I hate it.
“If she’s yours.” He lowers his chin. “Let them know.”
I choke on a chuckle, rubbing at my chest and walk backward, away from them. “Yeah.” Another laugh, but this one hollow. “And who’s gonna tell her, huh?” Laugh. Ache.
Why’d I say that?
I shake it off and bring that fake little lip curve back, even though I know it fools none of them. “She ain’t mine, Madman. She’s nothing to me.”
“She’s behind you.” Raven’s eyes tighten, and I whip around.
Brielle stands there, an unopen beer bottle in her hand, fresh water bottle in the other.
With a tight-lipped smile, she waves the water out for me, a fog dimming the color of her eyes, like she told me ‘happens sometimes,’ but this is different.
This is hurt.
Did my words hurt, baby?
She blinks and it’s still there.
I don’t like it. I want to see them bright and wide. Alive.
Stimulated.
She thrusts the water toward me. “You finished off the one you had, thought you might want another.”
I might want you.
Fuck.
Virgin!
I take it from her, slide closer, and wrap my hand around the one holding the beer bottle. I bring it to my mouth and pop the lid off with my teeth.
The corner of her plump ass taunting you to taste crooked lips twitches as her chest inflates and it pisses me off.
I don’t know why, but it does.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
“Get away from me.” My face hardens, and I slip past her, squeeze my eyes closed and when they open, it’s with a sharp snap. A wild fucking tic and I know I’ll be no good to my brothers, not for the safe laid plan.
So, fuck it.
End goal, yeah? That’s all we need?
The devil hears my pleas—the man of the hour slips through the door.
I spin to face my brothers and flick my eyes toward the entrance.
Party’s here.
They look and I turn back around, stand tall and proud, putting on a fucking playboy smile, cause that’s all I am, right?
I slap a hand on his shoulder. “What up, Enoch? How ‘bout a shot?”
He grins and follows me into the kitchen.
Stupid fucker.
Brielle
If the plan Mac, Maddoc, and Captain went over with me and Micah this afternoon is still the one they were going with, things are far off course.
Mac said he’d text us if things changed, but he hasn’t.
All we were supposed to do was show up tonight, linger around, hear what might be said or catch looks of suspicion. Basically, we’re to blend as lookouts while they did their Brayshaw thing and brought the hammer down.
None of what we were told matches what’s happening now.
Tonight’s plan didn’t involve any inkling of alcohol. In fact, we were told to hold a drink in our hands, toss it after thirty minutes when no one was looking, and grab another. Consuming none, yet Royce stands at the kitchen counter, pouring shot after shot, taking shot after shot, Enoch, Jenson, and Mac at his side.
Royce’s voice is growing louder, his shoulder slaps and ‘playful’ shoves, harder, stronger.
A heavy sigh is released beside me, and I look to find Raven.
“He’s picking a fight.”
“Yeah.” She squeezes her lips together. “He is.” Her eyes come to mine, a crazy gray in color, and focused. “It’s what he does when his head’s too heavy for him to hold up.”
I noticed.
This is my fault.
If I didn’t break down today over my brother’s car, we wouldn’t even be here right now. Everything would have been handled and I would have had a hand in helping.
I don’t know why I didn’t realize it before, but this is on me. I have to be the one to fix this.
Turning, I meet Raven’s eyes.
Raven’s scowls, trying to read the thoughts in mine. “If we move,” she says. “He’ll start beating on the guy, no hesitation, no chance of another outcome. You move...” Her lips pull to one side.
“My shadow moves with me.”
She nods. “He hasn’t taken a single shot since you’ve been standing here talking to me.”
Realization heats my stomach as if I’m the one shooting back eighty proof, grade A liquor. “Because he’s focused.”
She smirks. “Drunk again or not, he can rein it in when he needs to. He wants to know what we’re talking about, and he knows it revolves around him. He’s watching you. He will keep watching you, just like you’ll keep watching him.”
I glance his way and his eyes narrow on the bottle he pours from.
Yeah, he sees me.
No matter what, he’ll be watching.
Maybe this is what he wants.
Maddoc walks up then, his arms wrapping around Raven and pulling her against him.
“Can I borrow your keys?” I ask him.
“I didn’t drive.” He studies me.
“But you have a set of keys.” I hold his stare. “I heard them in your pocket when she pushed her ass into you.”
Raven chuckles. “They all keep keys on them, in case we need a quick escape.”
Maddoc slips his hands in his pocket and holds them out, but before I can snag them, he closes his fist. “Why you want ‘em?”
“I have an idea.”
“I haven’t seen your ideas yet. Might be a shit one.”
“It’s not.”
“I should believe you, why?”
I shrug, a smirk playing at my lips. “I guess you’ll have to trust me.”
He scoffs, and we both know we aren’t there. We also know it doesn’t matter because the Brayshaws can spin anything, so if I screw up, they’ll clean up.
I’m not going to screw up.
It’s simple, really.
I take the keys, slip them in my pocket, pull my phone out and dial Micah.
He answers on the first ring, “Hey.”
“Just talk back.”
“What?”
I walk into the kitchen with my phone to my ear. “Are you sure?”
“Uh, Brielle?” Micah drags out.
Jenson grins at me as I walk in, nodding his chin in hello so I wave, but quickly look away and pull open the fridge door. “Taylor Simms.”
Enoch’s head snaps toward me, but he hides it by sipping on his drink.
“She’s there right now?” I keep going with my fake conversation.
Royce has stopped moving, staring at his drink now.
“Hang on, let me go outside, it’s too loud in here.”
I close the fridge and spin around. “Yeah, I’ll tell you what she told me. One sec.”
I head out front, quickly unlock Captain’s SUV, and slip the keys in the ignition.
“Girl, what the hell are you doing?” Micah asks through the line, his tone uneasy.
I hop out and push the door almost all the way closed and move to stand near the rear driver’s side.
“Can you see me?” I whisper.
“Front left,” he tells me where to find him.
I look, spotting his outline at the edge of the back gate.
He nods and then the front door opens.
I spin when it does, knowing Enoch is following and who will follow next.
“Yeah, so Taylor said she’s going out with you next week. Is that true?” I casually shift on my feet, confirming Enoch is out here, pretending to be checking something on his phone.
I wait until he’s a little closer, and drop mine, pulling my heel up so it bounces off my knee.
“Crap!”
“Here!” Enoch jerks forward instantly, seeing nothing but opportunity as he quickly stuffs his back into his pocket.
He grins, already bending down. “Let me help.”
He means let me pretend to help all so I can see whose name or number is on the screen when I pick it up.
He get
s down on his knees, his hands planted flat against the ground as he tucks his upper body beneath the car, stretching to reach my phone.
I dash forward, rip open the SUV door, and hop in the driver's seat. I press the brake, and put the thing in neutral, the slight incline of the driveway sending it rolling backward, right over the left hand of Brayshaw High’s starting pitcher.
His scream is loud, panicked, and my heart leaps into my throat.
I put it into drive, ready to free him, but a hand comes down on my shoulder and I whip around.
Captain.
He pulls my fingers off the gear stick, shaking his head slowly.
I look toward the house to find Mac blocking the front door, Micah guarding the back gate, and in the rearview mirror, Maddoc.
That means...
I hop out, quickly spinning around.
Enoch’s body is curled over, his head down. His free hand has formed a tight fist, and he’s jammed it between his teeth in an effort to silence his own cries of pain.
Royce is crouched beside him, a crooked, criminal grin in place. He chuckles low and spiteful. “Well, fuckin’, well, Cameron. Would you look at that? And to think, we were only gonna snap three fingers, and my girl here got you for four, maybe even a couple of them bones a little lower, huh?”
Tears break from Enoch, his jaw shaking.
I drop my eyes to the ground at my feet, but then Captain’s fingers are sliding under my chin, and pulling it up, forcing me to face the scene I’m responsible for.
“Come on, girl. You’re a part of this,” he whispers.
I nod and stand up taller.
I’m a part of this.
“Hell of an accident, yeah, Enoch?” Royce grips him by the hair, tugging his head back. “Random as the broken scoreboard, ain’t it?”
Drool falls from his mouth, his teeth clenched tight to fight the pain.
Enoch nods.
“That’s right, and your old man will be happy to donate to the school? Replace the items that someone made off with, yeah?”
Another nod.
Royce dips close, whispering something in Enoch’s ear before shoving his head back down.
Royce pushes to his feet, his eyes finding mine when he plants himself in front of me. “That was reckless and could have easily flipped on you.”
I nod. “I know, but I knew you’d get to me before it could.”
He glares heavy, hard, and his hand comes up to rub across his mouth, but he says nothing.
He walks away.
Captain grips him by the arm on his escape, but Royce jerks free and disappears into the house.
Maddoc watches him go, dropping his eyes to me once he’s out of view. “He’s right, that wasn’t foolproof.”
“Is anything?”
“You were going to free his hand without making sure we were close enough to stop him should he come after you.”
“He did what he did in heartbreak. He had no reason to come after me.”
“He’s going pro, Brielle.” Maddoc frowns. “If he were to panic enough after getting his hand crushed, he just fucking might.” He looks to Raven and back to me.
“I didn’t think about that.”
“I know. Royce knows. That’s why he’s pissed. If you get hurt, it’s on him.”
“No—”
“Yes,” Captain cuts in.
Maddoc looks from Captain to me. “That was quick thinking, and a good move, but run through A to Z before you make decisions.” His eyes, they aren’t angry, but they are firm.
I nod and he motions for Micah.
“Get her in the back,” he tells him.
Micah’s hand finds my lower back and Maddoc slaps it away with a glare. “Get her in the back without fucking touching her.”
Reluctantly, I follow Micah into the back yard.
The lights of the SUV spear through the fence boards only seconds after we’re closed behind it.
We step into the yard, choosing to lean against an air conditioning unit rather than taking a seat on the main deck.
“Let me get you a drink?” Micah eyes me.
I nod, take a deep breath and look around.
This house, it belongs to the boys.
Since they don’t accept people into their home on the Brayshaw property, they did what rich boys do and bought another one, or so Micah told me. As far as I know, it’s nothing more than a party pad, along with whatever else their hearts desire.
I’m sure it’s where Royce... plays.
I turn, looking out at the darkness behind me, staring up at the North Star.
Micah walks up then.
“You ever spend your night staring up at the North Star and wonder how many it’s helped find their way?”
Micah grins. “Nah, Brielle. Can’t say I did, grew up in a fog-filled town with horse shit on the sidewalk and sack races on Sundays.”
I chuckle and look to him.
He holds my drink out, and only when I lift my hand to wrap it around the bottle, do I realize they’re shaking.
Micah and I lock eyes at the same time, and he gives a sad smile, stepping closer.
He takes the bottle, setting it beside us, and pulls my hands in and up to his mouth.
He blows warm breath into my palms, encasing them within his own and I close my eyes.
Next thing I know, my back is hitting the edge of the metal frame of the AC unit, and Micah is knocked on his ass with one strong, solid, drunken, punch.
From Royce.
The yard goes quiet as Micah lifts his hands and backs away.
Royce’s angry glare sweeps my way.
And me?
I stop breathing and wait, because based on the crazed look in his eyes... this is it.
Royce
I can’t feel my legs.
I can’t feel my fuckin’ legs, but I’m somehow growing closer.
My limbs hurt, my head’s ready to explode, and my mind... it’s all over the damn place.
I hate her, she don’t listen.
I like her, she challenges me.
I can’t stand the sight of her, she distracts me.
I can’t function when she’s out of sight, she’s all I want to see.
I growl at myself and step into her space as heavy creases frame her face.
“What’d I say, Brielle?” I can’t hear my own voice, my blood’s pumping too loud. Too fiercely, but she must.
She shakes her head.
I slam a hand on the metal at her side, and she glares. “I said no one touches you. I said you touch no one. What the fuck part of that are you too airheaded to understand?”
Her teeth clamp shut, and she holds back, but only for a split second. “Screw you.”
“Nah.” I flick my eyes over her. “You’re hymenly whole. That ain’t gonna happen.”
Her chest inflates, maybe she gasped, I can’t be sure.
My features harden, but hers... hers soften and I’m about to lose it.
Why won’t she get angry? Fight me? Force me away?
Brielle shakes her head, a jagged break in her voice. “You don’t have to do all this.”
“All what?”
“Go full-on asshole mode. Hit your friend. Snap at me.”
My throat grows raw, but I push past it. “You act like you thought I was different.”
She pulls her lips in, tipping her head, and I think she steps closer.
Or maybe it’s me.
“Not different.” She reaches out, placing a hand on my chest, discovering the proof of my manic state. “More.”
She presses it there with a gentleness I’ve never known, but it hits like a hammer, stealing the air from my lungs and leaving me suffocating. Aching.
More.
More than anger and recklessness, more than impulse and fuckery.
No.
I’m not more.
“I’ve seen it,” she promises, her ability to read me fucking me up even more. “This is only a part of you,” sh
e goes on. “And it’s not even a bad part, just more... dominant.”
I swallow, shove her hand off me and step back.
My glare is heavy, angry and directed at her. “You think you’ve seen some part of me others haven’t? That I opened up to you more than I do all the girls I’m preparing to fuck? ‘Cause if that’s the case, little Bishop, you’re as pathetic as I expected you to be.”
I’m fucking heated, burning, screaming on the inside and I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is or how to make it stop.
I need it to stop.
Brielle nods, and when she turns away, I catch the gloss now covering her eyes.
Hiding my favorite shade of turquoise, dulling the most perfect color I’ve ever seen, in the most perfect pair of eyes I’ve ever looked into. Stared into.
Found in my fuckin’ dreams.
Cursed in my nightmares.
A tear slips from her eyes and Brielle dashes left, running for the side of the house, toward the gate that’ll help her escape. Help her run from me.
In my nightmares, when I curse her, she never runs.
She stays and smiles and understands.
I’m broken.
She’s breaking me.
My hands dive into my hair and pull.
“Fuck!”
I drive forward, rush after her, and catch her by the shirt.
I yank her back, pushing her against the house and a low cry falls from her lips, but she cuts it off. Swallows it whole and meets my eyes with her own.
“What do you want from me?” she whispers, desperate for an answer I can’t give.
My grip tightens, stretching and tearing the fabric of her top angrily, keeping her here.
With me.
Don’t go.
An unexpected, unfamiliar ache hits deep in my chest and my frown deepens.
What the hell was that?
My knuckles move on their own, sliding across her jawline and lock in place when her head tilts the tiniest bit.
This girl, after my bullshit tonight, today, every other fucking day, she doesn’t pull away.
She leans into my touch, the edges of her eyes smoothing, her unease fading away into the darkness surrounding us.
I did that, comforted her with my touch.
Me, the throwaway Bray.
I soothed her.
Another unwelcome sting fires in my gut, and goddamn it! Why’s it make me want to sting hers?
Break Me Page 24