Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys Book 5)

by C. M. Stunich

  That information infuriates me to no end. Like, how is it fair that a school shooting is costing these kids even a meager chance at an education? It isn’t fucking fair and as soon as Vic has his money, we’re going to do something about it. Mark my words.

  Vaughn whimpers, his injured hand clutched tightly against his chest. There are clean nubs where his fingers used to be. No way in hell this man had anything to do with setting Stacey up—he has even less backbone than he does fingers.

  “Ms. Keating keeps asking about you,” Vaughn offers up, looking at me specifically. He hands me a business card with a personal number written in pen on the back. “You’re so cloistered up in that school, she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you. She asked if I’d seen you around or if I might be able to give this to you.”

  “Good boy,” Vic praises, like he’s rewarding a stray dog with a scrap. “You’ve been well-behaved, Vaughn. I’m impressed.”

  Scott Vaughn, the man who tried to convince me to be a cam girl for him, just shrinks in on himself in such a way that I’m reminded of Donald. Another monster reduced to rubble at the feet of bigger, better monsters.

  It’s cathartic, it really is.

  Havoc has delivered everything they promised me and then some.

  I add Ms. Keating’s number to my phone and then tuck the card in my pocket.

  And even if Principal Vaughn is nothing but a leftover stain from an old and painful life, one who has little to no information to give us about the school or anything else for that matter, I’m glad we stopped by because this is how I end up inviting the Vice Principal to my motherfucking high school graduation.

  I’d invite the cop, too, you know. That is, if she weren’t already planning on coming.

  With the weeks flowing through our fingers like quicksand, the Havoc Boys and I settle into a routine. We get up in the morning and drink coffee together, casually walk in the direction of the girls’ part of the school so we can see them, and they can see us, but nobody will know that we’re related.

  Sometimes, I just push my sweats down at night and bend over so all five boys can use me, fucking me one after the other to slake my insatiable thirst and make sure that I’m taking care of theirs. Last week, Aaron asked if that bothered me, if I felt like I was being used.

  I laughed and told him the truth: we all use each other, Aaron, but we all need each other, too. It’s perfect. What we do is perfect.

  Standing in the kitchen now, I bounce on my toes and try not to think too hard about this morning when I bent over and put my palms on the wall of windows, spreading my legs for all five boys before class. Jesus.

  A smile teases my lips as I blast Cardi B—I’ve decided I’m, like, her but in poor white trash form—and swing my hips to “Bodak Yellow” which is still my favorite of her songs though “WAP” is a close second. Embedded in the same playlist, I’ve got plenty of Megan Thee Stallion.

  “Bernie,” Aaron murmurs, kissing the side of my neck and palming my ass. I slap him away but only for show. In reality, I crave his touch the way the ocean craves the shore. Even when it retreats, it always comes back; it simply can’t help itself.

  I glance over at him, silhouetted in a loose cotton t-shirt with Wesley’s scrawled across the front of it. He’s casual, barefooted, dressed in raggedy denim jeans that cup his firm ass and thighs in a way that’s truly criminal. Those jeans must be old, because they cling and grab in certain places, as if Aaron’s gotten a bit bulkier after purchasing them.

  “Aaron,” I reply carefully as he comes up behind me, sliding his hands along my ribs and kissing the side of my neck again. I swear, there’s a permanent scar where he bit me during our big orgy at the house. Sometimes, I think I can still feel it throbbing, and I love that. I love that there’s a mark I can recognize his touch by.

  The way his sweet mouth turns sour, I know he’s got something wicked in mind. Aaron steps up behind me, shoves my sweats down, and then opens the fly of his jeans. We have a quick, wild rut there at the counter, his hands kneading my breasts, his lips making love to my throat.

  Afterward, when we’re chilling on the couch, Oscar comes out of the first of the other two bedrooms, the one he uses as an office.

  “Meeting,” he barks, twisting a finger in the air in that sharp, peremptory way of his. Of course, the only person that can truly demand or order anything is Victor. Our boss pads down the hall and pauses, giving his lieutenant a bit of a look.

  “Meeting, huh?” Vic asks wryly, but then he yawns and scratches loosely at the front of his t-shirt before taking a seat on the sofa across from me and Aaron. Callum crouches in the chair while Hael lounges beside his best friend. Oscar remains standing, setting the iPad on the table so we can look at a map of Oak Valley Prep. “What’s up?”

  “We don’t have many good choices but to rest on the reality of the VGTF raiding the school. Maxwell and Ophelia will be arrested. At this point, that’s a fact.” He crosses his arms over his chest with a deep-set frown resting on his sharp lips. Instead of a suit, he’s wearing a gray wife beater and silky charcoal pants that probably feel amazing brushing up against his bare cock.

  I adjust myself in Aaron’s arms and he hugs me close. Last night, we sat together in the living room with a single candle burning and worked on scanning those old photos of me and Penelope into the cloud. We did the same with the documents in the cardboard box and then sat there, eating chocolate and reminiscing. He remembers my sister better than any of the other boys, Aaron does.

  His fingers play absently in my hair, the way they used to do when we were fifteen and newly in love. Oscar watches us for a moment before glancing back at Vic.

  “I’ve calculated the risks for a dozen different scenarios, and this is our best bet.” Oscar gestures at the iPad again and then folds his fingers beneath his chin, stroking the strong column of his throat. “It’s out of our hands now.”

  The fingers of Victor’s left hand clench around the end of the sofa arm, fingertips denting the leather in just such a way that it creaks. I’m not the only one looking at him; the rest of the boys are watching. They know as well as I do that letting Ophelia go means spending months more on edge, fighting, struggling, plotting, planning. It also means that Vic might never get to cross his mother off his own, personal list.

  A muscle in his jaw ticks, but he nods once, nice and sharp. An agreement.

  “That’s it?” Aaron asks, sitting us both up from our snuggled position on the couch. He keeps his arms around me though. “That’s how we’re going to deal with these fuckers? They stormed our school, Vic. They killed Stacey; they almost killed Callum. Your mom …”

  “I know all about my mother,” Victor replies, his voice quiet, almost menacing. He turns his attention away from us, toward the window and the glowing orb of the sun as it dips low in the sky. With just a couple of weeks left in the school year, we’re running out of time.

  “Based on what we know of the raid,” I start, drawing all of the boys’ attention but for Vic’s. He keeps his gaze focused out the window instead, fingers idly teasing the leather of the couch. “It’s going to be slow and nonviolent, and likely to coincide with the final part of the ceremony. What if we go in assuming the VGTF will take care of Ophelia and Maxwell but come up with a contingency plan. I mean, it’s possible that someone tips them off about the raid; they might not even come to the graduation ceremony.”

  “While I agree that it’s a fool’s error to simply assume Ophelia and Maxwell will both be there, the VGTF wouldn’t waste resources on raiding a prestigious private school without a kingpin as a prize. If they’re still coming, then they firmly believe they’ll find Maxwell, at the very least.” Oscar points at the iPad screen, tapping a red X at the end of a long, curving road. It starts at the back of the school, near the Student Parking Area. “This is the south entrance; Maxell has already planned to leave an armed motorcade waiting here. As of this morning, the plans were still on. So, in my best estimate, there
’s a ninety-percent chance that he’ll show up as planned.”

  “As Ophelia’s plus one?” I ask, because I’d sort of just assumed that, that Maxwell was coming to support Ophelia. But then I thought about Trinity. Just because she doesn’t want Samuel Jade or her community at large to know she’s Maxwell’s biological daughter, that doesn’t mean Maxwell isn’t committed to being a father figure in some fashion or another.

  “That, I don’t know,” Oscar admits, shaking his head as he finally takes a seat on the end of the couch where Aaron and I are sitting. “But I must admit, Stacey’s girls are coming in handy. We wouldn’t have information about the motorcade without them.”

  “They are coming to the ceremony then,” I murmur, teasing the ring pierced through the nail on my left pointer finger. “What if something they see tips them off while they’re here? I mean, what if the VGTF moves in and Maxwell decides to bolt? He could whisk Ophelia off in his helicopter and we’d never see them in person again.”

  “Yet, they’d still be up our asses,” Hael repeats with a sigh, circling us back to the same argument we’ve had many times before. “So what do we do?”

  “How much personal security are parents allowed to bring on campus?” Cal queries, and I try my very hardest not to roll my eyes. Personal security. For a high school graduation? Jesus H. Christ, but I hate rich people. It didn’t even occur to me that any of the parents would be bringing their own security crews. I guess when you’re a rich hotelier or a senator, a record producer or even a rock star, you need that sort of shit. And those are exactly the types of people who have children that attend this school.

  “Two guards per guest and one personal driver that must remain with the car. Guns are not technically allowed, but there won’t be much enforcement of that. Really, it’ll just stop Maxwell’s security from open carrying.” Oscar leans back in his seat as Vic rubs at his chin.

  “That means if Maxwell and Ophelia both show up, they’ll have four guards protecting them at most?” Aaron clarifies and Oscar nods. “Sounds like the perfect opportunity to grab them both.”

  “It would be, without the VGTF,” Victor agrees, shaking his head. “But that means we need to find them either before they get into the auditorium or after they leave, in a place that isn’t filled with people. Oh, and only if we can get them in a dark zone or Oscar can figure his way into the Oak Park security system.”

  “I’ve hacked in,” Oscar snaps back, like he’s offended that Vic would even question his ability to do so. “But it isn’t easy. I’d need time to cover my tracks after deleting any footage.”

  “If I can get Maxwell alone for just a second …” Callum breathes, shaking his head. “I could be careful; I could hide the body.”

  “Even from the VGTF?” Victor sighs and scrubs both hands over his face. He’s not thinking about Maxwell though; he’s thinking about Ophelia. “I suppose, in the right circumstances, we could pull it off.”

  “It’s about orchestrating those circumstances that’s a problem.” Oscar sits up as Aaron strokes his fingers across my belly, making me shiver with pleasure at the soft touch. “Manufacturing a scenario where we can get Maxwell and Ophelia away from the crowd and into a more private location, that’s the problem.”

  We sit there in silence for a moment, and I swear, I can hear cogs and gears turning in Victor’s and Oscar’s heads. My own eyes scan the map as Hael sits up with a groan.

  “We all know I ain’t the brains of these operations, so, let me do what I do best and pour us some drinks.”

  “Scotch,” Victor and Oscar both say, almost in unison. That makes me smile, but I’m the only one. Everyone else is still frowning, still planning and plotting.

  “What if we used Trinity?” I ask with a loose shrug of my shoulders. “Surely, we could convince her that it was in her best interest to get Maxwell and Ophelia alone?” I’m feeling pretty proud of myself until Oscar shakes his head once, slow and sharp.

  “No,” he says, but in a contemplative way like he’s truly trying to see if my idea won’t work. His silver eyes shift over to mine. “If we tell her what we want and she in any way lets that slip to either party, we’re in trouble. Whatever fragile peace we’ve had for the last few months is guaranteed to break. That means, even if the VGTF round the pair up, they’ll be gunning for us from prison. Frankly, it’s better to just keep on playing the fake fiancée game.”

  “She can’t feel very fondly toward Ophelia?” I retort, giving Hael’s knuckles a kiss as he hands me a glass of scotch before offering up drinks to anyone else. Our gazes catch just before he turns away with a smile. I look back over at Vic and Oscar while Aaron scoots close against my left side, peering at the map. “I mean, don’t you think she’d want her gone, considering the blackmail and all?”

  “We don’t know her feelings about her father.” Oscar’s mouth twitches at one corner, like he might actually be considering smiling about something. “If those feelings are anything like the ones she had for her brother, well …” I snort, but I don’t think he’s actually implying that Trinity and Maxwell have an incestuous relationship. What he is saying, however, is that if Maxwell is coming to this school to watch a shitty graduation ceremony, then it’s possible he cares about his daughter. Maybe she cares about him, too. “It isn’t worth the risk. Besides,” and here his voice gets wry and thick with disdain, “I don’t exactly trust that conniving little cunt.”

  “She looks at Vic like she wants to ride his dick,” Aaron adds, and I feel myself bristle with jealousy. For his part, my husband just quirks the corner of his lip in amusement.

  “There’s always the possibility of a bathroom break,” Oscar muses, tilting his head briefly from side to side to stretch his neck, eyes closing for a moment. “Unlikely but possible.”

  I sigh and rub at my temples a bit, determined to come up with a plan the way I did for Mason Miller. Because all I really want is to prove myself to Havoc, prove to my boys that I deserve to wear that crown and that I belong. If only I can see something they don’t …

  Hael passes out more scotch, and then we all drink until the sky is fully dark and our blood is warm and thick with alcohol. After nearly six hours of discussing strategy and studying the map, discussing risks and listening to Victor and Oscar bounce ideas off of each other, we give up and retire to the bedroom.

  What we do in there, it’s not quite as magical and mysterious as what we did surrounded by candlelight. But there’s a lot of touching and fucking and it comes pretty goddamn close.

  Havoc—All of Them

  Ten years earlier …

  The little girl with the ashy blond hair is dropped off at the curb by a woman in a salmon colored raincoat, her expensive shoes clacking across the debris strewn pavement as she digs her fingernails into the child’s arm.

  For her part, the girl looks unaffected by this subtle violence, her emerald eyes so bright that little Callum Park’s pink mouth parts in surprise. His own eyes, a blue so perfect that sometimes the adults in his life get caught up in imagining that he could be a famous child actor or model or something, sparkle as the girl is dragged past him and up the front steps of a dilapidated building with asbestos issues and too much mold in the gym.

  Callum turns back to his friends and finds that he isn’t the only one in their little group to have noticed the new girl. His friends, Aaron Fadler and Hael Harbin, are both gaping after her. They turn to each other with excited smiles because it isn’t often that a girl in such fancy clothes with such a wild looking frown shows up to torment them.

  Cal is smiling and happy and excited because he wants to show this new girl how to dance. He loves teaching people that you can make art with your body, that when you dance, your very sad but sweet mother might just smile a little more than she frowns. He doesn’t know that the woman is actually his grandmother, a woman who killed her husband and forced her daughter to help dispose of the body. Cal doesn’t know that, right after he was born, his real mom
tried to tell her story to the police and then his grandmother killed her, too. He doesn’t know how much she desperately wanted a son because she’s only ever had seven daughters, so she’ll lie to him and pretend like he is hers. One day, Callum will look at Aaron looking at Bernadette and Bernadette looking at Aaron and decide there’s no hope for him, so he may as well experiment with his dance partner. All the while, he’ll be thinking of Bernadette anyway.

  Skinny and quiet and small, Oscar Montauk also notices the new kid, but even though the sight of her excites his curiosity, he also knows that nobody dressed that fancy would ever go to this school for very long. He reaches up to touch his freshly dyed hair, as black as the night, as black as his friend Victor Channing’s hair.

  Oscar is also not used to this strange and wild place in south Prescott; he attended a prestigious boarding school until recently, one that he already misses because it means being away from the dark and hateful eyes of his father. For now, the family fortune is locked away from Oscar’s father by the hands of his own parent. His father will get it back, eventually, but it won’t last. Then, half a decade after this moment, that same father will strangle his wife and kids, but he will fail to fully finish off the last child. Whether that’s by accident or design, nobody will ever know, but the boy who he mistakenly thought was of his own seed will end up with his mother’s dead arms wrapped around his neck. He will be pushed into a shallow hole, but luckily, he will not end up buried as he comes to, feeling sick and dizzy and disoriented.

  He will see his father put a gun to his own head, too drunk and distraught to finish burying his murdered family, and he will watch as the man pulls the trigger. Oscar Montauk will grow up hating touch and hating people and scowling at everything, but he will also fall in love with the girl who comes striding out the front doors of the school like she owns the place.