“Everyone at the club gets a number,” Kyan explained before Saint could come up with any more theories. “I’m 69. Obviously.”
I couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that despite myself. “Seriously?” I asked and he leaned close to me as if the others weren’t all listening too.
“You want me to prove to you that I deserve it? We can ditch our next class…” Kyan leaned down to run his tongue up the side of my neck, making me flush red and Saint elbowed him in the gut to make him back up.
“Maybe later,” I said.
“Focus,” Saint snapped.
"Check the rest of the phone," Monroe suggested. "If we're going to risk giving ourselves away then at least make sure there isn't a name and address in the contacts list linked to this 52 guy."
"That would be moronic," Saint deadpanned.
"I was exaggerating, but you catch my fucking drift," Monroe urged and Saint nodded, checking the contacts list and the emails, but there was nothing of interest there. There were no other apps on the phone and it was clear this was just a point of contact between Mortez and this 52 person.
"Come on," Kyan urged. "Text back with some bullshit about the phone being broken and having to get it repaired."
"That's not an entirely useless idea I suppose," Saint mused, glancing at the clock. "But I need to think on how to phrase it exactly and we only have a minute and fifteen seconds before we have to head to class.
Kyan grabbed the phone from his hand and Saint snarled, twisting sharply around to reach for it and wincing in pain as he did so. I sucked in a breath, moving forward to stop him from getting up.
Kyan tapped something out on the phone and pressed send before Saint could do himself any more damage trying to get to him and I placed a hand on Saint's shoulder to calm him. The tension ran out of his muscles as he looked to me then held his palm out to Kyan for the phone.
"That'll do it," Kyan announced, giving it back to him and Saint's eyes flashed at him as he looked down at it.
I moved closer to read it myself.
Mortez:
My phone broke in the fight so I couldn't get a photo. But the job is done.
I held my breath as I hunted for the dots at the bottom of the message thread that would say someone was replying, but they didn't come.
"There is one other thing we must to discuss,” Saint said, looking to me and my heart pounded as I caught on to what he was going to say. “Tatum is immune to the Hades Virus.”
The other guys sucked in breaths, looking to me in confusion.
“What? How?” Blake demanded, his eyes full of hope and it made my heart squeeze.
Saint leaned back in his chair, letting me explain and I wet my lips. “Well…my father trialled a vaccine on me. It was supposed to have gone through proper testing but apparently corners were cut and…it wasn’t safe. That’s how my sister died,” I said, my throat tight as they gazed at me with a mixture of awe and pity. “Anyway, I guess it worked on me somehow. My dad told me when I saw him and, well…” I shrugged, not wanting to dwell on that memory a second longer.
“Thank fuck for small miracles,” Kyan said heavily, staring at me intently.
“This must be kept secret,” Monroe said darkly.
“Yes, this knowledge will not leave our home,” Saint growled. “Not a word of it.”
“We’ll take it to the grave,” Blake swore.
The others nodded as one, a vow shining in their eyes that I was sure none of them would break
"We must leave," Saint said firmly as he glanced at the clock on the wall, rising from his seat and turning to me, realising I was still in my nightdress and his whole world looked ready to crumble.
"Your first class is with me so your chances of detention are low." Monroe glanced between the others with a smirk. "But never zero."
"That isn't the point," Saint spat and I could see he was about to pop a blood vessel.
"I'll be ready on time." I flew away from him, racing upstairs, knowing that another Saint outburst could lead to him injuring himself even further.
I pulled on my uniform in record time, taming my hair and adding minimal makeup to my face before sprinting back downstairs again. The guys were just stepping out the door as Saint barked at them to leave when I fell into step between Saint and Monroe with a smug smile, blowing a loose lock of hair from my face.
"You didn't shower," Saint grumbled.
"Don't nit pick," I insisted and surprisingly, he didn't. "Did 52 reply?"
"Not yet," Saint said. "But if they do fall for this, we must be prepared."
"I'm sure you're working out a ten point plan in your head right now," Monroe said, sounding hopeful instead of mocking him for it.
"Eighteen points," Saint corrected and Monroe smiled, making Saint almost smile too.
We made it to the Acacia Sports Hall and I split away from the guys into the girls’ changing room, finding Mila already in her dark green shorts and t-shirt with the Everlake crest on the breast. I realised I should have just dressed in my gym clothes before I left The Temple, but I guessed Saint wouldn't have been able to accept that.
"Hey girl," Mila said with a sad smile. She often gave me that look since the news had come out about my dad’s death. "How are you doing?" she asked with genuine empathy and it cut into my chest, splitting the wound wide.
"I'm better," I said, which wasn't untrue. I was still deeply hurting, but it wasn't the viciously keen pain of the first couple of weeks. Part of me hated finding any reprieve from his loss though. I was caught between not wanting to feel this devouring ache, and not wanting to let go of it. "I just need constant distractions."
"Well, that I can do," she said firmly. "I can offer you mindless chat, cookies and hot chocolate on a girl’s night at mine tonight? I can even throw in a cheesy movie or two and upgrade the hot chocolate to hard liquor, if you prefer."
"Yeah, that sounds like a dream," I agreed, my heart lifting.
"Great, do you need to like...ask permission?" she lowered her voice to a whisper and my stomach clenched at her words. Things had shifted between me and the Night Keepers, but between Saint's rules and all of their possessive ways, I knew they were going to be difficult about this. But I wasn't going to let them cage me anymore.
"I'll be there, don't worry about it," I said firmly and she beamed.
We filed out of the changing room with the rest of the girls and I had the feeling this day was going to be one of the easier ones. I just had to find a way to convince my jealous little tribe that I needed a few hours off from them tonight for girl time. Easy.
We headed into the sports hall where Monroe was waiting with the guys in our class. He was chatting with Kyan, the two of them chuckling about something as we approached and my lips tugged up at the sight. He always seemed to smile so much more these days since he’d joined the Night Keepers, and though I knew he’d never admit it, it was clear he’d found a place amongst them that felt natural. I shared in that secret too. Because I would never have thought I’d not only fit in with the Night Keepers, but feel like I belonged with them on a base level, like we were always meant to find each other.
"Today we're going to be completing a fitness test to see how you have improved since the start of the school year," Monroe announced.
I hungered for that kind of challenge, I wanted to push myself until I couldn't feel anything anymore. There was nothing like the sweet burn of exercise to drown out every other feeling in my body.
"Line up on both sides of the hall," Monroe instructed and the class split up.
I moved to stand beside Mila at the far end of the hall, but we soon had company as Blake, Kyan and Saint all walked over to stand to my right.
"Memphis!" Monroe barked. "Sit your ass out. You're excused from this class like I've said a thousand times."
Saint scowled, standing there in his P.E. uniform with his arm in a sling.
"I'll watch then," he seethed, snapping his fingers at Freeloader furthe
r down the line who came running his way. He murmured something to her and she raced out of the room even when Monroe shouted after her to stop. She returned a minute later with a chair and a cushion, positioning them in front of me. Saint sat down on it, taking his phone from his pocket. A smirk danced around his mouth as he suddenly had a front row seat to my fitness test. Asswit.
"Do you really have to sit right there?" I huffed, placing my hands on my hips.
"Yes," he said simply. "I will encourage you."
“And stare at her tits bouncing about,” Blake pointed out and Saint didn’t deny it.
“It’s called a sports bra, doucheberries, and thanks to Saint, it’s the best one available so bounceage is minimised to the max,” I said, tossing my hair.
“But it can never be totally eradicated,” Kyan pointed out with a smirk.
Monroe called out to the class, ending our back and forth. "Each exercise will last one minute with fifteen second breaks in between sets. You will count how many of each movement you do. If you lie, you are only lying to yourself. Ready. Jumping jacks. Go!"
I started jumping beside Mila, and Saint watched me closely, correcting my form and making me angrier and angrier by the second. Kyan and Blake were working furiously to outdo each other beside me, grunting and growling as they desperately tried to out jump each other. Monroe shouted stop on the minute and I panted as the fifteen second break set in.
"If you fall into the top fitness bracket in the class, I will reward you," Saint told me and my mind spiked with an idea.
"Okay, if I win, I can spend a few hours this evening with Mila in her room," I said and Saint considered that, running a finger over his lips.
"Deal. But if you don't fall into the top bracket, I will punish you."
"Deal," I agreed just as easily and Monroe shouted out for us to start on jump squats.
“What the hell?” Mila hissed at me, her eyes rounding, but we were too deep into the set already for me to explain. Not that I had much of an explanation for that except that Saint liked to spank me or drive me crazy with sex toys. Totally normal shit. Shit I would definitely discuss with her when I secured our girl’s night.
I fell into a rhythm, pushing myself harder and harder as I relished the burn in my thighs. It made me forget everything, made the hurt in my body feel sweet in comparison to the raking pain over my dad. Blake and Kyan were throwing punches at each other between every jump, trying to throw the other off and I tried not to get distracted by their display of testosterone. It was especially hard when both of them took their shirts off and tossed them on the floor.
Saint watched us all with approval in his eyes, tapping intermittently on his phone and smiling like we were attractions performing well in his circus.
By the final round, everything ached and I was coated with sweat, my own shirt discarded so I was just in my sports bra and Saint's eyes devoured me. The final round was burpees and everyone groaned, half the class barely getting through each one while me, Kyan and Blake fell into a furious rhythm with each other, somehow in perfect time. Mila was kicking ass beside me, but she was starting to slow and I urged her on as she groaned in pain.
Monroe finally called time and I fell to the floor beside Kyan on his back as his whole chest heaved and Blake's golden skin glinted beyond him. Part of me wanted to climb into the space between them and curl up there as we bathed in the aftermath of our workout.
"Holy shit," I panted.
“We’re almost as out of breath as when I fuck you and you’re hardly able to tell me how much more you like me than the other Night Keepers,” Kyan said, roaring a laugh as Blake punched him.
“Wait,” Saint snapped suddenly, standing and walking forward to stare down at Kyan. He pointed at the inner side of his left arm with a look of horror on his face and I rolled over, pushing myself up to see what had caught his attention. “What the fuck is that?!” Saint snapped and Kyan turned his arm out further so Saint could see it better. I burst into hysterics as I saw the brand new tattoo there of a squid, the tentacles perfectly defined as they flared out across his forearm.
“When the hell did you get that?” Blake snorted.
“Is this why you’ve been wearing long-sleeved shirts all the time lately?” I asked as Saint’s shadow seemed to grow around Kyan as he seethed.
“Maybe,” Kyan said, tossing me a grin. “I wanted it to heal up before the big reveal. Do you like it? I think the depth of meaning to it really makes it special.”
“No she doesn’t fucking like it. Who could like that? It’s hideous!” Saint snarled. “You will have it removed just as soon as this lockdown is lifted.”
Kyan blew out a derisive breath. “Make me.”
“Oh I will, I assure you of that.” Saint smiled vindictively and I could almost hear the cogs in his brain working as he figured out what leverage he could come up with to make Kyan do what he wanted.
“Has everyone got their results?” Monroe called to the room.
“Shit, I lost count,” I muttered.
"I have complied each of your results," Saint said, holding up his phone.
“Of course you did,” Kyan laughed through his heavy breathing.
How the hell did he manage that??
Monroe wrote out a chart on the whiteboard and everyone added up their numbers to work out which bracket they fell in. I beamed when Saint announced that me, Kyan and Blake were top of the class above several members of the football team.
"Congratulations," Saint said to me, his eyes glinting. "You have earned a night with your friend. You can be with her from seven until ten tonight."
“How nice of you,” Mila said under breath, not loud enough for him to hear. I knew she’d never understand this, but really I was just playing Saint at his own game. And I’d freaking won.
I grinned, not even giving a shit that he was designating times for me. That was just how Saint worked.
Monroe didn’t let up all lesson, forcing us to work on whichever exercises we found hardest until we were all dripping with sweat. As mine had been burpees, I especially wanted to punch him in the dick. But as the endorphins kicked in on my way out, I guessed I could forgive him.
After class, we headed out of the hall and Blake slung his sweaty arm around me, pressing a hot kiss to my temple. He smelled of man and heat and deliciousness. I turned toward him, fisting a hand in his hair and tip-toeing up to press my lips to his. He growled demandingly, grabbing my waist and hoisting me up so I wrapped my legs around him. I laughed as he made a show of pinning me against the wall and I heard Kyan cursing somewhere behind us and a bunch of girls gasping and muttering.
His hot, sweaty chest pressed to mine and I loved it, drawing him closer as he kissed me like I was the prom queen and he was the monster who’d stolen me away from my king. I was deep into that wild fantasy when Monroe barked at us.
“Rivers, Bowman! You have a fucking audience, please stop dry humping each other in the corridor.”
Blake put me down reluctantly, smirking at me and I looked to Monroe with my cheeks flushing. He had his arms folded and was playing a good game at looking like a stern teacher as he ordered the rest of the students into the changing room. But I could see beneath all of that to the jealousy swirling in his eyes and that got me even hotter. I was quietly conjuring up a scenario where he came over here, fighting for me, then Blake would fight back…Kyan would get all caveman about it too and they’d all just start brawling and-
"Meeting. Now." Saint strode toward the exit without explanation and we all frowned at each other as he left.
"I think we’ve been summoned,” Kyan said, his eyes still pinned to me like he was considering grabbing me and stealing me away from Blake. Or maybe he’d do whatever he was thinking about right here in front of him and Monroe. I shook my head to clear it, figuring it was probably best not to get into an orgy right now and turned, following Saint outside.
The others were right on my heels as we spilled through the double d
oors and Saint turned to us, taking out Mortez's phone. My heart skipped and jumped and all my heated ideas were forgotten as I focused on it.
“We’ve had a message,” Saint announced, showing it to us.
I read it with my pulse hammering.
52:
Who the fuck is this?
“Shit,” I breathed.
“Busted,” Blake laughed.
“It’s not funny, asshole.” Monroe punched him in the arm and Blake’s smile fell.
“I believe we are at a dead end,” Saint said simply and Kyan strode forward, snatching the phone from him before he could stop him. He hit dial then the speaker phone button and a ringing sound blared from it.
Saint parted his lips as if to rebuke him then slowly nodded. “I suppose this train of action isn’t total insanity.”
“So what you’re saying is that I came up with a plan before you did?” Kyan taunted and Saint’s eyes froze to hard blocks of ice.
He opened his mouth to retort when someone answered the call. Holy shit.
“You sure have some fucking balls,” the gruff male voice said.
“Yeah, they weigh about fifty pounds more than yours do,” Kyan said cockily, holding the phone to his mouth, but Saint snatched it from him.
“We’ve got a few questions for you,” Saint said, his voice calm yet holding a deadly threat in it.
The man on the line laughed obnoxiously. “Well I have a few for you too, you piece of shit.”
“I assure you, calling me a shit is like calling the devil naughty.”
“So are you gonna tell me what you did with my men, you fucking asshole because that many guys don’t go off the radar all at once unless they ain’t breathing anymore.”
“You at least have a few brain cells to rub together then,” Saint answered. “So I will offer you a deal that even a reasonably clever man would take. Fifty thousand dollars for the name of your boss.”
“And who says I ain’t the boss?” the man growled dangerously.
Kings of Anarchy Page 17