Hannaford Prep: The Complete Series

by J Bree

  Subtle isn’t Diarmuid’s specialty.

  His specialty is blood.

  Harley notices my exasperation and finally speaks. “You’ve met him before?”

  I nod, then hesitate before asking, “Have you?”

  Harley shakes his head, and I frown.

  “Why are you so worried then?”

  He chews on his bottom lip, the first sign of anxiousness I’ve ever seen in him. “It’s a double-edged sword. He might kill me because he left the family and I’m next in line to take over. A big fuck you to my grandfather if he does that, and if anything I’ve heard about him is true, then I think that’s how this will go. If Diarmuid doesn’t kill me, it could get back to my grandfather that we’re meeting up, and then the family will kill me. Either way, I’m fucked.”

  Fuck.

  Mobster family politics.

  I’m not stupid or brash, but I follow my gut, always. Ultimately, this guy took out three guys for beating me. He made Avery cut her shit out. He’s made his decision not to hate me, and then he followed through with it. How can I not offer him the same loyalty? My gut tells me he’s worth saving, and I’m quickly discovering we’re cut from the same cloth.

  “Are you going to take over the family business?” I say, curious.

  He glares down at me. “I’d rather fucking die. I will die when my grandfather figures out I won’t change my mind. I’ve made peace with that.”

  He can’t die, I won’t let him. I have a fairly reckless plan, and a prayer that it will work. “Do you trust me, Arbour?” I wipe my sweaty palms down my legs and meet his eyes. Something is inching back into his baby blues, and I never want to see it leave again.

  “Enough to be standing here,” he rasps back.

  “Then keep your mouth shut, and I’ll keep you alive. I mean it. Not a single word.”

  Diarmuid is an O’Cronin through and through.

  Dark, shaggy hair that falls over his green eyes as he pulls the helmet off his head. His face splits into a grin when he spots me, and he waves me over to crush my body into a hug, while he’s still straddling the bike. When he speaks, it’s with a delightful Irish accent that has prevailed even though as the youngest child, he’d been born in the States.

  “Jesus, Mary, and fuckin’ Joseph, you’re growin’ up, kid!” I tug away from his arms and give him a small smile. His fingers press down on the perfect circle scar I have on my shoulder, like he always does. Even fully clothed, drunk, and blind, he can find it. It is his reminder and his penance.

  From the time he shot me.

  The bastard.

  I digress. He hands me a thick envelope, and I tuck it into the waistband of my shorts, flipping the sweater over it and concealing it perfectly. He’s still grinning like an idiot when Harley takes a step forward and silently demands his attention. The grin dries up, and he pushes me away from his body enough to swing his leg over and perch on the bike’s seat. He digs around in his pocket and lights up a cigarette. I wrinkle my nose and step back until my arm brushes Harley’s again.

  “You’re the fuckin’ image of Iris. It’s disturbing to see her standing there as a boy. There any of your da in you at all, buachaill beag?” He takes a long drag and then blows the smoke directly up in the air, the wind catching it and letting it dance away into nothing.

  Harley doesn’t say a word, he just folds his arms across his chest and stares at his uncle.

  Diarmuid looks back at me and says, “Can you give us a minute, kid? I need to talk some business. Family business.”

  I meet his gaze and slowly shake my head. “I’m afraid not. It’s come to my attention just how sought-after Arbour is.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I grin, forcing the bravado I don’t feel into it. “I’m a fickle sort of girl. It brings me great joy to be able to keep Harley from those who want him. I think I’ll keep him.”

  Diarmuid blanches for a second, and then tips his head back and roars with laughter. He rubs his hands together with a vicious glint to his eye. “You bring my little nephew back to Mounts Bay and our mutual friend gets an eyeful of him? Blood and pain, little girl. Blood and pain.”

  I don’t need to be reminded of that at all, and I certainly don’t need Harley hearing it. I reach into my bra and pull out the little velvet bag. Diarmuid’s eyes catch on it, and I hold it out to him. When he lets the little blood diamond fall onto his palm, he sucks in a breath. “It’s a thing of beauty, this. You know what it is, buachaill beag?” He waits until Harley finally shakes his head. “It’s a million dollars and a priceless fuckin’ favor.”

  “Tell him I’m buying Harley’s life with it, too. The envelope alone isn’t worth that, and he well knows it. Tell him I’ve picked my first inductee, and when he has questions, he can call me.”

  Diarmuid sobers and looks down his nose at me. “My da will come for you both. He’ll kill him for standing here and listening in on this conversation alone.”

  I take a deep breath. I know the cliff I’m about to go over, and it’s a scary thing to do. Harley will know more than I’d ever wanted anyone outside of Mounts Bay to know. I need this conversation over. Now. “Liam O’Cronin can’t do shit to me. He knows it, I know it, and you should know it too.”

  Diarmuid grins at me again and tucks the diamond into his jeans. “Oh, I know it. I’m just making sure my little nephew knows it too. He looks a little green around the gills, is all.” He steps forward and slaps Harley’s shoulder. “I came here to have a little heart-to-heart with you about decisions you need to make, but I see you’ve already made them. It all comes down to this: if you don’t kill the old man someday for what he did to your ma and da, then I will. And if I don’t succeed, then your little Wolf here will do it for us both. She’s got one hell of a steady hand.”

  He swoops down and smacks a kiss onto my cheek. As he climbs on his bike and starts the engine, he calls out to us one last time. “Call me when your tits fill in, kid, and I’ll show you how real men fuck.”

  I roll my eyes and watch his taillights until they disappear completely. Then I turn and start to make my way back up to the dorms without looking to see if Harley is following. He’s going to rat me out to his friends. He’s going to hate me for interfering with his family’s business. There’re a hundred different things he’s going to do.

  I didn’t bet on him pushing me through my bedroom door and then kissing me.

  It’s raw and dark and it’s fucking perfect. He’s not gentle about it at all. He pushes and sucks at my lips, but it’s nothing like the one Joey had forced on me. I moan when his tongue touches mine and take fistfuls of his shirt to pull his body into mine. His hands tangle in my hair and pulls until he’s got the perfect angle to deepen our kiss and steal my breath away. I feel it all the way down to my toes.

  This is how my first kiss should have been.

  I break away from him as my mind spins, and I try to catch up with where he’s at. He shuts his eyes and rests his forehead against mine. It’s a tender moment, more intimate than even his kiss.

  “Are you a member of a gang?” he croaks, and I shake my head. “Did you just tell him you recruited me to your friend’s gang?” I shake my head again. I pull away so I can catch my breath because I can’t breathe in his arms. When he touches me, I don’t want oxygen. I just want to consume him.

  “I just bought your freedom until our graduation. I’m out the second the diploma touches my hand, so you need to get a plan in place for then. I can help, but I’m letting you know this favor has an expiry date. Until then, you’re… mine.” It feels strange to say that to him, and I can’t look at him as the words slip from my lips.

  “This is seriously fucking insane, Lips. You’ve got to give me something. Where did you get the diamond, and how many more do you have? Why are they favors? Why is your protection greater than the O’Cronin family business? Fuck, give me anything, Lips!”

  As his voice raises to a shout, I press my hands into his lips and try to calm him down. He
said my name. I can’t answer any of his questions without knowing he’s all in. And why would he be all in for a scrawny little Mounty? Tears prick at my eyes, but I don’t regret my hasty actions. My gut had gotten me to where I was today. It will get me through this, too.

  I slip the envelope out of my shorts, and I drop it on the bed. Then I tug down the collar of the sweater until Harley can see the perfectly healed circle.

  “I got that diamond by taking a bullet for the man whose favor it represented. I saved his life, and I also won him the trust of his favorite gun for hire.”

  Harley’s fingers rub at the raised skin, pressing the same way his uncle had. My skin tingles deliciously. “Diarmuid did this?”

  I nod, and then shrug. “I think… I think I have Diarmuid’s trust over… the other person. I just can’t afford his fees,” I whisper, never having allowed myself to even think that before.

  It was something else to file away for later.

  Harley swallows, and then pulls away from me. His hands are shaking. I have to face the facts that the kiss was just his adrenaline needing an out.

  “I won’t tell the others. I don’t know how the fuck I’d explain it, anyway.”

  And then he walks out.

  Once again, I’m gutted as I close the door behind him.

  I’ve got to stop letting him in my room.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I almost forget about the envelope that Diarmuid had delivered while I am wallowing over my kiss with Harley. His protection of me with Avery stays intact, but he no longer speaks to me. None of them speak to me. At first, I’m worried because I think he’s told the rest of them what I did, but I can feel Avery’s eyes bore holes into my back whenever she’s in my proximity. It’s like I’m a bomb about to go off, and she doesn’t know the range of potential casualties. I make it through a few weeks of being ignored by them all and tutoring Blaise like crazy. It’s only after I bump into Joey in the library punching one of his friends for not laughing at his jokes that I decide to get back to work on taking him out. I’m not sure what I was expecting to get from the envelope, but the information is brutal and sobering.

  I was wrong. Joseph Campbell Fedor Beaumont, or Joey, isn’t a killer in the making. He’s already got three deaths under his belt.

  Not that the file says that outright, but it’s clear what’s been going on. There’s a nanny, a maid, and a groundsman who have all turned up dead on the property. Newspapers have declared the house haunted since the police ruled the deaths accidental. There are pages and pages of evidence that any prosecutor worth their wage would be able to convict Joey with, but it’s all been swept under the rug. The autopsies are unpleasant, to say the least. The things he’s done, especially to the maid, are truly horrifying. Biting, burning, stabbing. Evidence of sexual assault.

  He was eleven.

  It dawns on me just how lucky I was that night of the party. Had he been sober, or at a different stage of his high, if I hadn’t had my knife. If, if, if. So many things had worked in my favor that I didn’t know about.

  At the very back of the file, there’s a single page of information on the twins.

  Alexander Asher William Beaumont. Born three minutes before his sister, former state swimming champion, now retired, allergic to mangoes, presented at the emergency department seventy-six times in his lifetime, which is an average of five times a year. I grimace. There’s a list of the injuries too. Broken wrist, fractured skull, internal bleeding, concussions, every rib in him must have been broken at least twice. Child protection services have been contacted multiple times, but no one ever checks on the family, which tells me his father is paying bribes. Frequent and expensive bribes.

  Then, finally, there’s Avery Aspen Waverley Beaumont. Only daughter, interests include ballet, violin, and the war strategy game of Go. No known allergies, though she refuses to eat mangoes thanks to Ash’s allergy. One trip to the emergency department for Avery. Last year she was DOA and resuscitated. Clear signs of strangulation, another call to child protection services, but again no follow-up.

  That explains the escort she gets from the guys everywhere she goes. It also explains why they’re so protective. She wasn’t just attacked; she was killed. My chest hurts as I think about how Ash would have felt, knowing she had stopped breathing. Knowing she was gone, even for the few minutes she was, must have destroyed him. The day Joey strangled Matthew in the library Ash didn’t hesitate for a second to help me. After so much trauma, he is stronger than I would have ever thought. I’ve always looked at him and seen the spoiled rich brat he puts on. Even the anger and the flinches in his brother’s directions didn’t clue me in to how bad Joey really is.

  I’m going to have to deal with Joey.

  I’ve done a lot in life, but I’ve never actually planned a murder. I’m not quite sure that’s what I’m doing now, but I’m going to have to start taking Joey and the warnings about him seriously. Loose cannons and unpredictable drug addicts are dangerous people to have around you, especially if you carry as many secrets as I do.

  I flip the last page to make sure I haven’t missed anything and there is a small, handwritten note in the back. It’s not Matteo’s handwriting, so it would have to be from Diarmuid.

  Do not let Joseph Beaumont Sr. know you’re looking into his son. His hands are bloodier than mine.

  Fuck. A complicated web to unravel.

  Now that I’m not being whispered about or having my food spiked, I begin to use the study areas that are everywhere at Hannaford. All my assignments have been handed in for the school year, and now I’m focusing on my last-minute revision for the upcoming exams. I’m an expert at keeping well-organized notes, and so I drag a giant file around with me everywhere I go, so I can read and cram at every opportunity. I’m confident I’ll be the top in all my classes, but the perfectionist in me compels me to study until every second of every day until the exams are over.

  I’m enjoying the quiet of one particular study nook, when Joey slips into the chair beside me. I tense and slip my hand into my blazer pocket to clutch at my knife. There is no one close by. I’m aware that has never stopped Joey in the past, but I’d prefer to never be alone with him again. The images of his maid’s autopsy flash into my mind and I focus to keep my breathing even.

  “It’s been such a long time since we last spoke, Mounty. I’ve missed you,” he drawls, as he flicks my colored pens so they roll around the desk.

  “Is there something you want, Beaumont?” I try to keep my tone civil but uninviting. I watch him from the corners of my eyes, assessing just how high he is.

  “There are so many things I want, but I’ve just been told I can’t have one of them. Tell me, how is it you know the Jackal? I received a personal phone call from him.”

  I shrug and look back down at my notes. I knew this was coming. When I don’t answer he continues.

  “I’ve met quite a lot of his, shall we say, associates. I enjoy his products. They’re much more pure than the crap you get out here or in the city. So, I do a pickup with my usual supplier, and he tells me his boss needs a word with me. I’m thinking I’m going to get a frequent shopper card, or a job offer, and instead I’m given an order. Stay away from one, Eclipse Anderson.”

  I set my pen down and turn in my chair to look at him. His eyes are clearer than they were in the library, but he is still having trouble tracking. His cheek has a little tick as he talks, and his brow is furrowed like I’m confusing him. I decide it’s safe enough to speak calmly to him.

  “He’s a friend of mine. It came up in conversation that you were interested in me, and he was concerned that I’m too young for such a thing, so he told me he would have a friendly chat. That’s all this is.” That is not even close to what this is.

  “He told me you belong to him. He told me if even a single Hannaford boy touches your pussy, he’s going to come here and deal with it personally.”

  I clench my jaw so the words I want to say don’t come fl
ying out of my mouth. When I have myself under control, I say, “So you’re going to leave me alone, then?”

  He tips his head back and laughs.

  I can’t stand the manic sound of it, so I grab my books and leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I arrived at my last tutoring session in the library early and set up the table. I’ve written pages and pages of notes for Blaise’s final math test, and if he nails this one, he’s got the B-plus. He’s still being a dick to me at every opportunity, but I’m letting everything just bounce off me. He can believe whatever he wants about me; I know who I am. Plus, I’m doing all of this, so I have a new Vanth album to listen to. I want to know what he’s going to write now that I’ve actually met him. Not that I think I’m going to affect his writing at all, I’m nothing to him, but the rock star Blaise and the Hannaford Blaise still don’t completely gel together in my mind yet.

  When neither of the guys arrive on time, I’m pissed. When they’re both twenty minutes late, I’m starting to get worried. Ash always comes to our tutoring sessions, and he’s always on time. There’s a chance they had both been held up in their last class, they shared biology, but there’s also a chance Joey has escalated. I’m about to pack up and leave when Ash walks in, without his bag, and sits down across the table from me.

  Something is wrong.

  The softness I’d once seen in Ash’s eyes is gone. He’s looking at me the same way he did back when I first started tutoring him and he wanted to get rid of me. I don’t know what’s happened. I feel like we were close to being… friends? Or friendly, at least.

  “You know, the very first week we got to Hannaford, I set up a camera to watch Joey’s door. We all try to keep tabs on his movements,” he says without a greeting. “I’ve got footage of you sneaking in, and then back out again, on the day he was arrested for drugs.” He’s glaring at me. This is not what I was expecting at all.