by J Bree
A warning.
“Anyone get it on tape?” Avery even sounds like her usual icy self.
Two girls step forward and hand over their phones. Avery taps away at them, her phone pings, and then she hands them back. I watch the crowd. I want to memorize the faces, so I know who the truly weak and apathetic students are. As easy as breathing, I start to notice the behaviors. There are three students, all guys, who are digging their phones deeper in their pockets subconsciously, like they’re trying to push them out of Avery’s reach.
I do not trust Avery.
But Ash just stepped up to the plate. He’s earned my respect where a whole group of kids just failed. I now have some level of trust in him.
“There’s others who have the footage.” Ash looks down at me, and then when I point them out, he starts calling names, sharp and authoritative. The guys lurch forward at his command. Avery arches an eyebrow at them while they fumble over themselves to make excuses. She takes a copy of their footage and wipes the phones.
There’re other ways to do it. Software and coding that can be done to hack into the phones and get whatever you need out of them. I might suggest it to Ash later, an extra sweep to make sure this stays buried.
I still don’t know why we are burying it.
“Go, Mounty. You don’t need your name attached to this.” Ash lets my wrist go reluctantly and gives me a gentle push toward the door. It occurs to me that there are still no teachers or librarians here, and that Avery and Harley made it, but no adults have yet. If I hadn’t rushed forward, that kid could have died. I mean, he might still die or have a brain injury, but at least we gave him a chance.
I glance back at Joey one last time before I leave. He’s stopped thrashing about, but he’s hissing at Harley instead. He’s not looking at his face, his eyes are lower, his neck—
The necklace.
He’s spotted the necklace I stole from his room the day I called the cops and had him arrested. I turn and walk away, shoving past the crowd, not giving a damn who I hurt with my bony elbows. I only stop at the table long enough to grab my bag and throw my supplies back in it.
I get to the far side of the school, where the staircases to the girls’ dorms are, before I see Mr. Trevelen and the librarians rush past. Too little and far too late, thanks to the interference Avery ran.
I lock my door, check it’s secure, and then collapse back onto my bed.
So I now have two lists I’m compiling.
One is an ongoing list of everything the Beaumonts can get away with, which now includes murder.
And the second is a to-do list.
I’m going to need to call in a favor.
“A phone call, Starbright? Is the school burning down? Have you castrated a young, enamored boy? Are you finally coming home?” Matteo’s voice settles into my skin like a throbbing wound. I feel like I need to scrub my skin the second I get off the phone, regardless of the fact that I only just showered. The banter didn’t feel fun anymore; it hasn’t felt fun in a long time. Now all I can hear is the possession in his dulcet tones. He’s speaking to someone he thinks he owns.
I won’t ever let him own me.
“I need to call in a favor,” I say sweetly. It sounds fake because it is. I’m not sweet.
I’m fucking tired.
“Tch, kid, this is getting out of hand. You know, you wouldn’t have to keep running to me for help if you did some recruiting of your own. There are dozens of suitable candidates, all clamoring to sign up under the infamous Wolf. I could move some of my crew around for you. As a member of the Twelve, you have to have people behind you. This is why you need to come to some meetings.”
I roll my eyes. He wants to give me some people to start a gang with. His people, so he can always have loyal eyes on my back. In his mind, it’ll make it easier for when he claims me and have the two gangs amalgamate to become one super criminal organization.
It’s much easier to lie to him on the phone. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I’ve got a few leads. I’m looking for very specific skill sets, and if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it right. I gave you my word I’d be at the next meeting over the summer, didn’t I? Is my word not good enough anymore?” I finish with a teasing tone. Some might even call it flirty, but I just call it a necessity.
I hear him cover the mouthpiece and bark out orders. If you’re with the Jackal, you’re always at war or starting a new one. When I was just a kid and Matteo had first taken notice of me at the group home, he’d told me he looked up to Alexander the Great. All he wanted to do was build an empire. He enjoys the thrill of the chase, the outsmarting, and the kill.
I think I caught his interest because I was strong.
I think I’ve kept it because I won’t give in.
“We can talk about your leads at the meeting. I’m interested to know who you have your eye on.” The censure in his voice is clear to me. Great, something else I need to think about and plan for. “Let’s get back on topic, I have someone waiting for me. Someone…went on an unsanctioned holiday and needs to be reminded of their duties. What do you need?”
He has a defector in his office, tied to a chair, listening in on our every word. They can listen because they will be dead by morning. I have seen Matteo work so many times, I don’t even need to shut my eyes to see it. I know which knife he will reach for first, I know where he keeps his blowtorch, I know which hand he will wipe clean first.
“Joey Beaumont is deteriorating quickly. I need all the information you can give me about him, his family, their businesses, and their history. I need to know how I can safely neutralize him, because I’m going to have too. Soon.”
I hear the knife at Matteo’s waist slip out of its sheath. I do not want to have to try and sleep after listening to the defector scream. Hurry up, asshole.
“I’ll send Diarmuid up with a copy of my files. He’ll be happy to come visit; he has a nephew who goes to school with you.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
Diarmuid O’Cronin was the son of an old Irish mobster. Forty years ago, the O’Cronin family had held a large territory. They’d exclusively run the docks and controlled the importation of drugs and weapons into Cali. Then the institution of the Twelve started and the family had lost members, lost loyalties, lost three-quarters of their territory, and rumor had it the patriarch of the family, Liam O’Cronin, had started to lose a grip on reality. Diarmuid had defected and became a gun for hire ten years ago. He is an unparalleled assassin, a terrifying driver, and he has a shitty attitude. I like him. The Jackal is one of the very few who can afford his price, so I have spent some time with him over the years.
“Who is his nephew? I can’t imagine an Irish mobster going to Hannaford.”
I hear the swing of Matteo’s knife in the air and his grunt as he impales the poor idiot’s leg. He doesn’t scream, he just lets out a grunt of his own. Buddy, you want to scream. If you don’t, he’ll only get more creative.
“Kid goes by his mom’s name. Arbour. Blond and blue-eyed like her, too. Apparently, he looks fuck-all like the O’Cronins.”
My heart stops.
Harley.
Harley is the mobster’s son.
‘Honor before Blood’
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
“Diarmuid will pop in and see him, and then drop off the file. Does that work for you, Starbright?” I hear fabric ripping, grunts of pain, and Matteo’s labored breathing. I hope to God he’s just carving the guy up and not…doing anything worse. I don’t want to think about it.
“Yeah, thanks. You’ll only owe me two favors now.”
Matteo agrees, which comes as a little bit of a shock. He’d been so adamant that he was just being nice and doing things for me this year that I thought I’d have to fight him. “I’ll send you the diamond back with Diarmuid, if you trust him with that.”
Oh, did I mention I have millions of dollars’ worth of cut diamonds, all of the favo
rs I’m owed, hidden in the safe under my floorboards?
Yeah.
My life is too complicated.
I sit in my doorway, pretend to read a book and eat a protein bar for an hour. I’ve changed into my old man sweater, a pair of shorts, and thigh-high socks. I like to cover the scars on my leg, and it’s already too warm for pants. I’m getting impatient waiting for Avery to appear. Every minute that goes by is a minute closer to Harley being ambushed by his uncle, and it’s all my fault. Not that I can tell him it’s my fault. I can’t tell him I’m getting information on the Beaumonts without starting another war. My stomach turns. I have to tell them something.
When Avery finally arrives and breaks my spiraling thoughts, she’s being escorted back to her room by Ash. It’s a pain in the ass, because I was hoping it was still Harley’s turn to babysit her. Now I’d have to actually come up with some excuse for them to get Harley up here.
“Too poor for a chair, Mounty?” drawls Ash, Avery’s ballet bag slung over his shoulder. I’ve told him about my stash, so I know he’s baiting me. It’s the next step in our push-pull game.
“I was waiting for you guys to get back.” I haul myself up off the floor and prop my hands on my hips.
Avery doesn’t acknowledge me; she just grabs her bag and saunters into her room. Ash smirks at me, but I can see something has changed in his eyes. There’s a soft edge in them that wasn’t there before. It’s like every one of our interactions so far has chipped away a little at him, and he’s opening up. I shiver and rub my arms uselessly. I’m not cold. Someone should tell my pebbled nipples that fact too.
“I can’t give you any answers, Mounty. But I can say thanks for helping out and shutting up about it.” He leans back into the doorframe, and I run my gaze down the long line of his legs. Focus, Lips, fuck.
“Look, it’s not about Joey. I need to speak to Harley urgently. Can you text him to come here? Or meet me somewhere else on campus?”
A frown appears on his brow, and he straightens. Whatever expression I have on my face is concerning him. He slides his hand into his pocket, but then Avery pokes her head out of the door again.
“Stay the fuck away from my cousin.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her swear. Cousin. I forgot about that; the Beaumonts have a mobster for a cousin. This is a fucking mess. I’m in too deep and I need to get out.
Deep breath.
There’s no way out. Only through it.
I dart across the hallway and grab Avery’s arm. She freezes and so does Ash, the tense lines of him pressed against my chest where he’s trapped between us. I make sure my grip is gentle, so she can’t screech at me and he can’t attack me over touching his beloved sister. I don’t need to be rough, though; I have their attention.
“Does the name Diarmuid O’Cronin mean anything to you?” I whisper, and then I watch as they both turn to stone. “He’s on his way here to speak to his dear nephew.”
Ash breaks first, cursing long and hard under his breath in creative and colorful ways. I nod curtly and let Avery go.
“Fucking call him. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Avery’s room is utterly ridiculous, and I am jealous as all hell about it.
It is fitted out perfectly not only for her, but for the three guys in case they all wanted to have a big freaking sleepover there every night. There’re rollout beds under her giant Cal King and a day bed built into the window. Everything is in tasteful shades of cream and gray, pillows and throw rugs on every surface. How have I never noticed them coming and going from her room? I glance around while we wait.
The kitchen is fully stocked, I have no idea why she bothers with the overcrowded dining hall, and her closet is the size of my entire room. I only ever see her wearing her uniform. Why the hell does she need this much space? And there, in the corner, is a private bathroom. That’s the thing I’m most jealous of. To be able to lock the bedroom door and shower in your own bathroom. Avery is living the dream four fucking steps from the closet I sleep in. I take some deep, deep breaths, and I tell myself I’ll have this someday. Better even, because I’ll have earned it myself and I’ll appreciate it.
Avery paces in the kitchen area, running her hands along the surfaces like she’s looking for dust, but it doesn’t exist, and Ash sits stiffly on the couch. I perch on the edge on one of the armchairs and roll my eyes at Avery’s dirty look.
“Is there somewhere I can sit, then? Or are you afraid I’ll sully your fucking furniture?” I snap at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“That’s Harley’s seat. Blaise usually just camps on the floor like a three-year-old so maybe sit in his chair, the other armchair. I don’t want Harley getting ideas.” I open my mouth to retort ‘what ideas’ when Ash snaps at us both.
“She can sit wherever the fuck she wants, just tell us what’s going on? How the fuck, do you know Diarmuid?”
Avery starts wiping down the kitchen counters. Huh, I did not expect her to know how to clean. I shake the thought out of my head and reply to Ash, “I’m not repeating myself; it’ll only piss us all off. How far away are they? We’re on a time crunch here.”
“We’re here.” Harley opens the door, and he and Blaise stroll in. There’s no tenseness to him at all, just curiosity. I sigh. Avery didn't tell him what this was all about, then.
Harley spots me on his chair, and before I can get up, he slings himself down onto the couch so he's closest to me. Avery scoffs and scrubs harder. Blaise does exactly what she said he would and just collapses on the floor with an obscene groan. His shirt rides up, and I look away from his colorfully patterned skin before I get caught looking. I have to remember I'm surrounded by sharks. I need to keep my head, or I’ll lose it.
Harley watches Avery’s manic scrubbing for a second, then says, “Fuck, Avery’s cleaning. What’s wrong? What’s this about?”
I take a deep breath, and then just blurt out. “I have a connection to an underground criminal organization. The connection is not up for discussion. But he has a package for me. He tells me he's sending one of his hired guns to bring it here. The guy offered because he has a nephew who goes to the school. I was unaware that you're an O’Cronin.”
Harley's face shuts down so fast, I'm surprised he doesn't get whiplash. Avery stops cleaning to cock her hip, and says to me with a glare, “So it's your fault he's coming here, then? You've called him in?”
Fuck. “I didn't call him in. He heard the name Hannaford and decided to come up. I am not at fault here. I could have just let him come and ambush Harley, but I chose not to. Do not make me regret that.”
Harley is a blank slate. I can see the deep programming from a mile away—I mean, I have it too. It lives in your brain, and even when you’ve changed your life and you’re living like a civilian, all it takes is hitting that trip line and the training will fall into place. I take a deep breath and cover his hand with mine. “I will stay with you. It'll put a stop to… whatever it is you think he's going to do to you. My connection means immunity.”
He doesn't react. He doesn't move at all. I have to focus on the base of his throat to see he's still breathing. I don’t tell him that I’ll be risking my own skin to help him. If word about Harley gets back to the Jackal… I don’t think Matteo will like just how breathtaking Harley is.
I meet Ash’s eyes across the room and find he's scowling at me. Their fear sends a shiver down my spine, and I tentatively ask, “What are you afraid he's going to do? I can call ahead and stop it. Believe it or not.”
There’s silence while they all look at one another. No one offers up an explanation.
“Do you fuck gangsters and mobsters, Mounty? Is that why you won't fuck any of the upstanding students here? Does your pussy belong to a monster?” Blaise drawls from the floor. “Do you need the violence to get wet?”
I slowly take my hand off Harley’s and stand. Blaise always knows just what to say to eviscerate me. It’s his super-fucking-power.
I m
ake it to the door when Avery calls out, “You can't leave, we don't have a plan. I need to make a plan.” I turn to ask her what the hell she’s going on about and I find Harley standing behind me. He can be just as silent on his feet as I can. His eyes are blank. I hate that I can’t read them, that there’s none of his usual fire and wit to be found. He’s a shell, the mindless soldier they have trained him to be. I hate it.
His voice is as empty as his eyes. “The plan is to keep you three out of my family’s hands. That's it. I'll call when it's… done.”
I take Harley into my room, and I make him face the wall as I dig out the safe hidden under my floorboards and lift the tiny box out. The diamonds all shift around and make that distinctive clinking sound.
Each of the twelve had a color assigned to them. If you were willing to pay another member in a favor, you had to have the cash to buy and hand over a diamond in the color you’re assigned. I have at least three in every color except my own.
I have never given out a favor.
I can’t afford to give out favors.
My color was the deep dark blue, the same color as my eyes, as close to black as blue can get. The Jackal had walked me into a ritzy jewelry store and pointed one out to me that was set in a stunning ring, just so I’d know what I needed to get if the time ever came. The last time I priced a single blue diamond out, and fuck was it hard to find, it came in just under the half-million-dollar mark.
I rummage around until I find the three little red diamonds I’d been given by the Jackal. They are the rarest diamonds, and how he found and purchased three is beyond me. These are the only favors he’s ever given out and I know it’s because in his mind, it’s safe to give them to me. I’ll just give them back to him the moment he orders me to, when he owns me.
I slip the smallest of the three into a velvet bag and then into my bra, where I can feel it against my skin. After I’ve hidden the safe once again, I follow Harley back downstairs and out to the front foyer. He doesn’t ask me what I collected. I don’t know how much time he’s spent around these sorts of people, but it’s enough that he doesn’t ask stupid questions. At the roar of a motorbike, I roll my eyes.