Elizabeth clenched the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. She pursed her lips, shook her head in disappointment, and finally turned the damn car on.
“Repair shop?”
“Yes.”
For the next ten minutes, it felt like those would be the final words we ever shared. And what an anticlimactic but appropriate way for it to end. We’d only made out, but we’d also shared much more of ourselves than I ever had with Tara and, I suspected, she had with anyone else. So why wasn’t that enough to keep going?
Because I had an idea of what the worst-case scenario was.
Everyone who lived in this town long enough either lived to witness tragedy or died as a part of it.
* * *
When Elizabeth pulled up to the front of the shop, though it was not officially open for business, Connor and Mason sat out front, smoking a cigarette. Both of them looked exhausted, as if this was the end of their day, not the start of it. I unbuckled my seat belt and went for the door before Elizabeth’s hand grabbed my arm.
I fucking hated that it felt so good. It would have been much easier to avoid if the touch felt repulsive to me.
“If you change your mind or you clean up this town,” she said, “will you come back to me?”
Would I?
Why would I entertain such thoughts?
Because you will clean up this town. You fucking will get rid of the Bandits.
Yes, but will you change your mind?
I shrugged myself free of her touch and got out of the car, shutting the door behind me without looking back. Perhaps a smidge immature, but if my immaturity had gotten Tara to dump me, perhaps it would get Elizabeth to move on past me.
“There’s the playboy,” Mason said, taking another puff of his cigarette. “How’s the—”
“Shut it, Mason,” I growled.
Elizabeth still hadn’t pulled away. I refused to look back, knowing if I did, I’d go back up to her and say something. But the longer she stayed, the worse it made me look with Mason and Connor.
“Heard about what happened last night,” Connor said. “Want us to go teach the sheriff a bloody lesson?”
“What? No, guys, that’s a job for Garrett and me.”
“Oh, yeah, because the guy we want to trust is the actual playboy of the club and the guy that got arrested,” Mason said, rolling his eyes.
Goddamnit, Elizabeth, just leave, please.
“All bullshit aside, I’m working on it,” I said. “The fucker tried to get me to rat out yesterday, but I held firm. I actually don’t think he wants to be on the Bandits’ side.”
“And?” Connor said, flexing his fist. “He’s still in their pockets. Still needs his ass driven into the ground.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but finally, finally, I heard Elizabeth drive off. I bowed my head, sighed, and let myself glance just a tad to the side. She was speeding away far faster than she’d ever driven me, and who could blame her? I hadn’t just rejected her; I had actively ignored her.
There was immaturity, and there was just being callous. But fucking frankly, after last night, if immaturity wouldn’t drive her off, being an asshole would have to.
“My point is, the sheriff didn’t take a blood oath with the Bandits,” I said, pulling my shit back together. “He’s just a politician, basically, blowing with the wind. If we show that we can overwhelm the Bandits, he’ll bend to our side in a heartbeat.”
“Not a surprise,” Mason said, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out with his foot. “In all the time I’ve been here, basically no one has any morals or foundations. They just go with whoever has the guns and the balls.”
“So it’s time we fucking show it,” Connor said. “Kill the fuckers. Take ‘em out. And then tell Sheriff Davis to get on his knees and suck us off.”
“Hopefully not literally,” I said with a snort. “I’ll let Garrett take that one for the team.”
