“Yeah, but he has issues.” I roll my eyes. Sounds about right – of course his horse would have an attitude. “He only allows me to touch him,” he says in a tone I imagine him using on the wild stallion, horse-whispering the thing into gloopy pulp. How can the animal not be affected? I sure am.
“Still can’t believe you were in jail.” Now he turns his head to my side.
“Oh, we all were, one time or another,” he says with a contemptuous smile. “Haven’t your brothers told you?”
“No. Did they steal horses too?” I fleer. He snorts.
“Well, once Logan and I were grounded … so our bikes were locked up. But there was this party we needed to go to -” He curls his lips into a mirthless smirk. “A Hannah Olson party. And since we were 14, we were old enough to be part of the bet for the first time.”
“What bet?” I sit on the bed. “And who is Hannah Olson?”
“Oh … eh …” he looks up as if hoping to find the right words written on the roof. “Mm, Hannah Olson was this bitch who bullied Axel’s sister.” I’ve met Emily a few times, but she’s much older than us. I think she and Axel differ about seven years or so.
“So, each time she threw a party, we made it our mission to ruin it with a bet. That time everyone had to pee on her bed.” I pull a disgusted face. If they peed on my bed I would probably strangle them.
“That’s just sick.” He shrugs.
“You know how important it is to win those bets we make -” Yeah, I know. They’re actually more dares than bets … with serious repercussions for the losers.
“So, since it was imperative for us to attend, we borrowed the twins’ bikes.” He gets this tiny devilish smirk. It’s both sexy, cute, and annoying.
“Let me guess,” I say, “You didn’t ask permission.”
“Oh, they knew,” he spits sarcastically. “But the evil Gemini psychos decided to report the bikes as stolen to remove us from the game. They even made an anonymous call as to our whereabouts.” Sounds like something they would do.
“Dad and Uncle John let us spend the night in a cell, charged with driving with no license, reckless behavior, and theft.” He ponders for a bit while staring at the ceiling.
“So you were in jail twice?” He sighs.
“No, more. There were a few fights, usually because one of us hooked up with another dude’s girl.” I shake my head. Typical. Still looking up he asks, “What about you?”
I move and place a knee on either side of his towel-covered-hips with some false bravado. Way less brave than I act. His eyes catch mine and the hunger in there encourages me.
“Oh, I’ve never been in jail yet,” I say with an improper voice, leaning forward until my lips touch his.
Date = 14 November
Place = San Francisco (Monarch Street, Alameda)
POV – Damion
It’s around 9 pm and we drive down the quiet little street to where we’re supposed to meet Scarface (the nickname Mel gave Harry). He’s chosen his location carefully – this entire area is remote and dark.
But remote areas are The San Francisco Boys’ hot spots – to perform and tape sometimes illegal stunts you need dim and distant places off the beaten track. So we happen to be familiar with most of them around the bay.
We use this little area to prepare sets for high-risk performances, because of its location and proportions. And based on the comments from our viewers, it makes rather entertaining videos.
Dad, Uncle John, and Alberto Garcia are in the backseat of an armored black Chevy Suburban SUV driven by armed bodyguards. While we are on our Reaper dirt bikes, dressed up in the same outfits used by co-op government officials – sponsored by Uncle John’s company of course.
And thanks to Blackburn Inc. we are also connected by earpieces specifically designed for tactical, covert, direct-to-ear incoming, and outgoing radio communications.
If Scarface shows his ass, we’re going to take him down. But I’m pretty sure he’s not that stupid. He must have some plan.
We hide in a semi-circle on a patch of grass between the Bay and Hirschfeld Fabrications where we’ve cut a hole in the wire fence – big enough to drive through.
The SUV is a dark blob in the middle of a large open area at the end of Monarch Street, only illuminated by the light of the moon and a few very distant street lamps from the USS Hornet Museum. I take off my helmet and hang it on the right handle of my bike.
With a shiver, I turn and take in the coast. The super-black water of the bay to our right looks like a deep hole, trying to gobble up the cheerful lights of San Francisco where it illuminates the sky in a rainbow of colors in the distance.
Somewhere among those brilliant lights is my girl. My angel. Stuck in my parents’ house with Mom, Kiara, Luke … and the puppy-trainer. Dad insisted that HE should take watch over the girls. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea. My gut still doesn’t trust him.
I’m tense. Agitated. Jealous. And rather horny.
“Hey, Grimm,” I winch as Jackson’s eyes cut to mine. I know that tone.
“I haven’t asked you,” he says evenly, with only a minuscule itty-bitty hint of irony, “How is your whole relationship thing going?”
Oh boy. “Fine.”
“So when are you gonna introduce us to this angel?” Ilkay asks.
How about never? “Soon.”
Jackson smirks, but his eyes reflect that he knows I am lying through my teeth. “I’m excited to meet the girl that brought you to your knees.”
I try to look unaffected, to not show any emotion that can give me away. It would not surprise me much if Jackson figured it out already. But I’m pretty sure if he did, I would not be able to ride a bike right now. Unless he’s pulling out the torture, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. That would be something he would enjoy.
“I’m not on my knees.” I’m pretty proud of the snotty steadiness of my voice while uttering the lie.
“Liar,” the crazy twin chides softly. Not fooled.
I wish I could reassure him, but I don’t have any reassurances to give. Sod all.
Unless I lie some more.
Because I have a bone-deep certainty that they’re not going to be excited to meet my angel. Not even close.
So instead I ignore them, put an ear pod into my empty left ear, and listen to the song by The Cab. It came with a message saying I must stay safe. Sent by the one girl I had no business falling for. But did.