Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,202

as he tinkers around loudly. Pulling in a steeling breath, I set out to do what I came out here to accomplish.

Bass is neck deep in the car when I amble up, ducking my chin into my scarf. There’s a greasy smear of a palm print on the thigh of his pants already, and his shoulders go stiff when I stop, lingering by the hood. I suck up all the anger and bad blood, and try to remember what Sugar said. He’s trying. For Georgia. For my mom.

That much I can understand.

“So you think that’ll make it run smoother?” I ask, propping my elbows on the frame.

He tightens something with a wrench, only faltering briefly. His voice sounds resigned, but not harsh. “It should. I mean, the whole car needs a complete overhaul.” He shakes his head at something lurking beneath a hose, looking annoyed at it. “But, the bones are good. Fixed up right, these things go for about twice their blue book value.”

I give him a second look, surprised. “What? Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he says, nodding eagerly. “People love fixing up these old cars. They’re lightweight and great for racing.”

Sugar rounds the car just then, ignoring Sebastian’s sound of protest as the light disappears. She hands the flashlight to me, giving me a warning look before marching back toward the house.

Sighing, I point the light to where Sebastian’s hands are connecting something. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore. The racing.”

“Not competitively,” he confirms. “But I still show off my wheels. Jasmine is too pretty not to be admired.”

It’s a tacky throwaway comment, full of that pompous arrogance that always makes me flare up around him. For the first time, I don’t give into it. “Listen,” I start, shoving a hand through my hair. “I’ve got something I need to say.”

He peeks up from his task, throwing me a sharp frown. “What?”

“I’m…sorry,” I tell him. I have to force the word out over the rock of resistance in my throat. “About the fights and races. About using you to help me fix my gambling debts. Things were really out of control for a while.” Shifting uncomfortably, I confess, “I was really out of control for a while.”

He gives a humorless laugh, body jumping when he yanks a big round thing from the engine. “Is this the part where you blame everything on your ‘addiction’?” He tosses what I can only assume is the old alternator aside, running a rag around where he pulled it. “Like you’ve done the twelve steps and now you’re all born again, so everyone has to give you a chance?”

I bristle at the contempt in his voice, even though he probably has every right. “No. It’s the part where I own up to my shit and tell you I’m trying.” Shaking my head, I aim the light into the vacancy left by the old part. “I’m not a new person, Bass. I’m just trying to be a better version of the regular one.” Wryly, I add, “I’m shooting for twice my blue book value.”

“And why is that?” he wonders, sounding less than generous as he fits the new part. “Because you blew your life up and you want it back? How long will this last?”

“I don’t want it back,” I say easily. “The trust fund, dad’s money, the privileges and connections, the expectations…you can keep it. Money can probably solve a lot of problems for most people, but for me, I think it just creates them. I’m better off with nothing but Preston wages.”

Sometimes even those are tempting. Even the insurance money is unreachable. Briefly, I’d considered investing it by playing the market, but then I had to force myself to face the truth.

That’s just gambling with more steps.

Instead, I had Warren help me put it into a secure account. I do my best to just act like it doesn’t exist. Most days I barely think about it.

“Well, for the sake of everyone around you, I hope it sticks.” It’s the closest I’ll ever get to a voice of support from my brother. “And if it doesn’t? You can bet your ass I’ll be here.” The look he gives me is hard, dark, full of warning. “If you hurt her, I’m going to come for you.”

I don’t need to ask who he’s talking about. “Good,” is my only response, and I mean it. There’s a sense of relief in having someone other than Warren holding me accountable. Sebastian gives me a baffled look, tightening down