian—who I never knew was this fucking powerful and scary. CJ clearly sees it too, turning ghostly white as he vigorously nods his head and holds his hands up in surrender.
“Tell all your friends. Billie Lucas is off fucking limits. Actually, stay the fuck away from Reaper altogether.”
“Y-yeah. No problem, man. Stay away. Got it,” CJ rushes out.
The main door of the bar flies wide open and several officers rush into the room, screaming for everyone to freeze. I let out another scream, sinking into Zeke’s chest as he holds me tighter while we watch the storm surge all around us.
An officer rushes Christian, slamming him face down on the pool table before he cuffs his wrists behind his back. He’s grinning the entire time, still holding CJ’s terrified eyes as he’s helped from the table.
“Christian, Christian, Christian,” the head officer sighs out as he approaches him. “I told you my men were going to fuck you up if you ran again. This is three times now, kid.”
He laughs. “What can I say, ya know? I get a little stir crazy.”
The officer shakes his head. “Listen—you only have one week left with that thing on your ankle. Do me a solid and stop wasting my men’s time?”
I’m shaking as they pull Christian from the pool table area and back through the front doors like he’s a criminal. CJ is crying like a little bitch, telling the officer that Christian assaulted him, but they don’t seem to take him seriously. Money talks in this town and nobody fucks with anyone from Reaper.
Zeke leans in and whispers, “Let me get you out of here.”
I let him because I want out of here more than anything right now. Without a second glance back at CJ, I leave with Zeke in his matte black BMW. And the further we drive away, the more the adrenaline wears off and I remember what time it is.
“You can’t take me home,” I rush out.
His brows pinch together when he asks, “Well, where the fuck am I supposed to take you? ‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t going back to school.”
I shake my head. “Anywhere but those two places.”
Silence fills the cab of the car, but I can feel his glance on me. I’m waiting for him to ask more about the red mark on my cheek or what the deal with my uncle is, but he says nothing. He simply drives away from everything, and I blow out a relieved breath on the open road.
After a hot minute, I tell him, “Thanks.”
“For what?” he asks with confusion written all over his face.
I’m distracted when he pulls off the main road and heads down the road to the lake where a lot of teens hang out during the summer months. I haven’t been back here in weeks because I feel like I’m not welcome anywhere. And God forbid if I actually showed up here without an invitation, right?
“For not taking me home.”
He parks his car in the empty lot, facing the calm lake that sits in the valley of two pine tree filled mountains. The fog has rolled in earlier than normal for the season, casting the mountains in its eerie blanket. But it’s so gorgeous. I could sit here for hours not saying a word, staring out at the mountains and the feeling of peace it gives me.
Zeke leans over and goes into his glove box, but I don’t miss how he lazily slid his hand over my bare knee on his way. He takes something out and shuts it, messing with whatever he grabbed in his lap. But when he brings a small pipe up to his lips and lights it, I know right away that he’s smoking marijuana.
It stinks at first, burning my nose, but it quickly grows on me. “You know that shit is illegal in this state, right?”
He pulls the pipe away from his lips and smirks at me. “For now, but the country is changing. Besides, this is medicine, babe… Get the fuck out of my car if you think this is a drug.”