“I said, go home,” I repeat. “We’re not taking any more bets. Not from you.”
“Bullshit!” Spittle flies from his mouth, and I can smell the whiskey from here. “My money’s as good as?—”
“No.” I keep my voice low and controlled. Like I’m not gnawing at the opportunity to teach the bastard a lesson right here, right now, when I’d give anything to take this motherfucker out back and beat the shit out of him until he pees blood for a week. It doesn’t matter that I've already delivered retribution. It wasn’t enough then, and it sure as shit isn’t enough now. “Go home.”
Ignoring me, Virgil turns back to my little brother. “Come on, Ford. I’ll give you eighty now, and if I lose, which I won’t, I’ll drop off the rest like I did last time. You know I’m good for it?—”
Aaaand, I’ve heard enough.
My hand finds the front of his sweat-soaked shirt, and I drag him toward me, bringing us nose-to-nose.
“You’re done here, old man,” I warn. “Now, get the hell off my property.”
Eyes glazed with tenacity, he spits back at me, “We’re not on your property. We’re in The Drift, motherfucker.”
The Drift? He thinks the fucking Drift can protect him? He had it locked and loaded, didn’t he? With a low chuckle, I squeeze the fabric of his shirt even more, cinching it around his throat. “Is that right?”
“Yeah.” His upper lip curls. “And you’re nothing but Harden scum.”
Scum? What I wouldn’t give to have a mirror on this bastard so he could see what scum really is.
Abusive little bitch.
Shifting in my periphery, Ford crosses his arms, and I realize we’re drawing attention. Everyone’s staring, and people are moving closer. They’re waiting to see what I'll do. How I’ll handle the situation. Guess it makes sense. We’re causing quite the scene. If only I cared.
A sheen gathers along Virgil’s forehead and upper lip as I keep my grip firm. I tilt my head, examining it. The fucker’s wasted. Nervous. And wasted.
What am I going to do with you?
My attention shifts to the crowd closing in on the street. It reminds me of the time I’ve spent in the ring. The charge in the air. The curiosity. Good. Let them look. Let them witness what happens when someone decides not to play by our rules.
Shifting the overweight asshole to my left hand, I cock my right back, close my fist, and deliver a brutal blow beneath his eye. My knuckles groan in protest, but I savor the familiar feeling as his head slams to one side from the force. Hell, it’s such a hard hit, I have no doubt he would fall to his ass if I wasn't holding him in place by the collar of his stained clothes. Now, he’s nothing but my own personal punching bag.
And this is why we don’t allow cameras.
My mouth lifts, and another low chuckle claws up my throat as more people gather around us. “Hear that everyone? This motherfucker thinks we’re nothing but Harden scum. Right, asshole?” I seethe.
Gathering the saliva in his mouth, Virgil spits onto my face, so I hit him again, pulling a few, “Oh, shits” from the spectators.
“Look around, old man.” I wipe the spit off my face. “I own everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. Including your future if you decide to keep pushing your luck. Tell me you understand.”
His glare would make most men cower, but I simply smile back at him, daring him to pull the same bullshit from two seconds ago. When he stays quiet, I add, “Good.” I let him go. “Now, get the hell out of here. You’re banned from placing a bet or attending any of these events ever again. Understand?”
Crimson dribbles at the edge of his mouth until he spits it onto the pavement at my feet. “Fuck you.”
With a subtle shake of my head, I grab him again and drag him into me until we’re nose-to-nose once more. “I see you? I kill you,” I warn, keeping my voice low enough for only him to hear before bellowing, “Roman!”
Like a ghost, my best friend appears out of nowhere and takes hold of Virgil’s shoulders, removing the worthless bag of bones from my grasp. “Come on, old man.” He drags him away as Violet’s father hurls obscenities like they’re confetti.
I wasn’t kidding. What I said to him. Hell, I’m tempted to change my mind and end his life right here. Right now. Not only for what he did to Violet, but as a warning for anyone else who eventhinksabout following in his footsteps and hitting a defenseless person the way he did. The way my father did until we learned how to fight back. My hands clench at my sides as I watch Virgil’s sausage legs kick and twist before disappearing into the abandoned hangar.
When his curses finally fade, Ford claps me on the shoulder, shaking the red from my vision. I blink in an attempt to focus on the present instead of being lost in the past while Ford stares at me. It only lasts a second, then I give him a cocky smirk, sliding right back into my usual persona while placating my youngest brother as if to say,Yeah, I’m good.
Satisfied, Ford cups his hands over his mouth. “Bets close in ten minutes! Ten minutes only! Let’s get this party started!”
And just like that, it’s as if the altercation never happened. People go back to sipping their drinks and searching their pockets for a bit of extra cash they can hand to Ford before the race starts. Stepping back, I give my brother room to work his magic and squeeze a bit more money out of the people who aren’t here for the party, but to lighten their pockets. My attention catches on the pretty blonde standing next to Roman’s ride.
She stayed.
