Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen

by Alex Grayson

  Once we’re out in the yard where only a few stragglers are scattered about, she spins to face me. She opens her mouth, surely to berate me, but I hold up my finger. I turn to the couple who were making out against a tree, but now have swiveled toward us, their dazed eyes darting between Rylee and me.

  “Leave,” I snarl, and they scurry away.

  The next thing I know, I have a finger poking my chest. “What was so important you threatened to drag me out here?” she asks, practically shooting fire from her eyes.

  I get right to the point. “Where did you get your drink?”

  She takes a step back, her brows dipping. She looks at the cup in her hand, then back at me. “What?” Her tone is incredulous and a bit confused.

  I release a sigh and rub my forehead. “Your drink, Rylee. Who gave it to you?”

  She blinks a couple of times, still looking baffled. “I don’t know. Some guy at the door was handing them out.”

  I tip my head up and grind my molars together. How the hell could this woman be so fucking stupid? When I look back down, she has the cup to her lips. I dart forward and snatch it from her hands, spilling some of the liquid on the ground between us, before I toss the cup to the side.

  “What the hell is your problem?” she growls, balling her little fists by her side like she’s dying to launch them at me.

  “You are,” I answer heatedly. “You don’t take drinks from people you don’t fucking know and trust. Unless you’re asking to be roofied and forced to do shit you won’t remember tomorrow, but you’ll damn sure feel.”

  Her eyes widen in shock and the red on her face from her anger melts away, leaving her pale. She looks around for a moment before bringing her eyes back to me. “That really happens at these things?”

  I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes drop to the ground between us.

  “If you insist on being here, you only take drinks from Charles. Got it?”

  She lifts her head and shame is written in her features. The look quickly morphs into curiosity. “Why do you care anyway?”

  I scoff. “I don’t care what happens to you.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily. I may not like the bitch, but I wouldn’t want any woman to be taken advantage of. That shit is not how I roll. “But if something does, every guy in there will be a suspect. I don’t need that shit in my life.”

  Her lips tighten in irritation. “Maybe next time you can warn me without being a dick.”

  “Don’t count on it, sugar.”

  “Whatever,” she mutters and walks away, leaving me out on the lawn.

  I take a minute to compose myself. Why the hell does that girl have to be so maddening? Why can’t my body get the memo that I don’t want her? And why the fuck does the thought of someone drugging her and fucking her unconscious body send a murderous rage through me? I’d be pissed if that happened to any girl but knowing it could happen to Rylee makes me feel unhinged. Knowing she carelessly put herself in danger makes me want to slap some sense into her.

  Blowing out a harsh breath to reign in my mounting temper, I go back inside. My eyes immediately try to find her, but she’s nowhere to be found. A crackling sound comes over the speaker, and I turn to face the front of the room. Oliver is on the coffee table, microphone in hand.

  “Hello, all you Parkview fuckers!” he yells, and receives a chorus of hoots and hollers. “As some of you already know, I gained a sister over the winter break.” He grins mischievously as he looks out across the room. “I realized I haven’t properly introduced you all to my new lovely sibling. How very rude of me.”

  His eyes stop somewhere behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. Rylee is standing with Charles at her side, her glacial stare pinned on Oliver.

  Oliver points his finger in her direction, and all eyes narrow in on her.

  “There she is. Why don’t you come on up here, Rylee, and meet your fellow classmates?” When she doesn’t make a move to do what he asked, but instead flips him the middle finger, Oliver pouts dramatically.

  “Spoilsport,” he jeers into the microphone. “Anyway, to help you all get to know Rylee a little better, because you know, I’m helpful like that, I figured I’d give you a few fun facts about her.”

  Murmurs and snickers reverberate throughout the room. Everyone knows Rylee isn’t liked by Oliver; therefore, this isn’t some attempt to gain her friends. He’s putting on a show. I lean against the wall to watch.

  “Fact number one.” He holds up his pointer finger. “When Rylee laughs hard, she farts.”

  Raucous laughter erupts in the room. People bend over and actually clutch their stomachs and wipe their eyes.

  Not waiting for it to die down, Oliver holds up another finger.

  “Fact number two. She sings in the shower, and let’s just say, she won’t be winning any awards anytime soon.”

  More laughter ensues. I glance at her over my shoulder. Her face is red, and if it were possible, there’d be steam coming from her ears. I grin at her discomfort and face forward again.

  “Fact number three,” he states, holding up a third finger. “She stalks her ex on Instagram. Like, come on, chick, he dumped your ass for a reason. Get over it already.”

  He lifts his pinky finger. “Number four is she talks to herself in the bathroom. Like full blown conversations and shit.”

  A sinister smile creeps over Oliver’s face, and I’m sure the last one will be the kicker. He holds up his hand, indicating all five fingers.

  “Before I give the last fun fact, I feel I should give out a bit of advice to my dear sister.” His dancing eyes meet hers. “You should really learn to lock the bathroom door.” His gaze sweeps across the room once more. “Apparently, my amorous sister here likes to use the showerhead for more than just washing her body. And if you’re wondering guys, yes, she does make the “O” face.”

  I swivel around as the peals of laughter in the room ramp up several degrees. I barely catch sight of Rylee running out the back door with Charles hot on her heels. Several emotions race through my head at once; guilt and remorse at the forefront.

  I never expected Oliver would take it this far. I’m all for embarrassing the girl, and the first four “facts” I was okay with. But that last one was too personal, even for my standards. I don’t know if everything he said was true, but from the small glimpse I got of Rylee’s face as she ran away, my guess would be yes. At least to that last one.

  Which begs the question; why the fuck was Oliver in the bathroom while she was in the shower? The other question is, why do I want to pummel his face in for witnessing it?

  Pissed off at myself for letting Oliver take things too far and wanting to get the fuck out of this place, I leave the living room and head out the same door Rylee escaped from. I forego telling Oliver I’m leaving, because I’m not sure I could hold back the desire to wrap my hands around his throat at the moment. I glance around the backyard, not surprised when I don’t see Rylee or Charles. I toss the idea around in my head to go to her house to check on her, but I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see.

  I climb in my truck. Thank fuck it starts right away.

  It takes me twenty minutes to get home, but I don’t go in immediately. I sit in my truck and try to assuage my guilt over what happened tonight.

  In the end, I know there’s only one thing I can do.

  RYLEE

  “WELL, THAT WAS an absolute nightmare.” Pierce sighs, pulling to a stop next to the curb in front of my house.

  “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” I try to force a smile, but it feels too heavy and instantly falls.

  “Oliver’s a dick.”

  “You know what?” I shuffle my feet against the floorboard. “I don’t even care about what he said. Most of it wasn’t true. What bothers me is that everyone just bought what he was selling without even reading the label. It’s so frustrating.”

  “Welcom
e to Parkview. It’s been this way as long as I can remember.”

  “But why? What is it about him that has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand?”

  “Well,” Pierce throws me an apologetic look, “he’s good looking, rich, and he’s best friends with Zayden. I know none of that should matter, but to most of the brainless asshats we go to school with, it’s all that matters.”

  “You’re not in on it, right?” I hate that the question even comes out, but with everything else that’s happened I feel suspicious of everything and everyone.

  “Wait, what?” He draws back like I smacked him right across the face.

  “I’m sorry. I know you don’t deserve to have me asking such questions, but if you think about it, it would totally make sense. Oliver recruits one of his friends to get close to me. It’s his kill shot.”

  “His what?” He seems so confused that I almost feel sorry for him.

  “Kill shot. You know, he stabs me several times before finally delivering the fatal blow.”

  “And you think I’m the fatal blow?”

  “No,” I answer honestly. “But it feels like something he would do.”

  “I’m not sure if I should be pissed that you’re accusing me of working with Oliver or amused.” A smile plays on his lips. “Look, I’ve been around Oliver enough to know he’s not the kind of people I need in my life. Besides, are you forgetting the part where I also like men? Have you met Oliver? Do I strike you as the kind of person he would hang out with?”

  “Probably not,” I admit. “God, I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing short of amazing and here I am questioning your motives.”

  “You’ve had one hell of a week, so I’m going to give you a free pass this time,” he tells me, taking this way better than I would have if the roles were reversed. “But the next time I might not be so easy on you,” he playfully warns.

  “You really are something special, Charles Pierce.”

  “Now that’s something we can both agree on.”

  We both laugh, and despite everything that’s gone on today, there’s nothing forced or fake about it.

  “I’m sorry about tonight. I should never have insisted on going. I walked into the lion’s den and they feasted, just like I knew they would. I guess I thought maybe there were some decent people mixed in with all the assholes.”

  “Oh, there are. You’ll just be hard pressed to see any of them stand against Zayden or Oliver,” he says. “Speaking of which, what the fuck did Z want earlier?” he asks, reminding me that I never got the chance to tell him. Oliver made sure of that.

  “He yelled at me for drinking.” I laugh at the absurdity of it now, though at the time I was too confused to really process it all.

  “Come again?” Pierce seems as confused as I had felt.

  “He told me that I was going to be roofied, and that I shouldn’t drink anything that I didn’t pour myself or got from you. He was being so mean about it and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like for whatever reason, he was looking out for me. It was really weird.” I shake my head.

  “I wouldn’t have let that happen. Jared is a buddy of mine and he would never slip something into someone’s drink. Not saying that it’s never happened, but I knew the drink was safe.” He thinks on it for a moment. “But what I don’t get is why he felt the need to say anything to begin with. Unless….” A slow smile tugs at his lips.

  “Unless?” I ask impatiently when he doesn’t finish his thought right away.

  “Unless he has a thing for you.”

  I stare at him for a long moment, trying to gauge if he’s being serious. When he gives me no indication to prove otherwise, I immediately burst into laughter. And not just a little laugh either. No, this is stomach cramping, can’t catch my breath kind of laugh.

  “You can’t be serious,” I manage through my hysterics.

  “I’m just saying, maybe he does. You’re beautiful, funny, witty, and you don’t take his shit—which is probably a first for him.”

  “Zayden Michaels does not have a thing for me,” I reassure him, my laughter dying off. “And even if he did, I wouldn’t give that asshole the time of day,” I quickly add, hoping Pierce doesn’t see through the lie.

  I know it’s crazy. I should hate Zayden. I should, but I don’t. I’ve never been so intrigued by someone before. It’s like the meaner he is to me, the more curious I become. And in some sick way I like the attention. Because even if it’s negative attention, it shows he’s thinking about me.

  Okay, I think I’ve officially lost my mind.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” Pierce reaches across the console and tips my chin. “You didn’t see the way he was looking at you tonight. Nice touch by the way.” His eyes scan my outfit.

  “I figured if I was going to be humiliated, might as well look good doing it.” I shrug, looking down at the revealing outfit that I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t pick it out with Zayden in mind.

  “Well, you definitely succeeded. Even if our first outing was a huge bust, the night did have some high points.”

  “It did?” I arch a brow at him.

  “I got to walk into a packed party with the hottest girl in school on my arm.” He grins. “I think we turned more heads than just Zayden’s.”

  “Anyone’s head in particular you were aiming to turn?” I probe for information. So far Pierce has been pretty secretive about his love life.

  “Maybe.” He kneads his bottom lip between his teeth.

  “That’s all I get? Maybe?” I playfully swat his leg.

  “Her name is Chelsea. I told you I’ve been on a girl kick as of late. We have Spanish together, and even though I’ve attempted to flirt, she’s either really shy or isn’t interested. After tonight, I think it’s the former. Which just means I need to up my game.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “Well, rumor has it she’s going to be at Hart’s tomorrow night. Thinking I might make an appearance.”

  “What’s Harts?”

  “Hart’s Comics.”

  “Wait, she’s going to be at a comic bookstore?” I question, fighting the urge to poke fun at him.

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  “Hart’s isn’t just a comic store. He also has a fight ring in the basement.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “It’s a pretty hot hang out, if you can get in. There’s only room enough for so many people, so they typically turn a lot away at the door.”

  “Are we talking like Fight Club?” I reference the movie I’ve seen more times than I care to admit.

  “Not exactly, but yeah, you’re getting the picture. It’s an underground fighting ring. It pulls in a pretty big crowd. Some people go to watch the fight, but most have money on the line.”

  “So, they’re taking bets?”

  He nods. “You’d be surprised how much money circulates that place, especially when some of the better-known fighters are there.” He pauses like he’s about to say more but changes his mind.

  “How does something like this take place? Clearly it’s illegal.”

  “Hart, the guy who runs the place, has a buddy at the local PD. Not sure on their arrangement, but he keeps the cops off Hart’s back, and in return, Hart takes care of him—financially speaking.”

  “So he pays him off?”

  “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

  “And how do you know all this?”

  “Same way everyone does—word of mouth. I’ve been there a few times. Pay enough attention and you can piece together how it all works pretty quick.”

  “How freaking cool. I didn’t know things like that actually existed.”

  “You wouldn’t want to maybe go, would you?”

  “Are you serious? Hell yes, I would!” I say a little too enthusiastically. “But….” I pause. “I hate that
I even have to ask this.”

  “Yes, Zayden and Oliver will likely be there. But,” he quickly continues. “there are so many people there that it’s unlikely they will have any clue you’re in attendance. Besides, you can’t let them scare you into hiding. Isn’t that what you said earlier?”

  “I don’t know. Two nights in a row might be pressing my luck.”

  “Or, maybe it will show them that they can’t break you.”

  I consider his words.

  “I’m in,” I finally agree.

  “The first fight starts at nine. We’ll want to be there by seven if we want any shot of getting inside.”

  “Pick me up at six-thirty?” I reach for the door handle.

  “It’s a date.” He nods, his dimple making an appearance as he smiles.

  “Rylee and Charles take on the world—take two,” I tell him, pushing open the door.

  “Let’s just hope it goes better than take one.” He chuckles.

  I step out of the car and turn to lean against the open door. “Just one question. What does one wear to an underground fight club?” Just saying the words makes me smile.

  “Ripped jeans and a sexy top.” His eyes dip to my heels. “And those shoes.” He smiles. “Definitely those shoes.”

  “Casual, but sexy. Got it.” I step back to shut the door.

  “See you at six-thirty.”

  “See you then.” I give him a small wave before swinging the door closed.

  Pierce waits until I make it inside before driving away. I lock the door behind myself and turn, taking the stairs two at a time on the way up to my bedroom. When I reach the last step I nearly fall on my face when my heel catches and sends me off balance. Luckily I’m able to catch myself on the railing.

  Straightening back up, I feel a slight twinge in my wrist. Holding it up for closer inspection, I see a light bruise has formed, five unmistakable fingerprints marring my wrist and lower forearm.

  My mind darts back to the party when Zayden grabbed me. At the time, it didn’t hurt. I definitely never suspected it would bruise. Then again, my adrenaline was pumping so hard I doubt I would have felt much of anything. I doubt me jerking my arm away helped matters. That’s probably why I bruised. I’d pulled so hard I damn near dislocated my shoulder.