Rich Riot

by Henry, Max

  Table of Contents

  BLURB

  FREE NOVELLA

  READER GROUP

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  LOYAL LOVE

  ALSO BY MAX

  MAILING LIST

  THE MUSIC

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  RICH RIOT

  Arcadia High Anarchists #3

  Copyright © 2019 Max Henry

  Published by Max Henry

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Max Henry is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Nothing angers a bully more than holding a mirror to who they are.

  The truth is out, the battle lines drawn. What started as a fight between city and country, escalated into a battle of good versus evil—those with a conscience against those whose greed grows stronger.

  Turn a blind eye to the sins or leave.

  I’ve made my choice, and now I intend to ruin the tyrants who stayed.

  But first, I need to get my brother back.

  ARCADIA HIGH ANARCHISTS

  Reading Order

  Good Girls

  Bad Boys

  Rich Riot

  Loyal Love

  Want to come hangout with some like-minded chicks?

  Then click here to jump into Max’s Madhouse on Facebook and get committed!

  Vindication

  vin·di·ca·tion

  /ˌvindəˈkāSH(ə)n/

  noun

  1.

  the action of clearing someone of blame or suspicion.

  2.

  proof that someone or something is right, reasonable, or justified.

  LACEY

  “Perhaps we should have waited for him.” Greer twists her lips in thought as we hustle toward the warmth of McDonald’s. “Colt might change his mind about leaving the party after Arthur’s finished.”

  I shake my head, burying my hands in the pockets of my coat. “That’s his problem if he does. He had his chance.” Damn, it’s still cold after dark for mid-spring.

  Greer falls silent beside me. The only sound between us is the click of our shoes on the rough concrete. She struggles to keep up with my long strides, her pin-thin heels hindering her speed.

  “You should take those off,” I say, nodding toward her Ted Bakers. “Nobody here cares if you’re barefoot.”

  Beau turns slightly ahead of us, seemingly to check what Greer decides to do next.

  She vehemently shakes her head. “I care.” She gestures to the footpath ahead. “Besides, I’m not trying my luck being barefoot around here.”

  “She has a point,” Beau mutters before facing forward again.

  “About what?” Tuck turns.

  “Going barefoot,” Beau explains. “Sore feet.”

  Tuck chuckles. “In those damn things, I’m not surprised.”

  “And yet you boys love them,” Greer drones, pulling a silly face as she does.

  I link my arm with hers, huddling closer for warmth when we reach the last pedestrian crossing before our fast-food haven. We’ve been walking for close to fifteen minutes to get this far into the city. Not one of us were keen to sit idle outside Christian’s gates after that showdown, and when Greer’s stomach grumbled it was unanimous that a midnight feast would be in order.

  “Are you sure your brother doesn’t mind picking us up?” I ask Beau.

  “I totally would have paid for an Uber for you all,” Greer adds.

  He smiles a little, the barest tease of his lips that makes Greer clutch me tighter. “Nah. He’s fine with it.”

  “Come on,” Ed grumbles, smacking the crosswalk button half a dozen more times. “Some of us need a feed.”

  “Settle, petal,” Tuck teases. “Any second now.”

  Sure enough, the little green man illuminates, and we surge forward to the sound of the tinny signal.

  “Hot apple pie, here I come,” Greer exclaims, dragging me along with her.

  I giggle, as she seems to find a second wind in her stiff shoes, and blast past the boys toward the automatic doors. An illuminated board displaying gastronomic heaven greets us as we pile into the entryway.

  The guys all order large—burgers meals, upsized—while Greer and I get a hot apple pocket each and decide to share a strawberry sundae.

  “So,” Tuck asks, dunking one of his fries into our ice cream. “What happens when you girls get back to school on Monday?”

  He plays the question off as light-hearted, but there’s a distinct undertone of worry in his voice.

  So I set him at ease. “I won’t be at school.”

  The table collectively stares at me in silence while I pop a broken piece of piecrust in my mouth.

  “Say again?” Greer finally asks.

  “I said I wouldn’t be at school.” I hold off on taking a proper bite. “I’m suspended.”

  Ed lets out a low, impressed “Ooo”, lifting his hand for Tuck to high-five. Beau shakes his head at him, noticing the way Tuck blinks down at the table, clearly pissed.

  “Why?” Tuck grinds out.

  “That set-up with Gayle. I had a meeting with the principal earlier today.” I shift my gaze to the clock on the wall. “Technically, yesterday.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Greer cries. “How can they do that? You had nothing to do with what happened.”

  “Yeah.” I hold her eye. “But that’s not how it was made to look. Was it?”

  She picks at her pie. “I swear I didn’t know she hired a tattoo guy.”

  “But either way, it was okay to set Lacey up like that?” Tuck snaps.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Ed glances at the three of us in turn, lined up across the table from him.

  “It’s nothing,” I hedge.

  “It most certainly is not nothing,” Greer scolds. She shifts her attention to Ed and Be
au. “Libby—the blonde bitch back at the party—set Lacey up. There was a girl due a burn from us, and Libby made it appear as though Lacey orchestrated the whole thing.”

  “They fucking tattooed a girl against her will. Wrote a messed up phrase on her arm,” Tuck grumbles.

  “What the fuck?” Ed leans back, taking his sleeve of fries with him. “Is that, like, normal for your school or something?”

  “No,” Greer and I say in unison.

  “Well.” She looks me dead in the eye. “Sort of. Right?”

  “Punishing commoners is seen as expected from the Chosen.”

  “The who?” Beau frowns.

  “Chosen.” Greer thumbs toward me. “Lacey, me, Libby, Arthur, Barrett, Christian, and Richard. We’re the royalty at our school.”

  “Were,” I mumble.

  “Why?” Beau asks. “What the fuck do you do to earn that title?”

  “Nothing,” Tuck mutters. “Am I right?” He looks straight past me to Greer.

  She jerks her head to one side. “Somebody has to maintain order.”

  “Through terrorism,” he drawls. “Epic.”

  She glares at him. I lean back to remove myself from the line of fire.

  “Are you telling me that there’s no equivalent at your school?” Greer challenges.

  “Nobody thinks of themselves as a God like that.”

  I snort a laugh at Tuck’s response.

  “What?” he asks.

  “It’s just that’s exactly how you and Johnson acted the first day I went to Arcadia High. You strut around like a pair of cockerels.” I double down when he seems unconvinced. “You call yourselves the Mavericks.”

  Beau snickers. Ed’s grin remains wide.

  “You two don’t get a free pass,” I say, wagging my finger at them. “You’re almost as bad.”

  “Come on,” Ed teases. “We’re the nice guys. We balance out those two arseholes.” He points to Tuck.

  It earns him a French fry to the head.

  “Amber and Dee,” I state. “Mandy and Cate. You’ve got your own hierarchy.”

  “Maybe,” Tuck cedes. “But they don’t do shit as messed up as that.”

  “Don’t they?” I lift one eyebrow. “They stole my damn school shirt. I had to get a spare one from the administration.”

  “They what?” Beau leans back, arms folded.

  “How come I never saw that?” Tuck nudges me with his shoulder; a wide grin spread across his face.

  Beau’s phone skates across the table. He lifts it, promptly dumping it back down and leaning in toward his food once more. “Eat up. He’s almost here.”

  ***

  “I’m not seeing things, am I?” Greer asks.

  The automatic doors slide closed behind us. “No. You’re most definitely not.” I slow my pace, unsure of what I find.

  A lifted four-wheel-drive sits across the road, clearly modified for more than looks alone. The monster of a truck is somewhat intimidating; the deep vibration of the idling engine echoes off the buildings around us.

  “Come on.” Tuck slides his arm around my waist. “Let’s go introduce you both.”

  Beau turns from his position beside the driver’s door and scans our group. “We’ve got one too many.”

  Ed looks at each of us in turn and then sighs. “Yeah. No prizes for guessing who gets the short straw, huh?”

  “Would you rather one of the girls sat up back?” Tuck jests.

  He gets the middle finger in return.

  “Are you sure about this?” Greer finds my arm, clinging tight.

  “It’s fine,” I assure, ignoring the flicker of doubt that tickles at my gut.

  All night, I’ve felt a part of the Arcadia crowd. But standing here facing an unknown guy in a huge truck, I feel more connected to Greer as an outsider. I don’t know what to make of that. Will this always be the way when I meet someone new? I’ll forever feel as though I don’t truly belong?

  “You ready to go home, then?” Tuck opens the back passenger door.

  “You girls get in where it’s warm,” Beau instructs. “I’ll do names and shit once we’re out of the fucking cold.”

  Ed climbs up on the back tyre and then hoists himself into the well-side tray. He slides half under the tonneau cover, using it as a blanket for his legs while he situates himself against the back window.

  These are the situations your parents teach you about; don’t get in a stranger’s car. Although my reasoning tells me this is Beau’s brother. The guys trust him; we should too.

  “You first, Greer.” Tuck offers her a hand up, providing stability while she climbs onto the running board and into the back. “Babe?”

  “I got it.” I slide in next to my friend, welcoming the reassurance of Tuck’s firm body beside mine when he completes our sandwich and shuts the door.

  “Girls,” Beau states from the front seat. “My brother, Caleb.” He flicks his thumb toward the driver.

  I catch the intake of breath from Greer on my left, feeling my chest do the same when our driver turns to face us. “Hey, ladies.”

  He’s Beau all over again, only older, with a harder jaw, and undeniably more built in the body.

  “I always thought you were an only child,” is the best response I can come up with. Well done, Lace. Well done.

  Caleb snorts a laugh, as does Tuck. “You still don’t know that much about us, huh?” He shakes his head with a teasing smile.

  “Well. Thanks for the impromptu ride, anyway.”

  “Totally welcome, little lady,” Caleb rumbles in a deliciously raw tenor, as he turns to face the front again.

  Greer’s palm finds my knee. I trap it beneath my hand in a silent, “I know.”

  Honestly. Is the guy single? Because if he is, I may have found the solution for Greer’s fascination with Beau.

  Christ—what a night.

  Two pounding thuds against the back window echo through the cab. “It’s fucking cold out here, arseholes. Get a move on!”

  With a chuckle from the boys, Caleb pulls into the street.

  I feel the damn vibrations from the power under the hood through to my core. The boys in Riverbourne don’t have toys as cool as this. As powerful? Sure. Flashy? Without a doubt. But this is like a Tonka truck on steroids.

  I want one.

  Tuck notices my smile and Greer’s wide eyes. “Caleb competes off-road, so the truck kinda goes with the territory.”

  “Seriously, Beau,” I scold. “And you never once mentioned this to me?”

  “Nobody asks.”

  “You drive this in competitions?” Greer asks, seriously awestruck.

  “Not this one.” I catch the grin on Caleb’s lips in the rearview. “This is my runabout,” he explains as the truck growls down the road. “The sponsors like me to advertise their gear everywhere I can, not just on the circuit.”

  Explains why a guy in what I assume to be his early to mid-twenties can afford this. Most of it would be gifted or at a substantial discount.

  “Well, I don’t think you’re going to go unnoticed any time soon,” I quip. “Pretty sure half the city is awake now.”

  “Shouldn’t be in bed so early on the weekend.” Caleb retorts. “Where we headed first, little bro?”

  “Who’s closer?” Beau asks. “You, Lacey? Or Greer?”

  No way. “I’m not going back there,” I protest. “Screw that.”

  “You’re not worried your mum will lose it when she finds out you’ve gone?” Tuck asks.

  I shake my head. “For all I know, she already has.” After tonight, she’s bound to find out anyway, if not from Colt, then from one of her hen-picking ladies at the next luncheon. The majority of the parents in Riverbourne know exactly what their kids get up to; they just choose not to discuss it in public.

  “You can crash at my house,” Greer offers. “You’re all welcome if you want to hang around for a while.” She says the last bit directly to Caleb.

  “Thanks,” Beau says,
“but I’ve already woken Caleb up for this. We’ll head back to Arcadia.”

  “Weren’t you just mocking people already in bed?” Tuck teases, shunting the back of Caleb’s seat.

  He snorts. “I have a valid reason to need sleep. I’ve got to be at scrutineering at 6 A.M.”

  “You’re competing tomorrow?” Greer asks, leaning forward.

  Caleb nods.

  “Can I come and watch?”

  I mentally face-palm myself. I love her to bits, but she has no scruples when it comes to letting people know what she wants. A by-product of an ask-for-it-and-get-it upbringing, I guess.

  “No offence,” Caleb says with a smirk, “but I’m not sure it’s your thing, princess.”

  “Don’t know for sure unless you try, right?”

  A tense second passes, none of us uttering a word while Caleb pauses at an intersection to size Greer up in the rearview mirror. “You’re on. Now tell me where you live.”

  Beau slides down in his seat with a groan. I get the impression his brother might be a bit of a player, and our friend is used to him stealing all the girls.

  Usually, I’d root for the underdog, but when my best buddy back in Arcadia has a vested interest in that underdog, I’m waving a banner for the bad guy. Greer can look out for herself. She plays meek, but she’s a smart cookie. She won’t let Caleb get away with anything she doesn’t want him to.

  I nestle into Tuck beside me, my chest tightening when he lifts the arm between us to drape it around my shoulders. The streetlights flash in a rhythmic pale-yellow wash through the window, highlighting how close we sit to each other. I close my eyes and savour the moment, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his breaths.

  “Missed you, babe.” His words whispered against my head startle me from my semi-sleep like state.

  Tipping my chin up to the guy who’s already been there through so much, I whisper the response I wish weren’t true. “I already miss you again.”

  LACEY

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” Greer flicks a scarf around her neck and lifts her hair from beneath.

  “I’m sure.” Me, on the other hand: I rock last night’s clothes and a bird’s nest for a hairstyle. “You’re already crashing Caleb’s day. Plus, I have things I need to do.”

  Greer did offer a change of clothes and a shower, but I’m keen to get back to our temporary housing and face the music. Rip the Band-Aid off in one painful sweep.