Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,191

doing it. Being careful. Making sure that I’m safe and feel good. Wearing his marks in my skin.

He wraps his arms around me, cloaking me with his warmth, and maybe this is a mistake. Maybe it’ll all end horribly. Maybe he’ll break my heart again. But as we drift back into sleep, his fingertips grazing soothing circuits into my naked skin, I feel happy.

And I don’t think I could ever come to regret that.

30

Heston

When he gets into the car, I’m already annoyed.

It doesn’t help when he wrinkles his nose at the interior. “Your car sucks.”

“So I’ve heard,” I say, just as unimpressed with the scrawny man sitting in the passenger seat.

The drive to Northridge is mostly spent ignoring him, which is easy enough. I’ve got Georgia and Micha’s swim exam coming up, which takes up more of my mental energy than is probably necessary. The fact of the matter of is, I’ve been kind of dragging ass as far as teaching goes. Bigger fish to fry, drama at every turn. Which sort of pisses me off, because when I can focus and actually get a rhythm going, I suspect I’m not actually bad at it.

I just don’t have any proof to attest to that fact.

I park outside the dimly lit no-name bar, already knowing that Gene’s going to be here. “Remember what we talked about,” I start, turning to the man in my passenger seat.

He flaps a hand, looking unbothered. “Yeah, yeah, I know my lines. Just show me where this asshole is.” His forehead is pulled into a tight, unhappy pucker.

I take a moment to reflect on my choices first. This is probably the worst idea I’ve had in a while, and considering recent events, that’s saying a lot. But it’s the only one I could come up with that didn’t feature some form of gambling or debt shuffling.

Acknowledging the dread already pooling in my stomach—but without pain this time, thankfully—I wrench the car door open and step out, grabbing the small bag from the floorboard. “Pull your beanie on,” I tell him, annoyed that I have to.

Looking just as annoyed at me, he tugs it over his head, making sure all his hair is tucked inside. “Happy?”

“Elated,” I growl, shoving past him to approach the building.

Dirty is the one who answers the door, giving me a onceover that ends in a razor-sharp smirk. “You got some real brass balls, Wilcox.” Sniffing, he steps aside. “I respect that.” He doesn’t look like he respects me. He looks like he’s excited at the prospect of the coming entertainment.

Inside, it smells like Satan’s armpit. Doesn’t look much better, either. I’m at least relieved to see that the only people sitting around the table are Gene and his usual flunkies. I wasn’t ready to deal with any external factors.

“Wilty Cock,” Gene greets me, leaning back in his chair. “I thought I might need to send some of my boys out looking for you.” The vicious gleam in his eyes makes it clear that I wouldn’t have wanted him to find me. “Who’s this?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at the man standing behind me.

“Him?” I turn just enough to see him through my periphery. “Nobody. I’m here to square up.”

Gene puts his cards down, pushing his chair out to stand. “There’s only one thing I want,” he says, face set into hard, cheerless lines. “So unless you’re carrying a copy of what’s currently sitting in the Northridge ash heap known as Underworld, then I’m afraid we won’t be square.”

“Oh, that,” I say, sounding bored. “Yeah, that was a shame. Pesky electrical problems, huh? What can you do?”

“You think I’m an idiot?” Gene’s eyes flash in fury, and a couple of his flunkies stand with him. “I can make a call to those investigators any time I feel like it. So here’s what you’re going to do.” He rounds the table with deliberate movements. “You’re going to get me a copy of that video. Make a new one if you have to. I don’t give a shit! I want Georgia Haynes on video, swallowing your cock through whatever hole you see fit to stick it in.” He stops in front of me, punching the tip of his forefinger into my forehead. “And I think I’ll take half of the insurance payout, too. Unless you want to go down for arson and insurance fraud, that is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I push his hand away is a smooth, measured movement. “There’s already