“Do you think they’ll try to eavesdrop on us?” I ask as Aaron gravitates toward me like he’s being pulled by an unseen force, resting his palms on the tops of my thighs as he stands between them. It’s like he’s so fucking angry that he needs to ground himself, to find something to hold onto. I love being that something, a sun that he orbits in hope of warmth. I wonder if he knows that I feel the same way about him? That I crave his smile, his approval, his affection.
Aaron shakes his head, his slightly curly, chestnut hair falling onto his forehead.
“I warned them that if they did, there’d be one less Christmas present under the tree for all of them.” He smiles, but the expression is tight. “If I know Kara—and I know that I fucking do—that’d be enough to keep her and Ashley in the room. Heather, too, probably, because Kara’d fight like hell to keep that present count up for Ashley’s sake.” He gives a feral grin that has me shivering. I’m aware that everyone—including Coraleigh and Marcus—are staring at us. Also, I don’t care. “But I don’t know Alyssa, so I pushed a dresser in front of the door, too.” He shrugs and glances over his shoulder again, eyes narrowing slightly. “Wouldn’t want them to see something they’d never forget.”
“Like brain and bone, for example,” Callum supplies, joining in the conversation with a smile. He kicks his legs the same as me, biting into his apple. His blue eyes shimmer like the sea under the setting sun outside the window. It’s getting dark already, but that’s no surprise. I mean, it’s nearly December.
“Ophelia said her son had a gang, and that his new wife was a kid that’d spent some time in the foster care system. That’s all I know,” Coraleigh pleads as I glance around Aaron to look at her. He doesn’t seem inclined to move, much to Victor’s chagrin. Vic asked me once, during those first few weeks, if I could multitask. Apparently, he’s really good at it: he can question a mark and be a jealous alpha-prick at the same time.
“All you know?” Victor echoes, standing up from the sofa and wandering absently into the kitchen. He opens the freakishly large Sub-Zero refrigerator that has no right existing for only two people. It could hold food for an extended family of a hundred. Jesus. Is that worth the blood and bone of children? A nice fridge? The fuck is wrong with these people. “No, that’s not it.” He leans into the refrigerator and starts placing items on the counter. Some deli meat, a head of lettuce, a fat tomato. Sandwich makings. “You wouldn’t have suggested selling us such pitiful intel.”
I raise my brows as Victor goes about preparing himself a sandwich in the kitchen of two people who are currently tied up and begging for their lives. Why is that hot to me? Yep, dick drunk. I am officially dick drunk.
Stifling a groan, I turn back to the Vincents.
“I find it interesting that you insist on lying to us,” Oscar muses, but since he hasn’t pulled out his gun, I’m guessing he’s placed money on the Vincents actually being useful to us. The Kushners had nothing we could use, and they were nothing. So they were executed like it was fucking nothing.
If I said their deaths had no effect on me, I’d be lying. Because, unlike the Kushners or the Vincents or my ex-bestie Kali Rose-Kennedy, I have a soul.
“They must not value their lives,” Victor agrees, and Marcus makes a whimpering sound. It’s clear that while he’s aware of his wife’s activities, he doesn’t participate in them much. There’s nothing he can tell us, which is a shame because he looks easy to break.
I stab the frozen lump of ice cream with my spoon as Aaron steps back, moving to the side next to Hael, so we can all watch the Vincents squirm.
“Ophelia is an important member of Oak Park high society,” Leigh sputters, her brown eyes flicking from side to side. She’s stalling for time. The question is: why? “She’s been a major donor at the fundraisers I’ve hosted in the—”
Victor’s laughter shatters the still air, like a church bell signaling the beginning of a funeral procession. I glance back at him and see that he’s bent over the counter, palms flat against the shiny stone surface, eyes closed.
“A donor?” he asks, cracking his eyelids. His eyes blaze with the fires of hell as he looks at Coraleigh. “Where is she getting the money to donate to anything? She’s destitute, just an aging beauty queen with a dwindling fortune and a sour personality.”
“Victor,” I say, rubbing my thumb over his grandmother’s ring. “She’s stalling for time. Somebody really is coming.”
Oscar and Victor exchange a look as Hael raises his red brows.
“You really think she’s that stupid?” he asks with a whistle, but I’m already shaking my head.
“She’s that conniving,” I correct as I push up off the counter, leaving the ice cream and the dirty spoon behind me. Oscar’s staring at me with a strange expression, like he can’t decide if he should take me seriously or sneer and tell me I’m being silly. I mean, not that I blame him. What sort of idiot would allow a guest to show up with us here? Either Coraleigh is just cocky … or her instincts are like, way, way off. “Whoever’s coming, she thinks they can hold their own against us.”
My attention immediately turns to the staircase and the little girls in the room upstairs. Aaron’s, too. I can tell by the way he clenches his jaw.
“Should I load them in the Bronco and go?” he asks. It’s parked outside, hidden by the massive stone wall that surrounds the Vincents’ beachside mansion. I’m not sure if he’s talking to Vic or … well, he’s looking at me. Our eyes meet, and I flex my fingers at my sides.
“No,” Victor says, as calm and even as always. Aaron and I both turn to look at him. He’s hefting a huge kitchen knife in his big hands. With his attention locked onto Coraleigh, he very carefully slices his sandwich into four triangles. Each press of the knife into the bread is a threat. “I think I have a pretty good idea of who their guest is going to be.”
“Ophelia?” Oscar asks, making the connection before I have a chance to. Callum snaps his fingers in a damn, I shoulda thought of that sort of way.
“This all starting to make a very perverse kind of sense,” he agrees, flashing a pretty smile. Cal hops off the counter in such a way that he could very well be dancing on a stage in front of thousands. “What do you want to do, boss?”
Victor carefully places the sandwich triangles on a plate before taking four sodas from the refrigerator and snagging a bag of chips from the counter.
“I’m going to feed those kids,” Vic says mildly, gathering the items in his big arms. Aaron and I exchange a look, but even with the anxiety spiking in my blood, I have to suppress a small smile.
“Yep, yep,” Cal agrees, like that’s the most logical thing to do here. “And then?”
“Untie Leigh and then drag her husband into the garage,” Vic says as he passes by. He stops with one foot on the bottom step to glance over his shoulder. “And if she doesn’t behave in a way that pleases us, shoot Mr. Vincent in the face.”
Victor and I are sitting together on the window seat when Ophelia and Tom show up an hour later, a teenage boy tagging along behind them. The kid’s hands are in his pockets, head bent low. With his tuft of pale brown hair hanging down, I can’t really see his face.
“Victor,” Ophelia says, crossing a single arm over her midsection. Her dark eyes flick to me briefly before returning to her son, as if she expected to see him here all along. No big thing. It’s a lie, but a good one. However, blood must run nice and thick in that family because Ophelia tightens her shoulders the same way Victor does when he’s playing a part. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking past his mom to study Leigh. When we first untied her, I was certain she would bolt. But then, I underestimated her greedy nature. She doesn’t want to leave us alone at her beach house. She also doesn’t want to run to the cops. So … either the Newport police are actually good guys, or else they’re in someone else’s pocket. “When Leigh here heard about our wedding, and our honeymoon in Newport, she invited us over for dinner.�
�� Vic flashes that terrifying anti-smile of his, all white teeth and sass. My fingers trace over the tattoos on his arm, lovingly petting his ink and feeling my heart flutter in my chest.
“She was such a huge help to me when I was a kid,” I lie, playing the politics game with my new Havoc husband by my side. When I smile, I’m sure doves cry. It’s likely as nightmarish a look as it is on any of the boys. That’s what pain does; it shapes your mouth. No, no, it owns your mouth. “Coraleigh is such a blessing to children without a shepherd.”
Fuck, smiling sucks. My face hurts.
“Mm,” Ophelia murmurs, looking askance at Coraleigh. She just stares back at her and gives away nothing.
“Maybe I should start us all off with a round of drinks?” Leigh suggests, moving over to a wet bar in the corner of the room. She starts fussing with clinking glassware while I look past Ophelia toward Tom, the used car salesman-like man that she’s dating. And then there’s the boy … He lifts his head up to look at me, and we both pale considerably.
Oh.
Oh, no.
David is one of the two guys I slept with between breaking up with Aaron and joining Havoc.
“Bernadette,” he says, and I hate, hate, hate that he remembers my name.
“David.” As soon as I say his name, I glance over and find Victor staring at me.
“You know Tom’s son, David?” he asks, and my heart skips several beats. I suck in a deep breath, like I’m coming back from the dead.
Remember how I said I smelled a plot?
This fucking reeks of one.
“David and I … were at the same Prescott party once,” I hazard, and Victor’s entire demeanor changes. Aggression rolls off of him in waves, making me shift uncomfortably. He does a damn good job keeping it to himself though. If I didn’t know him as well as I do, I doubt I’d pick up on it.
“How … interesting,” Victor purrs, pursing his lips slightly and turning his grin into a truly hideous smile. He knows that David and I slept together, even though I’ve only told Aaron the story. Vic is just that fucking perceptive. “Springfield really is a small town at its core, isn’t it?”
“Truly,” Ophelia agrees, and I get the chills seeing the two of them face off against each other. On one side of the chessboard, we play the white pieces. On the other, Ophelia holds the black. But see, the thing is, the king, as important as he is, is a useless piece. The queen can move wherever she wants.
I have to play for our side and win.
Aaron’s footsteps on the staircase draw the attention of all three guests, but unlike Victor, he doesn’t bother smiling when he sees them. He’s not very good at playing politics, Aaron isn’t.
“The kids are really enjoying your movie theater,” he says to Coraleigh instead, looking at her like even that simple statement is a threat. “Especially Alyssa. They were all wondering if they might use the pool later, too.”
“Oh, well, we don’t really like kids in the pool area,” Leigh says with a strained laugh, downing a glass of what looks to be high-end vodka. She winces a bit, but she doesn’t chase it with anything. I’d say I respected her for that, but it’s hard to praise someone who sells kids to perverts for anything at all. “Marcus keeps his rare plants in there.”
Is she … okay, fuck, this chick is next-level insane.
“What kids?” Ophelia asks, giving Coraleigh a strange look. “Who’s Alyssa?” She looks from my disgraced social worker and then back to me, her raven hair plaited at the base of her neck, her cream-colored dress designer. A necklace of diamonds sparkles at her pale throat as she reaches up two fingers to stroke at them absently.
I don’t know about you, but that looks like a tell to me, same way her son rubs his chin.
Tom accepts a mixed drink of some sort from Coraleigh while David slumps to the sofa nearest me and Vic. I can feel my husband’s eyes taking his mettle from here. If Victor’s looking for a challenge, he won’t find one in David Benedict.
Benedict. His last name is different than Tom’s, which is why I never made this connection before. David must have his mother’s last name or something.
“Don’t worry about the kids,” Aaron tells Ophelia, pausing just a few feet from her. The way they look at each other, I can tell they’ve met plenty of times before. “What you should be worrying about is what you’re going to have for dinner. Because you’re leaving.”
“We just got here,” Tom says, stirring his drink and taking a sip. He stares at me from over the top of his glass. “It’s a long-ass drive. Besides, we usually stay the night.”
Ophelia turns away from Aaron, dismissing him as a threat. But only an idiot turns their back on a mother bear, you know what I mean?
In an instant, the entire atmosphere in the room shifts. Aaron slips a knife out from beneath the waistband of his jean shorts and presses it hard against the front of Ophelia’s neck. To her credit, she doesn’t panic or scream or even gasp when the blade bites in and draws a single ruby red pearl.
“What the hell?” Tom exclaims, lacking the exceptional genteel of his lover. His swamp-green eyes widen with fear as he takes a step back, sloshing what I think is a mojito all down the front of his suit and cursing. David’s eyes go wide, and I see him swallow down a lump of fear, his gaze flicking to me.
“Oh, God,” Leigh groans, covering her face with her hands as Victor rises slowly from the sofa to stare his mother down. From the shadows, Callum, Oscar, and Hael creep, weapons at the ready. In a move that’s purely for dramatic effect, Hael shoves a new magazine into his pistol and grins.
“What is this? A coup?” Ophelia asks with a tinkling laugh. I move to stand beside Victor, for once fully aware of the plan. Sometimes, I don’t think the boys even mean to leave me out; they just work so well together that they can plan shit on the fly.
“No, mother,” Vic says, reaching out to touch her necklace. His flint-like eyes move up to her face. It’s fascinating to see the two of them nose-to-nose like this. Makes me realize how strong his mother’s side of the gene pool is. Likely, if we had a kid, they’d look just like the two of them. “This is a beautiful necklace. I guess you brought it as a wedding gift? You know, since you didn’t get me and Bernie shit.”
“You call that a wedding?” Ophelia chokes out with another laugh, this one much more caustic. “At that termite-infested nightmare of a house?” She reaches up as if to push the blade away, but Aaron presses the knife in harder, turning the ruby pearl into a stream that slithers down the front of her neck.
With slow, careful movements, Victor removes the necklace from his mother’s throat and then turns to me. He kisses the shell of my ear as that musk and amber smell of his curls around me like smoke.
“I’m going to give you the world,” he promises, fastening the necklace and then stepping back so suddenly that I’m left feeling dizzy and breathless. Vic turns to Aaron and nods. “You can drop the knife,” he says, and, with some great reluctance, Aaron does.
Ophelia touches manicured mauve nails to her throat and pulls them away to stare down at the bloodstains on her fingertips.
The house is silent, but for the faintest echo of a movie coming from upstairs.
“So,” Victor begins, taking my hand in his and sliding his thumb across his grandmother’s ring in the laziest, most sensual sort of way. Even with Callum, Hael, and Oscar positioned around the room with guns, with Ophelia’s black eyes staring at me, with Aaron’s tired-looking frown, I’m excited by it. Pretty sure that’s Vic’s intention, anyway. “Mommy dearest, we both know you can’t really have me killed—despite my jokes to the contrary.” Victor looks down at me with a soft expression on his face. If it actually reached his eyes, it might be cute. “If I die before receiving my inheritance, the whole pot goes to charity.”
My brows go up as I look toward Ophelia. For someone bleeding by the neck, she looks remarkably regal in her satin gown.
“So … to lose the money to your mother, you have to fail to graduate o
r move out of your dad’s place then?” I ask and Vic grins.
“Or get divorced,” he adds, and then he throws back his head and laughs.
“Or commit a felony,” Ophelia adds, crossing her arms under her breasts and looking around the room at the other Havoc Boys. “Which I’m fairly certain you’ve just done. Tom, finish your drink and let’s go.”
Aaron moves forward with the knife, but Victor waves him away.
“Tit for tat, Mommy. You’re apparently involved in a child sex-trafficking ring.” Victor runs his fingertips over the necklace on my throat and steps back. He tucks his tattooed fingers in his pockets as Ophelia stares at him with a face as cold and impassive as Oscar’s. My eyes flick over to the man in question, but he just seems bored with the whole scenario.
As if he can sense me looking at him, Oscar’s gray eyes find mine and we end up staring at each other. Does he remember being inside of me? Does he know how deep he cut me by running away? Instead of getting pissed off at everything, I need to learn to listen to my emotions.
Oscar’s attitude is making me sad.
So fucking sad.
I’ve been voiceless for so long that when I realized I could speak out, I went in the opposite direction. Every little thing out of my mouth has been dripping vitriol and rage. After all, I have a lot to hate these boys for. I can’t see inside their heads; I’m not a mind reader. I need to open up a dialogue with them.
I look back at Ophelia.
“All your fancy friends, too, I’ll bet,” I say, letting that vitriol and hate I was just talking about spill across my mouth. Why direct it at the guys when I have other targets? “You won’t say anything about this. You’ll leave this house and start a new plot against Victor. Why don’t you go now and start planning? You’re fucking up our honeymoon.” I let my smile turn into a white-toothed grin. Like husband, like wife. “Thanks for the necklace, by the way. It’s lovely.”
Mayhem at Prescott High Page 5