Marco pinches the bridge of his nose. “Put the cigarettes in my car, Lilith.”
Surprisingly, she does as she’s told without a fight. “Strawberry shakes? Yes!” she yells from inside the SUV. She skips overto Ariana and hands her one. Ariana touches her busted lip with her tongue again and eyeballs the plastic cup like she’s trying to figure out if she can drink it with the injury. Rage rushes through me. I really hope Marco plans to kill this fuckstick, and I don’t give a shit what that might say about me.
“We’ll take care of this. You go home. Doc should be there by then to check you over.” Marco kisses the crown of Ariana’s head, then does the same to Lil’s.
“I’m fine, Dad,” Ariana claims. She walks over and kicks the asshole one more time. “Enculé,” she mutters while flipping him off before tucking the straw between her lips, opposite the side that’s bleeding. I don’t know what she said, but I get the idea. “Damn, Gordie’s has the best shakes,” she murmurs, her eyes closed. My stomach clenches, and my cock twitches.
Calm the fuck down, dude. Now is so not the time.
“I still want your head looked at. Luca, go with them. Ariana, you’re not driving, so hand the keys over to Lil or Luca.”
She stares silently at Marco for like a full minute. “You’re making me regret having Lil call you, mister.” Her stare turns into an icy glare.
“Ariana.” He glares right back. His tone is one I wouldn’t dare go against, but I get the feeling both girls do, and often. Ariana looks like she’s seriously contemplating it.
“Fine.” She exhales loudly, likethisis the worst part of her night. Taking the keys out of her purse, her eyes dart between me and Lil a few times before she tosses them to me.
“Hey!” Lil pouts. “No fair. You don’t even know Luca!”
“No, but I know you, Lil, and I’ve had enough head trauma for one night.”
I almost grin again. But then I look down at the douchebag who hurt her, and my expression hardens.
“The girls will tell you how to get home. Ford will follow you.I’m taking this bastard to the shed,” Marco says quietly as he nods at one of his guys, and they all start to move.
“Save me a piece,” I snarl.
Marco looks at me, and I can’t read his expression. I don’t know what he sees on my face, but after studying me for a few seconds, he nods his head again.
I follow the girls, listening as Lil tries to convince Ariana to let her drive. We walk around the building, the girls side by side with their pinkies linked. I cock my head, taking in the ink on the backs of their upper arms. Black outlines of cute baby chickens holding guns. They’re mirrored, pointing the guns outward and at each other. Or, they would be if Ariana wasn’t almost a foot shorter than Lil. Huh… chicks with guns. I guess it fits.
Lil continues to plead her case and doesn’t give up until they stop next to a sleek black Range Rover Sport. The inside looks like a tornado swept through it. Hoodies, books, and burrito wrappers are everywhere.
When Ariana doesn’t give in, Lil sticks her tongue out at her. “Fine. But I call shotgun.”
“Bitch.” Ariana smiles big but then hisses in pain. I tighten my hand into a fist, the keychain biting into my palm. Ariana’s eyes zero in on my clenched fingers, and she looks up at me curiously with those beautiful gray eyes. Forcing my hand open, I unlock the car and open the back door behind the driver’s seat for her. Glancing down, I notice the keychain is a metal square stamped with ‘DeVilles do it better’ and a black outline version of the grinning devil emoji.
“Thanks, Luca,” Ariana says as she slides in, pushing a mountain of shit out of her way. My name on her lips is my new favorite thing. “When was the last time anyone even sat back here?” she mutters.
Lil climbs into the front passenger seat as I start the enginewith the push of a button. My knees are up to my eyeballs, so I adjust the driver’s seat to give myself leg and arm room.
“Oh, it was twenty-two, by the way. You kicked him twenty-two times. Twenty-three if you count that last one,” Lil says.
Ariana settles in and buckles her seat belt. “Why wouldn’t I count the last one?”
Lil lifts a shoulder and looks over it at Ariana. “I don’t know, just giving you your options.”
“How many times did you kick him?”
“Forty-nine.” Lil grins and wags her eyebrows. “But I’m wearing better ass-kicking shoes.”
“True. I should have worn my combat boots. From now on, function over fashion.”
Lil chuckles. “That’ll be the day.”
Chapter 6
What's up, Doc?
