Page 36 of The Finish Line

“Where’s the car?”

“I called him while I was taking a leak. He’s not far.”

He leans back against the side of the building, his eyes closed. “I shouldn’t have had that last drink. The air is helping. I’ll be all right in a minute. Just need my second wind. The night is still young, King.”

“You’re done.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He slowly opens his eyes, not a trace of humor in his tone. “In more ways than one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, even with my parents six feet under, I have expectations to meet. A family full of overachievers to impress back home. The minute I step off that plane, they’ll be peering over my shoulder for the rest of my life.” He exhales, his breath visible and glowing from the neon shed off the club lights. “For you, this was a Friday night, but for me... well, it’s my last hurrah.”

“You’ve got college.”

“No, I don’t.” He nods over his shoulder toward the club. “No offense to working ladies, but I’m not interested in strippers, man. It was just something to check off my list. Another experience I can say I didn’t miss out on. There are no strip clubs in my future. Hell, there’s no fucking fun in my future.”

“What’s in your future?”

“Boredom. A shit ton of it, followed by more boredom. Rich boy problems, I know.” He cups the back of his head. His slicked brown locks thoroughly picked through by the fingers of the dancer. “The money is mine, but with it comes the pressure. I have to accomplish more than being a spoiled trust fund baby. Want to know the worst part? The road ahead isn’t that unappealing to me. I’m kind of a no-frills guy.”

“I’m going to have to call bullshit.”

“No, this is different. I’ll be honest, man, I’ve never partaken in half the shit we’ve done this semester.”

I chuckle. “Same.”

He cracks a grin. “I suspected as much. And I’ll admit I’ve enjoyed it. I think my issue is that I just want the freedom to decide, you know what I mean?”

My reply is cut off, as is my view of him as he’s pinned to the brick, his eyes going wide at the sudden appearance of the man between us.

“Vide tes poches. Maintenant.” Empty your pockets. Now.

I didn’t see him. Not at all. He was background noise, a pedestrian walking down a typically busy Parisian street. I didn’t think a thing about the man approaching us because I was fully immersed in our conversation. Preston seems just as surprised as the man glares between us, producing a knife out of thin air before thrusting it toward me. I barely manage to escape the tip, jumping back to the curb.

Satisfied with the space the move provided him, he grips Preston by the collar, pressing the tip of the blade into the base of his throat. I’m three feet away at most, and I know with just a little more pressure or a fast flick of his wrist, Preston will die.

Something inside me breaks with Preston’s expression, and I leap forward, jerking the man’s head back by the hair before smashing his face into the brick just next to Preston’s shoulder. Adrenaline takes over as I fist the side of his head repeatedly until he goes limp and the knife clatters on the pavement at my feet. Once he’s on the ground, I kick him with the hard-edged heel of my shoe until his arms are no longer raised in defense.

With a quick glance around, I see we’re still alone and lift him from underneath the arms before glancing up at Preston. He’s still plastered against the brick, his eyes wide. I eye the camera at the entrance, thankful we’re just out of view.

“Grab his legs,” I blurt, panic rising as Dom’s face flits through my mind. This can’t be it. This can’t be the mistake that takes me out. “Preston, I can’t go to jail.” I don’t voice my bigger fear, that I’m unsure if the man is dead or not. I’ve never hit someone so hard in my life.

Preston leaps into action, and we carry the unconscious man to a nearby alley and drop him behind a dumpster. Bending, I press my fingers to his neck to check for a pulse.

“He alive?”

I nod and stand. “Come on.”

Preston stops me, gripping me by the shoulder. “Take his money.”

“What?”

He juts his chin to the unconscious thief and flits his hardening gaze back to mine. “It’s only fucking fair. Take his money.”

Turning back, I lean over the man and study the damage I’ve inflicted. His face is mangled, and there’s blood oozing from his ear.

“Do it, King.”