Wicked Rules (Wicked Bay Book 2)

by L A Cotton

  “To apologise, I guess.”

  “Motherfu—”

  “I told him to stay away.”

  “You think he will?” Kyle sneered.

  Devon had sounded desperate. Broken. But if he knew what was good for him, he would walk away.

  And stay away.

  “Maverick will lose his shit.”

  “Don’t tell him.”

  “Lo.” Kyle blew out a long breath, raking a hand over his face. And it didn’t escape me that he called me Lo instead of ‘Cous’. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “He doesn’t need to know. Besides, nothing happened. I didn’t even hear him out.”

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, Cous.”

  “It’s not a game, Kyle. Devon screwed me over. I won’t forget that in a hurry, but I don’t need you or Maverick fighting my battles.”

  “Try telling Prince that.”

  Once we were out of the school parking lot Kyle said, “So how was it, today? You know with the pretending and all?”

  I shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Cous. If it’s any consolation, I happen to know it almost killed Rick.”

  It had?

  Kyle’s smooth chuckle filled the Jeep, but I didn’t reply, too busy mulling over the day’s events. Caitlin ignored me in the one class we shared. Macey too. It was more than I could have hoped for.

  “What did he tell Macey?” I said.

  “Who? Rick?”

  “Who else, Kyle?”

  “Does it matter?” I shrugged again watching the town roll by and he added, “Why, did she say something?”

  “She barely even acknowledged me in class.”

  “Let him worry about Macey.”

  My phone vibrated, and I dug it out of my bag, my heart swelling when I saw Maverick’s name on the screen.

  Maverick: I miss you

  My fingers typed out a reply.

  Lo: I miss you too. Now go to practise

  Maverick: You know, keep talking like that and I might start to think you’re trying to get rid of me

  Lo: Like I have a choice

  Kyle eyed me, a smirk playing on his lips, but I ignored him. Waiting for Maverick’s reply. It came seconds later.

  Maverick: You’re right. You don’t. I’ll text you after I’m done

  I slid my phone away and continued staring out of the window. Kyle was desperate to ask, it radiated from him. But when he did finally speak, his words spun my head.

  “Prince has it so bad.”

  Maverick

  “Take the shot, Prince.” Coach’s voice boomed across the court, and I swiped my brow with my arm, lining up the ball. I loved this part. The anticipation crackling in the air. The rush of adrenaline. Just me, the ball, and the absolute self-belief in making the shot. The sweet, sweet sense of relief when it sailed through the hoop wasn’t so bad either.

  “Now!” he yelled, and I pushed up in one fluid movement, extending from my knees and through my hips until I hovered above the ground. My wrist snapped at the perfect moment and the ball flew through the air, finding its way home.

  “Nice,” Aaron clapped me on the back as we moved into position to run the play again. I glanced to the wall clock as I gathered the hem of my jersey and tugged it up, rubbing the sweat off my face. We’d been at it an hour already. Coach would want at least another thirty minutes before he’d let us go. Which meant at least another hour, more like two, before I got to speak to Lo, or even better, see her.

  Today had been torture. Knowing she was close but not being able to touch her. When she'd passed me in the hallway between second and third period, I'd almost caved and dragged her to my car. But I’d laid down these stupid rules, and I needed to stick to them.

  Tonight.

  I'd find a way to see her tonight.

  “Prince, get your head in the game,” Coach seethed as I fumbled the ball and Trey scooped it up and shot an easy two-pointer.

  “My bad, sorry, Coach,” I said just as Luke caught my eye. Amusement danced in his expression as if he knew exactly what I'd been daydreaming about. I flipped him off and moved back into position.

  By the time Coach called time and let us head to the locker room, I was restless. My blood simmering with unbound energy.

  “Someone needs to get laid,” Aaron smirked in my direction and I mouthed, “Fucker” at him as I toweled off my hair.

  “You mean that sweet piece of British arse isn't putting out?”

  “Watch it, Bryson,” I said yanking on a clean jersey.

  “Ignore him, man.” Luke came to my defense. “He's just jealous you're getting some, and he's not.”

  Bryson mumbled something but was interrupted by Coach's voice. “Prince, my office please.”

  The guys hollered and cheered as I grabbed my bag and made the short walk to the office. I knocked and waited for a second before slipping inside.

  “Take a seat, son,” he yanked off his ball cap and dropped it on his desk, raking a hand through his graying hair.

  “What’s up, Coach?”

  “I got a call this morning from my contact at Bruins.”

  My ears perked up, and I straightened off the chair. But when I saw his grim expression, I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

  Mouth down-turned at the corners, rubbing his jaw, he met my eyes. “It’s not looking good, son.”

  The room zeroed in around me. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. But as my stomach plummeted down into my fucking toes, I knew he was serious. “What? I don’t understand… I thought it was looking good?”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on over there. My contact didn’t have all the details but there’s been a discrepancy…”

  His words became white noise in my eardrums. Bruins was my out. My shot at breaking free from my father’s chains. This was not happening.

  “Maverick, son, are you hanging in there?”

  “Hmm, what?” I blinked at him, scratching my head. I’d barely heard anything he’d just said, my pulse crashing against my skull like a sledgehammer.

  “Look, let’s not assume the worst, yet. I’ll do some more digging. See if we can find out what’s going on. I just wanted to give you a heads up, son. I know how much this means to you.”

  “Thanks, Coach.” I stood and gave him a tight nod, but I was numb.

  “Don’t give up yet, Maverick. You deserve this; no one deserves it more.” His words bounced off my back, and by the time I reached my car, I couldn’t remember the walk from Coach’s office to the parking lot. Watching your dream evaporate in front of your eyes had that effect. It was so close—so fucking close—I could almost smell it.

  Bruins...

  Basketball...

  Freedom.

  It had been snatched away from me in the blink of an eye and now I was stuck in this nightmare with no escape.

  My pocket vibrated, and I pulled out my cell phone. Lo’s incoming text flashed over the screen but I didn’t open it. Instead, I scrolled to Kyle’s number and fired him a text asking him to distract her tonight. I needed time to process, to work out my next move, and my mood was worsening by the second.

  He texted straight back.

  Kyle: Anything I should know about?

  Maverick: Just some shit I need to take care of. Watch my girl for me.

  Kyle: Your girl?

  Maverick: Stone!

  Kyle: Don’t push her away, Rick. Whatever’s going on, she can handle it.

  I threw my cell phone inside the car and climbed inside, irritated that he saw through my bullshit so easily. Kyle’s intentions were good, but he only knew half the story. He didn’t know that this changed everything. Without Bruins, I was royally screwed. Stripped of who I was, and with no chance of escape.

  Fuck.

  ~

  For the next two days, I avoided Lo. It was easier than seeing her and trying to explain. Most girls would have grown clingy, demanding answers. B
ut not Lo. She knew what I needed.

  Somehow, she always knew.

  “You’re being a dick.” Kyle dropped down beside me as I ate my sub in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. I’d waited until the rush cleared so I could eat in peace—and avoid the dark-eyed angel who saw into my black soul.

  “Nice to see you too, Stone.”

  “She’s not stupid, you know? She knows something is wrong. Maybe if you just told us, we could help?”

  “I’m dealing with it,” I snapped.

  He glanced around at my pity party for one and arched his brow. “Well, if this is what you call dealing with it, looks like you’ve got it covered.”

  “Stone.”

  “Prince,” he mocked. “Just talk to her. She’s put up with enough of your bullshit so far. I’m sure she can handle whatever it is that has you eating on your own like a sad, lost puppy.”

  He held my stare. Daring me to disagree. To reel off any one of the numerous excuses I used when I needed to shut someone out.

  “It's complicated,” I said, earning me an over-dramatic eye roll.

  “Of course, it's complicated, this is you we're talking about.”

  My cell phone vibrated. It was Lo. I knew without even looking. “Getting that?” Kyle said, and I scowled at him.

  Lo: I missed you last night

  Maverick: Coach pushed us pretty hard, I crashed when I got back to the house

  Lo: It's fine, Kyle and Laurie dragged me to The Shack to play pool… again

  Maverick: I hope you kicked his ass

  Lo: Of course

  Maverick: I have a thing with the guys tonight, but tomorrow?

  Guilt swarmed my chest.

  Lo: Maverick, is everything okay? You've been, I don't know... distant

  Maverick: Everything is good, it's just a crazy time with classes and practice

  Lo: Okay

  The word stared back at me. Taunting me. I was a bastard. I hadn’t so much as looked at Lo all day—well, not in plain sight. But I felt her everywhere. In the hallways, at lunch, in the parking lot. She haunted me, and all because I was too cowardly to do the right thing. But things were already spiraling out of control.

  One day.

  We’d managed one fucking day before my shit caught up with us. So, I did what I did best, pushed people away. It was for her own protection while I figured shit out.

  When she didn’t text again, I sent her another one.

  Maverick: I miss you

  It wasn’t a lie. I missed her like I needed air to breathe. But it wasn’t the answer she wanted or deserved either. Another text came through, but it wasn’t the name I’d hoped to see.

  “What's wrong now?” Kyle said noticing how rigid I’d gone.

  “I'm not sure, but I intend on finding out.” I rose from the table and shoved my tray at him. “Lunch is on me.”

  “Rick, come on,” he pleaded, but I was already gone.

  Five minutes later, I was back inside Coach Callahan’s office.

  “Take a seat, son.”

  “I think I’ll stand.”

  “Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy breath. For someone who coached basketball for the last fifteen years, he was surprisingly out of shape. “I spoke to my contact again. It would seem the board received some additional information regarding your application.”

  “I don't understand... what are you saying?”

  He looked me dead in the eye as he said, “They know, son. Bruins know.”

  ~

  “We need to talk.” I barged into my father’s study and stormed straight over to him. He looked up from his desk and went back to his stack of papers.

  “Nice to see you too, Son.”

  I bristled, my teeth grinding. I hated it when he called me that. As far as I was concerned, he lost that right a long fucking time ago.

  “Tell me this wasn’t you. Tell me you didn’t screw me over, your son. Your own fucking son.” Anger burned through me and I clenched my fists. If he was affected, he didn’t show it as he placed his papers down and regarded me.

  “Why don’t you calm down, take a seat, and tell me what it is that has you so worked up?”

  So he wanted to play it that way?

  Fine.

  I took a seat on the leather sectional opposite his desk and leaned forward on my fists, propped up by my elbows. “I heard from college today.”

  “East Bay, I presume?” His mouth curved into a smug grin and he leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t think acceptance letters were issued until March. But then, we know you’re a sure thing. I spoke to the Dean myself, only last week.”

  How convenient.

  “He’s very much looking forward to welcoming you in August.”

  My mouth soured as I absorbed his saccharine words. The lying piece of shit was baiting me, trying to trick me into confessing.

  “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” I stood up, eyes narrowed on his face, fists clenched at my side. “Well you can go to hell for all I care.”

  His unforgiving gaze flickered there, and he cocked his head to the side, rubbing his jaw. Did he remember?

  Because I sure as hell hadn't forgotten.

  We were at an impasse. He refused to bend, and I refused to concede. It was a mistake coming here, I realized that now. Alec Prince didn’t apologize or own his mistakes. And he certainly didn’t compromise. He was infallible, and I was screwed.

  As I stormed toward the door, his voice halted me. “I suggest you re-evaluate your attitude, Maverick. I’m handing you your future on a silver platter. Don’t screw it up. There’s a lot at stake here, you’d do well remembering that.”

  I slammed the door behind me, the wood ricocheting off its frame. My blood boiled and before I could stop myself, my hand collided with dry wall. Every step away from his office, was like another fuse to my anger and a wildfire swept through me. My fingers trembled as I dug out my cell phone and found the number I needed.

  Maverick: Call Bobby, see if I can get on tonight.

  Luke: Tonight? You’re sure?

  Maverick: Just do it.

  I waited, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. And then the answer I needed was there.

  Luke: It’s on.

  Lo

  As soon as Kyle's Jeep stopped, I was out of there, running toward the warehouse, fear propelling me forward.

  “Lo, wait up,” he yelled after me, but I didn't stop.

  I couldn't.

  Maverick was in there and something was wrong. I'd known the second Kyle turned up at the house. After a week of pushing me away, keeping me at a distance, I didn’t even need to hear the words from my cousin’s mouth. It was a gut feeling. Intuition.

  And I should have seen it coming.

  The deafening noise as I slipped inside the building, made me falter. Just for a second while my senses adjusted. But then I was moving, pushing through rabid men ignoring their grunts of agitation. Someone grabbed my hand, and I swung around, ready to fight. But Kyle stared back at me, concern shining in his blue eyes. “It's me,” he said over the noise. “It's just me.”

  “Come on.” I pulled him with me, moving deeper into the room. A different sound filled the air now. Bone on bone. Fist crushing soft tissue. It was sickening, and I clutched my stomach barely able to stand it. But when I burst through the thick of bodies and my eyes landed on Maverick, everything disappeared. Sucked out of my world until I could see nothing but him and a faceless man beating the shit out of one another. Deep red rivulets ran down their faces. A busted eye. A thick split lip. A patchwork of cuts and bruises. If it wasn't for the sharp tug in my stomach reassuring me it was Maverick, I would have looked twice. His broken face was barely recognisable.

  “Holy shit,” Kyle breathed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening.

  “Do something, Kyle,” I managed to croak out. “You have to do something.”

  “I... I'm not sure, fuck.” We both gasped w
hen the other man got Maverick with a strong right hook. His head snapped back, blood splattering the spectators to his side. They roared, fuelled by blood and bone.

  But Maverick came back swinging. His hands jabbed in perfect synchronicity and despite the sheer brutal nature of the scene, despite my conscience screaming at me to look away, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He moved like a cat. Lithe and quick. Crowding his opponent. Forcing him back against the frenzied crowd. Maverick was hurt, but he was in control. Cold... calculated... deadly. And my heart ached for him.

  “He's got this, Prince has—” The roar of the crowd drowned out Kyle's words. It was like every crunch, every snap, they responded. A pack of hyenas circling, waiting for their next bloody meal.

  The man got in a couple of rib blows and pain flashed across Maverick’s face. He eased off, trying to catch his breath, but it was the wrong move. The man closed in. Pushing forward with everything he had. The noise reached a crescendo as if the hungry crowd felt the nearing victory. Maverick pushed back, jabbing quick and precise. Each hit like a bullet to my chest. But his opponent swung wide and hard, clipping Maverick's jaw, and he staggered back, shaking his head.

  “Kyle, oh my god...” I couldn't watch. I couldn't breathe.

  “He's got this, Prince has got this,” Kyle kept repeating to himself as if the alternative was not an option.

  It happened so quick. One minute, Maverick was ready to pounce, the next he was met with an onslaught of fists raining down on him. Snap. Crack. Snap. Crack. The sound reverberated around my skull as my stomach churned and I clapped a hand over my mouth in a desperate attempt to stop myself vomiting.

  Forfeit my mind urged. But I knew he wouldn't. Maverick wouldn't go down without a fight.