Getaway Car [HS]

Chapter Seventeen

Harry's car rolls to a stop around the corner from the sprawling property Leo uses as one of his many residences.

It's a ways away from the bustling action of the places she and Harry live. The drive out started with the loud noises of other cars honking their horns, people talking on sidewalks they passed with rolled-down windows, and music flooding from the opened windows of bars. Where they are now, the only sounds are that of the radio playing on low volume, the breeze running through the tree's leaves, her, and Harry. It isn't a rural area by any means, but it's secluded enough from the nearby city that they feel they're alone.

The drive was tense.

It was visible in how he carried himself while driving, he was anticipating disaster, or, at least, something of a similar detriment. Rather than driving as the perfected manifestation of a driver's manual—alert, both hands on the wheel at ten and two, and poised with a straight-backed posture—whenever she looked over at him, she saw a man defeated. He would never let Leo see him this way, accepting the punishment before it has begun, but he didn't bother trying to hide it in her presence. He sat back against the seat with a gloved hand on the wheel, the other arm propped out of the open window. All he did was bite his lip raw and stare out at the road.

He hasn't changed his position or spoken a word outside of answering her timid questions here or there. Even as he reaches to put the car in park, he doesn't make a move to get out. He leans his head back on the headrest and lets out a heavy exhale.

"This is gonna be bad, isn't it?" Harley asks.

It's the only thing she can think to ask at this point. On the way over, she asked a few questions. The first was if he thought this was happening because Tate ratted them out to Leo after they tormented him today, but he said no. He told her that he knew they were going to be asked about it because Leo sees everything that happens inside the club, but he wasn't sure if it warranted them being summoned to the house. Evidently, it did.

Harry takes a deep breath, then undoes his seatbelt with a soft click, shifting enough in his seat to face her. He reaches around the back of her head and pulls the elastic out of her hair to let the black mane cascade down her shoulders. It conceals the hickies on her neck that he left there. The hoodie he had her wear comes up high enough that the others are obscured from sight if no one looks closely.

"Whatever he asks, don't give him anything he can use against you. It was my fault. Blame everything on me."

That wouldn't be a lie. He was the one who took the situation and elevated it to an intensity it never would've gotten to if he took her straight home instead of going after him. But, she can't find it in herself to be angry with him for wanting to hurt Tate. She would never kill anyone, not unless she had to, but there's a part of her that wants to beat him herself.

She looks down at his covered right hand and back up to his face.

"He's not gonna do anything like that to you again. Right?"

"No," he says, but she can tell he isn't fully convinced of it.

His burned hand was a result of him trying to leave the gang when he was first inducted, so she doesn't think anything like that could happen tonight. Yet, at the same time, Harry almost murdered one of Leo's employees. She can see that being an offense worthy of severe repercussions in his eyes. Will he disfigure his other hand? Or will there be a new, creative form of torture inflicted on him unlike anything he's endured before?

With that said, he turns and steps out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. He is already on the other side before she can open it herself, reaching for her hand with a soft-spoken, "C'mon," as he helps her out.