Unthinkable: (Unstoppable - Book 2) (The Unstoppable Series)

by Danielle Hill

  “Do it faster,” Pickman barked, tiny droplets of saliva peppering the surrounding air. I eased back to avoid the spray. The guy was renowned for spit-showers; anywhere within a two-foot radius was too close.

  As I walked backward toward the exit, I caught Leon’s gaze and offered him a middle finger salute. Then I swivelled and strolled through the open doorway.

  That’s about as close to an apology as you’re ever gonna get from me, Pretty Boy.

  I didn’t owe Leon Bradshaw a thing. And I never would.

  THREE

  LISS

  The screen on my phone lit up, catching my eye as I lay sprawled out on my bed watching Gossip Girl re-runs on Netflix. I paused the TV and picked up the phone. My brows lifted with a light snort when I saw the name flashing across the screen, and I dropped the cell back down on the comforter.

  Not today, Pretty Boy.

  Thirty seconds later, it blared to life again. With an irritated growl, I pulled my body up into a sitting position and crossed my legs over each other, swiping the screen to answer Leon’s call.

  “What do you want?” I clipped, hitting speaker.

  “What kind of fucking way is that to answer your phone?” Leon’s husky baritone filled my bedroom.

  “When it’s you, the absolute correct way. Now what do you want?”

  “Not one for small talk, are you?”

  “Bradshaw,” I warned.

  “Fine, fine. Fuck’s sake.” There was a pause.

  “Haven’t got all day,” I chirped.

  “I need a favor.”

  I snorted. “And you called me?”

  “I’ve tried every other fucker in my contacts. My so-called friends are all either wasted or blanking my calls.”

  “They’re smarter than I gave them credit for,” I muttered as I extended my fingers out in front of my face, grimacing at the chipped remnants of black polish coating my nails.

  “Fuck, I wish someone else had answered,” Leon muttered.

  A smirk twisted my lips as I stretched my legs the length of the bed and leaned back against the cushions. “You and me both, Pretty Boy, but here we are. You gonna quit being a giant vagina and tell me why you’re calling?”

  He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out; the word vagina was in there somewhere. I could almost picture him running an agitated hand through his artfully messy hair. Eventually, he said, “I need a ride.”

  I pursed my lips. “From me? What makes you think I’m not busy?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah. Very.”

  “Doing what? Watching re-runs of Dawson’s Creek or some shit on Netflix?”

  I scowled down at the phone because that was eerily close and screw him for making me sound predictable. “None of your business, Bradshaw. Good luck with finding a ride.”

  “Aw, don’t be like that, Snow Queen. I was there when you needed me the other weekend,” he pointed out, and my fingertip stilled over the end call button.

  Dammit. I knew he’d never let that go. “Last I checked you have legs, Bradshaw. Why aren’t you using them?”

  “My mom’s being a dick, kicked me out. I’m stranded on the side of the road with all my worldly possessions and I can’t drive because I’ve been drinking and I’m a responsible fucking human being.” When I said nothing, he continued, “Come on, Lissa, do me a solid and we can call it even. Pretty fucking please?”

  I scrunched my nose and bit back a groan of frustration as my conscience nipped at me. Goddammit. At least this would get him off my back.

  “Fine. Where the hell are you, and where do you need to go?”

  “I’m home, well outside of it, actually, because my mother’s a major fucking over-reactor—”

  “Be there in ten,” I muttered, cutting him off and rueing my decision to answer his call.

  One on one time with Leon Bradshaw. What fucking fun.

  ***

  Pulling up beside Leon’s pacing figure, I lowered the window a few inches and peered out.

  “So why exactly are you loitering around outside the house, instead of in it? Your mom finally realized she should have swallowed, huh?”

  He slitted his eyes and smoothed a hand over the top of his head before bending to grab the handles of his gym bag.

  “Got stoned. Got booted out.” He held the bag up in front of my face. “She banished me to the trailer to learn some responsibility.” His voice took on a high-pitched quality on the last two words. I suspected it was an imitation of his mom’s. She was a smart woman, Leon’s mom. I couldn’t hold back a light chuckle.

  Leon shouldered his bag, then picked up a mid-sized box and rounded the car with quick strides. I grinned to myself when he tugged at the passenger side handle, knowing it was locked.

  Juvenile, I know. But still funny.

  Dipping to look through the glass, he quirked up a brow and tapped out a quick rhythm with his knuckles. “Don’t be a dick, Alissa.”

  I glanced away and pressed the lock release. He quickly tossed the bag into the back, followed by the box, then lowered himself into the seat and twisted to face me.

  I took a quick look behind me and narrowed my eyes. “All your worldly possessions? You could have carried that shit.”

  “Slight exaggeration,” he said, a schoolboy grin forming on his pouty mouth. If I didn’t loathe the sight of him, I might have found it cute.

  Grumbling under my breath about blonde assholes and their limitless capacity for lies, I pulled the car away from the curb.

  “Thanks, Snow Queen.” Leon rubbed his palms over his thighs and settled back in the seat. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “What? Driving?” I quipped, leaning forward to peer round his head.

  “Nope. Being nice to me.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a one-time event, to make us even. Don’t get used to it.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of—”

  “And don’t ruin it by saying stuff,” I muttered.

  He gave a short laugh before reaching behind him to adjust the hood of his sweat jacket. “Where’s Riley tonight?”

  I knocked the blinker on and steered the car around a corner, pressing my foot down on the gas. “Home, if I had to guess.”

  “I called her five times. She’s not answering her phone.”

  Eyes scanning the road ahead of me, I clucked my tongue. “Don’t know what to tell you, Bradshaw. Except maybe, take the hint.”

  He ignored my comment and started looking around the car. “Got snacks in here, or what?”

  “Snacks?” I shook my head. “No. It’s a car, not a fucking vending machine.”

  Chuckling, he turned sideways and perched his ankle over his knee. I could feel his stare burning a hole into the side of my head.

  I flicked my eyes to his and shot him a scowl. “Stop looking at me, Pretty Boy.”

  “Stop looking at you?” he parroted, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Oh, look, home sweet trailer.” I edged the car inside the entrance to the trailer park and shifted into park. “This was awesome. Now get out and let’s never do it again.”

  “All this hostility,” Leon mused, smoothing his long fingers over his shadowed jawline. “Some people might think you’re covering up some deeper feelings for me.”

  “And those people might want to schedule a psych evaluation. Now get your ass out of my car.”

  His lips parted in a wide grin, the moonlight glinting off his shiny, white teeth. “On it, Snow Queen.” He kicked at the door with his worn converse, swinging it wide before hauling himself out and moving to the rear door.

  After he’d collected the box and dumped it on the ground by his feet, he came back to the front of the car and hooked his hands over the roof, leaning inside. “You did a nice fucking thing tonight, Lissa.” Those sapphire eyes twinkled with humor. “You’re gonna have to slaughter some babies or kittens or something to make up for it, huh?”

  The edges of my mouth twitched; I locked
them in place. “Or something.”

  Reaching behind me, I grabbed his bag and launched it at his grinning face. He caught it with a light smirk and slid the door shut. I sped off without looking back at him.

  Half an hour later, as I scrubbed a nail polish remover pad over my fingernails, my phone pinged with a notification, and a picture of a wide-eyed kitten with the caption, Don’t Kill Me stared up at me.

  For the second time in one weird ass night, Leon Bradshaw almost coaxed a smile out of me. His next message reminded me why that had never happened before.

  Leon: Just saw Wiley Riley sprinting across the park from Ren’s place. Guess you’re not the only one stuffing pussies tonight…

  He followed the message up with ten winking face emojis, an eggplant and a cat.

  Nice. I shook my head.

  FOUR

  LISS

  “What’s this?” I asked, plucking the small, square sticky note off the wall by the washing machine and holding it aloft.

  My mom shifted closer and peered over my shoulder at the note. “Washing machine instructions.”

  I gave her a blank look. “Yeah, I see that. Are they for my benefit?”

  She nodded before ambling back through the door into the kitchen, the fabric of her long navy skirt swishing around her ankles. My forehead puckered as I watched her pause in the middle of the room and press two fingers to her head, her lips moving as if she was talking to herself.

  “Why didn’t you just ask me to do the laundry? Do we communicate via riddles on post-it notes these days?”

  I did laundry. Sometimes. Probably not enough.

  She turned back to me with a hand flattened over her chest and her blue eyes downcast. “It wouldn’t hurt you to help more around the house, Alissa.”

  My brow furrowed as I tacked the note back on the wall, feeling suitably chastised. She seemed extra stressed lately, and I felt like an asshole for not making her life easier where I could. Housework wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but I made a mental note to do a few loads of laundry during the weekend.

  I opened my mouth to ask what else she needed from me when my ten-year-old sister meandered into the room with a green sweater slung artlessly over one shoulder, and her face glued to the tablet in her hand.

  “Bella, stop walking around with that thing pressed to your nose.”

  “Huh?” Bella mumbled without looking up.

  My mom stalked over and snatched the tablet out of her grasp, snapping Bella’s head up and pulling a cry of outrage from her gaping lips.

  “Mom, I was in the middle of something. That’s not fair!”

  Slotting the device between the bread bin and the fridge, my mom replied, “Too bad.”

  Bella harrumphed, slamming her butt down on the stool by the counter and snatching up a piece of toast that looked to be at least a couple of shades too dark. Her ice-blue eyes burned a hole into my mother’s back as she mumbled, “Who are you, the fun police?”

  “The who?” I asked, cocking my head.

  Bella swung her gaze my way and shrugged her narrow shoulders, reaching to grasp the arm of the sweater before it fell to the floor. “Fun police,” she repeated, taking a bite of the burnt toast, and chewing with her mouth open. Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

  “Close your mouth when you eat,” I said, then, “and who the hell are the fun police?”

  Granting me an unmistakable duh look, she swiped her blonde bangs out of her eyes. “People who think it’s against the law to have fun.” Her eyes skittered back to Mom, and I pressed my lips together to hold in a laugh.

  “Mom, you hear this kid?” Standing with her back to me, she didn’t respond. “Mom?”

  When she spun round, facing me with a blank expression, I tipped my head toward Bella. “I said, did you hear this kid?”

  My mom brought her hands up to smooth some flyaway strands of honey-colored hair back off her forehead, then faced Bella with a tight smile. “That’s great, Bella, honey.”

  “Everything okay?” I asked with a frown. “You seem distracted.”

  She nodded in my direction without meeting my eyes. “Yes, sorry. Just got a lot on. I’m going to load the car. Bring your breakfast with you, Bella. You can finish it on the way.”

  Bella scrunched her nose and deposited the half-eaten slice back in the rack before looking up at me. “Toast is burnt.”

  Shrugging, I fastened my arms over my chest. “Why don’t you call the toast police?”

  Bella’s lips formed a flat line as she blinked slowly. “That wasn’t even a little bit funny, Liss.”

  My eyes rounded as she pivoted on her heel and strutted her sassy ass out the door. Wow. Schooled by a prepubescent brat before eight am. What a way to start the day.

  ***

  “Snow Queen, wait up.”

  I scowled and threw an irritated glance back over my shoulder, confirming that yes, Leon Bradshaw was indeed jogging in my direction across the parking lot.

  Urgh, what now? Didn’t we just talk yesterday?

  Ignoring him, I turned away and upped my pace. It took him less than five seconds to catch up. I made a mental note to add cardio to my workout routine, then made another to actually put together a workout routine—strutting to and from the car multiple times a day probably didn’t count.

  When his face appeared in my peripheral. I snapped, “What now?”

  Edging in front of me, he walked backward and curved his mouth into a grin. “Nobody’s around now, Snow Queen. Feel free to drop the act any time.”

  Without sparing him a glance, I said, “Spit it out or get the hell out of my face.”

  “Christ.” He leaned in and peered closer into my face in a way that would earn him a slap if he wasn’t careful. “You’re a whole new level of bitchy today, huh? What is it, time of the month?”

  I speared him with a frosty glare. “Nope, this is just my personality. If you don’t like it, you know what to do.”

  He raked a hand through his windswept blonde hair and whistled, falling back, and settling into step beside me. “Okay. Guess I’ll just get to it, then.”

  My brow lifted. “Will you, though? Because you’ve already wasted five minutes of my life and I’m still fucking waiting.”

  He made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl, then cleared his throat. “What’s going on with Riley and Ren?”

  Frowning, I turned to him. “What the hell am I? Their PR manager?”

  His head dropped with a chuckle, and he murmured under his breath, something that sounded like, “You don’t even want to know what I think you are.”

  I pulled up short and faced him. “What was that?”

  “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” He widened his eyes and gave his head a light shake, his perfect surfer boy face a picture of pure innocence.

  I narrowed my eyes before pivoting and striding away from him. “No wonder Riley said she could never find your balls. She just assumed they must be teeny, tic-tac balls. Turns out they’re not even that big… you don’t fucking have any.”

  “Now, just a goddamn minute.” A firm hand grasped my elbow and tugged me back. “Riley said that?”

  I groaned and pulled my arm out of his hold.

  “If she did, it’s not true,” Leon called to my retreating figure from where I left him rooted to the spot. Probably on the verge of tears.

  “I don’t care,” I sang out, waving a dismissive hand over my shoulder. Guys and their goddamn balls. Like anyone cared about the size of someone’s scrotum.

  “I’ve got a huge fucking set of balls, Alissa. You’re welcome to check them out for yourself!”

  I sniggered to myself, anticipating his reaction as I yelled, “Ri said Reno’s are bigger.”

  Leon was at my side again in less than a second, those blues flashing with indignation. “Fuck that! My balls are definitely bigger than Ren’s.”

  Twisting to look at his affronted face, I laughed. “What are you… five years old?”
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  “No.” His jaw tightened, arms flexing as he crossed them over his chest.

  Thinking for a second, I pursed my lips. Then I reached down and cupped a hand over his junk.

  “Fuck!” Leon gasped, eyes bulging out of his head.

  Letting go, I met his gaze and shrugged. “Meh… average.”

  His entire face turned red. “Fucking average?”

  “What’s wrong with average?”

  “You’ve been fucking fondling horses if you think my dick’s average.”

  “Well, that’s fucking gross. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Touch it again!” he demanded, brows up.

  I blinked. “What?”

  He thrust his hips forward, the soft material of his black sweats brushing against my hand. “Touch it again. Actually, wait—” Pulling back a little, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, a leering smile spreading out over his face. “Oh, yeah, baby.”

  My head wrinkled as I shoved at his chest. He staggered back half a step but kept his eyes shut.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I muttered, rocking my head side to side.

  He squinted one eye open to look at me. “Picturing that blonde chick from Suicide Squad with her lips around my dick. Except it’s so big, it doesn’t fit, so she’s just licking it instead.”

  My lids slid closed. “And that’s the kind of imagery that will give me nightmares for years to come. Thanks for that.”

  He gave his head an abrupt nod. “Okay… feel it now.”

  “You’re twisted. Sick and twisted.” I spun on my heel before striding away from him.

  “My dick isn’t average, Alissa! Harley Quinn couldn’t even fit it in her mouth!”

  Raising a hand above my head, I flipped him off and kept walking.

  “You didn’t answer me about Riley and Ren,” he called out.

  Without turning, I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not her keeper, asshat. Ask her yourself.”

  “Whatever. I’ll ask Ren.”

  “Great. While you’re at it, you two can compare dick sizes.”