Cruel Devil: A Small Town Brother's Best Friend, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 3)

by Daniela Romero

  Without looking at him, I tighten my grip on his neck.

  “My hands will be fine,” I snap. “And if they’re not, fuck it. It’ll be worth it to teach this motherfucker a lesson.”

  Emilio appears on my other side and both he and Roman work together to shove me back.

  I drag Deacon backward with me.

  “Dude, let go,” Emilio shouts.

  “No.”

  “God dammit,” Roman snaps. “For once, will you fucking listen? He isn’t worth it.”

  My nostrils flare. “You have no idea what—”

  Emilio curses. “Dammit, Dominique. He’s turning blue. Shit. I didn’t know black could turn that shade of blue.”

  I turn to Deacon, eyes narrowing. “Idiot. He’s not turning blue. He’s turning white. See, around his mouth is muted and almost ashy.”

  Emilio leans in for a closer look and I use my free hand to smack him upside the head.

  “Fucker,” he complains, rubbing the back of his head.

  “I think you should see a doctor if you think that is blue. Are you color blind?”

  Deacon is still struggling, but the strength has been leached out of him and his swings are more like pats on the arm now.

  “Not fucking helping,” Roman bites out.

  “Right.” Emilio gives me his best impression of a serious look. “Drop him, man.”

  I quirk a brow. “That the best you got?”

  “What the hell are you all standing around for? Get to moving.” Coach shouts, but his voice is far away which means he hasn’t caught sight of Deacon yet.

  “Fuck.” That was Emilio.

  “Hijo de puta.” And that would be Roman. I’ve heard cabrón out of his mouth enough times to know it basically translates to fucker or smartass, but this one is new.

  “What was that?”

  “Son of a bitch,” Emilio supplies before adding on a groan, “We are so fucked.”

  I glare at Deacon, seeing the fearful panic in his eyes. I sigh and let go. He slumps to the ground, gasping for breath while clawing at his throat. Coach is about halfway across the field, so we have maybe another minute before this becomes an issue. Enough time for Deacon to get his pussy ass off the ground and fall into line.

  I crouch down in front of him, balancing on the balls of my feet, and drop a heavy hand on his shoulder. He’s coughing and wheezing, but still manages to look my way, letting me know he’s aware of the very real threat I still pose. “You think my issue is that I’m jealous of a punk like you? I’m not. My problem with you is that you left a bruise on Kasey’s arm and when I told you to stay the fuck away from her, you mouthed off.”

  “What the fuck?” Emilio starts, but I block him out.

  I’m going to get my point across to this asshole one way or the other. Kasey is off limits, and if he ever lays a hand on her again, I’ll fucking kill him.

  I grab his chin with a near bruising grip and force him to look up, his back arching from the ground, but he’s too weak to fight me. “After today. You’re going to pretend you don’t know her. You won’t look at her. You won’t talk to her and you sure as fuck will not touch her. Do you understand?”

  He gives a slight nod.

  “Good.” I release him and stand. “Because the next time I come for you, it won’t be anywhere with witnesses.”

  I stalk toward the field, planning to intercept Coach, when I hear Emilio shout,“Puta madre, Que te Folle un Pez!” and turn just in time to see him slam his fist into Deacon’s face while he’s still on the ground. He knocks him out cold with the single hit.

  “What the fuck did that mean?” I ask Roman, a smile curling my lips.

  He smirks and tilts his head to the side, thinking. “The literal translation?”

  I nod.

  “Motherfucker, I hope you get fucked by a fish.”

  I choke on a laugh. “What? Why a fish?”

  He shrugs as Emilio—worked up and chest heaving like he just ran drills—joins us.

  “It’s harsher in Spanish,” Roman adds.

  Emilio glares at us both, anger clouding his eyes. “You better start explaining what you meant about him leaving a bruise on Baby Henderson.”

  Roman’s eyes narrow, a vicious glint in his eyes as he takes a step toward Deacon, who is still prone on the ground. I grab his jersey and shake my head. “Not now,” I grunt, knowing exactly what he’s thinking and agreeing. One hit isn’t enough to satisfy any of our need for retribution, which is why he never should have gotten in my way.

  His mouth tightens, but he concedes. Then, loud enough for a few of our teammates to hear he says. “Any man weak enough to leave a mark on a woman isn’t a man at all. Hunt is going to learn real fucking fast we won’t tolerate abusive assholes on this team.”

  A few of the guys nod their heads, gazes sharpening with that information. Lines are being drawn in the sand as we speak, and I for one can’t wait for Deacon to get his next dose of fuck-you medicine.

  Chapter Ten

  I ignore the sounds of partying going on in other parts of the house and focus on my textbook. I’ve done a pretty good job of hiding from my housemates. I probably shouldn’t. My mom keeps sending me messages and leaving voicemails asking if I’ve made any new friends yet. Kind of hard to do when you’re actively avoiding everyone.

  But there’s this strange irrational part of me that thinks if people see me, they’ll know.

  They’ll know that three days ago Dominique Price dry humped me against a wall before baring my ass in an empty classroom and spanking me. And worse, they’ll know I liked it.

  I groan miserably into my hands. There has to be something wrong with me when that thought alone has me clenching my thighs and aching for something else to be between them.

  My bedroom door swings open. “Kasey!” A female voice singsongs, startling me. “Why are you studying right now when you should be hanging out with me!”

  Quinn skips into my room wearing a bright orange bikini top and a pair of cut-off denim shorts. She plops down on my bed beside me, an exaggerated pout on her face.

  “You’re drunk,” I tell her.

  She rolls her eyes and lets out a huff. “Obviously. And you should be, too.” Then with a whine she adds, “I’m sorry.”

  I frown at her over the edge of my book. “What is there to be sorry for?”

  “I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to make your Kappa Mu experience epic, and instead of having fun with us you’re holed up in your room doing homework.” She throws herself back on my bed dramatically. “I’ve failed you.”

  I roll my eyes. Drunk Quinn is an interesting sight to behold. “You have not failed me,” I tell her. “You’re a great big.”

  She perks up. “I am?”

  I shrug. Why not? It’s not like I have anything to compare her to, and I didn’t really come here with any expectations. She’s answered any questions I’ve had and she hasn’t been a jerk like some of the other girls in the house, so I’d say we were off to a good start.

  “Yep. The best.” I turn back to my book, hoping that’ll be that and she’ll see herself to the door.

  “Great. Then as your amazing big sister, I demand you party!” She cheers as she jumps from the bed with a fresh wave of energy. “We need drinks!”

  “I’m supposed to study,” I tell her, resisting her efforts to drag me from my bed.

  “You can study later. You need to have fun!”

  “I also need to pass my classes,” I remind her, but she doesn’t seem worried.

  “You will. You’re smart. So come on. There’s no time like the present.”

  “Fine,” I sigh, and let her drag me from my room. After today's nightmare of an English exam that I am eighty percent sure I completely bombed, I guess I can take a short break and hang out for a little bit. Besides, it doesn’t look like she’s going to take no for an answer.

  Quinn pulls me down the hall and through the main part of the house before pausing right as
we get to the doors leading into the backyard. “Clothes!”

  “Uh, what about them?”

  She whirls on me. “You need them!” She makes a show of smacking her own forehead. “Come on. You need to change.”

  Now I’m being dragged back the way we came, but instead of going into my room where, you know, all my clothes are, she pulls me into hers and starts rifling through her closet.

  “What are you doing?”

  She pulls pieces out left and right, tossing them behind her on the floor after she rejects them. "You do know you're going to have to clean that up, right?" I remind her.

  “The guys from Alpha Ze are here.”

  Yippee, stupid drunk frat boys. I am so excited. Cue the sarcasm.

  “So. Your point?”

  She turns and scowls at me, waving what looks like a purple crop top in my face. “So? So, you’re wearing that?”

  “What's wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask, looking down at my jean shorts and oversized crew neck t-shirt.

  “Are you modest?” she asks, ignoring my question and going back to sifting through her clothes.

  “Not particularly. Why?”

  “Because you’re always covered up. You’re in college. This is where you go to see others and be seen.”

  I open my mouth to tell her I don’t have any desire to be seen when she waves a piece of black fabric in the air. “Found it!” She jumps up and down twice. Like she just won a carnival prize. "Okay, here. Get naked and put this on."

  She tosses it to me and I catch the black, silky material. "A swimsuit?" I toss it back to her. "I don't want to go swimming."

  She throws it at me again. "You don't wear a swimsuit to go swimming, silly. You wear it so you have an excuse to walk around half naked. Now, hurry up and try it on. You can use my bathroom."

  I snort, because my room, which is right next door, is so far away.

  Quinn gives me her best shot at an I'm waiting look, and I decide to humor her. She's basically the closest thing to a friend I have here and pissing her off probably won't do me any favors.

  In the bathroom, I strip out of my clothes and hold the swimsuit out in front of me. It's a one piece, so that's good at least. I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't particularly modest, but I'm not a let it all hang out type of girl either. There are what look to be a dozen little ties and crisscross straps, and I'm not exactly sure how to put the damn thing on.

  "Are you decent?" Quinn calls, knocking on the door.

  "No!" I tell her, one leg in a hole I'm not entirely sure is meant for my leg.

  "Too bad, I'm coming in." And she does. When she sees me, naked and jumping on one foot as I try to get my leg out of the weird knot thingy, she covers her mouth and laughs, eyes wide and shoulders shaking.

  "I'm still naked!" I say, crossing one arm over my chest and dropping a hand over the apex of my thighs.

  "I can see that." She's laughing so hard, her eyes are watering. "Need a little… help?" she waves at me and I huff out a breath.

  "Obviously, yes. I don't know how the heck to get into this."

  She giggles and moves closer, helping me untangle my foot as I cover up the goods.

  "Here, step in through this one." She helps me slip my feet into the right holes. Why are there so many? And then turns her back so I can shimmy into the thing.

  The more on it goes, the less it actually covers, if you can believe that. "Okay I'm turning back around," she calls and then helps me find the holes to slip my arms through.

  She gives me a critical once over, pulling the fabric here, tightening it there, before stepping back to examine her work. "You look fucking hot!" she says, a gleam in her eye.

  I look down for a second before squeezing my eyes closed. "Are you sure you didn't give me lingerie?" I ask, because, wow. And I don't mean that in a good way. Quinn grabs my shoulders and turns me to face the mirror. I open one eye and gasp.

  "Holy fu—"

  "I know. Right?" She grins. "This one used to be my favorite but since I got these done," she points at her chest, " it doesn't fit anymore. It looks great on you though, so you can keep it.”

  Keep it? I'm not sure it's even legal to wear. Not in public at least. What I thought was a sleek black one piece is really lingerie pretending to be a swimsuit. The front has a plunging neckline that goes down past my navel, exposing the top of my crotch—thank god I got waxed last week. Holding the two sides in place is a series of crisscross ties that lace up the entire front until they reach my neck where they tie like a halter top in the back. The material over my boobs barely covers my nipples, so I have an insane amount of cleavage, and the back is virtually non-existent. My entire back is on display and half my ass hangs out of the teeny tiny bottoms, giving me a persistent wedgie.

  "Stop adjusting everything," Quinn chides, smacking my hand away as she tugs my bottoms up, not down, exposing even more of my ass. "It's supposed to be like this."

  I gawk at her. “I'm almost naked. Actually, I think this is more provocative than being naked."

  Her smile is wide. "I know, right? Now let's go get wasted! It's Friday night and you've been here a week already. It's time to let loose."

  Before I can object, she is literally dragging me out of the bathroom. "Quinn. Stop."

  Does she? Of course not. And who would have guessed that my five-foot-four sorority sister was this strong. We're back at the door and not giving me any time to prepare myself, she swings it wide open and shouts, "Time for Jell-O shots, bitches!"

  The girls outside laugh and cheer, and then with all the confidence in the world, Quinn heads for the table where said Jell-O shots are lined up in a rainbow of colors. Several of my sorority sisters move to follow her, everyone barely dressed in a multitude of swim attire.

  I get a few heated stares from some of the guys and ignore them as I head for an empty chair by the pool where I spot some sunscreen. I'm blond-haired, blue-eyed, and so white that my friend Monique jokes that instead of tanning, I turn translucent.

  A joke, obviously, but she isn't far off. I was cursed with zero melanin, so the sun and I have never exactly been friends. Growing up in the summer I would tell Aaron he was born selfish since he stole it all from our mom before I even had a chance. So unfair. A few hours outdoors and he turns a golden color that makes him look like a modern-day Apollo. Meanwhile, I go from white to pink to red in a matter of minutes if I don't slather myself at least in SPF80.

  After squirting some sunscreen in my hands, I massage it into my arms and legs when a shadow falls over me, blocking out some of the harsh rays from the sun.

  "Want me to get your back?" A masculine voice asks, and I turn to find Deacon behind me, beer in hand and a hesitant smile on his face.

  "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?" I ask, and lift a hand over my over my eyes to see him better. He's wearing black swim shorts and no shirt, and has on mirrored sunglasses so I can't make out his eyes.

  "I'm in Alpha Ze,” he tells me.

  "Ah, it all makes sense now."

  He tilts his head to the side.

  "What does?"

  "That cocky charismatic charm of yours that you're able to flip on and off whenever you like. Nice chatting this week, by the way. Coffee was great," I tell him and he grimaces. After we ran into each other I thought, I don't know, that we'd actually try the whole friend thing, but I guess when he realized he'd be stuck in the friend zone he didn't want to waste his time.

  We never talked after that day and in class he wouldn't even look at me. If he wanted me to get the hint, I heard him loud and clear. I just wish he wasn't such an asshole about it. I don't understand why guys can't just be friends with a girl. Why does it always have to be something else?

  "About that," he rubs the back of his neck and is silent for a beat before dropping down on the lounge beside me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Deacon massages his throat and I get the feeling he's working his way up to telling me something I’m not goin
g to like to hear. When the seconds turn into minutes, I shift my focus back to applying my sunscreen. Seriously, if I don't, I will fry.

  "I didn't mean to ghost you."

  I put a little lotion on two fingers and massage it through the crisscross ties running down the front of the suit. I look ridiculous doing it but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

  "So why did you?" I ask. My feelings aren’t hurt by it, to be honest. I have plenty of friends and I’m not actively searching for more. I guess I mostly just find it annoying. I don’t get why guys only see value in women if there's a chance of them getting laid. It’s bullshit if you ask me.

  “Look, I don’t want to cause drama and shit.”

  I wait. I don’t know what he’s looking for from me, but I’m not going to help him out here. He approached me, so if this is going to be an issue—him talking to me—he’s just as welcome to walk away.

  “A few of the guys on the team aren’t cool with the idea of us hanging out,” he tells me and I stiffen. Dammit. Because, of course, Dominique didn’t forget about the bruise after he left the classroom. I mean, he had no problem forgetting, but not Deacon. Not when it gave him the opportunity to be an even bigger asshole.

  I grind my teeth together and ask, “Was it all three of them?” If it was, then I have three Devils to get back at instead of just the one.

  Deacon shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” He pauses. “Not in the beginning at least. I think only my QB had a problem with it, but those three are tight—“

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”

  We’re both quiet for a moment.

  “He your ex or something?” Deacon asks.

  I snort. “Definitely not. We’ve never dated and trust me when I say, we never will.”

  One dark brow raises over the rim of his glasses. “You sure about that? The way Price was acting, it’s the way a jealous ex would be if he caught someone sniffing around his girl.”

  My lip curls. “First, I’m not a dog. No one is sniffing anywhere. And second, yes, I’m sure about that. I’ve known him since we were kids. We’re all sort of in the same friend group and he’s roommates with my older brother. He takes the term ‘overprotective’ to the extreme.” They all do. They’re the bonus brothers I never asked for. Well, except for Dominique. I mean, I still didn’t ask for him. That part is true. But of all the guys, he is the one I most definitely do not see as a brother. Even more so after what happened between us earlier this week.