“You’re not going to let me have fun, are you?” I tease.

  She shakes her head. “Isn’t this fun?”

  And she covers my mouth again, molding her chest to mine, and resumes grinding herself on me, the only things separating us are her bottoms and my briefs.

  My hands roam everywhere, her ass, her breasts, her face…

  She’s right. This is fun. I would want a bed if we were going to do more anyway.

  She pulls away from my mouth, her face pained as she moans, and I swear I feel her wetness through our clothes.

  “Slower,” I whisper, not daring to look behind me. “Or they’re gonna know we’re fucking.”

  We’re still dressed, and we’re hidden behind the potted tree, but not completely.

  I hold her tight, trying to set the pace and slow her down, but I keep needing to go harder. I press into her so hard I feel bone.

  “I can’t stop,” she says, kissing me again and again.

  “Slow.” I grip her hips, trying to control her. “Move small.”

  But she doesn’t. She rides me, tilting her head back as I go at her neck, kissing and biting.

  “I won’t go inside, okay?” I pull her bottoms to the side, baring her cunt and soaking up her heat as she pumps her hips again and again.

  My orgasm rises, blood pulsing hot through my stomach and between my thighs.

  “Oh God,” she whimpers in short, stuttered bursts. “It feels…so good.”

  “Hold on to me.” I bite her jaw. “Hold hard.”

  She cries out, and I don’t even look to see if anyone is on to us. I slam my hand into the wall, sucking in a breath and trying not to come. But she jerks and gasps, her tits shaking with each thrust as she rides hers out, and I can’t hold it back.

  “Goddammit,” I breathe out. Fuck.

  I pull myself away, stroking down my length as I spill onto her stomach. She whimpers, looking down between us and watching me come.

  Sweat dampens my forehead, and I drop my head down to her shoulder, feeling her hand slip around the back of my neck.

  “Sorry,” I pant. “I was trying not to.”

  “I wanted you to,” she whispers.

  Reaching behind me, I pull my T-shirt out of my back pocket and wipe it off her. She keeps kissing me, and I can’t stop smiling.

  I haven’t felt anything that good in a long time.

  I tuck the shirt back into my pocket, holding her as she holds me. The party still rages around us, unfazed.

  “Come home with me tonight,” I say. “We don’t have to do anything else. Just come home with me.”

  But she shakes her head. “If I come home with you tonight, something is happening.”

  “Yeah, we can hit breakfast early,” I joke, rising up and looking down into her eyes as I let her feet touch the floor again. “And I don’t have to come all the way over here to pick you up. I mean, I have standards. At least one date before I sleep with you.”

  She smiles, but it’s brief. Her breathing steadies, and she starts to check her swimsuit, making sure everything is still on.

  We’re done. She doesn’t want more.

  “You’re not interested,” I say.

  In me.

  I was fun, like Trace. Or a pity fuck, like Iron.

  But her eyes pop up. “No,” she retorts. “I mean, yes. I’m interested. It’s not that. I just, um…” She swallows and suddenly looks way too young for me again. “I feel like I’m free-falling, Army,” she admits. “Trace, then Iron…I need to stop for a minute.”

  I take her face in my hand. “Then grab on to something.”

  Her eyes soften, and she leans into my touch. I don’t know what it is about her, but I don’t even need to sleep with her. I just really like seeing her in the morning.

  “You want to take me to breakfast before we sleep together…” she says, but it sounds like she’s saying it to herself. She lowers her voice, and I almost don’t hear. “We haven’t slept together yet…”

  I study the far-off look on her face. What is she talking about?

  She looks up at me. “It wasn’t my parents, was it?”

  “What?”

  “The man who offered to pay you to have sex with his wife?”

  Oh. “No.”

  “It wasn’t Clay’s?”

  “God, no.”

  She nods once, satisfied.

  She fixes her hair and starts to leave. “I’ll be at Mariette’s early. Come over and eat.”

  I stop her. “I want you in my bed tonight.”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  She turns fully, facing me. “Because I wanted it easy, and Trace wanted it easy, so it was easy. And I knew before I even touched Iron that it would be once, because he was going away, so I was prepared to say goodbye. But you?” She hesitates and then kisses the corner of my mouth. “I think you’re easy for people to fall for. I need a minute.”

  Okay. That’s not a terrible thing to hear. It’s kind of annoying, though, that she’s too young for me but somehow a lot wiser.

  She steps away. “I need to get out of this swimsuit.”

  I cock an eyebrow, and she laughs, realizing how enticing that sounded to me. She leaves, heading up the stairs, and I watch her disappear into her room.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I comb my hand through my hair, staring after her.

  Is it because she’s just a little bit forbidden and I want to feel it all over again?

  Or maybe I just want to be happy, because it’ll piss Macon off for me to have something of my own.

  Or maybe she’s kind.

  Maybe she’s someone you keep, and she’d never hurt me.

  I’d like a date to find out.

  I glance out of the window at my side, watching Dallas smoke in the driveway and Trace under the hood of some girl’s car, laughing and talking to her.

  I shake my head, making my way to the kitchen. He’s probably using the “Can I pop your hood?” routine. Within days, she’ll be calling him over to check “this weird sound” she heard while driving. It’s amazing how often this works out for him.

  I walk around teenagers as I step through the kitchen, desperate to put my T-shirt back on, but it has cum all over it.

  Moving past the stove, I open the only door I can find and step inside. I reach up for a chain to the light but find nothing. I pat the wall on both sides of the door, finally finding the switch. Flicking it on, I don’t see Milo, but I hear pounding and muffled shouting.

  “Get me outta here!”

  I spot another door straight ahead and close the one behind me.

  Picking up the padlock, I yank on it for good measure, but yeah, it’s secure. Looking up and around, I quickly find the key sitting on a shelf in front of some jars of pesto sauce. Krisjen wouldn’t have been able to keep it on her in a swimsuit.

  I pick it up.

  Milo Price is ten years younger than me, too. The responsible thing to do with him six months ago would have been to press charges over how he tried to assault my sister. What I wanted to do was kill him.

  I could have. A lot more easily than having sex for money. It’s a question I often ponder. What would I be like if I weren’t worried about going to prison?

  Dallas, Trace, Iron…they all think I’m boring. I know they do.

  I’m not boring. I’m just worried. All the time. Afraid. All the time. About them. About Macon. About Dex. Someone has to be the cautious one. The reliable one.

  I slip the key in, twist it, and pull off the lock, stepping back as the door bursts open. Milo rushes out, sweating like a pig and sucking in air like he was in a fucking coffin.

  “You son of a bitch,” he growls.

  But he stops just short of getting in my face.

  He shifts on his feet, his dark hair wet with perspiration and his shirt nearly soaked. I’m sure he thinks I helped lock him up.

  “You gonna hit a kid?” he challenges me. “Huh?”

  Gotta hand it to him. He knows I’d kick his ass, but he still talks like he’d kick mine.

  “Clay’s here if you’d rather she do it.” I plant my hand on his face, brushing the scar down the side of it before I push him away. “She made you prettier.”

  Turned out, my sister didn’t need her brothers to protect her. That Saint of hers was only too happy to take care of business herself. And being as connected as she is, she knew she wouldn’t get in trouble for spilling his blood.

  But Milo isn’t scared. “You know where I’ll go.” He closes in, a few inches from my face. “Please stop me.”

  I smile at his dare. Why does he think I let him out of the pantry to begin with?

  “You better hurry.” I step out of the way. “The rain is starting.”

  He remains in place for another few seconds and then walks past me, never turning his back until he’s out the pantry door. “Don’t be long,” he says.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  He leaves, and I follow, weaving through the crowd until I make it to the foyer. The music pumps, the black lights showing off all the artwork over all the naked skin, and I look around for Krisjen.

  But I don’t find her, thankfully.

  I spot her brother instead, the twelve-year-old huddled in conversation with Santos’s son, JC. Mars is shirtless, some kind of anime character drawn on his arm.

  I charge over, yanking JC’s arm. “Hey!” I glare down at the kid. “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes go wide, and he straightens, clearly shocked to see me. “What? Um…” He struggles to find his words. “Well, they sneak over to our side all the time,” he says, as if that’s an excuse to come here.

  He lowers his hands, trying to hide the beer, but I grab it.

  “Give me that.”

  “It’s dark in here,” he argues. “No one knows I’m Swamp.”

  But I turn my scowl on Mars. “And where the hell are you supposed to be?”

  He swallows. “My grandma’s.”

  I grab his beer, too. “Y’all get out of here. Goddammit.” I wouldn’t let them come to any of our parties, either. “Get home!”

  They scram, running out of the front door, and I start to tell Mars to get his ass upstairs, but it’s too loud for him to sleep here anyway. Best that he heads back to his grandmother’s, where Krisjen probably still thinks he is.

  I set the beers down and take off outside, just in time to see a dark silver Audi speed out of the driveway. And if it’s Milo, he’s not alone. There are two others in the car with him.

  I glance over at Dallas. “Let’s go!”

  He throws his cigarette down and starts for me, Trace rising from underneath the girl’s hood.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Trace asks.

  “Stay,” I tell him. “Help Krisjen get these people out of here.”

  Dallas climbs into the truck, and I open the driver’s side door.

  But I hear Trace call out, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  I haul my body into the seat and slam the door. I meet Trace’s eyes through Dallas’s window. “Me?”

  I’m legit asking, and he knows it. He laughs, and I start the engine, racing out of the driveway.

  I’ll be a grandfather before Trace is ever married. I’m not the immature one.

  I speed onto the street and stop, seeing Milo’s taillights glow bright red to my left down the lane. He turns, disappearing, and I jerk the wheel, racing after him.

  Fat raindrops land like darts on the windshield, and I kick on the wipers, trying to find him in the distance.

  There are several cars ahead of me.

  “So, what’s going on?” Dallas asks.

  “Just a little deterrence.”

  I had to get him out of her house. If I’d stayed the night, I would’ve let him stew, but since I was leaving, he had to, as well.

  Dallas points ahead. “There he is.”

  I change lanes, going around an SUV, and stop at the light, Milo in the next lane, two cars head.

  “They see us,” he says.

  Milo adjusts his sideview mirror until he meets my eyes.

  “They’re gonna speed,” I warn Dallas.

  I can’t. Not on this side of the tracks.

  “If we’re lucky, they’ll get into an accident,” I say.

  He chuckles. “These kinds of games aren’t like you.”

  “Yeah, she’s driving me nuts.”

  I say it before I can stop myself.

  I’ve been thinking about her for a while. I shouldn’t have asked her to go to the strip club. It’s somewhere you go with a woman you’ve been with for a while for a fun night out, maybe. Not someone you want to fall in love with you. Someone you want to impress.

  The light turns green, and Milo shoots off, speeding like his parents sit on the town council.

  I punch the gas pedal, keeping my eyes peeled and accelerating faster and faster.

  The rain is like rivers pouring down the windshield, and I speed up the wipers and tighten my fist on the wheel. Milo’s headlights blur through the rain.

  “Just stay next to me,” I tell Dallas, “and don’t cause any bullshit.”

  “He deserves to disappear,” he fires back.

  Yeah, but I’m not orphaning my son by going to jail for this asshole.

  I squint, trying to see through the windshield in the dark and the storm. “Fuck, it’s thick,” I gripe.

  He halts at a stop sign, I’m two cars behind, and I watch him turn left.

  I smile as the car between us follows him, and I approach the sign, getting ready to stop.

  But Dallas yells, “Go!”

  I bolt through the stop sign, but I don’t turn left, following Milo. Instead, I spin the wheel right and hit the gas, firing down the street, the pavement going from smooth to broken in an instant. Water splashes up as I race through puddles, Dallas and I bouncing inside the truck.

  There’s one road into Sanoa Bay, two converging into that one. Saints usually stick to the freshly paved street that takes them past the tourist-ridden wetlands and the airboat and fishing recreation bullshit, avoiding this nearly abandoned street altogether.

  We hit a pothole, Dallas grabbing the handle above his door as he catches air, and I press my back into the seat to stabilize myself.

  But I hear a squeal from the seats behind us, and I jerk my eyes to Dallas.

  He looks at me, and we both do a double take toward the back seat. Keeping my eyes on the road, I stick my hand back there and feel two bodies.

  “What the hell?” I yell.

  JC and Mars pop up, JC folding his lips between his teeth, trying not to laugh, while Mars looks more contrite.

  “Ah, shit,” Dallas grumbles.

  “Dammit!” I bark. “You little shits.”

  “Just keep going!” Dallas shouts. “Hurry!”

  Tall trees and heavy brush surround us, and we bounce over the tracks, into Sanoa Bay. Taking a left and then a right, I don’t see any taillights ahead of us.

  A small fork lies up the road, and I charge as fast as I can, swerving as low-hanging branches hit my windshield.

  “Gotta get there before he makes the turn!” Dallas shouts.

  “I know that! I can’t see.”

  Ben Calderon’s driveway appears, and I jerk the wheel right, speeding up a small incline and slamming on the brakes. A thick row of trees blocks the view of the street from the driveway, and I yank my door open, glancing in the back seat before I jump out.

  “I’ll deal with you two later,” I grit out. “Stay here!”

  “Yeah, right,” JC replies, but I’m in too much of a hurry to fight with him.

  Hopping out of the truck, I move to the tailgate, pulling it down. Sliding one of the many containers toward me, I flip open the lid and find the spikes.

  I grab them.

  “Hurry!” Dallas yells.

  I hand him one side and take the handle of the other, leading the way through the trees and looking both ways. No cars coming. I walk to the other side, Dallas remaining where he is as we stretch the chain link of spikes across the road.

  “This isn’t gonna kill them, is it?” I shout.

  Iron had a lot of fun with these things back in the day. As long as they’re not going fast, it should be fine, right?

  But Dallas yells at me, “He attacked our sister! And likes to beat up on women!”

  “Right.”

  I mean, it can’t be that unsafe. They sell them on Amazon.

  I drop the chain, making sure it’s straight.

  “They’re coming!” he shouts, running back for the brush.

  I follow, both of us situating ourselves out of sight as Mars and JC come up to watch.

  I grab them and pull them back.

  The Audi gets closer and closer, rain dancing in front of the headlights. Almost there, almost there. I hold my breath, the fear that a stupid prank could turn bad making my stomach churn a little.

  The car zooms past, and shots pierce the air. Pop, pop, pop, pop.

  The car swerves and the tires expel their air, the sound of rain and the deflated rubber hitting the street filling my ears.

  The car goes off the road and disappears into a shallow ditch, its taillights sticking up in the air.

  Dallas smiles. “Never gets old.”

  JC will keep his mouth shut. I look down at Mars. “Snitches get stitches.”

  He nods once, totally on board.

  I race to the other side of the street, hearing some girl and guy screaming in a way that sounds mad and not injured, while Milo’s seat belt hits his window and he shoves his door open.

  I back up before he can see us.

  “Who’s that?” I hear Dallas ask.

  I follow his gaze, seeing another car coming.

  “Get the chain!” I whisper-yell.

  But he stands his ground. “It’s probably more of them.”