had an idea that would shut that fucking mouth of yours. Yeah, he found me recently, and my man, he is real happy to see you again. On his way over from England right now, actually.”
My face is grim, but I’m barely listening to Barnes. Because instead, I’m working out how to get the fuck out of here, because I have to. Barnes and his mates are a bunch of muppets, and I can take his little tantrum hits all fucking day. But Basher? Yeah, that’s another story. Basher is a legit player in the London scene now, and his guys are trained killers from war zones and mercenary schools. And his punishment for the day Asa and I fucked him proper and took off is not going to be a temper-tantrum.
Something dark swells and burns inside of me, but I suck in air, forcing myself to stay calm. If Basher gets his hands on me, I’m done. There’s no walking away from that, and if he gets his hands on what I love? On Delphine?
My eyes squeeze shut, rage shattering through me.
I can’t go there, and I can’t spiral. I need to focus on finding the weak link in this chain, and when I open my eyes, I realize the weak link is standing right in front of me.
The weak link here is Barnes.
He’s volatile, and unbalanced, and angry, and if I can make him even angrier, he’ll get sloppier. And sloppy means I can trip him up, and maybe, just maybe, I can figure out a way out of this shit.
“Oy, Barnes,” I say loudly, interrupting whatever shit is pouring out of his wanker mouth about “watching me bleed” or some bullshit tough guy shit like that.
He glares at me, clearly angry at being interrupted in front of his mates.
“What.”
“You know, she told me about your little, uh, problem.”
His eyes harden.
“Watch your mouth, shithead.”
No thanks.
“Oh, yeah, we laughed about that a lot. You know,” I grin and look over at his peanut gallery of buddies. “About how you have a hard time getting such a little dick hard?”
One of his guys snorts, but when Barnes whirls on them with fury in his eyes, they all go quiet.
“Yeah? Well, bitch is making shit up,” he hisses, swallowing. “Stupid bitch.”
I frown, shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so, mate. We had a good laugh about it. She called it ‘your shy little turtle.’”
Barnes’s face goes red, and I can see him start to shake with rage. Good. Let him get mad. Let him hit the boiling point and lose his shit, because when he does, it might just be the one shot I have of getting the drop on him.
…You know, if he doesn’t just fucking kill me first.
“Shut your mouth, Oliver.”
“Now, my question is, has it ever gone up for any bird?” I sigh. “Could just be repression, mate. Maybe if you just admitted that maybe you’d rather be playing for the other team, you’d be a lot happ—”
“Shut up!” he barks, and I grunt as the back of his hand slams across my mouth.
I turn spitting blood and laughing quietly.
“Oh c’mon, Barnes,” I grin. “Is it Jay? You know, I think you two would make a real cute—”
I grunt as his knee slams into my gut, doubling me over. Fuck, this better fucking work.
“Watch your fucking mouth, fuckhead.”
“My mouth, yeah… you know, that reminds me. Do you have any idea where my mouth was with her?”
This is nothing I’d usually do. Talking about Delphine like this is bordering on enraging, even for myself. But there’s a bigger picture here, and that’s what I focus when as I keep on pushing him as hard as I can.
Pushing people? Being that annoying cunt that just won’t shut the fuck up? I’m in my bloody element here. I lock onto that fury in Barnes’s eyes, and I just laser into it, hard. It’s clear to me that this thing with Delphine Barnes isn’t just a power thing, not after that comment about school. This dumb cunt likes her in this fucked up, toxic, unrequited way, and that’s the weak point I focus on.
“Oy, mate, I don’t think that girl has ever come so hard than with me. You know how she—oh, fuck, mate, I’m sorry. Yeah,” I grin widely at him. “Guess you don’t know that look she gets when she really wants it, do you? My bad.”
Barnes sputters, looking like a fucking strawberry he’s so red.
“Yeah, that ain’t true,