Bane (Sinners of Saint 4)

“Hi.” He smiled casually at the two guys.

“H…hi?” one of them said, confused. The other one was in the process of releasing a slow, recognizing shit when Bane sent his fist to both their faces in rapid succession, and the crack of their noses breaking filled the air.

Bane backed out of his parking space. The guys were standing at the curb, crouching down and screaming, holding their noses. I was zipping my hoodie up and covering as much as I could of myself when Bane stuck his head out from my window again, tucking his cock back into his pants.

“Warn Emery not to ask his daddy to bail him out. Because if I hear he’s out and about tonight, I won’t show him the same mercy my girlfriend did.”

We took off just when the police cars started pouring in through the gate. There was a row of three of them. I saw Detective Villegas sitting in the passenger seat of the first one, looking serious and talking on her phone. Neighbors poured out of their doors, opened the curtains of their big mansions, watching intently as the line of vehicles crawled up to Wren’s house.

It reminded me of the opening scene of Blue Velvet, when the seemingly perfect neighborhood is actually crawling with rustling beetles and hissing cockroaches. The perfect guys from the perfect families of All Saints High weren’t so perfect anymore.

I felt Bane’s hand wrapping around mine and looked up, watching the leaves shaking on the trees. And I thought that, if this was a fairytale, this is how I’d end the chapter:

The princess’ sword was bloody.

But she refused to tuck it back in.

She wanted to leave a trail of their misery behind her, so they could always find her.

JESSE ASKED IF WE COULD stop by her house first.

“Why?” I groaned, already frustrated with the prospect of meeting Pam again.

“I need to do something important.”

Pam wasn’t home—she was probably lawyering up and getting ready to dispute the will, according to Jesse—and I let out a sigh of relief as I took a seat on her bed. She crawled onto it on her knees and stood in front of the Polaroid pin board, staring at it.

“Do you have a lighter?” Her eyes were still hard on the pictures.

What kind of question was that? I was a stoner from hell. I had two Zippos and a box of matches at any given time. Every pyromaniac’s wet dream. I fished one from my pocket and tossed it over into her hands.

“Are we finally going to burn this ugly-ass place down?” I sniffed.

She turned around and smiled. “Not the entire house. Just the pictures.”

We went to the backyard, where Shadow had died, by the Moroccan sunbeds, stacking the pile of pictures into a makeshift bonfire.

“The funny thing is, I never took a picture of Darren’s back. He was so good at blending in with his fake lisp and his B-grade suits.” She flipped my lighter, began to burn the edge of a picture of some teenager’s back, and dropped it down to the rest of the Polaroids, which caught fire quickly.

“Yeah, he kind of tricked me that way, too.” I sat on one of the sunbeds, admiring her ass and pondering over her stepfather. “Hey, know what I was thinking?”

She twisted her head to watch me. “What?”

“I fucked my stepsister, and I didn’t even know it. That’s hot.”

Jesse bit her lip. “I want to leave the Rover here. It’s not even mine, anyway. Would you lend me your truck if I need it?”

Why not? I’ve handed you everything else I own, including my heart, which I don’t want back.

I rolled my eyes, playing exasperated. “Knew you’d be a gold digger.”

We drove around downtown a while after that, trying not to think about the scene that was playing out back in El Dorado.

We were supposed to wait until Villegas called to ask us to come to the station, and while I was glad Jesse had forgiven me—or maybe she was just making a habit of hate-fucking me and was still mad— I also knew we had a lot of loose ends.

“We’re driving in circles,” I pointed out after doing the fifth round from one point of the promenade to the other. People were starting to wonder what the fuck was my problem, going back and forth like my mission in life was to slow down traffic.

“I don’t mind driving in circles.” She looked out the window, munching on her hair again. It was a gross habit on any other girl, but I swear this chick could take a shit directly on my chest, and I’d still think she was the cutest. I scratched my beardless chin. I was starting to get used to the smooth face. It made me look young, but that was good, because I no longer felt like a pervert for pursuing Jesse.