Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two)

by Xavier Neal

  “Haven's not old enough to drink.”

  “She doesn't drink. She always has water and food, but Michele and I do. It's fun. It's this cute little hole in the wall place. She loves their fried pickles.” I didn't even know Haven ate fried pickles. I've never even had one. “It'll be fun!”

  “Sure.” I nod. “Thanks for the invite. How about we keep it between us and I surprise her?”

  “Oooo romantic,” Mandy coos biting her bottom lip in awe. “She's so lucky...”

  Romantic? Me? I've been called many things but that isn't one of them, but hey there's a first for everything. After all Haven's helped me change in so many ways I wouldn't be surprised if I changed into a bit of a romantic too. As for lucky? I think it's loud and clear to everyone that I'm clearly the lucky one. And if she forgives me for being snapped away to school right away, I'll be even luckier.

  25 Days til School

  Hectic. That's what life has become. I thought once we had my welcome home party life would settle back down to something comfortable I could agree with. I was beyond fucking wrong. That night after the party, by the time we got home, we were both so wound up again that we had sex three times before basically just passing out. I got Haven to tell me a little about school, but not enough to make me feel like I know any more about it then I did before.

  Haven's been so busy with school, which takes up most of her day and early evening, I barely see her. Mindy drops her off on her way into the city while Mandy usually drops her off. I offered to do both, but Haven insists that I relax and enjoy my time at home. I don't have time to relax. In fact it feels like I don't have time for anything. I wake up I run. I get home she's getting ready for class. We're lucky if we eat breakfast together. She's out the door and I hit the gym for training. There are laps I have to be able to make under a certain time. A few other marks to meet, but swimming is the one I wasn't prepared for. By the time I'm home from training, cleaned, and presentable, there's some errand to run. Something dad needs. Helping Mindy move something in her backyard. Helping Felix move or paint furniture. And then it's dinner with whomever, wherever usually with Mindy and Doug since I'm finally home and that's where Haven eats when dad's working the evening shift or spending the night with his girlfriend. By the time dinner's over, Haven's exhausted and either has to study or just wants to curl up beside me with a book, falling asleep on my chest usually no more than 10 pages in. I will say that's the part of the day I look forward to the most.

  After wrapping up some paperwork on base, I have just enough time to make it to Haven's school to pick her up on time. I haven't told her yet about school. I know I need to, but the timings not been right.

  Pulling into the parking lot, I kill the engine as I wish I could kill Glove's voice on the other end of the phone. “No.”

  “Come on. I really think that Mandy just didn't spend enough time with me to really get the depths of my soul.”

  “You have to have a soul before it can have depths, Glove.”

  “Ouch, Grim. If you cut me do I not bleed--”

  “Lubricant.”

  “If you hurt me do I not cry--”

  “Again the answer seems to be lubricant.”

  “If you tickle me do I not laugh?” I decide it's not worth a response. Glove responds for me, “Tickle me in the right place, and I'll do a lot more than laugh.”

  “Do you want me to hang up on you?”

  He laughs for a bit and then follows with, “Fine. I'll drop the issue of Mandy. For now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have you told Haven yet? About training?”

  My eyes glance out the window to the top down black Beamer beside me. Looks brand new. Less than a year old. And the rims on it look as expensive as the car itself. Guess the teacher's get paid well here. “Not yet.”

  “What the fuck are you waiting for? Fireworks and a parade? Tell her, Grim. Tell her now.”

  My head hits the back of my seat and I shut my eyes. I don't need this fucking lecture from him too. “I know, Glove. I will.”

  “Ha. Now try to sell me that with a little more truth and a little less full of shit.”

  I gnaw on the inside of my bottom lip. When the fuck did he become so reasonable? When the fuck did he start caring so much? Maybe once you meet Haven you just can't help it. Maybe it's like a magnet. You automatically become attached to wanting to do better.

  Opening my eyes I'm thankful when I see Haven and Mandy coming out of the building talking. “Look, I gotta go.”

  “We still on for the range tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright,” he acknowledges. “Tell her.”

  “I heard you. Later.”

  And I hang up before he can repeat himself like the insistent bastard he is. Reaching over I grab the long stem yellow sunflower off the seat, and climb out of the car, dog tags clinking loudly. I prop myself against my door watching as she continues to walk along side Mandy giggling, tossing her head back repeatedly in laughter. God she looks amazing. Natural. Free. The way she deserves. The way any angel would. If I didn't know any better I would say the way the sun is hitting her I could almost see wings.

  Before I realize it, she sees me and her entire face lights up. Quickly she rushes for me and tosses her arms around my neck holding me tightly.

  “Clint!” her voice is high. I feel my ego climb a couple notches. Amazing how she does that too. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I'd surprise you,” I say once she's pulled away. My hand offers her the flower. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” she leans up and pushes her lips against mine. The slightest taste of frosting left behind from a busy day in the classroom now transferred to me. The taste of it alone is enough to make me want more, but the fact it's mixing with her own natural sweetness on her tongue, only makes me crave her more. My hands around her waist grip her tighter. Her tongue rolls around mine and I let out a deep groan in pleasure. Maybe I could convince her to ditch her friends and come straight home with me instead? I could think of a couple other parts of her I wouldn't mind tasting.

  “Oh enough already. You're making us single folks jealous,” Mandy giggles.

  Haven pulls her mouth away, but not her body. Looking up I notice Mandy standing next to a tall guy who is leaning against the Beamer. He's slender, tall with bright blonde hair, an obnoxious smile, bright blue eyes, and is wearing a uniform like theirs.

  “Really,” the male joins the conversation.

  My body becomes on alert. Immediately, tension burns down my throat like a shot of cheap vodka. It warms my entire body just the same. Something about this feels wrong. Very fucking wrong.

  “Clint, this is my friend, Michele. Michele, this is Clint.” Just Clint? When she introduced me to Mandy, I was her boyfriend. Now I'm just Clint? The temperature in my blood escalates. You're just reading too much into this. Calm down.

  “Nice to finally meet you.” the accent in his voice is now apparent. French. Great. My girlfriend's other best friend while I am away is a French fucking model. Fantastic.

  “And you.” The handshake is civil. I do my best to remind myself that I trust Haven. She needs me to trust her. Trust that every male in her life isn't trying to fuck her, though it's clear this pompous asshole does. The familiar twinkle in his eyes tells it all.

  “We usually go to The Shack after class on Friday's. Can we still go?” Haven looks up at me, starry eyed and excited. Like I could deny her anything when she looks at me like that.

  “Of course, angel.” I push my lips on her forehead once more. “That's the whole reason I surprised you. Mandy and I arranged for me to tag along.”

  Haven shoots Mandy a huge smirk, “You didn't...”

  “I did.”

  “Aw, you shouldn't have,” Haven gushes with a giggle.

  “Yeah... you really shouldn't have,” Michele grunts under his breath, barely audible. What the fuck did that prick just say?

  �
�We'll meet you two there!” Haven exclaims walking around to the other side with me on her tail. I open the door and allow her to slide in aware of the look on Michele's face the entire time. I know that look. I've had that look. That's a look of possession. That look will get him more than face full of my fist. It could get him killed. My mind flashes back to sliding the blade across Old Man Bank's throat. I quickly push the thought away. I wouldn't kill this motherfucker unless he gave me a reason to, like threatening Haven's existence the way that asshole did.

  Getting back into my car, I offer him a steel cold look daring him to challenge me. The French fuck doesn't dare. He starts his engine, puts on a pair of aviators, turns up some bullshit new age rock, and backs out.

  I start my car, so Haven can have air conditioning but take a minute to collect myself. I can't fucking believe she didn't tell me he was a dude. It's not that she can't have male friends. She can. I am comfortable...er...getting comfortable enough to be relaxed with the idea of guys being in her life that aren't me. It's just they should just be ugly. Or gay. Or ugly and gay. They damn sure shouldn't look like they walked off a runway.

  “Why didn't you tell me Michele was a guy?” I shoot a look her direction after finally calming down enough to buckle my seat belt.

  “I thought I did.”

  “You didn't.”

  “Does it matter?” she smells her sunflower sweetly.

  Of course it fucking matters! I'm away dodging bullets and Pepe Le Fuck You is most likely throwing himself at her! Clearing my throat, I clutch the wheel a little tighter to hold back my grievance as I back out of the parking lot, “No. Not at all. Just took me a bit off guard.”

  “He's really a sweet guy,” she hums inhaling her flower once more lost in my romantic gesture more than the signals of annoyance I'm sending off. Good. I like her wrapped up in me. Thoughts of me. My actions. My words. My--

  “Where are your tags?” I feel my breath robbed from me as I pull up to a spot light. What. The. Fuck? No tags. Ever since I saved her she's worn them around her neck. That's our special connection. That's our own alpha. My chest constricts. Feels like a boa constrictor is tightening around my lungs.

  “Right here,” she pulls them out of her pocket not sensing anything is wrong. “They make us take off jewelry in certain classes. I usually put them back on as soon as I walk out of the building but someone distracted me...” Her indication at me causes me to smile. She slides her hand across my thigh releasing a bit of the tension from that situation while recreating a new tension. A reminder that I haven't had sex with my girlfriend in days. Focus Marine! “Turn left.”

  So, her class requires her not to wear them. I can live with that. She should be wearing them now though. That French Frog needs to know she's mine. That her name is engraved in my soul. Maybe I should roll up my sleeves so he can see my tattoo. Fuck. Have I always been this over protective?

  We pull into the parking lot and park beside Mandy who drives a black Benz. The four of us enter and locate to a corner booth, my body tangled with Haven's every chance I get. My fingers intertwined with hers. Arms wrapped around her. Kisses covering her body, hand, wrist, neck, cheek, lips. She doesn't seem to mind. In fact she relishes the attention from me. She always has. The French mistake however seems to get more and bitterer with each passing action.

  The waitress hands the French dick and Mandy their menus, then Haven before letting her hand linger too long on mine. Scooting closer to Haven I swing an arm around her shoulder making a clear indication to everyone who is paying attention that Haven and I are an item. A couple. One.

  After Mandy and the French tag along order alcohol, Haven orders a sweet tea, something she's become addicted to she tells me, and I order water.

  “You sure?” the waitress pops her hip out and leans a hand on the table.

  “I'm sure.”

  “Not a beer or something stronger for a guy like you....” her attempts at flirting makes Haven slink down in the seat beside me. I can feel her body tense up.

  “I'm good, thanks,” I insist and lean over planting a kiss on Haven's cheek making sure to leave my lips against it longer than necessary. While I enjoy her warm mocha skin against my kiss, this is more about stating a fact. The waitress sighs and strolls away. Haven's face warms and she giggles against me.

  “You're lucky I like you.” she turns and pushes her lips on mine briefly.

  “Just like me huh?”

  Haven giggles again and Mandy lets out a soft sigh. I lean forward to press my lips against hers again when a French accent interrupts, “Better than nothing.”

  My eyes immediately glare. Before I can respond the waitress comes back placing down our beverages insisting she will be back with the rest shortly. Instead of bothering with my own menu, I peer over Haven's shoulder and listen to her sweetly explain to me her favorites and recommendations. She explains how the burgers are great, but the chicken sandwiches aren't. The fries are so-so, the onion rings are better, but the curly fries are the best. Every word that comes out of her mouth feels like she's feeding something deeper inside of me.

  After Haven explains, and the alcohol is delivered, everyone places their usual order according to Mandy. I copy my girl's order trusting her choices.

  The conversation begins with them talking about something they just went over in class. I would be full of shit if I said I understand anything about the importance of measuring certain ingredients or the importance of using whole milk instead of skim milk. Fuck, I haven't felt this outside my element since the first time she came into my life. I do my best to observe and understand. To make notes on topics to discuss with her later. To find ways to connect to her. To be a part of her world.

  Mandy who has wiggled out of her Chef coat revealing a black tank underneath, shifts subject as she folds her arms on the table, “So...graduation is coming.” Seriously? That's something else I didn't know. I fucking hate this list gets longer and fucking longer. “You picked a dress?”

  I move my arm so Haven can slide off her chef jacket, a yellow spaghetti strap underneath, neckline revealing her perky boobs. My eyes catch Michele's on them. I wish she'd put her jacket back on. Instead she drapes her dog tags on. The sight makes me grin like a child who just weaseled his way out of trouble. My girl. See.

  Realizing I'm staring, Haven tilts my head up. “Hi honey...”

  “Sorry.” my face flushes briefly.

  Mandy giggles and leans against the window, pulling the cosmo glass to her lips, “I think it's cute. He can't keep his eyes off of you.”

  “See. Mandy thinks it's cute.”

  Haven rolls her eyes and giggles too. “Maybe a little.”

  She leans over to kiss my lips when Michele buts in. “Not very gentleman like.”

  My eyes lower to glare, but Mandy hops back in the conversation. “What about that gold dress? The one you tried on last weekend. Did you grab it?”

  “The one without the straps?” Michele cocks a grin obviously picturing my girlfriend in whatever dress she wearing.

  “You saw her in a dress?” my voice comes out much less stable than I intended. My fingers start flexing an all too familiar buzz coursing through them.

  “It's not like I saw her naked,” the comment startles me to automatically hop up to put my fist in his overly whitened teeth, rage coursing so swiftly through my veins I'm not sure anything can stop me from snapping his overly thin neck.

  “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

  “Clint,” Haven says softly, her hand landing on my arms, which pushes me back in my seat. The warmth of her hand manages to suck the poison rage straight from my blood, cooling me down briefly.

  When my eyes finally pry themselves away from the prick, I let them fall into Haven seeing a desperate need for me to calm down. To not embarrass her. To be civil. God. Am I really behaving like such a savage? Come on Marine! Hold your shit together!

  “Sorry,” my mouth whispers out the apology to her.
>
  She smiles sweetly and raises her hand to my cheek. “It's okay.”

  Before the conversation has a chance to spiral back that direction, food is delivered. After dismissing the waitress, the feeling at the table becomes incredibly less heavy, which is good because the last thing I need is for Haven's friends to fear me. Fuck. What was I thinking?

  “So...” Michele lifts his attention off his grilled chicken salad to me. What kind of man eats a grilled chicken salad while the women eat hamburgers? “You're in the army right?”

  A long exasperated sigh escapes me. I have to stay in control. Be. Calm. “Marines.”

  “Really all the same, isn't it? Out protecting this great nation of ours,” the words sound pretentious. Stuck up. Even worse in his accent. My fingers dig into my burger tighter.

  “Are you even American?”

  “Oddly enough, yes,” the blond nut job smiles widely. “My father is American, my mother is French.” This explains why he looks like punk bitch momma’s boy. And makes such terrible food choices like the rotting salad in front of him. “Being in the army-”

  “Marines-”

  “Hasn't left you two much time to really get to know each other hmm?” the question is meant to piss me off. I can see it in his smug look. My fist starts flexing, itching to grab him by his blond hair and bang him head first into the table repeatedly. Each blow to be even more painful than the last. But I already snapped in his direction once. I already embarrassed Haven. I can't do it again. I can let this French Fucktard win again. “How long were you together before you left?”

  “Couple of months,” Haven answers with a shrug.

  “Long enough.” I establish with a grunt and then a bite of my burger.

  “Things change...” his eyes lower to Haven's as she dips a fried pickle into ranch. I watch her suck the remaining dressing off, a brief reminder of how much I love when her mouth opens that way. And only for me in that way.

  “And they stay the same.”

  “People change.”