by J Bree
He purrs at me, his other hand stroking over my cheek lovingly. “How do you get in? If he’s in there and it’s locked, how do you get in?”
Fuck. It sounds suspiciously like he’s making plans to go find the Jackal himself, but I let it go for now. “You unlock it. It’s old and impossible to change the combination but the Jackal never told anyone what it is. Ever.”
He hums under his breath, and curves his hand so his palm can brush against my clit, just a little and then he pulls away. My jaw snaps shut and I try to chase his palm but he stops me.
“How do you get in there then, Mounty? You have to know a way.”
I blink a little, try to clear my head but it’s so hard when he’s touching me like this. He clicks his tongue at me like I’m disappointing him, goddammit, and I pull myself together.
“I watched him open it. I watched enough times that I know the combination. He doesn’t know that I know, I’m sure of it, otherwise he would’ve switched vaults. It’s long but I remember it. I remember fucking everything from my time there.”
He presses up into my clit a little harder, enough that I actually shiver and shake. His hands should be fucking illegal.
“How do I get down there? If I needed to find this vault, how do I know which one it is?”
I groan and bury my face into his chest. I just want to come, for fuck’s sake! “It’s the biggest vault, he does his torture and maiming there too. It’s on the bottom level, the only one down there and it has a secret set of stairs, right at the end of the hall.”
“Good girl.” He whispers, and finally, finally, he lets me come, three fingers pressing deep into me and his palm grind against me as I ride the waves of pleasure out.
When I finally stop shaking, I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I feel wrecked, like I always do, and I rock forward onto my hands to try to find my brains. Why the hell does he want to know that? He can’t go down to the Bay by himself, this was a terrible fucking idea! He chuckles at me and I glance over my shoulder at the sound.
He’s leaning against the pillows in a sort of recline but halfway to sitting up. He looks like a spoiled prince, like he’s the black-souled prince of hell and here I am to serve him.
Well.
That kind of sounds perfect.
All of my reservations go out the freaking window. He gets tired of waiting for my brains to stop leaking out of my head at the mere sight of him and cracks his palm cracks against my ass. “Well, get up here then, Mounty. You earned it.”
He sounds a little less smug when I slide down his cock in one go, the stretch still taking me a second to breathe past but, fuck me, he’s worth every inch. His hips roll up to meet mine and I tsk under my breath at him.
“You’re supposed to be laying back and taking it, Beaumont,” I gasp, aiming for stern but falling flat as he spreads one hand between my tits, inching up towards my throat, and the other grips my hip.
“No, I said you could take it however you want. If you want to be on top then I’ll fuck you like that. What the hell have those lazy fucks been teaching you?”
I grind my hips down into him, gasping and groaning, and he finally slides his palm around my throat, his fingers firmly finding their place and tugging me forward into his lips for another kiss.
When I try to move my hips again he tightens his hold, keeping me still so he can pump his hips up, driving his dick into my wet pussy like he was made to fuck me so good. I moan like a wanton Mounty slut, and just take it, take every fucking inch and pump of his hips until I’m clenching around him like a vise, coming so hard I black out a little.
He grunts and shoves my hips back down, slamming me onto his cock as he comes, his teeth sinking into the hollow of my throat and his arms wrap around me until I’m surrounded by him.
I take a second to find myself, find my brains and my dignity, and then I snap at him, “If I have to go down to the Jackal’s lair to find you because you’ve taken off down there by yourself, Beaumont, I’m going to tear fucking strips off of you. You’ll wish you’d never been born.”
Chapter Sixteen
I throw myself back into studying, college scholarships still my top priority. What is the use of being this smart if I can’t get someone else to pay for my education?
I pick Avery up from her dance class to walk back to our rooms for dinner. The guys are all running late from their sessions at the gym and after a full day of studying I’m antsy to move around.
Avery tucks her arms into mine, flicking her hair over her shoulder like a pro, and says, “It’s much nicer having you come get me, Ash has turned into a snarling dick again. I knew his change of heart was too good to be true.”
I groan. “Maybe you two need to sit down and sort… everything out. Stop being at each other's throats for a while. I know we’d all appreciate some calm.”
She smooths a hand down the front of her shirt, pristine even though she’s just spent two hours sweating and dancing her ass off. Fuck, still jealous. “I’ve tried. This is clearly one of his nonnegotiable issues from our childhood. Atticus wasn’t even… that bad. I think now Joey’s gone, he's found someone else to loathe being around me.”
I nod, it makes sense. “And how are you feeling about Crawford?”
Ice. Pure fucking ice in her tone and she snaps, “He’s not worth my time.”
Yeah. I’m not sure I believe her and, fuck, I don’t think she believes herself but if I’ve learned nothing else about her, Avery Beaumont is not fucking rational around the Crow. Their story is as dark and twisted as mine and I’m not going to judge them.
Ok, lie. I’m not going to judge Avery. I’m going to judge Crawford a whole freaking lot.
We round the corner to the main staircase and find the way blocked by a crowd of students. It’s not until Avery’s arm tenses in mine that I spot Lauren standing with a girl that has to be related to Viola Ayres, they look so similar. Well, this girl is the preppy version of Viola. No badass streaks and piercings in sight.
“There they are! The former reigning Queens of Hannaford, we’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
Avery’s eyes narrow at the word former. “Imogen, get the hell out of our way before I destroy your will to live. I’ve been bored lately, I need a new pet project.”
A total lie, she barely sleeps with the workload we’re now under, but she would never show the sheep that weakness.
Grief flashes over Imogen’s face and I try to remember that this kid has just lost a parent. We should give her just a little bit of leeway. Lauren looks uncomfortable but she doesn’t move away. I give her what I hope is a disappointed look but the flinch she gives me says it’s probably just a little too murderous.
“Just tell me where my sister’s body is. My mom needs the closure.”
Avery’s shoulders roll back, her arm in mine meaning my shoulders do too. “Your sister isn’t dead. She’s run off with her boyfriend, that’s none of our concern. Move.”
Imogen crosses her arms, pulling herself up and stares down her nose at us. Insolent little fuck, isn’t she? The guys in the room grin and shift their weight on their feet like they’re eager to tear us to pieces and I subtly shift myself in front of Avery.
If I have to kill them all then I will, fuck the cleanup.
“I know you guys are new around here, but you really don’t want to do this with me,” I say, and I catch Lauren’s eyes. She shifts again, leaning in to whisper to Imogen but the girl just shakes her head.
Fuck it.
The guy closest to us takes a swing and I shove Avery back, ducking so he lurches forward from the momentum. Avery gasps, stumbling, but she doesn’t hit the ground. I don’t even notice why she hasn’t hit the ground until the next guy reaches forward to grab me. My knife is in my hand, ready to stab him and end this shit now, when Harley grabs his fist midair and breaks his arm, the crack of his bones deafening.
Harley’s big hands clamp over my hips and gently shoves me behind himself like I
’m a delicate princess, not a crime lord with a deadly knife clenched in my hands ready to spill some blood. The guy with the broken arm is screaming and dry retching on the ground, and although the others look a little more wary, they haven’t backed down. Fucking idiots.
“Well, come on then. If you’re big enough to ambush my girl, you’d better hope you’re big enough to take on me as well,” he snaps, stripping his blazer off.
That gets some attention.
He’s wearing his guns, the two of them strapped into his shoulder holsters and I know for a fact they’re clean and loaded. If he wanted to, the whole fucking lot of them would be dead in minutes. I kind of wish Hannaford operated on the same rules as the Bay because fuck these rich little bitches. They have no fucking clue.
“Fucking mobster trash,” Imogen spits, and Harley smirks.
“Yep, I’m the mobster trash that’s going to bleed every last one of you gutless fucks out.”
Avery steps up beside me and gives me a look. Right. We can’t let him kill these guys, no matter how much they deserve it, because we have enough heat on us as is. Fuck.
I catch his wrist and Avery snaps, “Looks like we’ll see you boys tonight at the fight club. I haven’t attended in years, what are you sluts wearing to those things these days?”
One of the guys steps forward and Harley rolls his eyes at him. “Really, Kettering? You wanna bleed that badly you can’t wait for tonight?”
Kettering sneers, “You’ll show up with your friends and fight dirty. I’d rather finish it here.”
I snort at the fucking dickhead. “So, you’d rather your six to one instead of six to three? Good to know that you’re aware of exactly how pathetic you lot are.”
Harley chuckles at my smug tone. “I don’t need backup, dickhead.”
Avery arches a brow until they all start moving away. Lauren tries to flee but I grab her arm and wrench her into me until she has no choice but to look at me. Imogen stops and eyes Harley warily as he stands over us both, watching my back.
“I can’t believe the girl who tried to befriend me in freshman year would be here today organizing a lynching,” I say, my tone even but my face must be all sorts of fucked up. I don’t give a fuck, she needs to know just how fucking badly she’s misread this situation.
You’d think the head in the box and the Butcher would have been a big enough warning.
“She’s scared for her sister! Her dad has just been murdered!” Lauren shrieks, and I roll my eyes at her. Everyone else has moved away now, leaving her with no protection so she’s back to being a terrified little girl, hiding behind her ‘good intentions’. Fucking spare me the bullshit.
I grab my phone out and hit dial on Viola’s number, switching it to speaker. She answers almost instantly, grumpy as hell.
“Who the fuck is dead now? Jackson is already speaking to Crawford—”
I interrupt her before Lauren gets anything important out of her. “You sister just tried to jump Avery and me. I chose not to kill the little bitch, so you owe me one.”
She swears viciously, snapping, “She never did have any fucking sense! I’ll call her now.”
Imogen’s eyes flare and I smirk at her. “She’s right here if you’d like to tear strips for her. I wouldn’t mind hearing that.”
Before Viola can speak Imogen cries out, “Well, if you didn’t run off with some guy then maybe Dad would still be here! Why are you siding with trash from the Bay?”
Viola hangs up, then Imogen’s phone rings. Fine. I guess they have their own conversation to have but Lauren isn’t being let off so easily. I grab her by the arm and pull her into the alcove, where there’s no chance anyone passing by will be able to hear our conversation.
“Your dad is a dirty cop. He’s bought and paid for, and he’s chosen the wrong side. Senator Ayres death lands at his feet. Get your fucking head around that, then make the smart choice and stay the fuck away from my family. You shouldn’t be warning me away, the person who needs to run is you.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t just kill them there and get it over with,” Blaise drawls, lounging in front of the TV in our room like a freaking cat. Avery’s already snarked at him for lying around in his underwear but the snark just bounces off of him.
I ignore the comment and shovel the pizza Avery handmade into my mouth like I’m a starved Mounty kid. I mean, I’m totally not one these days but old habits die hard.
“Maybe because I’m currently averaging three hours of sleep a night as it is, Morrison! I can’t clean up anything else for you guys, I’m at my fucking limit!” Avery snarls, and I get a bad case of the guilts.
“What else can I do, Aves?”
She gives me a look. “Nothing. You do more than enough. Maybe if the guys all stopped, I don’t know, running off to hack bodies to pieces without telling us, my job would be a little easier.”
Blaise pulls a face. “I had nothing to do with that. I just helped keep Star busy, you can’t put that shit on me. Besides, you’re just pissed Ash got to call your boyfriend out for being sloppy. If he says this place is clean, he should be fucking sure it is.”
I narrow my eyes at him and he gives me an unrepentant look, the dick. Avery goes back to scrubbing at the dishes in the sink like a crazy woman and I keep my mouth shut. I’m not stupid, poking at a cleaning Beaumont is not a smart move.
Harley arrives back from his swim practice, his hair still wet and the smell of chlorine clinging to him. He grabs a slice of pizza from my plate and kisses my head before eating half of it in a single bite. “What’s the problem now? You guys don’t have to come tonight if you’re busy. Ash will watch my back.”
Like fuck am I missing out on this. I don’t have to say a word, Harley reads it on my face. “Just saying, babe. I know how badly you’re freaking out about not being finished with your assignments yet… you fucking freak.”
I smirk at him. “Jealous, much? There’s no way you’re talking your way out of it; I’m watching you and I’m going to enjoy the hell out of it.”
Avery pulls a face. “Stop flirting. I don’t need to hear about your weird kinks, Mounty. I can’t think of anything worse than watching Harley pummel some guy, ugh. Have we decided what the dress code is yet? Are we going there as a gang, matching leather jackets? We should get patches or something. I feel like we all look great in black.”
We’d have to wear white, and it’s not exactly a subtle color, but I keep that to myself, rolling my eyes instead. “Just throw something on! It’s not a charity gala, Aves.”
She gives me a look. “Mounty, I don’t throw things on. We can’t all look stunning in ripped jeans and band shirts.”
Liar, she’s freaking devastating in everything, even dressed up like a Mounty, but I give her a look until she grabs one of her perfectly tailored coats and slides it on. “Where the hell is Ash? We’re going to be late!”
Harley huffs at her and grabs another slice. “There’s no such thing as late to fight club, Floss. You show up when you’re ready and then wipe the floor with the posing dickheads.”
She rolls her eyes in return, smiling when he kisses her cheek sweetly. “I’d rather we get this over and done with. Now, stop avoiding my question; where’s Ash?”
Harley grimaces. “He’s already down there, he went straight from track.”
I jump up from my chair, Avery cackling at the look on my face. If I’ve missed out on Ash fighting, I’m gonna be pissed. “Morrison, throw some pants on; we gotta go.”
He huffs at me, like it’s such an inconvenience, but he pulls on a pair of ripped jeans and throws his leather jacket over his tank. I shove my feet into my cherry Docs and we’re out the door. I tuck myself under Harley’s arm and Blaise grabs my hand, laughing and messing around with Harley as we make our way down to the chapel. Avery trails behind us, her phone out and her lip between her teeth. Fuck. I need to figure out how to clear the board for her, take out just enough of her problems that I get my
ice queen bestie back.
Blaise drops my hand to answer a text right as we get to the chapel, and the guy at the door startles when he sees us all walking up together, his eyes wide and panicked. “Arbour! I wasn’t expecting you to show. This isn’t really your scene anymore, is it?”
Harley’s arm drops away from my shoulder to grab my hand, his fingers threading through mine. “Shut your mouth, Smith, before it gets you in the shit.”
The guy’s eyes flick down to me. “Uh, girls aren’t supposed to come in man, you know that.”
I smirk at him, dark and deadly. “You gonna keep me out, Smith?”
Maybe he has some survival instincts after all because he gulps and steps away from the door, ushering us in with his eyes fixed firmly to the ground.
There has to be at least fifty guys bare chested and grunting, and another hundred standing around taking bets.
The room stinks of sweaty boys, blood, and desperation. Not something that’s the norm for my time at Hannaford but Mounts Bay has made me immune. Avery scrunches her nose up and I laugh at her.
“Gross, right? I thought rich people would sweat some ritzy cologne or some shit,” I murmur, and she snorts at me as she tucks her arm into mine.
“I wish. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by those idiot boys and they’ve never smelt that good.”
That’s a freaking lie, my three smell amazing. I have no clue what she’s talking about but that’s beside the point. Harley leads us over to take a seat in the same place I sat last time, when he’d beaten Hillsong for smacking me around back when I had no clue he liked me. He winks at me, probably thinking the same thing, and I blush like a swooning fucking virgin.
Lord help me.
Then he strips down to his shorts, the tiny ones he wears to boxing, and cups my jaw, kissing me dirty and raw.