Wild Girl: A High School Bully Romance (Slateview High Book 2)

by Eva Ashwood

  “You’re gonna tell us what you know about your boss and his ties to Cora’s father,” Bishop gritted out. “And if you play nice, we might play nice with you too.”

  Eli laughed. “The fuck makes you think I know shit about what Luke does in his free time? I’m just an errand boy, just like you.”

  “Bullshit,” Bishop shot back. “We do a lot more than that for Nathaniel, and I bet you do too. Ten bucks says there’s a reason you were fuckin’ sent here. Coincidence that you not only get put at the school where Nathaniel’s people run, but where Cora goes too? Just a little while after her father gets sent to jail? Nah. Fuck that. You know something.”

  Eli’s lip curled. “And what if I do know something? Why the hell would I tell you shit? You think this little pow-wow is gonna intimidate me? Nah, motherfucker. I think I’ll just keep what I know to myself. Unless you wanna pay the price for what that information costs.”

  Misael’s eyes narrowed. “What price?”

  Eli pushed off the wall, getting a little more into Bish’s space. His gaze stayed on Bishop before he nodded my way.

  “Let me bite off a piece and I’ll give you something good for it.”

  Eli was good at a few things, I was noticing.

  He was good at always pretending he had the upper hand, faking absolute confidence no matter what. And he was good at setting my boys off.

  Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Bishop had Eli pushed back up against the wall, his hands on the blond asshole’s shoulders. I could see the tension wound tight through Bish’s muscles, and Kace and Misael both looked murderous.

  “You need to learn how to watch your mouth better,” Bishop snarled, his voice low. His jaw was set so tight I was afraid he’d crack his teeth.

  “Or what?” Eli countered. “You gonna do somethin’ about it? You gonna stop me from doing it? You think you can, tough guy?”

  Bish tightened his grip on Eli, looking like he was about to slam him through the wall. “You ever hear of a guy named Flint Gallegos?”

  “Hear the low life disappeared. What’s he got to do with anything?”

  My heart stopped.

  Fuck. No.

  The entire world seemed to slow down, time hanging suspended as Eli’s words floated on the air.

  I took a step forward at the same moment Kace and Misael stiffened, shooting warning looks at Bishop.

  But it was too late.

  A flicker of recognition ran through Eli’s eyes. He blinked, a slow grin spreading across his face.

  “Ho-ly fuck. So, that’s what you do, huh? You go around taking people out that lay a finger on your pretty little rich princess? What’d Flint try to do, put it on her? Did he do it?” Eli laughed, goading. His gaze flicked to me again, and he licked his lips lasciviously. “I bet he didn’t, the weak little shit. But lucky for her, I know how to close the fuckin’ deal—”

  Bishop’s fist connected with Eli’s mouth, driving him into the wall. Blood spurted, and Eli let out a muffled yell.

  He rebounded quickly though, his head snapping back even as a smear of red trailed from the corner of his lips. He shoved Bish away from him, taking a swing of his own, and his fist connected right before Kace and Misael joined in.

  For a moment, I thought the two other Lost Boys were going to haul Bishop away from Eli, to stop this before it got any worse. But I should’ve known better. The final thread of their self-control had snapped the second Eli had looked at me like that, and now it wasn’t just Bishop determined to bring the asshole down, but all three of them.

  The boys descended on him, shoving and punching at Eli. The blond-haired newcomer was a good fighter in his own right though, and despite the assault from three sides, he managed to stay on his feet. He took their hits, blocked, and delivered some of his own, making fear and adrenaline surge through me with every punch. He was outnumbered though, and this was a fight he couldn’t win, no matter how hard he fought.

  It was an unfair, messy thing, and I had a moment of horror as I watched the three boys I was falling in love with lose themselves to the monsters inside them.

  But maybe I had a bit of that same monster in me too—because I didn’t make a move to stop them.

  I wanted to.

  I knew I should.

  It’d been dangerous enough to poke around for information like this, hoping Eli would tell us something about my dad without Luke getting wind of it. But if we touched off a gang war on top of it, Nathaniel would be furious.

  Blood spattered across the cracked and dirty cement, and for every hit Eli managed to land, he took three or more.

  What the hell is wrong with you, Cora? How can you let this go on?

  The fight couldn’t have been going on for more than a minute or two, but it felt like hours. It felt like it might never end. My body felt frozen in place, my heart lodged in my throat.

  But before I could force myself into action, a voice spoke up from behind me.

  Older. Male.

  Full of a calm sort of anger that cut through the grunts and curses and cracks of fists against flesh.

  “Alright, boys. That’s e-fucking-nough.”

  My heart jumped, and I spun around, my eyes going wide.

  Mr. Tyson?

  Twenty-Two

  I blinked at the history teacher, trying to read the expression on his face. He didn’t wear the same beaten down, disinterested look that many of the teachers here wore, but I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Why was he still here? Would he call the cops? Would he report the boys for fighting?

  They’d never been called out by a teacher before. Not even by the principal or any of the school admins. Most of the Slateview staff ceded power to the boys, letting them rule the halls of the school because it spared the adults from having to do it. The Lost Boys kept peace, and no one tried to stop them.

  Until now.

  With his face set in a grim mask, Mr. Tyson made his way over to where the boys were still fighting, oddly undisturbed by the scene in front of him, as though he’d expected that something like this would happen. He grabbed Misael first by the back of his shirt and pushed him aside, and Misael almost took a swing at him before realizing just who it was. He arrested the movement of his fist, a confused look passing over his face.

  Mr. Tyson had to work to separate Kace, Bishop, and Eli, but eventually he did, shoving Eli off toward the wall and keeping Bishop and Kace away from him.

  I stayed rooted. I wasn’t sure what I should do even if I could move.

  What’s going on? What made Mr. Tyson intervene now?

  “Just what the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” Mr. Tyson asked in a low voice, swiveling his gaze around to look at all of the boys. “You know what the ramifications of this kind of shit could be, don’t you?”

  “These motherfuck—” Eli started, baring bloodstained teeth as he pushed away from the wall, about to hurl himself toward the Lost Boys again.

  But Mr. Tyson shoved him back, taking a step toward him.

  “You need to think this through, kid.” The older man’s eyes flashed with anger. “What you’re doing right now isn’t sanctioned by Luke Carmine, I know that much. And you’re not important enough to him for him to back you up. If he decides he doesn’t want a war with Nathaniel Ward, he’ll throw you to the wolves so fast you’ll think you got sucked into a time warp.”

  “That’s—”

  “It is true. And if you don’t know that by now, you’re dumber than you look.” He shook his head, holding Eli’s gaze. “Now take a fucking breath and get the hell out of here.”

  Eli glared at Mr. Tyson. I knew he didn’t want to get the hell out of anywhere, particularly not because a teacher had told him to. I knew the look on his face. It was a look that demanded retribution, and I had no doubt in my mind that Eli had the means to try to enact it.

  But the older man’s words finally seemed to sink into Eli’s brain, and I could see his express
ion shift as he realized Mr. Tyson was right.

  Hocking a large, bloody wad of spit onto the ground, Eli turned and stormed off. A sinking feeling in my gut told me this wouldn’t be the last altercation we had with Eli, and it probably wouldn’t be the least bloody either.

  But right now, we had another problem to deal with.

  “You didn’t need to step in on this, Tyson,” Bishop said, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, where a line of blood trailed from his lower lip. “This wasn’t your business—”

  Mr. Tyson held his hand up, his expression unchanged from when he’d been talking to Eli. If anything, now that the other boy was gone, he looked more tense.

  “You, stop fucking talking. You’re in deeper shit than you understand.”

  With those words, he reached into the back pocket of his slacks and pulled out his phone. My heart thudded hard in my chest.

  Fuck. Is he really about to call the police on them?

  No teacher at Slateview, and least of all Mr. Tyson, ever got involved in anything the Lost Boys did. They barely even got involved in general fights. There was no point.

  “Mr. Tyson—”

  I started to speak up, but he leveled a look at me and I fell silent.

  He’d thrown us all off balance, and none of the Lost Boys moved to stop him either as he dialed a number on his phone and pressed it to his ear.

  “Nathaniel? It’s me. Yeah. I think I finally have a lead on your Flint problem.” A pause. “Let’s just say it involves a couple of boys and a pretty little school girl.” Another pause. “Yeah. No problem. Be there soon.”

  He slid his phone into his pocket and looked to Bishop.

  “Nathaniel wants to see you. All of you. Now.”

  Bishop, Kace, and Misael all straightened, their bodies going tense as they stared at him in disbelief.

  “How the fuck do you know Nathaniel?” Bish asked in a low voice. “And why the fuck should we go anywhere with you?”

  “The answer to your first question is irrelevant right now,” Mr. Tyson said simply. His voice was still calm, but his expression was hard. “You’re not the only people in this school with connections to him. And as to why? Well, you answered that yourself when you decided it would be a good idea to get into a brawl with one of Luke’s guys and run your mouth off about shit you shouldn’t have done. Now Nathaniel wants to see you, and I don’t think I have to explain to you that not doing what that man says when he says it is a very bad idea.”

  His words landed hard, the truth of them hanging in the air.

  Shit. How much did he hear? When did he show up?

  From the sound of it, he’d heard them mention Flint’s name, and that possibility made my stomach turn to ice. It was dangerous enough for Bishop to have spoken it out loud at all, for him to have mentioned it in front of Eli, who could possibly use it against them.

  But I hadn’t expected anyone else at this school to know Flint’s name. To understand what the mention of him meant.

  None of us had.

  But we’d all been wrong.

  We were quiet for a long moment before Bishop spoke up again. He was still breathing heavily, and he didn’t take his eyes off our teacher as he spoke.

  “Fine. Let us just drop Cora off—”

  Mr. Tyson shook his head. “No. Nathaniel wants to see her too. She’s involved, and obviously if you didn’t want her involved in this shit, you wouldn’t have let her watch you beat the shit out of one of Luke’s boys. We go. Now.”

  The boys all tensed at Mr. Tyson’s command. He’d never spoken to them like that. Never told them what to do. The fact that he could now, and with such unflinching confidence, was almost more unnerving than the request itself.

  He held power. Power that he shouldn’t have.

  We couldn’t back out of it, and we all knew it.

  Without another word, Bishop dipped his head in a single nod. Not even bothering to go back into the school, he led us around the side of the building to where his convertible was parked in the usual spot in the parking lot.

  Mr. Tyson followed close behind us, his mere presence almost as potent as a gun to our heads. Even if Bishop had the thought to run instead of going to Nathaniel’s, Tyson wouldn’t be far behind. I wasn’t sure what lengths he would go to if he had to chase us, but I wasn’t eager to find out either.

  Besides, there was nowhere to run.

  When Bishop reached his car, I felt Mr. Tyson’s hand on my elbow. I jumped, my entire body going rigid with fear. But his touch wasn’t like Flint’s. It wasn’t even hard or violent. It was steady and calm, just like the man himself.

  “She rides with me,” he said softly.

  Kace’s shoulders seemed to swell, and for a moment, I was terrified that he’d lay Mr. Tyson out right here. But Bish put up a hand, holding him back, his hazel gaze hard on the man standing next to me.

  “Not without one of us, she doesn’t.”

  Mr. Tyson nodded, a slight smile passing over his lips as if he’d expected this too. “Fair.”

  Kace stepped forward immediately, and although he still looked like he wanted to beat Mr. Tyson into a bloody pulp, all he did was wrap his arm around me, pulling me protectively against his body.

  The teacher glanced at the two of us, his assessing gaze taking in the way Kace touched me, the look on the blond boy’s face. Then he nodded, gesturing across the lot.

  “I parked over there.” He looked back to Bishop. “I’ll follow you. You know where we’re headed. Nathaniel’s house.”

  Bish nodded, and the five of us split up, heading to our separate cars.

  The ride was quiet and tense. Kace sat in the front next to Mr. Tyson, and I sat alone in the back seat. I wished for the comfort of Kace’s solid, large body beside mine, but I knew he wanted to be closer to the older man in case any shit went down and he needed to fight him or wrestle for control of the car.

  We didn’t speak. I could barely breathe.

  In the silence, my mind wondered to what would happen once we got to Nathaniel’s.

  How much had Tyson heard? How much did he know?

  Would the boys be punished for what’d happened to Flint? If so, how bad would that punishment be?

  Guilt clawed at my stomach, a brutal beast. But I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t turn it off or drive it away. This was all my fault. I was the reason the boys had even put themselves in a position to kill that disgusting man. Without my choices, they wouldn’t be in this situation.

  The awe that I had felt when I’d first seen Nathaniel’s house was replaced by an oppressive trepidation as we pulled up the drive to the red-brick mansion. Both cars came to a stop, and we all piled out. When we got to the main entrance, Mr. Tyson rang the bell, and the same butler from last time answered the door.

  “Mr. Tyson.” The silver-haired man gave a deferential nod. “Mr. Ward is waiting for you.”

  The familiarity and respect in the butler’s voice caught my attention, and I wasn’t the only one. Before we could step inside, Bishop moved forward, putting himself between me and Mr. Tyson.

  “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

  The man looked steadily at Bishop, unaffected. “I’ll leave that up to Nathaniel to explain if he sees fit. Just know he doesn’t want any trouble from you.”

  “Don’t see why he thinks there would be. We’re here, aren’t we?”

  Mr. Tyson shrugged and nodded forward. “Go on then. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  We were led up the stairs, in the same direction that we’d gone when I first came to the mansion, toward Nathaniel Ward’s office. This time, my nerves were a thousand times higher than they had been that day, vibrating through me so hard that I could feel my limbs shaking.

  Those who were in the house today very clearly knew who we were, and that we were… in trouble. Their faces read like people who were watching a death row procession. I swallowed hard as we came upon the door that, previously, I hadn’t been allowe
d to walk through.

  The silver-haired man stepped forward, knocked twice, and waited.

  “Come in.”

  Nathaniel’s voice came from the other side, and the butler opened the door, stepping aside to let the five of us enter.

  Although every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, I forced my legs to carry me forward.

  Into the maw of the beast.

  Twenty-Three

  I had gotten the barest glimpse of Nathaniel’s study the first time I came to this house, but not enough to truly take it in. As we entered the room, my gaze darted around quickly.

  The room was, in a word, impressive. Large, and circular, with the walls lined in bookshelves much like the library that I had found on my last visit. But in the middle of the room was a large desk, behind which Nathaniel sat, and just behind him was a large bay window.

  Josephine stood just to his right, her hand resting on his shoulder. I couldn’t read her face, but when her eyes fell on me, she gave a small, almost sad, smile.

  My stomach twisted. Did she know what was in store for us?

  She’d been so kind to me last time I was here, but I knew better than to believe that would make a difference now. This was business. It wasn’t personal.

  And that was a terrifying thought.

  Nathaniel dismissed the butler with a wave, leaving only myself, the boys, and Mr. Tyson in the room. The door snapped closed behind us, and we stood in silence as Nathaniel eyed the boys. His sharp features were intense, and I couldn’t quite decipher his expression. He didn’t seem angry, exactly. He just seemed to be thinking. Considering.

  None of the boys spoke up, and I took that as a sign that I shouldn’t speak—yet—either.

  Finally, drawing in a breath, Nathaniel carded his fingers together and spoke.

  “I hear there’s a lot that we need to discuss, boys. I don’t think I need to ask the question, but I will anyway. What happened with Flint?”

  Bishop rolled his shoulders, lifting his chin slightly.

  “What do you mean?”