Done Deal (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 5)

by Max Henry

  He holds the keys to the Porsche before me. Within minutes, I return with my purse in hand and slide out my driver’s licence to show the nurse. At least, I assume she’s a nurse looking at the plain shirt and slacks.

  Christian snatches it from my hand, passing it over as he pockets his keys.

  Her pen scratches across the double-sided form, jotting down my details before she hands it over for me to peruse. “Please take note of the rules you agree to abide by, and then sign your agreement at the bottom here.”

  I realise that the majority are the same as posted at the door. With a flick of my wrist, I sign my consent and hand the form back.

  She passes us both a visitor pass with a correlating number I recognise from the form. “You’ll find him in the day lounge at the far end of the left hall. He has half an hour before a scheduled session, so it will need to be brief, I’m afraid.”

  “Thank you.” Christian pins his nametag and then helps me with mine. “Ready?”

  “You’ve been here to see him before.”

  He walks away, leaving me to chase after him before answering. “Clearly.”

  “How many times?” I hustle to catch up.

  “A few.”

  We pass pristine white walls, the sunlight spilling in from timber-framed windows reflecting light into every crevice of the building. It’s bright, airy, and uplifting. Just what I’d imagine you’d need to forget that you’re not allowed to leave.

  Small, bronze placards state the name of each room. Rather than numbers, each ward appears to be assigned native flora. We find Barrett reclined in the day lounge for the Kowhai wing.

  He commands the space; one leg slung haphazardly over the side of an overstuffed armchair. As we approach, I let my gaze drift across the faces of his enraptured audience. The majority of the small group are middle-aged men, but I don’t miss the pierced young woman who appears to be around our age.

  She sits with her chin rested atop one hand, a soft smile on her snake bit lips while she listens to him recall a story that I’ve heard numerous times before—not mentioning the fact that I was there when it happened.

  “I hope you’re keeping to the facts,” Christian taunts, drawing our friend’s attention.

  The older men drift away at our intrusion, yet the girl stays. I’m thrown by the strength of the protective pang that grips my chest. Easing the ache with my palm, I run my eye over the girl once more before turning to Barrett.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  He smirks, brow furrowed. “What for?” His trademark messy shock of dark hair has grown, partially obscuring one eye.

  I have to admit he quite suits the look; it adds an air of mystery to his already dark and dangerous appeal.

  “I had no idea you were here.” I take a seat on the footrest before him and reach for his hand.

  He lets me hold it, giving my fingers a gentle squeeze. “If you knew I was here, then my family weren’t doing their job very well.”

  Christian ruffles the quiet girl’s shaggy black bob. “And how is Barrett’s pet?”

  “Oh, fuck off.” Her voice is surprisingly low and husky.

  I’m immediately envious. If I thought Barrett had the dark look down pat, then this girl is quite clearly him in the fairer sex. Her deep brown eyes track Christian as he rounds her chair, purposefully slow, and then settles on the arm.

  The girl shifts as far from him as she can without relenting her spot.

  “I didn’t know you were coming,” Barrett tells me, ignoring Christian’s antics.

  “It was a last-minute thing,” my captor answers for me. “But it might come in useful yet.”

  I frown, well aware there’s an integral part of this surprise visit Christian chose to keep from me.

  “Everything set?”

  Barrett nods at his question. “Carly’s been practicing.” He gives the girl a secret smile.

  One I don’t like in the slightest. I don’t know who the heck this girl is, where she’s from, or who she knows. Until I’m convinced that she poses no threat to my friend, I find it hard to accept her as quickly as Christian appears to have.

  “You’ll only have a minute at the most,” she tells Christian, side-eyeing the staff member near the door.

  Security seems to be low-key at this facility. Unlike a mental institution, they don’t need to force people to stay here, only to ensure they don’t break the rules. I get the impression that only those who have shown willingness to heal are allowed the privilege of using the lounge, considering I haven’t spotted a single person twitching with the signs of withdrawal since we walked in.

  “Make sure you keep in touch, shithead,” Carly loving dotes on Barrett. “You’re the only interesting thing about being here.”

  “Not that you’ll be allowed to come back after this.”

  After what? Why the hell can’t anyone keep me in the loop? Why do I have to be handled like a damn child?

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Carly retorts. “They’ll put me in solitary for a week.”

  “Twenty Hail Mary’s, you filthy scum,” Barrett teases.

  It’s at that, I notice the enormous crucifix beside the wall-mounted TV. Surely, it’s not that stringent?

  Carly rises from her spot, walking in a woven line across the room, one foot lazily slapping before the other.

  “What is she doing?” I whisper, intrigued by her drunken appearance.

  “Got everything you want to keep?” Christian asks Barrett, flat out ignoring me.

  He pats his chest. “Shoved in here. Helps I had fuck all when I arrived.”

  Carly starts to sing, a slow and seductive song. Hands caressing her hair, she drags both palms over her face, drawing her bottom lip down in the process. Christian tosses her an angry stare, but I realise it’s all part of the ruse when Barrett slowly shifts to the foremost edge of his seat. Her hand slides over her body and, if I hadn’t already figured out this is all for show, I would have missed the way her fingers dip into her pocket to hide whatever she just pulled across her mouth.

  The staff member at the door rises to his feet. “Miss Fiore?”

  She turns her back to him, mumbling lines in a quietening tone. One leg shaking, she pulls off the show of the century, collapsing awkwardly to her side and convulsing as white froth gathers on her lips.

  “Oh, my God!” The cry is fake, but my concern for her is genuine.

  “Now,” Christian hisses as the staff member smacks a panic alarm on the wall.

  Deafening whirls scream overhead, and the residents all begin an orderly shuffle out of the lounge and presumably back to their rooms. We’re absorbed in the flow, a nurse calling out that visitors must leave as two more staff sprint into the room toward where Carly lies listlessly on the floor.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I get jostled toward the reception.

  Barrett sweeps me into his arms, burying his face against the side of mine as a male nurse attempts to separate residents from visitors. “Vinegar and baking soda,” he whispers into my ear. “It’ll taste foul, that’s all.”

  “Thank you. Yes. We’re on our way out,” Christian tells the nurse, appeasing the man enough that he turns back toward a shaken older lady.

  The three of us sweep past reception, Barrett, with his head down using Christian as a human shield until we break out the doors. The boys break into a sprint giving me no choice but to join in and risk twisting an ankle in my heeled boots or face being left behind.

  We tumble into Christian’s Porsche, Barrett laughing hysterically as the tyres kick up stones in our hasty exit toward the road.

  It strikes me that I haven’t heard Barrett laugh like that in years. It’s beautiful.

  “What the hell, guys?” I sprawl across the narrow back seat, removing my boots to inspect my aching feet. “How long have you been planning this?”

  “A week,” Christian answers.

  “And Carly?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Barrett reiterates.
“The second we cleared the room, she would have spat the shit out and ‘woken’ so they didn’t stab her with Narcan or anything.”

  “Or so you hope.”

  “She did,” Christian states. “I was watching her while you two pretended to make out.”

  “Best few seconds of my week,” Barrett teases.

  I reach around the leather seat to smack him on the shoulder.

  “Why are you here?” he asks me. “Not that I mind. Just curious.”

  “Ugh.” I lean back against the bodywork and slink down onto the seat until my toes touch the other side of the car. “Christian stopped me running away from home.”

  “What?” Barrett twists in his seat. “Why?”

  “I’ll tell you another time.” Straightening, I reach up and tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “Now tell me why you were in there, mister.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” His humour vanishes as he straightens in the seat. “I needed to get clean.”

  “Did it work?” I ask softly.

  “We’ll know in a few days.”

  The car falls silent. No more is said, and yet, I can feel the damn misery radiating from where Barrett sits. He’s ashamed. And scared.

  “Talk to me,” I whisper, catching Christian’s eye after I do. “If you feel you need help, that’s why you have us, honey.”

  He nods—mute.

  I slump back, figuring my plea fell on deaf ears. Until a tanned hand twists to slide behind the seat. Without a moment’s hesitation, I reach out a capture Barrett’s hand with my own. He needn’t say a thing; I feel it too.

  Which is why we complete the ride in a unified silence, fingers entwined the same as our journey through this common upbringing.

  Worlds apart, and yet bearing precisely the same scars.

  LACEY

  I walk inside after Colt leaves to find Dad tugging on his boots, and Tuck seated on the edge of the armchair, hands clasped between his knees.

  The silence between them is telling.

  “Where are you going?”

  Dad lifts his head, fingers woven around the laces he pulls tight. “Nowhere. We need firewood cut, and if I leave it until tomorrow, it might get ruined by rain overnight.”

  “Oh.”

  “I offered to help,” Tuck fills in.

  Dad shakes his head, wrapping the lengthy cords around his boot before knotting them off at the front. “Nonsense. It’s a one-person job. I’ll be done soon enough.” He rises from his chair, stomping his feet to seat them in the shoes properly. “Where does your brother think he’s going?”

  “He didn’t say exactly,” I admit. “But he said to tell you he’ll be home before dinner.”

  A deep frown etches into Dad’s brow, his jaw shifting as he sighs. “I’ll cut this damn wood first and then call him.” A firm finger is pointed at me. “You stay here. Understood?”

  I nod dutifully, stepping aside to let him past as he exits the room.

  Tuck can barely contain his grin, the playful smirk taking over his lush lips the second the door clicks shut behind Dad.

  “Does he know?” I whisper, sliding across the floor in my haste to kneel before him.

  Tuck shakes his head, messy blond hair ruffled as though he’s run his hand over it a few times already. “I don’t think so.”

  “Did he grill you when I was outside? I told you I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head.” Warm fingers caress the line of my jaw. “If he was that against me, do you think he’d walk out that door just now and leave us in the house alone?”

  “He’s still here,” I argue. “It’s not as though we’re fully by ourselves.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugs one shoulder. “But your old man was young once too, and I hedge a bet that he knows how little space horny teenagers need to get shit done.”

  I slap him across the knee, giggling. “Stop it.” This is awkward enough to think about without actually discussing it.

  The day Dad learns I’m sexually active is inevitable, but a part of me wants to remain his little girl as long as I possibly can. It’s a depth to our relationship I’m not ready to relinquish just yet.

  “Mags messaged while you were out there.” Tuck nods to the front yard. “She said she tried you first, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Well, duh.” I push to my feet. “I’ve been busy with you.”

  Capturing my hand in his, Tuck tugs me off balance so that I crash toward him. Bracing my hand on the back of the seat to save from colliding, I hover mere inches from his face, relishing the fire in his gaze before he jerks forward and claims my mouth.

  His kiss is warm and, as always, home. Gentle sweeps of his tongue convey affection rather than the lust that consumed us earlier. It never ceases to amaze me the sheer range of emotions he’s able to express through a kiss alone.

  “If your old man asks, I won’t lie.”

  I rest my forehead against Tuck’s. “I know.”

  “I’ve got good intentions for you, baby. No reason to avoid the truth.”

  I itch to climb on his lap and bury my face in the comforting crook of his neck. But we’ve got other issues that demand our attention today.

  “Go get your phone,” Tuck grumbles, as though reading my mind.

  I nod, backing away. “What did she say?”

  “Just told me to get you to answer her,” he calls after me as I skip down the hallway.

  I snatch the device Tuck loaned me off my bedside table and read the screen as I make my way slowly back to the living room.

  M: Tell me you have time to gossip this morning.

  M: Dude! I need to offload to someone.

  M: Put Tuck down and answer me, dammit!!

  I chuckle as I round the corner and, as naturally as I do it every day, settle myself on Tuck’s waiting lap. He wraps his arms around my hips, enveloping me in his firm hold while I tap out a reply.

  “What did she want?”

  “Girl stuff,” I answer absently, demanding she come over straight away.

  “I think she hooked up with Beau last night,” Tuck states cool as a cucumber.

  “What?” I send my message without proofing it and drop the phone in my lap. “How do you know? And why haven’t you said anything?”

  His grin is infectious. “Saw him after I left here this morning. Didn’t think it was worth gossiping over.”

  “What did he say?” I clutch the front of Tuck’s shirt.

  He chuckles, glancing down at my desperate hold. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I need more; I can’t wait until Maggie gets here. “How do you know, then?”

  He shrugs. “I just do.” His hand captures one of mine. “Guys don’t talk like you girls do. We just know.”

  “That’s pretty cool, though, right?” I hook an eyebrow.

  He nods. “About fucking time.” His gaze drops to the phone. “You heard from Greer?”

  My face falls as I stare at the black screen. “Not today.” The device lights up with a reply from Maggie telling me she’s on her way. “Mags will be here in five.”

  Thick fingers wrap around the phone, lifting it from my lap and crudely dropping it over the side of the chair. It hits the floor with a thud, Tuck’s hand reaching for my face. “How do you think we should kill the time?” He guides my chin around so that I face his hooded gaze.

  “Dad is just outside, remember?”

  “It’s only kissing, Lace.” Soft lips feather over mine. “I’m sure he’s figured out we’ve done that already.”

  The intensity. This guy can turn it on and off like a damn switch. One second he’s sweet and softly caring about our friends hooking up, and then whammo, I fight the urge to unbutton his shirt and peel the sides away.

  “I hope this never stops,” I muse, indulging myself with his buttons—just two.

  “What doesn’t?” He arches his back to release the taut fabric.

  “The way you make me feel.” I run my palm o
ver the planes of his chest, twisting my wrist to dive beneath his warm clothing.

  My arse is scooted closer with a firm grip, a delicious rumble starting low in his chest. “I don’t think it will.”

  “You want to take this up to my room?”

  “Nope.” His answer is firm and resolute.

  I withdraw my hand, ready to shift off his lap with the sting of rejection.

  He holds me firm. “Don’t read what I said wrong, baby.” His crisp blue eyes darken. “If we go somewhere private then it won’t just be kissing.”

  “Oh.” My goddamn nipples harden instantly.

  And he knows it.

  A masculine groan of appreciation courses past his lips as he regards the twin peaks against my T-shirt. “I hope that never stops.”

  “As long as you’re around, I don’t think it will.”

  With a firm hand to the back of my head, he crushes his promise to my lips. “Here to stay, Lace.” I melt as he shifts to drag his bottom lip up the column of my throat, whispering in my ear, “Always.”

  TUCK

  I never thought I’d see the day when I was glad to be interrupted with a girl. But when Maggie knocks loudly on the door and then lets herself in, I could kiss the damn troublemaker.

  Ten more seconds with the heaven in my lap and Lacey’s grinding against my leg would have me seriously reconsidering my decision to keep our playtime out here in the open.

  “I can go back outside,” Maggie teases, thumb slung over her shoulder.

  I straighten my shirt, re-doing the buttons while Lacey smoothes her hair back, panting away her flushed lips.

  “Nope. We’re good.” For now.

  “Are you sure?” Mags asks on a chuckle.

  Lacey nods, sneaking me a sideways glance. “Positive.” Damn, I love that colour on her cheeks. “Besides. Don’t think you can use us as a distraction from what everyone really wants to know.”

  It’s Maggie’s turn to blush.

  “I might step out and help your dad stack the wood,” I tell Lacey, sensing I’m about to learn a lot more about Beau than I care to know.

  They hooked up. He’s happy. She’s clearly smitten. That’s all I need to know.