“Are you sure we can even touch Brittany right now?” I ask, furrowing my brow slightly. Cal bites into an apple with a crisp snap, drawing my attention to him. “I mean, considering that her father is the captain of the VGTF?”
“Actually,” Vic begins, leaning against the peninsula with his big arms crossed over his broad chest. When I glance back at the folder and peek inside it, I see that it’s full of maps, activity logs, and lists of names relating to the Grand Murder Party. Intel, from Havoc’s crew. “We’re going to use that to our advantage against the GMP.”
Cal takes another bite of apple, studying the fruit for a moment before lifting his eyes to mine and smiling. “What do I get to do?” he asks absently, like he’s damn near certain that violence is going to be involved in this particular plan.
He’s probably right.
“We’re going to borrow Brittany for half a day,” Victor says mildly, rubbing at his chin in that way of his. His hair looks violet in the light of the living room lamps. “Cal will give her his special treatment—arms and upper back only. We don’t need any of her injuries showing up during an ultrasound.”
His special treatment.
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it’s clearly something to do with physical torture. What had Callum said before? Something to the effect of, cut her up where nobody can see.
“And then?” Hael asks, cracking his knuckles. He lights up a cigarette near the back door, his shirt stained with grease. Ever since we fucked on the hood of the Eldorado, he’s doubled up on the amount of time he works on it.
“We let her off with a dose of pain as a warning, and then we send her with information about the GMP. She delivers it to daddy, the VGTF moves in on the target they’ve been after all along,” Oscar says, standing up from the armchair and moving closer to the dining table where Aaron and I are sitting.
Last night, I found Aaron on the couch looking through his mother’s old phone. She left it when she took off, and he keeps it charged, so he can look at childhood pictures of himself, his sister, and his cousin. He notices me looking at him now and tousles that wavy chestnut hair of his. It’s been a month since I got him back, but every time we see each other in the hallway at school, or the bathroom upstairs, I get a rush of adrenaline and relief all over again.
He saved my life.
He came for me.
We can never be parted again.
“How do we do this without being caught?” Aaron asks, his eyes straying over to the darkness of my phone screen. We’re both thinking about Oak River right now, no doubt about that. We’re both thinking about the inevitability of sending our sisters away.
“Hael will meet with Brittany out front of Fuller High. The more people that see him there, the better.” Vic stands up straight and tucks his hands in his pockets. “Callum will find his way into the backseat of her car while she’s talking with Hael. When she leaves, Hael will stay. In fact, he will place a call to Bernadette’s phone, so we can get a nice healthy ping on the cell tower nearby, just in case Brittany is dumb enough to tell anyone what happens to her.”
“You’re taking her to the cabin?” Aaron clarifies, referring to the remote cabin where the boys dropped Danny’s body off on Halloween, so they could rush back here in time to meet the Thing. I haven’t seen it yet, that cabin. Shit, I don’t even know where it is. Probably better that I don’t.
“Half a day,” Vic says with another nod, looking over at Callum. “That’s all we need. Then we drop her back off at the school and wait.”
“You’re not worried about retaliation from the GMP?” Aaron asks, tapping the fingers of his broken hand on the tabletop. He has about two weeks left in the damn cast. I’m already looking forward to feeling both of his hands skimming over my naked body.
“They don’t have to know where the VGTF got their information from. Brittany’s going to tell her father she got her gossip at a party. Whatever Ophelia is doing with Trinity, it involves Maxwell and James Barrasso. I don’t know how, but it does. And as soon as they all realize that I’m not really going to marry that bitch, they’re going to retaliate anyway.” Victor turns his attention over to Hael. I remember what he said, about not wanting to hurt Brittany, but this is best case scenario for her, to be honest. “If she doesn’t comply, we’ll take her baby and give it away to a worthy couple. Then we’ll put her in the ground.” Vic glances back at Callum. “Make sure she understands that.”
He takes off for the master bedroom as I glance at Hael over my shoulder.
This isn’t going to be easy for him, but it has to be done.
Havoc is in peril; Springfield is at risk. Everything the boys have ever wanted, ever worked for, is this close to tipping over and breaking into a million pieces.
The VGTF. The GMP. Ophelia.
Each one is a piece in a complicated game, one that I feel like we’re this close to figuring out.
If we can do this, it’ll be the greatest victory a bunch of Prescott brats has ever managed to pull off.
It’ll be so great and so monumental, you could write a book about it.
We just need to survive the anarchy first.
We just need to survive. Period.
Hael Harbin
Brittany isn’t surprised to see me waiting outside the front entrance of Fuller High for her. As soon as she steps out the front doors and into the dappled shade of the school’s front walk, her eyes find mine.
“Oh, Brittany!” one of her friends coos. I think that one’s our babysitter, Jennifer Lowell or something. Have I ever fucked her? I think, chewing on the end of a cigarette. Jennifer squeals and yanks on Brittany’s arm, hopping up and down like she’s still in diapers. God, I hope not.
Then again, I did fuck Brittany and here we are today, suffering for it.
Did all that fucking make you a better man than your dad, Hael? I wonder to myself, but then Brittany’s striding up to me in a loose-fitting dress that catches the breeze and plasters the fabric to her belly, showing off the rounded bump.
That right there was almost my bump.
I take a drag on the cigarette and blow smoke into Brittany’s face. Instead of pissing her off, she blushes, like she actually enjoys being treated like shit. That’s how it worked for us for a while. She kowtowed to me, and I treated her like crap. We both have daddy issues that manifest in different ways.
“Can we talk?” I ask, but it’s barely a question, and she knows it. What I don’t think she understands is how serious her fuck-up is. Havoc isn’t like the football team here at Fuller High. We don’t steal lunch money and give freshmen swirlies. Like, Brittany is lucky we have some iota of compassion for her fetus. Otherwise, she’d probably be buried on Tom Muller’s property already.
Brittany gives a curt nod, throwing Jennifer a long-suffering stare.
It takes the dimwitted girl several seconds to figure it out before she winks conspiratorially and then reaches out to pinch my bicep. I let her do it, but I’d rather break her arm. The thing is, I don’t know if Brittany’s wearing a wire, if her VGTF daddy will show up, whatever. I have to act carefully here—especially considering this is my fault to begin with.
“You’re here because of the arrests,” Brittany says, and then, when I raise both my eyebrows at her, she adds, “and the rape charges.”
“Oh, just that pesky rape accusation. Brittany.” I lean down and put my palms on my upper thighs, like I’m speaking to a small child. “You are a rat. And a liar. You broke your deal with Havoc.”
Her entire face flushes red, and she nods. She still isn’t getting it. Like I said, Fuller High … is a very different crowd than Prescott. Shit, the Oak Valley assholes are less naïve. Rich people are fucking awful, cutthroat and nasty. They’re more used to this kind of thing than the middle-class Fuller brats.
“I know. I just … Hael, I really did love you.”
I just stare at her, and Brittany flushes, reaching up to comb her blond hair over one shoulder.
It’s a much more yellow shade than Bernie’s. Bernadette’s hair is nearly white, with ashy gold tones. Dipped in red the way it is now … I have to exhale and look away, standing up straight and running a hand over my face to keep my focus.
“No, you didn’t,” I correct, glancing back at Brittany. She’s peering up at me like she thinks we might actually get back together. I’m far more likely to kill her. Why can’t she see that? But, like Bernadette, Kali haunts me. My father was quite literally put in prison for murdering a pregnant girl, some prostitute he picked up with his friend Travis. My skin ripples with disgust. I know that Aaron had no choice, that I would’ve done the same or worse to Kali, but I don’t really want to hurt Brittany.
Too bad she gave us no other option.
“Hael, look, this was all my father’s idea, okay? I told him not to press charges,” she sputters, like she’s done me some huge fucking favor.
“You know how awful it is to lie about rape?” I ask her, because I have a serious fucking problem with it. Seeing men hunt Blackbird the way they do, I can’t stand anything about it. I’ll choke a motherfucker to death, but I would never rape someone. Never. Besides, a real man can get ass without forcing it to happen. “Your point-zero-zero-one bullshit makes everybody else suffer. Get it together, Brittany.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think my dad would take it that far. What’s the problem anyway? You got out, didn’t you?”
I give her a look as cold as ice, the wind rippling the limbs of the willow trees that line the front walk. Students move around us, backpacks flopping, phones in their hands. Every now and again, one of them looks at me like they’re afraid.
Good for them.
I can’t very well tell Brittany that Bernadette almost died because of her, so I just shake my head.
“You broke your deal with us,” I repeat. I have to be so fucking careful about what I say. Brittany wearing a wire is a very real possibility. “You know what that means, right?”
Brittany just stares up at me with angry brown eyes, her full mouth brushed with gloss and pursed into a thin line. She’s annoyed, rather than afraid. I have a feeling she won’t grasp the severity of the situation until Callum is putting a lighter up against the sensitive skin of her underarm.
“Look,” I start with a sigh, knowing that I’m supposed to be here playing a part. I’m fucking it up royally, too. Victor does a better job with Trinity. Bernadette did a similarly terrible job with James. My lips twitch in an almost smile as I take another drag on the cigarette. The genuine expression of pleasure on my face helps seal the lie. “I have to tell you something. You’re gonna be pissed, but it is what it is.”
Brittany leans into me, wrapping her arms around my bicep in a way that she used to do when we were dating. I think about Oscar, about him being a goddamn virgin. I mean, it’s not that weird to be one at seventeen, but … I make fun of him because I’m envious. He has control that I never had.
“What?” she asks, her voice breathy in a way that I used to find attractive, but which now just sort of annoys the shit out of me. I take the cigarette between two fingers and lower it away from my mouth, letting the smoke trail in a gray arc behind it.
“The DNA test,” I start, readying the lie to my lips. Bernie’s face last night, when Victor and Oscar laid out this part of the plan, man but it was priceless. She was furious. She might actually like you, eh, Hael? “Oscar tampered with the results; the kid’s mine.”
Brittany’s face lights up in a way that almost makes me feel bad. Almost. I mean, the idiot is leveling rape against me when she’s the one that panted after me like a bitch in heat. I wish I found more pleasure in destroying other people. Really, the only thing that gets me off is when I destroy myself.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Brittany finally says, her cheeks reddening even further. This is, like, a dream come true for her, but she at least has to pretend to be pissed off about it. I hate telling this lie, hate it, hate it, fucking hate it. It’ll help protect us though, help protect Bernadette. Brittany will be more pliant, more willing to please.
After this … it’s all up to Cal. I don’t do torture. Explosives, sure. But not torture.
“We need to sit down and discuss what we’re going to do,” I say with a long sigh, like I’m just another Fuller High asshole who made a mistake and found himself with a baby on the way. It must seem like the end of the world, to people who’ve never seen the edge for themselves. “Maybe we could get together and talk?”
“When?” she asks, looking around, like she’s trying to make sure nobody’s overheard us. If I were her, I’d be doing the exact opposite, trying to make sure that everyone around me knew where I was headed. Just in case I disappeared. But, like I said, she just doesn’t think that way.
“Soon,” I breathe, letting my shoulders slump. Tampering with Brittany is going to be dangerous. If that balding asshole she calls a father even has an inkling that anything is wrong with his baby girl, I’m the first person he’s going to come after. “I’ll text you and let you know.”
To maintain control, you have to keep hard-and-fast rules. It’s the only way we can push back the GMP and hold this town. And trust me: Springfield is better off for it.
“Oh, like you’ll text me and expect that I’ll be at your beck and call?” she snaps back, making me remember all over again why I dislike her so much. Spoiled rotten princess, I think, grinding my teeth. I just need to keep her here for a few minutes longer to make sure Cal has time to break into her car and hide in the backseat.
“My schedule is a bit all over the place,” I snap back, knowing that I should control my temper but struggling with it, nonetheless. “Things are getting bad in town. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, holed up in that castle on a hill you call a house.”
Brittany just narrows her eyes at me.
“I’ve noticed,” she says, and then shakes her head. “But you have to admit, you and your stupid gang are at least partially responsible for that.” I sigh heavily, but what can I do? She’s not quite as dumb as I thought. Suspicion glints in her coffee-colored gaze. “Look, I’ll give you two weeks to get your shit together before I tell my dad you lied about our baby.” The way she cups her belly makes me sick. Whose kid is she carrying again? Some football player’s? I’ve already forgotten.
I’m just relieved as fuck that it isn’t actually mine.
Nah, the only girl I want to have a baby with is Bernadette. I figure she’ll have to have one for each of us, so we’ll have like, five kids. Five kids, five dads, one mom. Most of the guys on our crew don’t understand this arrangement. They’d rather they were the one with five women on the side. The thing is, when you find the right woman, you know it. And when that woman is the same person your brothers love, it all falls together.
Family.
We’re just one, big, fucked-up family.
It’s how I like it, how I always want it to be.
Brittany flips her hair at me as she saunters off, heading for the hideous custom pink BMW that daddy bought her. At the last minute, she spins around and runs back to me, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her lips against mine.
There’s an immediate reaction in me, one of recoil and violent discomfort, but I manage to keep it together, carefully extracting her and pushing her back a step. I hate being touched without my permission. Maybe that’s why I became such a whore? Because then I could just keep giving permission, and I never had to worry that someone was taking something I didn’t want to give.
“Don’t get so excited so quick,” I push Brittany back a step and level a look on her frowning face. Shit, shit, shit. Even now, even with as much as I hate her and as much as I don’t want to be touched, I feel sorry for her. “I haven’t decided if we’re getting back together or not.” Jesus, that lie hurt my mouth on the way out.
“Because of that girl, Bernadette Blackbird,” Brittany spits, and I shrug my shoulders loosely. “Her stepdad was the
GMP’s pet cop, you know that, right?” She looks up at me as I raise both brows. Fuck. Actually, I did not know that. I mean, we suspected it, but we didn’t know.
Guess we do now.
I wonder what other information Brittany Burr might be able to feed us?
“I did,” I reply carefully, sweeping some of Brittany’s hair back from her face and wishing I didn’t have to pretend like that. The only girl I want to touch is the little spitfire who’s managed to hold my attention for a decade. Blackbird. “Now, run on home and chatter to all your little friends about me. Go on, I know that’s what you do.”
Brittany smiles at me in a way that I think is supposed to be seductive. I return the look, keeping my mind focused on Bernadette so it’ll come across properly.
As soon as Brittany leaves, I dial up Bernie’s number; I’ve thought of an adjustment to our plan.
“Hey baby,” Bernie purrs, and I can just imagine her rolling her eyes at her own words. I grin in response. “Everything going okay?”
“New plan,” I say, licking my lips as I watch Brittany get into her car and pull out of the parking lot. “Tell Callum not to let her see his face, and then get some of the guys to deal with Brittany instead. If we play this right, we can convince her she’s in the hands of the GMP.”
There’s a pause as Bernie relays the information to Vic.
I know why he didn’t want to do this to begin with: Brittany needs to know she’s being punished by Havoc. The whole city needs to know that.
But he’s also not stupid enough to overlook her use as a pawn.
“Why?” Vic’s voice is dark as he takes over the phone call, and I exhale, swinging the keys to the Firebird around my finger.
“Brittany just dropped a bit of juicy intel into my lap. If we play her right, I have a feeling there’s a whole fuckload more of it. You should’ve seen the way she melted when I lied to her about the DNA results; she’s too easy to manipulate.”
Anarchy at Prescott High Page 33