“You what?” I ask, trying and failing to sit up. I just … need a minute. Shit, he’s a fucking piece of work, but I love his ass more than is rational or even sane. “Seriously?”
“Mm.” Vic is still inside of me, his palm still on my belly. “But they aren’t going to get you pregnant. The deal is, you keep taking the pills. When we’re ready for kids, I get your womb first. It belongs to me.”
“Get the fuck off of me,” I growl, and he finally steps back with a laugh, watching me struggle to sit up and smirking, like he’s enjoying the fruits of his labors. “My womb belongs to me, you primal prick.” Victor just chuckles again and fixes his own pants.
“Yes, my queen,” he says, but not at all sincerely. And he wants to put a gun in my hand tonight? Huh. Not a very smart choice, if you ask me. “We have black sweatpants and hoodies for our little excursion tonight. One sec.” He points behind me, pulling the cigarette from his mouth with his other hand. “There’s a bathroom right in there, so you can get cleaned up.”
“I wish you the worst,” I growl at him, making a face as I look down at my breasts and my ruined pants. “And you owe me a shopping trip; these were my favorite pants.”
“Nothing less for my wife,” Vic agrees, winking at me before he exits the room, and I get up to pee. The very last thing I need is a UTI, and I’m seriously prone to them. If I have too much soda, I’ll get one. Add in dirty sex with a bunch of assholes? I’m not all about needing antibiotics, thank you.
Victor reappears shortly after, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb while he watches me wipe myself down.
“Need help with your tits?” he asks, and I elbow him as hard as I can in the stomach. He grunts, but that’s about it. Doesn’t even double over. “Here.” Victor hands me a duffel bag, and I set it on the toilet, pulling out black sweatpants and a hoodie, as promised. No bra or panties, but I’ll live.
Once I’m dressed, I put my hair into a loose pony and shove my ruined clothes into the bag to take with us. Victor waits for me by the office door, lighting up yet another cigarette. Chain-smoking again. Means he’s nervous as shit.
He shoves open the door and saunters out of there with every ounce of cockiness inside his DNA.
“Listen up,” he calls out as Oscar moves up to the open garage door to await his boss’ orders. Cal, Aaron, and Hael are still in the corner, gossiping and smoking. “Bernie and I just had a chat.” He holds up a hand and ticks off a finger. “First, no babies. That’s my job. Second, I’m not a referee. Work on your own crap.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Aaron asks, blinking at Vic like he can’t quite believe this is happening.
“I’m saying: you can decide what the term Havoc Girl means to you. I won’t stop you.” Victor pauses and shakes his head, raking his fingers through his purple hair. “Don’t ever tell me I never did anything nice for you,” he murmurs, cigarette hanging from his lips as he lets his dark gaze pan across the other Havoc boys. It’s embarrassing as fuck, since I happen to be standing there with that I just got my brains banged out look going on. “I am Bernadette’s husband. But I’m also the middle letter of Havoc. You know I choose our family every time.” He holds up his hand and gestures loosely with inked fingers. “Figure your relationships out on your own time; just don’t let them interfere with mine.”
Victor continues on toward the garage door and out into the watercolor purple of early evening.
I step out of the office, adjusting the baggy sweatpants. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, alerting me to the fact that four very different, very hungry male gazes have just landed on me. Down, boys, I think, taking out another pack of smokes that Vic gave me and lighting one up. Sure, sure, it’s a filthy, dirty habit.
Did you think there was anything clean about my story?
“Well, now, that was unexpected,” Hael murmurs, running his tongue slowly across his lower lip. His expression—starved and wild all at once—doesn’t surprise me. Oscar’s, on the other hand, does. There’s the briefest flicker of desperation before Oscar clamps down on it and turns away.
“Get ready. We leave in fifteen.” He takes off after Vic as I turn to Aaron, Hael, and Cal with a smile.
“Wish I knew where we were going,” I grumble, but then I have to turn away again and clamp a hand over my mouth. Did Victor just … did he just tell me to play with his boys?! I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder, even though I can already tell by the gentleness of the touch that it’s Aaron. That strange flicker takes over me again, like lightning during a summer storm. This time though, I know what it is: happiness.
“Cute that he thinks I need his fucking permission,” Aaron growls, sliding his hands up and down my arms before letting them settle on my shoulders. He squeezes me with strong fingers, working out some of my worst knots. “But that’s what he just did, right? Give us his dark and unwanted blessing?”
“Pretty sure he did,” I say, but I’m still struggling to believe it.
“Hey Bernie,” Callum calls out, and I glance over my shoulder, past Aaron and over to where he’s standing with a handful of peanuts in his palm. He holds the plastic bag with the rest in his other hand. “Have you ever heard the term gang bang?”
“Fuck you, Cal,” I blurt, dancing away from Aaron and then flicking my cigarette at him, as if I’m just too fucking cool for school. Only the devil knows that I’m still a teenage girl inside the dark recesses of my heart. I flip Callum off with both hands, but he just laughs at me as Hael snorts.
“Yo, I was going to make that joke!” he says, snapping his fingers. “Motherfucker.”
“Should’ve moved on it quicker,” Callum purrs in that husky voice of his. He sidles past me, turning in a half-circle and walking backward. “Talk to your husband about it maybe?” he asks, and then he spins around and starts laughing again.
I flip him off again, but Hael just howls and howls.
“Oh, Bernie, can you only imagine? Bet when you agreed to be our girl, you didn’t think you’d have to—”
I put my fingers in my ears to drown him out as I start walking out of the garage.
“Can’t hear you!” I call, until he’s suddenly right there and scooping me into his arms. Hael Harbin carries me over to the blacked-out Escalade as I scream, and then tosses me inside like I weigh nothing at all.
That’s not the first or only scream we hear that night.
But it’s certainly the least violent.
“What’s the plan?” I ask as Callum hands me a brand-new skeleton mask and a pair of black latex gloves. The mask is much nicer than the one I wore when I stood over Neil’s open grave. It’s made of wood, and very pretty. It reminds me of the face paint the boys wore on Halloween.
Cal holds his over his face, blue eyes watching me from the eyeholes. I shiver and he drops it back to his lap with a laugh.
“Time to find out if Mitch is serious about all this,” Vic murmurs from the front seat, rubbing his chin the way he always does when he’s thinking.
“As if killing one of our crew isn’t serious?” I ask, and Victor looks back over his shoulder at me. He gives one of his signature anti-smiles.
“Mm. Quid pro quo, I guess. We killed Danny, so they killed one of our boys. That makes us even, and I won’t play at that game. A bunch of fucking copycats aren’t going to roll into my turf and disrespect me.”
“What about Ivy Hightower?” Aaron asks from the driver’s seat, and it’s Oscar who replies from behind me.
“Hard to say. I don’t think the Charter Crew would kill Danny’s girlfriend, and someone who was a loyal gossip for them. Likely, Bernadette is right about her stepfather being the killer. The part I’m having trouble figuring out is why Ivy’s death happened the same night our boys went missing. We now know for a fact that it was the Charter Crew who took them. We also know that Kali was fucking Neil. I just need more time to figure out how and why they’re connected.”
“If
we factor in my ideas about Kali and David, then I think we’re really getting somewhere,” I add. I don’t even bother to turn around to see Oscar’s reaction. I can feel it. “Because if Kali was willing to seek out a guy I hooked up with at a party, then why not see what’s up with my stepdad, too?”
Oscar makes a sound of annoyance as Callum grins at me.
“Far-reaching, Bernadette. You like to make jumps of logic; I prefer facts.” Oscar’s voice is ice-cold, but I ignore him. He, on the other hand, is very likely staring at the back of my neck; I can feel his gaze like a blast of freezing wind against my nape.
“Alright, kids,” Hael says on the tail-end of a yawn. “Calm your tits. One problem at a time, okay?” He stretches his arms above his head and his hoodie rides up a bit in the front, showing off that flat belly of his. I wet my lips. I’m a little nervous for our excursion, but on the inside, I’m freaking out like a little girl.
I’ve been fantasizing about the Havoc Boys for years. And now, I get to explore every nook and cranny, every dark crevice of their souls. Well, that is, for the boys who actually have souls. I’m not entirely certain that Oscar does.
“Hey Bernie,” Aaron says after a moment of silence. Music trickles softly from the speakers, but nobody’s paying any attention to it. “Do you want to go to the winter formal with me?”
The question comes out of left field, and my head snaps up, lips parting in surprise.
“The winter formal?” I ask, because in all the excitement of joining Havoc I’d totally forgotten that we were all seniors in high school. Jesus. “You want to go to that?”
“We can’t skip Snow Day,” Hael says with a bemused chuckle. “It’s iconic, and this is our last year. Besides, this is a beautiful opportunity to remind every idiot in that fucking school that those hallways belong to us.”
“These fucking streets belong to us,” Victor snorts, pulling on his mask. He looks back at us, and I shiver at the sight of his beautiful face behind the monstrous beauty of the skeleton visage. “But you’re right: it never hurts to remind the populace.”
“So will you?” Aaron asks, looking up and finding my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Go with me, that is?”
My heart flutters and sparkles which is just stupid as hell because I’m not a fluttery or sparkly sort of person. More like a cactus. With big, motherfucking spikes.
“As long as Callum gives me a few dance lessons before then,” I say with a nervous laugh. Both Hael and Vic pick up on it and give me a matching set of looks. I think what I have with Aaron makes them all nervous. It’s hard to match up to first love, isn’t it?
“Deal,” Cal whispers huskily against my ear. This time, he isn’t shy when he leans forward and captures my hand in his, running his tongue up the side of my throat. I shiver as he laughs and Hael leans over to smack him with his mask.
“Stay focused, dipshit, we’re almost there,” Hael says, putting his own mask on. Aaron does the same, and when I look back, I see that Oscar’s face is already covered. He isn’t wearing his glasses either, but I see a glasses case sitting on the seat beside him along with a compact mirror and a plastic contact lens case.
I wonder why he doesn’t wear contacts more often, but then … the glasses are so fucking hot.
I bite my lip and yank my own mask on over my face.
“Remind me what we’re doing,” I say as I look out the window, trying to get a gather on what neighborhood we’re actually in. Some no-man’s land between Prescott and a neighborhood known as the Whiteaker, if I had to hazard a guess. I know every inch of South Prescott, but the boundaries are a little blurry.
“Like I said,” Victor tells me, reaching down to turn up the music. “A reminder never hurts.” He hits the button for the sunroof and then adjusts himself so that he’s crouching in his seat. “Alright, boys, let’s show the Charter Crew that we’re not playing games. Don’t shoot until I give the word, and try not to kill anyone. We already have cops sniffing around our fucking school.” Vic pauses and glances back at us, giving Cal a meaningful look. It’s impactful, even with the mask in place. “Except you, Cal. You know what you need to do.”
Cal and Hael roll their windows down on either side of me while Aaron and Vic do the same in the front.
“Safeties off,” Vic calls out as the Escalade slows, and I look out the window to see a group of people standing around in the front yard of an artsy house. Looks like we’ve just officially crossed over into the Whit, a neighborhood built by artists, musicians, and drugs. It used to be suicide to walk around here in the middle of the night, but the place has had its character ramrodded by uptight millennials seeking cheap homes.
Still, the house we’re driving by is painted with a politically charged mural of men in camo dragging protestors with signs into unmarked vans. I shiver. There are sofas in the front yard and a giant statue welded out of twisted metal branches.
Not sure whose house this is, but I can very clearly see Mitch Charter, his sister Billie, and the remaining Ensbrook brothers in the crowd.
Callum stands up on the seat, the upper half of his body sticking out of the sunroof, and cups his hands around his mouth. He lets out a chilling howl as Victor and Hael lean out their own windows and Oscar and I join Cal by standing up and looking out of the sunroof.
“It’s all Charter Crew at the party, so don’t worry about who you hit.” Victor cranks up the music, and I recognize the song blasting from the speakers as the delightfully upbeat rock track “Degenerates” from the band A Day to Remember. Holy shit. It almost makes the moment seem even more morbid than it already is. “Ready?” Vic calls out as Aaron slows the Escalade to a near stop, leaving us to roll by, almost like everything is moving in slow motion.
Oscar and Callum extend their arms on either side of me, their pistols clutched in two steady hands. I do the same, sandwiched between them, my breath slowing as I focus on the scene in front of me.
Billie Charter is laughing hysterically at something, dressed in what’s very likely a stolen designer party dress. It’s the same teal color as the underside of her two-toned hair. She’s standing next to her brother and holding a red Solo cup.
She’s also the first one to notice us, turning her head and locking eyes with me, even with the skeleton mask on my face.
I let go of my gun with one hand—I think it’s a Glock 19—and run a single finger from the corner of my eye down to my mouth, in the same shape that Billie cut me on Halloween night. My fingers clasp back together around the gleaming black violence that is the Glock as I wait for Vic to give the okay.
“Alright, Havoc,” Vic calls out and I swear, everything in the world comes to a complete stop for the briefest of seconds. Here we are, just the six of us, dressed in the faces of grinning skeletons, wearing black hoodies and holding black guns. “Fire at will!”
My finger squeezes the trigger of the gun as my brain flickers back to a memory of the gun range.
“You see that, Bernadette,” the Thing whispered in my ear, his breath hot and stale, his leer a blade that cut deep into my soul. “How easy it is to make someone disappear? Just one, little squeeze and a good aim, and it’s all over.”
My first shot hits Billie’s Solo cup, sending beer splashing all over the front of her dress and into her face. I see her stumble back, mouth wide, attention on her ruined dress for a second before she looks back at me.
I’m aware this entire interaction is happening over the span of a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity, like each second is stretched out and lingering. I fire again as the boys’ bullets pepper the crowd, exploding a cooler, sending white stuffing flying out of the couch. My second shot goes wide, hitting the ground and knocking bits of dirt and grass from the lawn.
Cal howls again and fires off a perfect shot into the chest of a guy who’s lifting a gun of his own to aim at us. That’s when I take my third shot, hitting Billie right in the shoulder. Her teal dress blooms crimson with blood as she stumbles back and
falls to her ass. That one’s for Aaron, I think, switching my aim over to Mitch.
But then the Escalade is shooting forward like a missile and I stumble back. Callum catches me and we drop back down to the seat together. My vision is blurry and my breath is coming in rapid pants as we squeal around the corner and rocket off toward South Prescott and the garage.
“Fuck yes!” Hael chortles, tearing off his mask and grinning. “Did you see the looks on their ugly faces? Holy shit, they were not expecting that.”
I push my own mask up and into my hair, heart thundering wildly. The adrenaline rush is intense, making my hands shake as I engage the safety on the pistol and lay it in my lap.
“Pretty sure I got Daren Matis,” Cal says, and I’m happy to hear that his breathing is just as frenzied and out of control as my own. He licks his lips and swallows to reign in the adrenaline. “He graduated Prescott two years ago, so at least we don’t have another missing student to worry about.”
“Perfect,” Vic says, grinning as he glances back at me. “You alright, Bern?”
“I’m good,” I respond, trying to get my shit together. Aaron checks on me in the rearview mirror again, his gaze so intense that I shiver. He smiles once and nods, and I feel a blush take over my cheeks. Even he took shots at the Charter Crew by leaning over with one hand on his gun, the other on the wheel, and firing out of Victor’s window. Seriously fucking impressive. “I’m really good. I broke Billie’s cup, ruined her dress, and pegged her in the shoulder.”
“Oh, hell yes,” Callum purrs as he chuckles, and I glance out the rear windshield to see if there’s anyone following us. Cops, Charter Crew, or otherwise. But there’s nobody there. You know, except for Oscar. He stares back at me, his mask now in his lap, his gray eyes unburdened by the black-framed glasses he seems to prefer wearing. “Where do you think Kali was?”
“She left the school with Mack again,” Oscar explains, still looking right at me. “I thought she might be here, but she’s not. Perhaps she’s missing her lover?” He just keeps staring at me, so I turn away to look out the front window instead.
Mayhem at Prescott High Page 16