The Second Move: Rogues of Everly Prep Book Two

by Wendi Wilson

  “No. I’m fine,” I assured him, the dishonest words tasting bitter on my tongue. “I can handle two more weeks. And it’s obviously working, since he asked me out.”

  I tapped my phone screen to pull up the text thread with Mason, then handed the device to Josh so he could read it for himself. His face screwed up with concern, then smoothed out before passing the phone back to me.

  Relieved he was going to hold his tongue and not argue with me about it, I released a pent up breath. If anyone could talk some sense into me, it was my best friend.

  And I didn’t want to be sensible. I wanted to be frightening and vengeful, a God of wrath sent to make the wicked pay for their sins.

  I knew I was being overly dramatic, but I didn’t care. I’d set my path, and I’d see it through.

  “What happened with Seth?” Josh asked, and I snapped out of the thick haze of righteousness in which I was spiraling.

  “Now, that was fucking weird,” I said. “We were eating breakfast in silence, and he complimented my car.”

  “Now, that’s a path that leads straight to your heart,” Josh said theatrically.

  “Shut up,” I laughed, then tilted my head. “It is true, though. I relaxed a little after he broke the ice with the praise. The he complimented me, told me he understood why I did it, and said he knows he deserved what he got. Then he got up and left the kitchen. No accusations. No excuses. Just meek acceptance.”

  “Huh,” Josh said, his eyes glassy with the faraway look of a person deep in thought.

  “Enough about me,” I said, slapping him on the leg. “What about you? How are things going with Henderson?”

  I waggled my eyebrows and he groaned, burying his head beneath a pillow. His body went rigid with tension, and I knew something was wrong. I snatched the pillow from his face and stared at him expectantly.

  “Speak,” I said when he remained quiet.

  “He’s fine. It’s fine.”

  “Didn’t I already explain to you that fine means fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?” I asked with an arched brow.

  “Yes, smart-ass. You did.”

  “So tell me the truth, Josh.”

  He groaned again, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. I opened my mouth to push him some more, but his voice cut me off.

  “I am not attracted to Henderson. Like, at all. He annoys the shit out of me most of the time, and he’s so aggressive.”

  “What do you mean, aggressive?” I asked, my hackles rising.

  “Calm down, Hulk. No smash,” he joked, then sobered when I didn’t laugh. “I meant sexually aggressive.”

  “What?!” I exclaimed, imagining Henderson forcing himself on Josh like some back-alley gang bang.

  “Oh, Jesus. I’m not explaining this right. Calm down. Nothing has happened, but not for the lack of him trying. I let him kiss me once, and now he thinks we should make out all the time.”

  “You kissed him?” I asked, my hackles smoothing a bit. “How was it?”

  “Terrible,” Josh said, rolling his eyes at my hopeful tone. “Like I said, he’s aggressive and all tongue. It felt like he was trying to lick the entire inside of my mouth clean.”

  I grimaced at the description, and Josh laughed.

  “Exactly. Pair the bad technique with the fact that I don’t even like him, and the ick-factor was off the charts.”

  “You said you kissed once. How are you putting him off when he tries again?”

  “I just keep telling him I need more time. That I’m trying to get over my ex. It’s worked so far, but I can tell he’s losing patience.”

  “That’s it,” I said, hopping to my feet. “You have to end it. You being miserable was not part of the deal.”

  “I told you I’m fi—” he started, cutting himself before saying fine again. “It’s working, Chaz.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His lips tugged up, but the smile was sad as he replied, “Theo has been watching us. Constantly. He’s still maintaining appearances with Isla, but I can see cracks forming. He scowls every time she approaches him. I’ve even seen him get up and leave the minute she sits down beside him.”

  “Well, that’s progress,” I muttered, my voice unsure. “But why do you look so devastated about it?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Josh, come on. I know you better than that.”

  “I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t like seeing him so unhappy. It makes me want to fix it.”

  “I told you we didn’t have to do this,” I said, but he sat up and grabbed my hands.

  “Yes, we do,” he declared. “Theo Davenport hurt you. And he hurt me. He deserves to pay, and the pain and jealousy he’s experiencing now barely scratches the surface of his penance.”

  “It feels like you’re paying, too. I don’t like it,” I uttered, squeezing his hands.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, smirking. “I’m keeping my eye on prize here, Chaz. If everything plays out the way it’s supposed to, Theo and I will be together on the other side of this. I have a chance at real happiness. I can deal with a little adversity along the way. I promise.”

  “Are you sure? Because you can end this at any time,” I said, my eyes pleading with him to reconsider.

  “I’m sure,” he answered, his expression resolute. “We’re going to get revenge and I’m going to get the guy. Maybe you will, too?”

  “No,” I stated emphatically. “That’s not going to happen. I don’t want him. Not anymore. Never again.”

  Josh’s head tilted as he stared at me doubtfully.

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

  “Shut up,” I laughed, grabbing the pillow and swinging it into his face.

  “So, how are the rest of the revenge plans going?” he asked, gratefully changing the subject.

  “Pretty good,” I said. “I think I have everyone nailed down except for Cooper. Oh, and I still need to find a way to separate Amelia and Charlotte.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure something out for those bitches,” he growled. “But as for Cooper, I may have an idea.”

  “Tell me,” I said, my tone pleading.

  “Simone.”

  “What about her?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen him watching her since she started sitting with us. When he sees her, it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time. Like he’s just now noticing how gorgeous she is. I think we can use that attraction against him.”

  “I don’t know, Josh. I know she’s in this with us all the way, but toying with someone’s emotions seems a little too far out of her wheelhouse.”

  “She wants to help, Chaz. She’s been slighted by them for years and wants a little payback. She’s strong. She can handle it.”

  “I don’t know,” I repeated.

  “Let’s just ask her,” he said. “If she seems at all hesitant, we’ll pull the plug.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, but I didn’t like it.

  I didn’t want any more innocent people getting hurt.

  17

  If I had to use one word to describe the forty-five minute drive to the party, it would be awkward. Mason and I exchanged a few pleasantries when I picked him up, but a thick silence quickly enveloped us, making the confines of the Chevelle feel tight and suffocating.

  I fiddled with the radio but couldn’t find anything decent to listen to, so I turned it off.

  “I have a few playlists I can stream from my phone,” Mason offered, his voice startling me as it broke the silence.

  “No aux,” I said, motioning toward the radio.

  The sound system had been updated from its original 1969 set up, but the stereo was older, sporting a CD player with a six-disk changer and no auxiliary port for music devices. Who even had CD’s anymore? I had plans to replace it, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

  The uncomfortable silence fell again and remained until we reached Cypress Pointe. Mason gave me directions to the party, and I
found myself a little dumbstruck as modest brick homes gave way to sprawling mansions.

  Though I’d lived in one for the last few months, the monstrous homes still left me in awe. As my headlights passed over sprawling lawns and gated driveways, I shook my head. These people were too much.

  “What?” Mason asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Which one is it?”

  He pointed up the street, and I could see several cars parked on either side near a driveway with an open gate. The telltale pounding of a heavy bass beat tickled my ears as I moved the car closer. I pulled up along the curb, leaving several car-lengths of space between my car and the others already parked there.

  “Can’t have any drunk assholes hurting my baby,” I said, running a hand over the dash when Mason shot me a curious look.

  He laughed, and the sound trickled down my spine, giving me goosebumps. I clenched my back teeth until the sensation passed.

  How could someone I hate so much affect me the way he did? I ordered myself to keep my shit together and stop reacting to every little thing he did like a love-sick teenager. Because that was definitely and unequivocally not what I was.

  Josh’s voice rang in my head, spouting that line about protesting too much. Internal me told imaginary him to shut the fuck up.

  While I was having that ridiculous conversation in my head, Mason had climbed from the car and jogged around to open my door. I muttered my thanks as he closed it behind me, and I double-checked to make sure the car was locked up securely.

  Thankfully, he didn’t try to touch me as we fell into step beside each other. I didn’t know if my nerves could handle it. I needed a drink.

  “Don’t drink anything,” Mason said, as if he’d read my mind. “Not unless I get it for you.”

  “You think someone would drug me?” I asked, wondering what kind of party he’d brought me to.

  “I would hope not,” he said, “but there are people here I don’t know. It’s just safer to stay vigilant.”

  “But I can trust you?”

  The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them, filled with bitter anger and lingering doubt. I squeezed my eyes closed, cursing myself for letting the emotion slip out. I was supposed to be tricking him into thinking I cared about him.

  “Sorry,” I murmured, and he wrapped a hand around my bicep to pull me to a stop.

  “You don’t need to apologize to me,” he said, his voice firm with conviction. “I earned every bit of your anger and mistrust, and I know I’m going to have to work hard to get back what we had.”

  My head flew back in surprise as he looked away, mumbling a stream of curses. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud.

  But it was out in the universe now, and it was too late to take it back. My plan was working. I had him hooked on my line, and now all I had to do was reel him in slowly. A smile stretched across my lips, and he must’ve taken it as a good sign, because he threaded his fingers through mine and led me into the party.

  There weren’t as many people crammed inside as I’d expected, but then again, it was still early. Mason held onto my hand as we weaved through the front room, heading for a kitchen in the back of the house. He nodded at several people who called out his name, but didn’t stop to talk to any of them, or introduce me.

  I was fine with that. These people looked like a bunch of stuck-up pricks, anyway.

  Mason reached into a cooler and pulled out an unopened can of soda, passing it to me. Even though I’d decided I wanted some booze to calm my nerves, I was instantly relieved he didn’t give me alcohol.

  It meant he wasn’t trying to get me drunk. He didn’t have plans to loosen my tongue or my morals with booze or beer, or try to get more out of me than I was willing to give. Despite some twisted desire to see him prove himself an asshole, I was impressed.

  And he wasn’t drinking, either. He pulled out his own soda, then led me out of the kitchen and into a large living room. The room was crowded, but not so much that we couldn’t easily move around. More guys called out to Mason, making me realize his popularity expanded well-past the halls of Everly Prep. It seemed he knew everyone.

  “Bellamy.”

  Mason halted, pulling me close to his side, as a couple moved in front of us. Mason held out a fist and the guy bumped his against it.

  “Golden.”

  Tattoos that started somewhere under the short sleeve of his shirt twined around and down his muscular arm, mesmerizing me as he pulled his hand back and slung it over the shoulder of the girl next to him.

  “Chaz, this is West Golden,” Mason said, snapping me out of the hypnotic state watching those tats had put me in. “West, Chaz Miller.”

  West held out a hand and I shook it, giving him a smile. My gaze strayed to the beauty next to him to find her studying me in return. Something in her dark blue eyes struck a chord in me—a pang of familiarity that I couldn’t ignore.

  “This is Blue Riley,” West said.

  Mason nodded at her and we exchanged muted greetings. She gave me a small smile and I realized she recognized me, too.

  This was the first time either of us had laid eyes on the other, yet somehow, we knew each other. We were the same. Two outsiders finding our way in unfamiliar territory, trying to keep our heads above water and not get swept away by the current.

  I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. Blue Riley and I were kindred spirits.

  They moved away after that, and Mason led me to an empty couch. After we got comfortable, Mason leaned in close to murmur in my ear.

  “You like that look?” he asked.

  “What?” I replied, unsure what he meant.

  “West,” he clarified. “You were practically drooling over all that ink.”

  “Was I?” I asked, giving him a coy look before turning my eyes back to where the couple stood across the room, talking to a group of guys.

  Dark hair, mussed like someone had been running their fingers through it. A tight t-shirt that hugged his muscles, showing off large biceps and a rippled chest. Snug jeans that left little to the imagination. Magnificent artwork swirling down his arms.

  Yes, I liked it very much. West Golden was definitely grade-A eye candy.

  “I guess,” I teased.

  He grunted in response, and I had to fight to contain my smile. My goal in coming to this stupid party was to reel Mason in and make him want me, but this was even better. Jealousy was a great motivator. If he thought my eyes were wandering to greener pastures, it would make him want me that much more.

  I thought about it for a few moments as the music cranked up and people started to dance. I wasn’t usually one to play games, and while this whole situation was one big game, I didn’t want to complicate it more than it already was. Making Mason jealous would mean weaving innocent people into this plot, and while I didn’t know them, first impressions told me West and Blue didn’t deserve to be pawns in my scheme. Nor did anyone else.

  I felt a twinge of guilt as I thought about Josh and Henderson. I’d already pulled them in, making them integral parts of my plan for revenge. And Josh and I planned to talk to Simone about Cooper. No more.

  “Do you want to dance?” I asked Mason as the music slowed in tempo and couples pulled each other close.

  He stood up quickly and pulled me to my feet before leading me to the center of the room. His hands rested lightly on my hips, and I could feel the burn of his wide-spread fingers through my jeans. I looped my arms around his neck, sifting my own digits through his hair.

  Leaning in close, I murmured, “He’s okay, but he’s no Mason Bellamy.”

  His grip tightened as his arms jerked me forward, pressing my body against his. Before my next breath, his lips were on mine, kissing me like he’d been starved for it. Memories assailed me, images of before, when I’d been naïve and trusting, taking everything he’d offered and giving it back to him tenfold.

  But I wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d been slain, replaced by the jaded, wounded
animal I’d become.

  So I kissed him back with my mouth, but not my heart. I kept that treacherous organ tightly sealed behind a wall of stone and mortar. And there it would stay until this was all over and Mason was just as fucking broken as me.

  18

  The drive home was just as uncomfortable as the ride to the party, but for completely different reasons. Mason filled the silence with words, talking about random shit like he was afraid if he stopped, it would give me too much time to rethink our current status…whatever the hell that was.

  His hand rested on my thigh as I drove, and every time his fingers moved, tiny jolts of electricity zipped straight up through me, making my insides clench with pleasure. I honestly didn’t hear much of what he said, my internal voice drowning out his words as I screamed at my traitorous body to stop reacting and enjoying his touch so much.

  I hated him. I wanted nothing from him but pleas for mercy when I finally decided to end this farce and swing the hammer of justice.

  But my raging hormones had other ideas. A shiver ran through me as Mason’s grip tightened on my thigh and my pelvic muscles clenched in response.

  “I have to keep dating her for appearances’ sake.”

  “What?” I barked as some of his words filtered through my inner debate.

  “Charlotte,” he said, his face drawn with regret. “I have to stay with her, publicly. I can’t explain why, but it’s necessary. I just hoped you’d let me see you sometimes, in private.”

  And just like that, my body went cold and his touch went from turning me on to making bile rise up the back of my throat. Mason Bellamy was exactly who I’d thought he was. A self-centered, malicious prick.

  “In secret, you mean,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.

  “Don’t say it like that,” he begged. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us.”

  “You wouldn’t have to miss us if you hadn’t done what you did,” I said, the words coming out a little more sharply than I’d wanted. Softening my tone, I added, “You hurt me, Mason.”