Chapter 114
The sudden high-pitched squeal of a car’s tortured brakes pierced the calm night. Stacy glanced up to see the low muzzle of a familiar Trans Am bearing down on him like a bruised animal looking for a fight.
Fear flooded through him, freezing his legs in mid-stride, stopping him where he stood as Lamar’s car barreled towards him at an obscene speed. God,Stacy thought, his mind numb. Oh God, oh fuck, he found me, oh shit, oh fuck. He looked around wildly but there was no where to go, no place to hide, nothing to save him now
Oh fuck.
At the last moment the car jerked to one side, narrowly missing him and blocking his path. The passenger side door flew open and Ange jumped out, eyes wide. “Stace,” he said, breathless. Just seeing him made Stacy’s racing heart ease up a bit until his friend told him, “Run.”
That one word set Stacy into motion. He took off, jumping over the front bumper of Lamar’s car in his haste to get away. He heard another door open behind him, heard Lamar’s angry voice curse after him, and almost made it to the safety of Darian’s truck when a hard body slammed into him from behind.
Stacy rammed into the side of the truck, his nose smashing with a sickening crunch as Lamar shoved his head against the windshield. The side view mirror caught Stacy in the chest and knocked out his breath. “Just where the fuckdo you think you’re going?” Lamar growled in his ear. He held one of Stacy’s arms at an awkward angle behind his back, the pain canceling out whatever alcohol lingered in Stacy’s system. “You goddamn whore. I’ll teach you to hide from me.”
Lamar kicked Stacy’s legs apart. In the windshield’s reflection, Stacy saw Ange watching them. He wanted to call out to his friend for help but he couldn’t draw in breath to scream, even when Lamar shoved his arm up higher, pressed him harder against the truck. Then he heard a sinister snickin his ear and light gleamed off a sharp switchblade that extended just inches from his throat. “Ange,” he whispered. It was all he could muster.
In the windshield, his friend turned and ran into Outlaws.
“I’ll teach you to fuck around on me,” Lamar was saying, his voice deadly and low. The switchblade bit into Stacy’s cheek, drawing down the soft skin as blood beaded up after the blade. Then the blade cut along the back of Stacy’s shirt, the tear of fabric extraordinarily loud over Stacy’s gasp for breath and his rapid pulse.
At his waist, he felt the blade saw through his belt as Lamar grabbed the back of his jeans. “I’ll carve my name into your ass,” Lamar threatened, running the blade down the curve of Stacy’s buttocks, a teasing, deadly touch.
Stacy stiffened, all too aware of the knife point now poised directly between his legs. Thin denim was all that separated that sharp blade from Stacy’s tender flesh. In his ear, Lamar purred, “Who’ll want to fuck you then, Stace? Tell me that. You picked the wrong nigger to fuck with this time. You are sodead.”
Stacy closed his eyes and tried to cancel himself out. Please,he thought, but his lips couldn’t form the word and he didn’t think it would help any way. There was no reasoning with Lamar, not tonight, not ever. Had he really thought his life could be turned around so easily? Had he really, truly believed he could get away from who he used to be?
He felt the blade press against his jeans, felt the faint stab of the knife’s point through the material, and bit back a strangled cry. He wouldn’t give Lamar the satisfaction of hearing him scream. If he told himself it didn’t hurt, if he refused to believe it did, then maybe—
Darian’s voice broke through the tension between them. “Let me guess. You must be Lamar.”
The pressure on Stacy’s arm disappeared as Lamar turned. “Who the fuck are you?” he wanted to know. Before Darian could answer, he brandished the knife. “This ain’t your business, asshole. Move along.”
“That’s my truck you’re up against.” Stacy blinked back tears of relief at the sound of Darian’s glorious voice. “And that’s my guy you’re messing with. So you could say I have a vested interest here. Put down the knife.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me—” Lamar started.
The wail of police sirens in the distance shut him up. Near the idling Trans Am, Ange suggested, “Lamar, let’s get out of here.”
Taking advantage of the distraction, Stacy slid out from under Lamar and ducked beneath the side view mirror, away from his former friend and the knife he held. “Stacy!” Darian cried, and Stacy felt hands on the waistband of his jeans as Lamar scrambled to catch him, but he shimmied under the cab of Darian’s truck and rolled out of reach.