Chapter 34

“Leo?”

He let the fantasies carry him to a face-to-face. To knuckles on front teeth and fistfuls of lapels while some skinny, useless, fuckboy with more money than brains was tossed to the ground in front of his own damn broken car.

“Leo, hello?”

He sighed and dropped his forehead against the steering wheel. He would do none of that—fists were used for self-defence and the defending of those who couldn’t defend themselves—but damn it felt good to think about it once in a while.

“Leo, wh—”

“Nothing,” Leo said, pulling himself upright. “Just that damn fucking Mercedes in my fucking spot again. Like he does, oh, I don’t know, once a fucking week. Like he thinks he’s got every fucking right in the world to do so.”

“Oh.” Gordy sucked air through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s stupid.”