Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I grabbed the sweatshirt Kyle had brought off the backseat, tugged it on, and pulled the hood over my head. After checking in the mirror to make sure my blond hair was hidden, I got out and went to the trunk.
The scent of gas filled the air as I funneled it from the canister into three beer bottles, then shoved a rag in the top of each.
“What are you going to do, Lola?” Kyle peered between the front seats at me, his face pale.
“Nothing you’ll be any part of, Kyle. Stay here.”
Sweat dripped down my neck, but the hoodie was the only way I could keep any possible security cameras from identifying me.
I took the tire iron from the back, then slammed the trunk.
The glass bottles in my hand clinked together when I darted across the road to the Barrington parking lot. I weaved between the parked cars in the deserted lot until I stood in front of the Camaro.
The memory of Ethan pinning me to that wall sent a flood of anger through me, and that building fury was unleashed when I swung the tire iron at the back window. The glass smashed, decorating the leather back seat. Part of me wanted to ruin every window and panel just to purge my anger. It wasn’t just what Ethan did or said to me or what he did to Hendrix. It was his dad.
Unfair? Maybe. But I hated him for being that man’s son, for trying to validate his father’s disgusting behavior.
I took the lighter from my pocket and lit the rags.
The first Molotov hit the dash with a smash of glass, followed quickly by the second and the third.
Flames spread through the interior, and I could only hope for an explosion… Too bad I couldn’t stick around to watch. Cinching my hood, I jogged out of the parking lot and across the street to Kyle’s car.
He already had his inhaler in his mouth when I threw myself inside.
I smiled at the sight of the burning Camaro, a thick column of black smoke rising above the pristine outline of Barrington High.
“Oh my God, Lola.” Kyle took a puff. “You’re an arsonist.”
I pulled the sweatshirt off before I buckled my seatbelt. “Drive, Kyle.”
Gripping his inhaler in his mouth, he put the car into reverse and peeled out of Pizza Palace like it was a bank heist.
When we passed the school, flames licked against the Camaro’s windows.
School didn’t get out for another half an hour. Hopefully, by then, that yellow piece of shit would be a very expensive bonfire.
Chapter 19
HENDRIX
Assault, my asshole.
Did I beat Ethan’s ass? Yes.
Did I kill him? No. I doubted he even had to go to the hospital.
Luckily, there was no proof it was me, and with our history with Barrington pricks, one person’s word didn’t count for much.
I broke through the double-doored entrance, Wolf’s truck waiting right outside the police station. I hauled my ass inside and slammed the door as rage burned through me. Oh, that little shitstain was about to pay for this by way of one incinerated, piss-yellow Camaro.
I glanced across the console as Wolf pulled away from the station. “I need to go get gas.”
“Already went by the 7-11. Filled up a canister, did a little digging, and found out the cameras they have at the pumps are fakes.” He glanced away when he turned onto the highway. “Which means there’s no footage of you smashing Ethan’s face.”
Good friends always have your back. But… “How did you know I was brought in about the Barrington dick and not any of the other ten million things we could get arrested for?”
“I saw the Barrington police car pull out of the parking lot from the lunchroom. Plus, Brown came and got Lola right after you left.”
My heart rate ticked up.
That idiot had actually tried to use Lola—the chick he had referred to as “my girl,” the one I beat the shit out of him over—as a witness.
No way he was that stupid, and whatever ulterior motive he had, it wasn’t going to fly with me. Mess with me all he wanted, try to screw with her…I settled back in the seat. “Might need two tanks, Wolf.”
Fifteen minutes later, some sick-ass rap blasted from Wolf’s speakers while I flicked the flint of a lighter. I was amped up, more than ready to set that cocksucker’s car on fire. He thought he had some balls to report me; I’d roast his nuts on an open thirty-thousand-dollar fire.
The speed of the truck slowed just before I noticed the massive plume of black smoke rising above the treetops.
When we rounded the curve of the highway, and the Barrington High parking lot came into view, Wolf let off the accelerator. “Holy shit.”
One of the cars in the parking lot was on fire. A piss-stain yellow one.