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Chapter 18: Gucci Jackets and Perverts
"Stop shaking him around— he's not a f*****g Kleenex!" "Oh, you think you could do better?" "Actually, Lucas, I'm starting to think I can." As soon as he helped a barely mobile Matteo into the backseat, I hopped up front and slammed my door shut. "Damn," he said, getting in behind the wheel. "I've never hated my name until I heard it with your whiny f*****g voice." "f**k you!" "Hard pass. I don't stick my d**k in trash." I scoffed. "Like your d**k is any cleaner." Lucas shifted the gear into the driveway more aggressively than was necessary and, after shooting me a glare, started driving to the hospital. I shifted in my seat to glance back at Matteo. Aside from the blood pouring out of the— yup, it was confirmed— gun wound in his side, and the light sheen of sweat on his skin,
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