She’s done in about seven minutes, and I finally meet Aro’s eyes, feeling stronger as the slight pain goes on. Funny how their world works. One tattoo and they’ll let me have a whole human. As if she has no say.
At least this will get them off our backs for a bit.
Aura wipes the blood away and tapes on a clear bandage. She hands me instructions for care and says, “You know the drill. Wash with antimicrobial soap and—”
But I’m not listening. I hop up and pull on my shirt and jacket.
“She’s yours now,” Hugo tells me and then announces to the others. “No one touches her.”
I put some cash on the table for Aura and head over to the Rebels. “Why didn’t you call Reeves?” I ask Hugo.
He just smiles. “Seeing that tattoo on a Trent and a Pirate is such payment. My honor is restored. For now.”
Yeah, I’ll bet. My friends are going to have fun with this, and he knows it.
But he leans in, lowering his voice. “The drugs and money weren’t mine anyway. Consider our beef settled,” he tells me. “And if you want to get me a few more of those cameras you snuck into the garage…”
I rear back a little.
“I can help you with him,” he says. “It’s time for Green Street Emancipation. We’ll talk soon.”
Oh, fucking great. You’ve got to be kidding me.
He leaves, the others following, and I take Aro, pulling her to my side. I do not want to be in bed with Green Street any more than I am. Goddammit.
I tell Kade, “Make sure Dylan gets home.”
And I pull Aro with me out the door.
“Why did you do that?” she finally chokes out.
I lead her to my car, hitting the locks as a light sprinkle starts to fall.
“If you ever go against him, he removes the tattoo, Hawke,” she says. “You know how he does it?”
Yes, I know.
She pulls away. “Let me go.”
“Where?” I back her into my car, glaring down. “He’ll just send you back to me, because you’re mine. I feed you. I clothe you. I protect you. Isn’t that what you wanted in a man like those losers?” Isn’t that what she was after? What only Green Street could give her? “Well, you’ve got it.”
“I don’t belong to anyone!”
I rip the bandage off my neck, growling, “Say it again.”
I press her into the car. I dare you.
Her eyes flit between mine and the tattoo, her chest rising and falling hard.
I did this for her. I fucking did this for her!
Her eyes fill with tears, and all she can do is close them, but I want her to look. At my neck. My face. My cut lip and my bloody eye—all because of her!
I notice headlights moving down the street and look, seeing the ones on top of the roof too. Police.
“Get in the car,” I tell her.
She looks like she’s going to argue until she sees what I see, and we both climb in.
I start the engine, not waiting to see if they pass or don’t, and take off. My face hurts, my neck aches, and I’m so fucking pissed right now, this isn’t the time. Please don’t pull me over.
Maybe Hugo called Reeves, after all.
I sweep around the corner, look in my rearview mirror, and see the police car follow. My chest caves. “Fuck.”
I shift into a higher gear and wince, hesitating for a second. “This night can’t get any worse.”
Screw it.
I speed off, my heart still pounding from the race. From the fight. From losing her to getting her back, and from the new ink on my neck. I’m losing control.
I used to be calm.
I barrel down the street, flipping on the windshield wipers as I make a left, and see the sirens turn on, because I just made it obvious that I’m evading. I hit the gas, speeding ahead.
I make some lefts and rights, quick turns and immediate slips onto various streets before coming back to JT Racing and quickly parking the car. Running out, I take Aro’s hand and pull her to the other side of the building, seeing the cop car pull into the lot and block in Madoc’s car from the back. Carrying my keys, I unlock Jared’s old Boss, and we climb in. I start up the engine, and she looks out the back window, seeing that they’re coming around the side of the building because his fucking car is so loud.
I pull onto the street, drive, and make a few turns before we’re safely on the highway, no one on our tail.
I can’t believe I did that. What the hell am I doing? I glance over at her, see those brown eyes looking over at me with her braids, and she looks so…
Perfect.
Pure.
She doesn’t say anything that’s not true, and I always know that everything I get from her—every word, every kiss—is real. She wouldn’t waste her time otherwise.