SO COLD
Southwest Bridge was a desolate stretch of road for half a mile or so, and wasn't much of a bridge in the classical sense. There was a matte black Lexus F SPORT with dim lights, the signature front fascia and large spindle grille gave a coupe-like silhouette in the damp weather. The F SPORT had a smooth 3.5-liter V6 engine with twin turbochargers for agility and quickness to the driver's responses and would've proved critic's reviews had the driver not been so stubborn. The Shogun narrowly missed the body of the F SPORT as it swerved to avoid collision, tires smoking as it spun in a doughnut, steering wheel spinning in my hands as I did a U-turn, pulling up beside him in a flourish.
I hit the button for the window to roll down.
"What the FUCK is wrong with you!?" Cole lashed out, ungovernable in his violent temper and ill-humoured at my Need for Speed performance. His expression was foul, blackened gaze slanted. He looked murderous. "Get in."
"No," I reached over to open the door as invitation, keeping the semiautomatic in my lap obscured. "Saved a seat right here for you. Didn't keep it warm though, you look like you need to cool off a little."
"I won't tell you again. Get in the fucking car."
My expression discoloured in animosity. I hit the accelerator and did another U-turn just ahead, wheels squealing as I turned, and returned beside the F SPORT. "Happy?" My speech was contumelious with an eyebrow slanted in question.
He wasn't appreciative of my efforts. "Tell me where you want me to bury you, we'll go there now."
"I'll fire before you reach for your gun."
His gaze flickered as the semiautomatic came into view. He looked away, mouth in a humourless grin, rubbing a hand across his bristly jaw. "I find it difficult to believe you'd raise a gun at me, let alone kill me, sweetheart." Condescending bitch.
I took it as a challenge and fired a hole in his front tire. The stormy weather masked the sound of the gunshot. "Have a little faith, honey. Now a deflated tire is one thing but a hole in the neck?" I clicked my tongue. "I don't think you'll find a spare in the boot."
He swore in his mother's tongue, heavy-browed and infuriated. "You're a pussycat playing a grown man's game. I'll ruin you."
"Strike one." I held a finger up. "Strike three means time out. You're heading to the naughty step."
"Put the gun down before you hurt yourself."
"Strike two. Sexism. Sure makes my pussy tingle."
"Here's strike three," he was out of the car and yanking open the driver's door before I could react, hand around my throat as he dragged me out, mouth against my ear, "I'm going to let you keep the gun, let you feel like you're in control. Plus you're going to need it."
"Motherfucker–" I wasn't thankful for his generosity.
"Shut your fucking mouth." His grip was a chokehold. He went through my pockets roughly. "Where is your phone?"
"I left it at home. If this is going to be a crime scene, I'm not going to incriminate myself. I learned from the best."
"Sweet talk all you like," he shoved me away from him, hoisting himself in the driver's seat and searching through the glove box and side seat organisers for my mobile. "You're not getting out of here alive."
"Who said I was talking about you?" I watched him turn my car into a bomb site in his search and testily said. "You're going to clean it, too." I set the gun on the hood of his car. It was out of bullets.
He looked at me, taking the car keys out of the ignition slot. "Why did you leave it at home?" his display of curiosity was insincere, eyebrow raised as he closed the door shut. "How are you going to call the cops?"
I distanced myself as he neared. "Why would I need to call the cops? I'm not afraid of you."
"Then why are you running away?"
"I'm not. I'm stretching my legs. Plus you're a little unhinged right now. The safest place seems to be the furthest place away from you."
He flashed a wicked smile that made me want to ride his face into the sunset. "Shay." His low voice was hoarse like he had just woken up, looking like he wanted to split my legs open and fuck me which would've been great except the tempting summon was more of a taunt. "Come here."
I wasn't going to fall for it. "Sorry. Can't afford the Uber. Thanks for the offer though."
His expression hardened. "I'll pay for the ride."
"You don't have to do that,"
"I want to," he stepped closer.
"I've changed my mind. I'll wait for the bus."
"I'm not in the mood for your stupid games."
"I wasn't in the mood to be woken up and forced out here because of your bullshit." I raised my sweatpants off my right leg. "Mind if I send a quick message?"
"Thought you left your phone at home."
I shrugged. I reached down to slip out the iPhone from my sock. "Figured I didn't want you to get away with my murder. It's only fair if you go to jail, right? So shall we broadcast this on Facebook? Although there's a lot of freaks on there so maybe Periscope. I need to make an account though. Hold on, I need to send out a message first."
"Who to?" he entertained me which looked to be a good sign except he was circling me like a predator waiting to pounce.
"Homeland Security. The Director of the FBI. Migos. And the Oaktown Police Department."
"How about the man you're cheating on me with?"
I paused. "What?"
"Or the officer you're speaking to about testifying against my men." He angled towards me, eyebrows furrowing over a façade of concern even as his rage was unmasked. "What's the matter, sweetheart? You're looking a little worried."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
The manifestation of his displeasure stained his expression. "Is that so?" He didn't believe me.
"I'm going to leave. I'm not about to get into this argument with you. It's clear you're not willing to hear me out."
He grabbed my wrist, tugging me to his chest and his arms circled my waist. His nose brushed against mine and I leaned back only for his arms to tighten. "If I let you leave now without objection then you really should be worried." He pressed a hand under my jaw to raise my face as he kissed my mouth but the scene was anything but endearing as his other hand slipped under my waistband and he gripped the material of my panties. "You know how much I love silk – especially on you. Did you wear it just for me?"
"No–" my teeth gritted in discomfort as he tugged upwards viciously.
"I'm hurt." He eased his grip. "Who is he?"
"There is no he. I'm not fucking–"
He wrenched the material upwards. I clenched my ass cheeks, grimacing in pain. He was unbothered, harsh-featured and cold. "I already told you I would kill you if you cheated on me. What's his name?"
"Fuck you." I hit his chest.
"Is it someone here in this town? Someone you met over the summer? Shay, don't fucking lie to me. I know you don't love your family as much as you claim you do. They're nothing but babysitters for your brother–"
I spat at him. "Fuck you, motherfucker." I shoved away from him, maddened. "You don't know shit about my family. If I was going to cheat, I wouldn't get caught." I wanted to hurt him.
With a slow hand, he wiped the spit from his face. His expression rearranged into tranquillity, a false display of his anger as he deliberated over my words. "If you cheated, you wouldn't get caught. Huh. That's a funny way of defending yourself, Shay. If you didn't send those messages, who did? Irvin? I'll kill the son of a bitch right now." He gripped my cheeks. "Open your mouth."
I clamped my mouth shut.
"Shay," he pressed my nostrils together. "Open your fucking mouth."
I held out until I couldn't hold on any longer and my mouth parted for breath.
The son of a bitch spat in my mouth and then pressed a hand to my mouth so I couldn't spit it back out at him. "Swallow." His erection was pressed in between my legs as he used his other hand to part them and I was forced back against the bonnet of his car. "Like a good girl. There you go."
His condescending praises hit the wrong nerve. His cheek reddened as I struck him across the face, ill-tempered. "I fucking hate you."
His member hardened in response and he raised a hand to his cheek, drawing away slight touches of blood. He gripped my throat tightly, choking my airways. "I love it when you play rough with me, sweetheart. Now all I can think about is fucking you in the ass until you're too sore to walk."
My legs tightened around his waist, wet area moving against him to create friction. I needed to be fucked without care, I was sexually frustrated. I was feeling lightheaded but his chokehold was a pleasurable feeling. We kissed on the mouth and he used one hand to pull down his sweatpants and underwear and tugged down my sweatpants to my ankles. He rubbed his member against my panties and groaned to himself. "I love the feel of silk. It almost makes me reconsider my plans of killing you after I fuck you. Almost. But not quite."
"I didn't cheat–" irritation stained my defence.
"Because if you did, you wouldn't get caught, huh?" he shoved himself inside of me, fucking like animals, expression infuriated and he slapped me across the cheek sharply. "Answer me when I fucking talk to you."
"You can hit harder than that." I was breathless and overcome with need.
He raised my legs to his shoulders so he could go in deeper, thrust harder. "I could but then your face would be bruised, and I would prefer to beat your ass until you're throbbing and pulsing – like now, desperate to be used and abused." He gripped my face so I met his gaze. "I told you I'll give you a chance. We're going to go through the phones and each contact list and if you don't have an explanation for where you were on a date or if I find messages you've deleted from your new phone, then I'm going to kill you." He was entirely serious. "I promise you, I won't take it easy on you if I find out you're the rat. And to cheat on me?" he squeezed my throat. "I'll fucking burn you alive."
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might delete this chapter idk yet. ill proof read later