As she trembled in the aftershocks, her muscles loose and weak with pleasure, I rolled her under me, careful not to bruise her back or hips on the contoured metal under the bedroll.
Keeping my weight off of her, I tossed her legs over my shoulders and slid inside her heat one more time. She moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head as she clung to my hands which were anchored on her hips.
It was more than I could take. Her soft skin, her responsive body and mouth, the slight warm glow from the cheap flashlight which had rolled to some corner. I didn’t know how rough I could be with her. I didn’t want to hurt her. But with every harder, rougher thrust, her pleasure compounded, rolling over me in heat and moans, filling my head with her scent. I let myself go, watching her face as I sank deep and fast into her molten core. She tensed and I almost pulled back—but she was moaning my name.
My last bit of control snapped, my brain giving over to the storm inside of her. The truck squeaked in protest, but it would just have to deal. She was cumming again, all over me, all around me, and I wasn’t going to let her cum alone. Dizzying, powerful pleasure rocketed through me, meeting and matching hers.
Spent, I leaned my damp forehead against her calf and breathed deeply. My truck would smell like sex for weeks.
Somehow, I didn’t think I’d mind.
30
I was in the bathroom between classes the next day, my whole mind focused on getting my grades up before the end of the year. I was passing, but I wasn’t performing anywhere near where I wanted to be. I rehearsed the extra-credit request in my head, imagining my teacher’s face in front of me as I washed my hands. My lips might have moved a little as I felt my way through what I wanted to say.
“Hey, psycho bitch,” a girl by the door said.
Sighing, I turned to grab a paper towel, taking my time about it. The whole rehearsed conversation flew out of my head, replaced by a heightened sense of danger.
“I’m talking to you, snitch.”
I tossed the paper towel in the trash and turned around slowly. The girl was flanked on either side by her friends. They struck intimidating poses, looking like a girl band from the nineties, complete with coordinating outfits and spiky bracelets. I’d seen them at Eddie’s. Both times I was there the three of them had been blasted out of their heads, raving on the dance floor with glow sticks and almost enough clothes to be street legal.
“Can I help you?” I asked flatly.
The girl in front narrowed her eyes at me and strutted forward. Her friends stuck to her like a couple of growths. “Yeah,” she said. “You can clear something up for me. Rumor has it that you and Blayze are back together even though you’re the reason his brother is in prison.”
A shot of panicked guilt ricocheted through me, making my palms sweaty. I raised an eyebrow while I struggled for control over my emotions. That wasn’t my fault, I told myself. Blayze knows it wasn’t my fault. That’s the important thing.
“Do you really think he’d be back together with me if I was the reason that Damon is in prison?” I asked.
“That’s what we wanna know, bitch,” the blonde on her left said through an ugly snarl.
I looked calmly from one girl to the next. “Why does it matter to you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Curiosity only got you so far around here. The leader took several more steps forward so fast that I instinctively backed up until my shoulders were pressed against the cold tiles on the bathroom wall.
“Because it’s our business,” she growled through her teeth. “You might have fooled Blayze with your big eyes and sexy rich girl vibe, but you can’t fool me. Throwing your pussy around doesn’t get you off the hook, not around here. You tell me, and you tell me right now. Are you and Blayze back together?”
“That’s between me and him,” I said stubbornly.
She scoffed and grinned over her shoulder. I’d seen that posture enough times in the last few months. I ducked as she whipped her head back around, bringing her fist with it. The sound of her knuckles cracking against the tile wall was enough to send my breakfast into my throat, but I swallowed it. She cussed a blue streak, bent over her hand, and her face was twisted with fury when she stood back up.
“Can’t dodge everything,” she snarled, her voice shaking. “Are you the reason Damon’s in prison?”
“No,” I said flatly. It was the honest truth, on every single level. I was certain then that I hadn’t even accidentally caused his arrest, and I’d had plenty of time to think it through.
“Lying skank,” the blue-haired girl on her right hissed. “Everybody knows who your daddy is.”
“Do you know who yours is?” I asked, like an idiot.
She launched herself past her friend with all ten of her artificially long black nails pointed directly at my eyes. I ducked again but she was faster than her friend and managed to miss the wall. She impaled my shoulders instead, shooting white-hot pain through my back and up my neck. I shook her off reflexively, with enough adrenaline-fueled strength to knock her off her platforms.
The leader caught her before she could crash into the sinks. I stood, trembling with adrenaline and pain and more than a little fury. “Listen up, assholes,” I growled. “You’ve all been dead set on making my life a living hell since I got here. I haven’t retaliated, not once. I’ve actually gone out of my way to protect you, all of you, by hiding what you were doing from my parents.”
I leaned forward enough so I could glare into each of their eyes in turn. “But if you keep fucking with me, I’m going to let you break yourselves against the wall at my back over and over and over again. My wall’s name is Tristan Drake. Maybe you’ve heard of him? He’s got the police in his pocket and the mayor on speed dial. Keep playing, bitches.”
They glared back at me for a minute, then the leader spat on the floor at my feet. “Come on, girls. Shit’s not worth our time.”
They turned and stalked out as the bell rang. After the door shut behind them I leaned against the wall for support. My knees buckled and my hands were shaking, but I’d won. Oh, damn it. Realization struck me and I scowled at my reflection in the mirror. I’d won exactly the way dad told me I would, way back at the beginning of school. I hated it when he was right.
Blood stained my shirt, but I didn’t care. It only cost like six dollars at full price—which meant that I had been right about something, too. I guess one out of two isn’t bad, I thought. As I walked to my next class, I noticed that the glances in my direction held a little less venom than they had before. Some people actually looked impressed. Maybe I wouldn’t need Blayze to shield me for the last few months of school after all.
31
The runner came for me during my second to last period. I frowned a question at her, but she ignored me until we were out in the hall and several yards away from my classroom.
“You must have done something really bad this time,” she said, sliding a curious sideways glance at me.
“What makes you say that?” I asked carefully.
She gave me a look. “Boy, I have never seen an actual, literal detective at school. Fire inspectors, sergeants, parole officers—but never in my life have I seen a detective in the school. What’d you do?”
I grinned at her. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I said. Reputation is everything.
“Oh, come on, Blayze,” she whined. “I’m dying for a good story.”
“So read the paper,” I teased. “That freshman gossip columnist just makes shit up on the spot.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes, but realized she wasn’t going to get anything out of me. When we reached the office she pretended to go through paperwork, lingering well within earshot.
“Mr. Arrow,” the detective said.
“Detective.”
He nodded at one of the inner offices and led me into it. It was soundproofed, like all the counselor’s offices were, and I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the runner pout and cross her arms like a
child. I grinned at her and closed the door, then put my serious face on.
“What is it?” I asked.
“We found the car,” he said. “It’s a wreck. We’re following a few leads. Specific paint, that kind of thing. There is one thing we found which we believe you might be able to help us with. Did you ever ride in her car, Blayze?”
I nodded. “Yes, once or twice.”
“Do you wear rings?” His eyes were sharp as knives as he studied my face.
“No,” I said. “It’s safer not to.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Bit of a temper problem?”
“Yes, sir. The kind that I wrestle with in the heat of the moment. My temper isn’t patient enough for the kind of harassment Arlena has been dealing with.” I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was still on the list of suspects, no matter how much they tried to placate me into feeling like I was helping.
He nodded. “I understand that. It’s not an uncommon problem.”
“No, sir.”
“So you won’t mind showing me your hands? Specifically your fingers.”
“Not at all.” I laid my hands flat on the table with my fingers spread out, then raised them up to eye level to show him the front and back. He studied them carefully then nodded, apparently satisfied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.
“Arlena tells me that you’re pretty popular around here. You know a lot of people, have a lot of connections. I’m hoping you can help me identify the owner of this ring.”
He laid the bag on the table between us. “Go ahead, pick it up. Look it over. Just don’t take it out of the bag.”
I didn’t need to, but I did it anyway. I needed to do something with my hands and eyes, otherwise the cold fury growing in my chest would explode and I’d end up doing or saying something I couldn’t take back. There had to be an explanation.
“Where did you find this?” I asked as I turned Eddie’s favorite serpent ring over in my hands.
“It was embedded in one of the car seats,” he said. “Looks like it slipped off when whoever was doing the damage stabbed into the seat. It’s a man’s ring, but that doesn’t mean much these days. It might be a custom ring. Do you recognize it?”
I knew he was watching me closely. I shook my head slowly. “I know I’ve seen it before,” I said. “I’m trying to remember where.”
Or when. Eddie would give his rings to girls he wanted to sleep with once in a while, but only if he was tired of the ring. My stomach sank. The girl he’d been after that night was Arlena. The image of him kissing her in the kitchen was still burned into my brain, his ring-encrusted hands on her ass—and the snake right in the middle, a big fuck you to me. My blood ran cold.
I chased every hint of expression from my face and handed the ring back to the detective. I couldn’t tell him what I knew, not yet. Not while there was still a chance that I was wrong. Maybe Eddie gave the ring to the girl he ended up with that night. Maybe he let it slip that she was his second choice and she lost her shit. I needed to know more before I did anything at all.
“I can’t remember,” I lied. “But I’ll think on it.”
“I appreciate that,” he said as he took the bag back from me. He was still watching me closely. “You’ll call me if you remember anything, won’t you?”
“The second I’m sure, I’ll call you.” At least that was the truth.
He thanked me, shook my hand, and walked out. The runner was just outside the door, pretending to sort through old binders full of old records. The detective nodded to her as he left and she gaped after him. As I stepped through the door she sprang up and stepped in front of me.
“What was all that about? What’s going on? Why didn’t he arrest you?”
I grinned at her, but it was forced. “Not enough evidence,” I said. “You wanna give me a hall pass?”
“Damn you, Blayze.”
Yep, damn me. Straight to hell—and Eddie along with me.
32
My first instinct was to cut class and drive to Eddie’s right then, but I knew better. First, if the detective suspected that I wasn’t telling him everything, he’d be outside waiting for me to do something like that. Second, my grades were already slipping. I’d almost given up on them, content to pass and nothing more; but Arlena had re-lit a fire under my ass. She’d got me thinking about things like grants and scholarships, little bits of hope that I’d pushed away a long time ago.
Besides, the extra hours gave me a chance to think it over. On the surface it didn’t make any sense. Why would Eddie attack her? It wasn’t because she’d rejected him. He’d been rejected before, in far more humiliating and colorful ways. He always took it in stride. And if Arlena had been as drunk as she said she’d been, he wouldn’t have pushed the issue anyway. He might have been a douchebag, but he wasn’t a rapist.
It couldn’t have been because of Damon. He’d been right there with me, every step of the way, from the day I found out who she was to the day I realized she hadn’t done everything I’d accused her of. He was the one who tried to help me repair her reputation when I was too much of a coward to do it myself. Hell, he offered her a spot at his side. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought she was a snitch.
I still hadn’t come up with a convincing reason for him to be behind the attack when I left school. I switched gears on my way to his place, started thinking of what questions I could ask about the ring specifically without giving everything away. In the end, I left it up to instinct. Eddie was only as predictable as he wanted to be, which made rehearsing anything an exercise in futility.
The shattered glass from Arlena’s car windows glittered on the street as I passed. The sight sent a new wave of intense anger through my chest, but I swallowed it. I couldn’t afford to lose my head, not now. I had to be cool. Calm. Collected. I parked in the driveway and let myself in. I opened my mouth to call for him, but thought better of it.
Eddie had a free period at the end of the day. He usually spent it down in the grow rooms, preparing for the influx of customers who always stopped by after school. I crept downstairs and found all three doors open—unusual, but not unheard of. I hadn’t been in the grow rooms in years, hadn’t even looked inside. There were things I really didn’t want to know. A clattering sound filled the silent house—someone was typing.
The first room I passed held a laboratory. It was full of expensive equipment and smelled like cotton candy and cat piss. I wrinkled my nose and kept walking, past the hydroponics room full of fragrant green buds and bright orange poppies.
The third room was where the typing came from. I stopped dead in my tracks before I reached the door. A sliver of the wall was visible, covered in images which filled me with a black, murderous rage. I stood my ground, breathing deeply and silently, willing the fury to pass, shoving it into a box in my gut. There’s an explanation, the tiny rational part of my brain screamed.
The furious fog wasn’t listening. Three more silent steps and I was in the doorway, looking over a museum of Arlena’s darkest moments. Eddie sat hunched over in his seat, typing rapid white words across a blue box—Fugwidem. I held my tongue and my breath and crept forward. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice me.
Time is running out, his manifesto read. You failures! You’ve allowed her to become emboldened. Now you’ll all see just how much damage one unhinged daddy’s girl can do. You’ll see your friends and family fall under this clean-up order, and Arlena Blake will be leading the charge! It’s your last chance to force her hand.
His phone rang and he answered it. It took everything in me not to rip his head off of his shoulders. “Yo, waddup? Yeah, I got it. You better get me my money’s worth this time, Dion, or I’m not fucking with you no more. When’s the drop?”
I watched in shock as he switched tabs, pulling up the county’s War Against Drugs anonymous tip line. He fed the information Dion gave him into the computer and submitted it. I couldn’t believe it.
; “Yeah, I got you. Come by my place tonight, I’ll give you what you need. You got twenty-four hours to get my money back here, you hear me? None of this my mom got sick bullshit. You get your cut when I get mines. A’ight, later.” He switched back over to the other tab.
I yanked him out of his chair by his collar before he could post his call to arms. He yelped, twisted around, nearly strangling himself before he could get to his feet.
“The fuck, man?”
I let my fist answer him. His teeth split my knuckles open, but I didn’t care. His head snapped back so hard it looked like his neck broke. He tried to go down but I jerked him up again until his nose was pressed against mine.
“Why?” I shouted. “Why Arlena? Why Dion? Did you do Damon dirty too, you spineless shit waffle?”
“Lower your voice, man, and let go the goods! This is Gucci you got me bleeding on.”
“So bleed,” I said through my teeth. “What the fuck, Eddie?”
“Look,” he said, his voice slurred through his split lips. “I ain’t give a shit about Arlena. It’s her daddy that’s the problem. He’s gotta go, man, he’s doing too much. But he wasn’t gonna go unless I gave him a reason. Your precious little princess is daddy’s princess too. If she can’t take it down here, he’ll have to pull out.”
“Why did you set Dion up?” I demanded.
He smirked. “Dion’s a shitty mule, man. Barely worth the effort. But he’s got lots of friends, lots of angry friends. Just like Jacob and Marco and Jose and Bella. I couldn’t keep people pissed at her, she kept redeeming herself. When people quit giving a shit, I had to give them something to care about. Those guys’ll be fine, they’ll be out in a few years and I’ll give ‘em their routes back, no harm no foul.”
Manic: A Dark Bully Romance Page 21