Cocky F*ck: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Rejects Paradise Book 2)

by Sheridan Anne

  My eyes close and I focus solely on my breathing.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he soothes. “It’ll be over soon.”

  It feels like a lifetime before Colton’s body relaxes just a fraction, wordlessly letting me know that they’ve moved on.

  They continue to harass the staff, taunting and terrorizing them until finally, they walk out the doors, leaving nothing but disaster behind.

  We wait until they’ve gotten in their cars and are flying through the broken iron gates before Colton lifts us off the cold ground. He places his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Are you alright?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing about this is alright.”

  His lips press into a tight line and I finally see the devastation behind his eyes. “I know,” he tells me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. “But we have to find a way to make it alright, otherwise we’ll never find the strength to move on.”

  “There’s only one way to make this alright,” I insist.

  Colton nods, meeting my eyes with nothing but rage. “I know.”

  He keys in a code and the door quickly unlocks. We have to take a step back as it opens toward us and as we do, we get our first real glimpse into the room. It’s completely torn apart. I could see the damage done on the monitor but it certainly didn’t do it justice.

  We start making our way out of the room and everywhere we go is pure devastation. Colton is going to have to get people in here to completely redo the mansion. The beds are torn apart, the walls have bullet holes, the artworks are completely trashed. It’s heartbreaking.

  We reach the stairs and as we walk down them, I start to pick up our pace. “MOM?” I call out with desperation, my voice traveling far through the broken mansion. “Mom. They’re gone.”

  I hit the bottom of the stairs and race toward the foyer only to meet Mom halfway there. She crashes into me, flinging her arms around me and crying into the crook of my neck. “Oh, honey. When I couldn’t reach you …” Her words are cut off by a broken sob and it tears right through to my soul.

  “I know,” I tell her, holding her as tight as humanly possible. “I tried to go back for you, but Colton wouldn’t let me. I had to know you were safe.”

  “He did the right thing,” she tells me. “I would have killed him myself had he let you go.”

  Her use of the word ‘killed’ has my stomach twisting with pain and my eyes instantly fill with tears. “What’s wrong?” she demands, her eyes roaming all over me, starting from my head and not stopping until she reaches my toes.

  Everything inside of me aches. “They killed her,” I cry through the lump in my throat. “He just … he shot her and she didn’t do anything.”

  “Who?” mom demands, grabbing my shoulders with force, her eyes wide and fearful. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Maryne.”

  A pained wail tears out of Mom and she drops to her knees as she grieves for her lost friend. I go down with her, holding her the same way Colton had just done for me. Mom and Maryne had gotten close over the last few weeks. They were more than just colleagues, they were friends, really good friends. There was no one quite like Maryne.

  Colton appears at my back, protectively hovering over us. He leans down and takes my mother’s hand, helping her to her feet. “Come on,” he murmurs. “We need to go and check on the other staff.”

  Mom wipes her tears as Colton meets my eyes, knowing that breaking that news to Mom couldn't have been easy. He reaches for my hand and I take it instantly. Mom lets out a shaky breath. “You’re right,” she says, trying to be the strong adult of the group. “Are you sure all of them are gone?”

  “Yes,” Colton says. “All five were counted as they made their escape.”

  “Right,” she says formally, looking back to me, her bottom lip quivering as she tries to hold it together. “Where is Maryne’s body?”

  “Private kitchen.”

  With that, we all start making our way to the kitchen, bringing along the staff we find on the way.

  I remember the day I walked in and found my father’s dead body. I didn’t know anything had happened to him and walking in to find him like that … nothing could prepare a daughter for that sight. The same had happened when I saw Charles’ body and I had assumed that it was because of the shock, but walking into the kitchen, already knowing and already prepared for what I’m about to see, it doesn’t change just how horrible it is.

  I walk into the kitchen and instantly suck in a shocked gasp, stumbling over my feet and catching myself before I fall. Blood covers the kitchen and is sprayed all over the cabinetry. Silence falls among the staff as we take it all in but upon taking another step and seeing the smeared blood from the kitchen to the media room, everything inside of me sinks.

  We follow the tracks, being careful not to step into any of her spilled blood and disturb the murder scene. As we get to the open door, we find Harrison silently weeping as he holds onto Maryne’s lifeless body, refusing to let her go.

  Tears flow down my cheeks as my chest really begins to ache. “Oh, Harrison,” Mom cries, rushing into his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering him all of her support and comfort.

  As I watch them together, I can’t help but wonder if Colton and I are cursed. Every time we finally climb over a hurdle and open ourselves up to one another, tragedy strikes. Is this our doing? Should we just stay away from each other to ensure the safety of our friends and family?

  As the torturous thoughts roam wildly through my mind, I look up at Colton to find his broken gaze already on me. “I’m going to make this right.”

  I nod, trusting him wholeheartedly to stand by his word.

  More of the staff begin to crowd around and I don’t miss the way that Enrique the gardener has been messed up with cuts and dark bruises forming on his face or the way one of the maids looks as though she’s been thrown around.

  I’ve never lived through such tragedy, not even in Breakers Flats, though that could just mean that I've had it good. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Nic’s dad made his new recruits perform home invasions just as an initiation into the gang. Nic has never really opened up about that part of his life, he's always tried to protect me from it but I know that whatever it is, it wouldn't be good.

  A silent ten minutes pass before Harrison is finally able to be pulled away. A maid grabs a white sheet and gently lays it over Maryne, giving her the privacy she deserves.

  We all walk out of the den and everyone sits around the massive dining table either staring at their hands or finding a way to blame themselves, wishing things could have been different. I find myself looking at Colton, watching as he makes his way around the staff he’s known all of his life, gently soothing their fears and letting them know that they can take some time off if needed.

  He's such a generous boss, so completely different from his father. In some cases, Colton is just like him, but then he goes and surprises me in a time like this. He's compassionate, kind, and caring. I don’t think Charles even understood the meaning of words like that. He had times where he would show concern for me, but I quickly came to realize that it was all to fit his own agenda and that my struggles were being used to his advantage. Colton would never do that.

  As his hazel gaze sweeps back to mine, silently checking for the millionth time that I’m not about to break, I remember how he was telling me that he provoked Vincent during their phone call the other day. He said things that he knew he shouldn’t and this was their retaliation.

  That thought would be sitting heavily in his mind and realizing this only makes me want to run into his chest and hold onto him for as long as I can. It’s not his fault but I don’t doubt that he’ll never forgive himself for the role he played in Maryne’s death. That will forever plague him and the fact that he’s standing tall and putting aside his own grief for those around him just shows what kind of an incredible leader he is.

  Colton Carrington really is
everything.

  I tiptoe across the kitchen and find everything I need to make tea and coffee for everyone before bringing it over to a section of the kitchen which is safe to spread out. I don’t know where the hell the cops are but once they get here, everyone is going to be questioned and for those who were up at the crack of dawn, it’s going to be a very long night.

  I get busy and am halfway through when Harrison’s voice rumbles over the silent conversations. “Who did this?” he demands, speaking very out of character as he addresses Colton. “Was it the same bastards who killed your father?”

  My gaze snaps up just as everyone else's does. Colton shakes his head. “No,” he says, his eyes briefly flicking to mine before settling back on Harrison’s. “They're not connected. The man who killed my father was a professional. His weapon was delicately chosen and the way he struck my father with his blade was done with accuracy. He was a trained killer—careful and precise.” Colton waves his hands around the destruction of his home. “The men who did this were reckless, randomly shooting, and leaving DNA on everything. These men weren’t concerned with hiding their identity. They just wanted to cause havoc and send a message.”

  Harrison narrows his eyes at Colton. “You know who did this.”

  Colton nods. “Yes,” he says, speaking clearly and giving it to him straight. “This was the DeCarlo sons and I can guarantee that the go-ahead came from Vincent himself.”

  Gasps sound through the room and I don’t doubt how every one of the men and women in this room are remembering a time or two where they have catered to the DeCarlo family through the many meetings they would have had over the years. Not one of them had expected this, but the proof is all around us. We have security footage from the moment they destroyed the front gates, them terrorizing the staff, and the very moment the trigger was pulled, killing the most beloved member of this dysfunctional family.

  Harrison stands. “We can not let them get away with this.”

  “We won’t,” Colton assures him, slipping his phone out of his pocket that he’d had a maid retrieve for him earlier. He presses a few buttons and holds it to his ear while keeping his determined stare locked on Harrisons.

  There’s a short pause before Colton’s deadly tone cuts through the room, sending chills spiraling down my spine. “You will not get away with this,” he warns. “You sent your sons into my home to cause havoc. They took an innocent life and terrorized my staff. They destroyed the home that my father built and for that, I guarantee that each one of them will go down. I’m going to pick them off one by one and I’m going to leave you for last. You are not untouchable, DeCarlo. I’m going to destroy you.”

  Chapter 22

  I stand in the full-length mirror, staring at the black dress that hangs from my body. How is it possible that I’m about to attend the second funeral in as many weeks? This isn’t right. Is this what Bellevue Springs is really about? Shameless murder, home invasions, and rape?

  I hate it here, but there’s a large part of me that can’t force myself to leave.

  My eyes drop over my dress. It’s tacky, the same cheap dress I wore to Charles’ funeral but I can’t find the energy to go out and find something new. To be honest, I doubt Maryne would have wanted me to go out and spend what little money I have on a fancy dress. Besides, this funeral may be in Bellevue Springs, but it’s not going to be anything like the last funeral I went to. It’s going to be small, private, and filled with only her closest family and friends.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I walk across my room and grab the hairbrush off my dresser and start on my finishing touches. The funeral doesn’t start for another hour but the last thing I want is to be rushing around, trying to get ready, and then miss the beginning of the service. I won’t do that to Maryne. I know I have a habit of being late for my shifts, but Maryne deserves better.

  I put on a little makeup and decide on waterproof mascara, knowing that the emotions are bound to come up and bite me on the ass today. I’d prefer not to look like a drowned rat.

  Dropping down on the edge of my bed, I slip on my heels, and check the time. Still forty-five minutes to go. How am I supposed to pass the time?

  I’ve spent the last two days with Colton and while it’s kinda been great, it’s also been kinda weird. None of the staff have been in and there’s been an eerie silence that’s taken over the mansion. No one has felt like talking. Harrison has been staring through the back window at Charles' beloved gardens while Mom has struggled not to break.

  I’ve tried to be the glue that holds us all together, but I’m not sure that I possess that power. I mean, for mom maybe, but Colton and I have been together for all of two seconds, and I’m pretty sure Harrison doesn’t even like me.

  My phone buzzes on the bed beside me and I glance down to find Nic’s name flashing across the screen. I pick it up and rub my finger over the screen. Usually, I can’t wait to open Nic’s messages but right now … I don’t know. I’m hesitating and I don’t understand why. Maybe it’s the guilt that sits heavy in my gut knowing that things between me and Colton are really starting to develop and I know that at some point, I’m going to have to have the dreaded conversation with Nic, letting him know what’s going on. It’s going to crush him. I’m going to crush him, and he’s either going to pull away from me or glue himself to my side. There’s no in between here. It’s one extreme or the next.

  Sucking it up, I unlock my phone and glance down at the screen.

  Nic - How are you feeling, O? I can be there in twenty minutes if you need me.

  I stare at his message and while I desperately want to tell him to get his ass moving and meet me at the church, I find myself holding back.

  It’s too much. I can’t handle it.

  Nic has the ability to make me feel, to make me face what’s going on, and then forces me to handle it. I don’t want to do that, not today. I want to pretend. I want to hide the pain and just make it through the day and if he shows up, my world is going to crumble.

  I’m barely holding it together.

  I drop my phone into my lap and let out a heavy sigh. “Uh oh,” I hear Mom saying from my bedroom doorway. “Did you just ignore one of your boys' messages? You know they’re going to come searching you out now just to make sure you’re still breathing.”

  I give her a tight smile and meet her eyes. “Does it make me a bad person that I don’t want to have them around today?” I question as tears brim in my eyes. “They’re just going to remind me how bad it hurts.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says, walking into my room and dropping down on the bed beside me. She curls her arm around my waist and pulls me into her side. “That doesn't make you a bad person at all. It makes you human. The boys will understand your need for space. They can read you like a book. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already knew to back off. You can call them tomorrow and let them know how you are.”

  My head drops to Mom’s shoulder and I let out a heavy sigh. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” she tells me, her hand moving to my back and rubbing slow circles. She lowers her voice, trying to keep a soothing tone. “Are you almost ready? I thought we could head down to the church early and offer a few helping hands. You know how crazy these things can get.”

  I lift my head off her shoulder and try to hold back my tears. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I murmur. “I’ll go in and grab Colton and then we can go.”

  “Alright,” she says with a soft smile. “I don’t want to show up too early and be a nuisance though. We have a few minutes.” I nod as she meets my eyes and I find her heart on her sleeve. “How are you doing, Honey? I’m sorry my decision to move here has caused you all this grief. If I had known the things you were going to experience here …”

  “Don’t,” I tell her. “I’m doing alright. Don’t blame yourself for any of this. I know it’s been hard but there have also been some really amazing times too, times that we never would have had the chance to experience back home.”
>
  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Besides, who knows what sort of shit would have gone down at home. We could have been worse off. The Wolves have been making moves against the Widows for months. It’s only a matter of time before there’s a gang war in Breakers Flats and someone ends up dead.”

  Mom lets out a loud sigh before pressing her lips into a tight line. “Unfortunately, you’re right about that,” she says. “Those Wolves have been a pain in the ass for years.”

  The more talk of the Wolves that passes between us, the more the need to ask that one burning question creeps up on me. I’ve been holding back on this for days, knowing now really isn’t the right time, but I have to know.

  Dad was everything to me and if he was hiding something like this, something so big … I'd be devastated. But if Dad was one of them, I can guarantee that all four of my boys knew about it, and not one of them said a word. And if he was, what would that mean for me? If dad was one of them, then by right, I’m a wolf too. Were the years Nic spent at my side just some game to get close to my dad? Is Sebastian even the best friend I’ve always believed him to be? Is Elijah really my voice of reason? Kairo my protector?

  Every little thing that I’ve known to be true before sitting in that guidance counselors office is in question. I don’t know who to trust, what’s right and what’s wrong. Did Mom know about this and hide it all of these years? Miss Davies could have had a bad case of mistaken identity, she could have had it wrong. It’s possible that there was more than one Big Lou in Breakers Flats, right?

  Mom’s brows crease as she watches me and concern begins filtering through her features. “What’s wrong, Honey? What is it?”

  Shit. How is it possible for Mom to read me so clearly? Is it impossible to hide anything from this woman?

  I look away, not able to meet her eyes as the possibility of learning that she has lied to me all these years begins to haunt me. “I, umm … I had a meeting with the guidance counselor at school the other day—”