Page 33 of Shattered Skull

And then he walked away, a satisfied grin on his face.

10 Aiken

I ONLY RACED ONCE,and it was against a young prick who couldn’t even shift his ride the correct way. It was an easy win, but it felt cheap. The only thing good about the win was the grand I stuck in my pocket.

“Dumb fuck should’ve just handed you money,” Saint said when I reached the group.

I nodded. “Yep. Fucking sucks. I wanted a real race.”

It didn’t help that I found myself watching the new girl across the way. She wasn’t my responsibility, and I wasn’t sure why I even gave a shit, but she was out of place and didn’t understand the way things worked around our spot.

Maybe it was because I felt bad over what happened with her father’s ashes. Perhaps it was because I knew her brother was getting into some hardcore shit, and it was going to spill over onto her. I don’t know why I did it, but I watched out for her throughout the night, pissing myself off. I didn’t want to do it, but I was angry that I couldn’t help myself.

After my little run-in with the cherry girl, who I had learned was named Everly, the weather turned, and The Strip cleared early. When I pulled up at our place, there were already cars lining the street. The party had moved to our house.

I went inside to find Joker on the couch getting a lap dance by some chick who had too much to drink. Saint was standing on top of the kitchen table, retelling his famous story about getting high with Post Malone, and Crow was sitting in the corner in silence, his thick arms crossed while he people watched from his spot.

It was a typical night.

Grabbing a beer, I sat beside Joker and popped my cap.

“Who’s this?” I asked, motioning toward the dancing girl.

Joker shrugged. “No fucking clue. Don’t care.”

I chuckled and shook my head. He was never going to change.

I took a swig from my beer, and when I looked up again, my eyes clashed with the new girl from The Strip. She had followed the rest of the group and was now standing in my living room. She turned away, following Zada to the kitchen table where Zada’s man Reggie was playing cards with Donny B, Jack, and Saint, who was now sitting.

She didn’t listen.

I didn’t like that.

She was in my house, but instead of telling her to leave, I watched her try and disappear among the crowd.

She would never blend. It was her hair. It was long, with loose curls that looked soft to the touch. Her curls rolled down her back, teasing her perky ass and swaying back and forth when she walked.

Another thing that stuck out about her was her eyes. They were wide and wounded. She walked around as if she were on the verge of breaking, and I couldn’t help but watch and wait for the moment.

I downed my beer before I decided to go for something harder. I tossed my beer bottle and went for the Patron. I purposely kept my eyes and attention away from her, hanging out with my crew and going over the details of the earlier races.

When I finally looked up again, she was nowhere to be found. One minute she was there, standing across the room with Zada, and the next she was gone. I looked around, hoping she was at least still in the house. Roaming the streets around here was dangerous. The fuckers around here would prey on a sweet little pussy like her.

I stood from the table, tossing my cards.

“I gotta piss,” I said, leaving the guys.

I moved around the house, looking for the long curls, but they were nowhere to be found. Finally, I opened my bedroom door to find her curled up in the corner. She rested her head on her knees and shook.

“Are you crying?” I asked, making her jerk and gasp.

She looked up at me, her face flushed and sweaty. She was shaking so badly. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come out.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you having a seizure or some shit?” I asked as I closed my bedroom door and moved toward the corner she was in.

She grew tenser, her body shaking harder.

“P—p—please just leave me alone,” she stuttered.

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