Devil Incarnate (Boys of Preston Prep #4) - Angel Lawson Page 0,89

sits, Tara arrives with the drinks; two pitchers of cold beer and six shots. She’ll keep them coming until these two are shit-faced.

“What brings you down here tonight?” I ask, throwing a shot back.

Carlton takes a glass, giving it a sniff before following suit. “I figured I’d come and check out the clientele. See if there’s a demand that needs supplying.” He takes in the place and I can tell from the twinkle in his eyes that he likes what he sees.

“You want to sell here?” That could be a problem. Too much heat around here wouldn’t bode well for my probation.

He grins. “You know me. I’m an entrepreneur.”

I give him a long, narrow-eyed look. “What are we talking? I can’t let shit get too hot.”

He’s already nodding. “Right, no, I get it. I’m not only about the hard stuff, you know. I’m expanding into edibles. Here, check it out.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a cellophane-wrapped cookie, handing it to me. The clear plastic is sealed with a big yellow smiley face sticker.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “You realize I can’t eat this. I have to take a piss test every month.” Carlton frowns, but when he goes to take it back, I yank it away. “I’ll have one of my staff taste it.”

Many people see Carlton as some goofy low-level stoner, but that’s not the case at all. He’s smart enough to play into that, to let people think he’s harmless and shiftless and not at all responsible for supplying this town’s most illicit substances. Now that I’m out of the game, he probably makes the most money at the fights and races, slinging his product hand over fist.

I let him talk about it for a few minutes, watching Emory in my periphery. It’ll be easy to make Carlton talk. He wants something from me, and I want something from him. These things have a way of working themselves out.

But Emory’s not so easy. “What about you? Going into business with Carl now?”

He stares at the shot I push toward him, but doesn’t pick it up. “Nah, I just had a family thing I came home for. Thought I’d tag along and see the new club my sister’s coming to.” Emory holds my gaze, the threat clear.

“Only once, that I know of,” I say, pouring myself a glass of beer from the pitcher. “Seemed like she had a good time, from what little I saw of her. Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than fuck with your sister. Not that I’d want to. I got no beef with Vandy.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” he mutters, finally picking up the shot and tossing it back. “How did you end up owning this old dump?” he asks, even though it’s clear in his eyes that he knows this is no dump. Not anymore.

I lean back, looking around. “High friends in low places.” Giving the booth a pat, I explain, “Won it in a bet, fair and square.”

Emory scoffs. “Of course you did.”

Realizing this is going to be harder than I thought, I throw back my second shot. As expected, Carlton takes my lead, grabbing his second, and then moments later, Emory too.

Carlton leans back on the leather seat. “It’s pretty nice in here, dude. I’m impressed. Word’s been on the street about it for weeks now.”

“Thanks,” I say, tilting back when Tara arrives with more shots. I’m halfway to handing her the plastic-wrapped cookie when I pause. For some fucked up reason, I get this flash of thought that Georgia would really like it. Isn’t that what she’d demanded before? Chocolate after sex? It does look good; chocolate chip, chewy, nice and fresh.

I let Tara walk away.

I expect things to be a little strained, but as we tip back drinks, the better history between us starts seeping through. Devil bonds run deep. But there’s more than one reason I’m playing nice tonight. There’s information I want, and then there’s information I need. Finding out who gave Georgia that mark falls somewhere confusingly between the two.

The small talk gets a little bigger. I ask what they’re doing these days. It’s school for Emory and dealing for Carlton. Somehow he talked his folks out of college.

“Eh, they’re too busy getting divorced to worry about what I’m doing, you know?”

I shake my head, still nursing my first beer. I’m not the one who’s supposed to be getting sloshed here. “Yeah, I know a thing or