Hannaford Prep: The Complete Series

by J Bree

  I speak carefully. “So you’re going to tell Joey you have proof it was me, then?”

  Ash doesn’t move. He doesn’t lean back in his chair and cross his arms with a cocky grin. He doesn’t lean forward to whisper at me. He doesn’t move an inch as he says, “Joey has told his friends you’re off limits.”

  I close my textbook. I should have known this was coming. Matteo had told me he was going to step in now that he knows Joey wants to rape me. Not that Matteo gives a shit about rapists; he just doesn’t want anyone breaking his toys. I feel sick at the thought.

  “I’m going to send Trevelen the videos. I’m going to tell him if he doesn’t expel you, I’ll go to my father.”

  I look up at him. Ash is staring at me with his face carefully blank. There’s no conflict in his eyes. He’s called me names and laughed at everything that’s happened to me, but he’s never actually tried to get me out. He’s never actively campaigned against me like Avery and Joey have, but I have never doubted that he was capable of doing whatever he deemed necessary to get what he wants.

  If he wants me out, then telling his father will make that happen.

  Whatever the dirt Matteo has on Trevelen, I doubt it would trump the hell that billionaire Joseph Beaumont Sr. could unleash. Plus, the warning from Matteo’s file rings in my head. If Ash tells his father, I will have his attention. I’ve been very careful about the things I’ve done in my life, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be able to uncover something and destroy me. He could also just hire someone to take me out. Diarmuid comes to mind. But there is something I’m missing about the Beaumonts, a piece to this puzzle that I haven’t quite placed yet—but I can feel the answer dancing just out of my grasp. Why do the twins protect him?

  “So your brother finally leaves me alone, and you’re just going to take his place? Is there a standard number of fucked-up Beaumonts that must bully me at any one time?” My voice is level even as my heart thuds violently in my chest.

  “Joey didn’t just warn them off for his own enjoyment. He told them you were permanently off limits.” I nod. I already know this but it’s nice to have it confirmed. I might start getting some sleep if I didn’t have to worry about being killed during lunch.

  “Harley told me you were dangerous, but I didn’t believe him until now. You’re out of this school by Friday.” He moves as if to stand up and leave me. I shoot out a hand and grab him by the wrist, and he freezes. His eyes are the color of a summer storm, seething rage. It makes no sense. I’ve been moving the pieces on the board to get away from this sort of hatred.

  “If you’ve chosen to take Joey’s side, then I’m getting you out. I can’t have you sleeping across the hall from Avery.” My fingers loosen a fraction, and he rips his arm out from my grasp. I’m gaping at him; I don’t even try to hide it. He shakes out his arm like he’s trying to shake off the feel of my touch. I’m just Mounty trash to him.

  “I would never take Joey’s side. The guy is a serial killer in the making.”

  Ash laughs derisively and pegs me with a look.

  “I wonder what it was you offered him, what someone like you could offer him, to get his protection. I know exactly what the other girls here do. I guess it was only a matter of time before you gave it up to him, too.”

  That final jab hurt far more than it should.

  Possibly the biggest problem of being expelled is dealing with Harley.

  Word will have already reached the O’Cronin family. I can’t rescind my protection; he’ll be killed the second he walks out of this school if I do. I could call Diarmuid and tell him the problem, but then I’ll have to admit why I told him I was keeping him in the first place, and he’ll have leverage over me. Leverage the Jackal will pay him big money for.

  I can’t leave Harley here without some sort of warning, either. There’s a whole list of people that would kill him to prove a point with me and, again, the Jackal is at the top of that list.

  My only chance at stopping Ash is to talk to Harley and try to make him understand that I don’t want anything to do with Joey. He’s in a better position than anyone to believe me, knowing what he does about the world I’m from.

  It’s the weekend, so I have to search the entire school to find him. When I can’t find him in the main building, I’m forced to look through the outbuildings and sports facilities. I’m about to give up and walk right into the boys’ dorms when I find him.

  My jaw drops, and I think I destroy my panties instantaneously.

  The school has a boxing ring in the gym. I’ve never been down here, and I’m suddenly pissed I didn’t pick gym instead of choir. In the ring, sparring, are Harley and Blaise.

  Shirtless.

  Teeny, tiny black shorts.

  Legs, tattoos, muscles, sweat, oh my god I’ve fucking died and gone to the one place I know I’m not going to end up.

  They don’t notice me come in, thank god, so I have a minute to collect my brains from where they’ve spilled out onto the floor. My legs are shaking so badly, I have to give myself a stern talking-to about how serious my current situation is. I don’t have time to turn into a puddle at boys’ feet. Even if they are ridiculously attractive.

  Blaise is covered in colorful tattoos. They stretch from his collarbones down both arms and his chest. One of his legs is covered, and the other has a few on his thighs, obviously a work in progress. It’s shocking to see, because with his uniform on, you can’t see any of them. He looks like every other polished rich kid.

  Harley has a chest piece, wings and a crowned heart like a bastardized claddagh ring, all in black and white and shades of gray. It makes his chest look even wider and more impressive. I can’t breathe.

  I get all the way to the ropes before they notice me. Blaise’s eyes flick to mine, and Harley uses the opportunity to smack him in the ribs, and then wrestle him to the ground. It’s all just a writhing pile of bulging biceps, defined legs, and sweaty chests.

  It’s basically better than porn.

  Resisting the urge to get my phone out and film this for, ahem, later and more intensive viewing, I call out to them instead. “Sorry to interrupt. Harley, can I speak to you for a minute, please?”

  He releases Blaise, who stays panting on the floor, and gets up to walk over to me. He’s not panting or red. The only sign of his exertion is the sheen on his chest. He unwinds the strapping on his hands and tightens it casually, like he’s done it a million times before. He won’t look me in the eye. Unease begins to pool in my gut.

  “What do you want, Mounty? We’re busy.”

  Yes, you are. My eyes flick over to Blaise, who’s still lying on the ground, but his head has turned so he can watch us both intently. I choose my words carefully. “Are you aware of Ash’s intention to get me kicked out of Hannaford?”

  Harley smirks and nods, his eyes still focused over my shoulder. Not what I’m expecting. I wasn’t expecting him to bitch out his cousin and best friends, but I was kind of hoping after everything I’ve done for him, he could at least care that my life was about to be ruined.

  “Do you really want to discuss this with him here?” he drawls, jerking his head at Blaise.

  “Will you make him leave?” I snap back.

  “Nope.”

  I grit my teeth and smile, so it looks like I’m baring them, “I guess I have no choice then, do I? If Ash gets me kicked out, then we have some things to discuss.”

  “Oh yeah? Like what.”

  “Like the fact that you’ll need to be very careful without me being here to keep an eye on you. Like there are teachers here who are on the payroll for someone other than the Beaumonts, and he’s looking for an opportunity to remove you from my protection. Like you need my contact details so if something does happen, I can fix it.”

  Blaise’s eyes have narrowed, and he has that look on his face I’ve seen far too much lately. The one he pulls right before he runs his mouth to try and piss me off or embarrass me. “How would you be able to protect Harle
y? You can’t even protect yourself.”

  They both snigger at each other for a second, and I lose my cool. “Do you really not give a shit about whether or not your grandfather can come for you? Have you become suicidal in the last few weeks without me noticing? You should have told me that before I paid such a high price to keep you alive.”

  Harley’s eyes turn into slits. It’s the first time he’s looked me in the eye since our kiss. I lift my chin and stare him down. I don’t really give a shit about the favor, but I have very little to work here with them. Blaise shoots a lopsided grin at me and says, nonchalantly, “Leave, Mounty. You don’t belong at this school or around people like us. You’re a groupie, you fuck gangsters and serial killers, and you’re playing in a world you don’t belong in. No one wants you here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I wander through my classes on the last day of freshman year in a daze.

  Ash hasn’t made his move yet, but I know it’ll have to be today or tomorrow. There’s a closing assembly tomorrow for each school year to give out the usual awards and praises, parents are invited, so I’m sure I’m going to come face-to-face with Joseph Sr. and have to face his wrath. I think it’ll happen then. Ash will tell his dad right before the awards, and I’ll be dragged out of the building and thrown out of the school grounds. I’ll be forced to go home to Mounts Bay and back to the Jackal.

  I need a new plan.

  I’m scowling so much; students are darting away from me as I walk through the school halls. Some of the guys in the upper grades flinch as I walk past, and that cheers me up a little. Punch a guy in the throat for hitting on you and they’ll all learn to fall into line. When classes end, I duck into the bathroom on the lower floors to wash my hands before I have an early dinner. I’m planning on savoring the last of the good food I’ll probably ever have. It’s a depressing thought.

  I open the bathroom door, and I can hear breathing.

  A grunt. Scuffing of shoes. A slap of a hand against bare skin.

  I know those sounds. Growing up in the public school system in a shitty area means I've gone into more than one bathroom to find students fucking. I think the majority of my education of what happens between two people came from these sorts of encounters, which is probably why I have avoided relationships so far. I roll my eyes and I'm about to leave when I hear a boy curse.

  “Fuck you, hold still.”

  That doesn't sound…consensual. Without hesitation, I creep forward, just a quick peek to make sure the girl is okay, and my eyes connect with Avery Beaumont.

  She's fucking terrified.

  Rory has her bent over the sink awkwardly, one hand over her mouth and his body pinning her arms behind her back while he fumbles with his pants. Her panties are torn and on the floor. She's bleeding from her head, her nose looks swollen, her phone is in pieces on the floor, and that fucking dick Rory is about to rape her.

  I don't even take a second to think.

  I lurch forward and take Rory by surprise. As my shoulder connects with his chest, his breath is knocked out of him and he falls backwards against the cold tiles. Avery scrambles away from him and behind me. I expect her to leave, to run away and leave me to deal with this horny rapist whose dick is just bobbing in the breeze, but she doesn't. She looks at me like she's looking at a ghost, and then she croaks, “Help.”

  Rory recovers and staggers at us both. He's easily twice my size and a football player, so naturally stacked with muscle. Someone you don’t want to fight without a plan. He may have the advantage, but I was raised in nothing and I fought my way to where I am. I duck and kick his knee, ignoring the shooting pain from the pins holding my leg together, and then I slam my knee into his stomach until he drops. I want to kick him right in the dick, I want him to piss blood for a week, but he’s hunching so I can’t get to it. He manages to get a fistful of my hair on his way down and flings my head around until I smash my face into the mirror, but then Avery gives him a quick jab to his ribs, and he goes down, groaning. She swears and shakes out her hand, shifting her weight like it will help. She’s obviously never had to punch someone before, and she’s tucked her thumb in. Silly girl. I’m feeling a little dazed as I think to myself, I should really teach that girl to punch properly.

  I pick up one of my textbooks, the history tome that's a hardcover and weighs more than a brick, and then I use every ounce of strength in me to slam it into his face.

  He's knocked clean out.

  I'm heaving like I've run a marathon, and Avery isn't much better. Her shirt is ripped open and she looks down, clutching at the halves to hold them together. She's clearly in shock, and I know I must be as well. My brain feels like a ball in a pinball machine, like it's been shot around my skull a few dozen times. I can't think of anything to say or what to do now.

  “He fractured his ribs during a football game last week. It was a lucky guess they were still sore,” she says, looking down at him. He's breathing, but I’m not sure I'm happy about it.

  “Fucking lucky. Piece of shit.”

  She hums in agreement and then steps forward to stomp on Rory's phone that's landed on the floor. I hiss at her, worried he’ll come to with all the noise, but she turns a baleful look at me.

  “He has photos of me.”

  Then we stop to look at each other.

  The queen and the pauper.

  There's blood dripping down her nose, her eyebrow is cut open, and I can see the fleshy muscle that lies underneath. It will scar. I wonder for a minute if it will diminish her incredibly good looks, and then I remember that she can afford a plastic surgeon to fix it.

  “Why did you help me?” she says abruptly, and I have to wipe my own bleeding nose on my sleeve.

  “He's a dick and a rapist, so why wouldn't I?”

  “Oh, I don't know, maybe because I've spent the whole year torturing you, turning everyone against you, helping my brother and his friends turn your whole life to shit? Give me a good reason why.”

  This girl is unbelievable. I just saved her, and she's standing there, demanding answers from me!

  “The appropriate thing to say is thank you,” I hiss at her instead.

  I turn to walk away, and she grabs my arm. Her hand is shaking so badly I can feel the tremble up my arm. We stare at each other in silence for a minute. I can't tell what she's thinking, she's as unreadable as ever, even with the shakes. Rory starts to groan on the floor and Avery flinches, then she stomps on his phone one last time and bends over to grab the chip out of it.

  “I have a guy that can get the photos out. I don't need anyone getting their hands on them; I have enough problems in my life as it is,” she explains as she tucks it into her bra.

  She tugs me out of the room by my elbow, and we set a brisk pace back to the dorms. I wince as my leg begins to protest the speed we’re going, but I don’t slow down. When we get back, she stands and waits for me to unlock the door to my room and follows me in.

  I have never been ashamed of how little I have until suddenly there's this girl, who has the whole world at her feet, looking around curiously. Her room is a palace in comparison. My cheeks flush, and I shake myself. What does it matter what she thinks? Three more years until I am free from all this shit. Avery turns, and I know the look on her face. It was the exact one she always used to clean up after her family’s exploits.

  “I don’t know what agreement you and Harley came to, but I will pay you to keep this quiet,” she starts, and I snort at her. She raises a perfect eyebrow at me. “I know you need the money. Name a price and I’ll pay it.”

  “Fuck your money. Just because I have nothing, doesn't mean I need to be paid for being a decent fucking person. That's what's wrong with you lot. You're all so busy stabbing each other in the back that you've forgotten how to be human.” I start to rummage around under my bed until I find my first-aid kit. After the year I've had, it's in dire need of a top-up, but I crack two of the instant ice packs and wait until they're cold. Avery takes on
e gingerly, like she's never seen one, and then copies my movements to press it against her head. I’m starting to worry she has a concussion.

  “Well, what do you want, then? Everyone wants something. Name your price.”

  “I don't want anything! You being nice to me just because I helped you means nothing to me!”

  She looks at me like I've grown another head. I sigh and slump back onto my bed, glancing down at myself to take stock of the damage. My stockings have holes in them now, and I wince because they're my last pair. I'll have to get through the rest of the week with them and just deal with the taunts from the other students. There’s blood on my white shirt, but I think I can get that out. I have a fair bit of practice with blood removal.

  My arms and legs are starting to ache; I can feel the pins holding my leg together and the bone throbs around them. I realize how regularly I’m having to fight people and put my body on the line here. So much for this school being a better place.

  Avery sighs and turns to the door to let herself out, but she hovers for a minute in the doorway. Her eyes are dry, but her mouth is turned down in a little miserable frown.

  “If you're willing to do that for your enemy, then what you do for your friends must be really special.”

  It's… a genuinely nice thing to say, and my eyes well up despite it. I’m struck again by how much I wish I had what she has. I wish I had people who love me and watch out for me. I wish I had real friends. I wish my life wasn’t empty.

  “I wouldn't know, I've never really had any.”

  She gives a sharp nod and closes the door tightly after herself. I get up and lock it, and then I crawl under my covers and try to ignore the pain I’m in.

  When I open the door the next morning, there is a brand-new uniform hanging from my door handle, stockings and all.