Play the Game: Hannaford Prep Year Three

by J Bree

  Sweet lord fuck. Ash takes the glass again, a fine tremble in his fingers, and he finishes the glass. Avery looks like she’s going to vomit, like knowing the facts and hearing them laid out right now with our dinner growing cold between us are two very different things.

  Ash continues without so much as a grimace. “Joey found us in the kitchen as my mother was getting us out. She had known for years that he was a sociopath too; he’d already broken my arm twice. She had no intention of taking him with us and when he found us he called my father. He caught her by the chauffeured car and dragged her back to the house by her hair. He laid her out on the same table that girl had been strapped to, the blood was still warm, and he got Joey to help him. Then the two of them butchered her. When our nanny brought us down for dinner that night my father had Avery wait outside the formal dining room and he described to me exactly what they had done to her. He called one of his crooked higher-ups in the police department and my mother’s death was ruled a suicide.”

  I swallow the bile in my throat and, very carefully, I reach out and cover his hand with mine. I hold back a sigh when he doesn’t shake me off.

  “What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything.” I say, trying to offer him a break from his demons.

  Ash shakes his head sharply and looks at Avery. “He told me that if I didn’t ‘show some promise soon’ he’d be forced to do the same to me. He put Joey in charge of teaching me how to be a real man, not a fucking pansy that respects women. He can’t stand that I love my sister, that I loved our mother. He just wants a legacy. He wants to die knowing his sons are continuing to torture, beat, rape, and destroy everyone and everything around them. He’s insane, but he’s also very smart. He looks handsome and put-together in a suit. Not a soul on this earth would believe the things he’s done. The only thing reining the two of them in is our standing in high society. He gets away with everything because of who he is. If he were to be exposed, he’d be facing the death penalty in at least ten states and three countries.”

  I squeeze his fingers, but he ignores me. I’m starting to get a little worried that we’ve broken him. “So they’ve used Avery as the bargaining tool from the moment they killed our mother. I am to submit to everything Joey chooses to teach me, to do to me, or Avery ends up on that table. I’ve tested their resolve once, and Harley nearly went to juvie to get Avery to the hospital before she was gone forever too.”

  Avery shivers and rubs her arms, trying to fight the memories from prickling at her skin.

  Ash spins the glass on the table absently, still staring at Avery. “The clean-up is all done by officials. He has so many dirty pigs in his pockets that it would be harder to find someone clean then to find someone he owns. That’s it, Mounty. That’s everything.”

  I nod and clear my throat. “Do you know why he would contact someone else to kill you? To kill you both? If he’s so… proficient and willing, why would he pay an obscene amount of money for someone else to do it?”

  Avery frowns at me. “The threat is against us?”

  I swallow roughly. “Yes. He’s contacted a man about having you both killed. The guy is… actually pretty similar to your father, except everything he does is big and showy. I think he likes the attention of being so good at covering his own tracks that he’s untouchable. It just doesn’t make sense that your father would contract your murder out when it sounds like he would enjoy doing it himself.”

  Avery stares at me for a second and then her eyes flick to Ash. I wait for the planning to start. I wait for her phone to come out and her sharp, ruthless mind to get to work.

  It doesn’t happen.

  She stands to grab the plate of dinner and shoves it, dish and all, into the garbage. I watch as she grabs everything from the table, all our plates and cutlery, cups and napkins, and shoves the whole lot in the garbage. I hear the glass breaking and ripping the garbage bag, but I let her go.

  She has the exorcize the demons out of our space and she won’t be able to rest until they’re gone.

  I sit in silence with Ash while Avery tears the kitchen apart. We’re not going to have any utensils left by the time she’s settled again, but who the fuck cares when I have a best friend losing her mind and a boyfriend who’s just told me he’s been the victim of two serial killers for the last decade? I certainly don’t.

  “What do you want to know? I promised you some truths.” I whisper, careful not to touch him beyond the hands we have clasped together around his empty glass.

  “Not tonight, Mounty. I’ll take my payment some other time. Can I drink now? I don’t want to become a sulking, morose fuck. We already have one of those in the family, no need for another.” He says and I tug him to his feet gently, directing him over to my bed.

  He frowns at me and says, “I’m not sleeping. I won’t, and Avery is making enough noise that Harley and Morrison are going to hear it and come looking for our corpses. I need a drink to be able to deal with this.”

  My lips quirk, but I rest a palm on his chest. “Shh, Beaumont. We’re not functioning tonight. You and me will be nothing in here together.” His eyes stay fixed to my face and they don’t soften at all so I shrug. “If that doesn’t work, I’ll come down to the track with you and sit on the grass while you run until you pass out, but we’ll try this first. I don’t want to have to call the calvary to carry you back to the dorms because there’s no way I can do it by myself.”

  I wait him out. Eventually, he slides between my sheets and I climb in next to him, flicking my lamp off so only the kitchen overhead lights are on. It kind of feels like mood lighting and I grimace at thinking such a thing while Ash is lying beside me with all of his internal damage on display. I’m surprised he hasn’t hit anything yet. If someone challenges him to a fight tomorrow, I think I’ll be calling a cleanup crew.

  His story is on repeat in my brain and I start to think maybe alcohol isn’t the worst idea. It’s all just so fucking sick and twisted, and I’m no closer to figuring out what the fuck I can do to stop the Devil appearing on our doorstep. We’re facing the most evil and well connected men in high society and the slums of Mounts Bay.

  I really don’t do easy, do I?

  Ash moves to pull me into his arms, shifting me until my back is pressed to his chest and our legs are tangled together the way he likes, and when his fingers brush my thighs I shiver. His lips press into the soft skin of my shoulder.

  “What do I have to do to tempt you into our room, Mounty? I’ve been very patient while Avery adjusts, but you really need to start sleeping in my bed.” He mumbles into my skin and I wheeze a little as my chest tightens. The very thought of spending time in their room, choosing a bed for the night, being in their space - I need to get my head around it first. I need to figure out how to do that without dying of both lust and awkwardness.

  There’s something else I need to address first.

  “You know I’ve killed people, right?” I whisper, brave now I’m not looking at him. It’ll make it easier if he rejects me and walks out.

  “So have I. I told you before Mounty, you’re not going to scare me off.”

  I meet Harley and Blaise for breakfast in the dining hall the next morning. Avery didn’t finish her room demolition until dawn, and now there’s nothing left in the kitchen or bathroom that wasn’t already nailed down. Ash decided he would skip class for the day to stay behind and coax her into sleeping. I brace myself for the questions the other two would inevitably have.

  “She didn’t take the news well then? She never does when Ash is involved.” Harley says, stabbing at his eggs with the type of vehemence that had students giving our seats a wide berth.

  “Well, he’s always the one being fucking beaten and targeted so I don’t blame her. Well, almost always.” Blaise mutters, frowning down at his juice like he can magically spike it with a look.

  I look between them both and ask, “Harley told you, then? I got the full, unedited family backstory to help us figure out what we can d
o to stop the hit, and afterwards Avery needed to scrub some demons out. Be extra nice to her for a while because she’ll probably come back swinging.”

  They both stop and gape at me.

  “He told you? He spoke to you about his father and Joey? Ash did? Alexander Asher William Beaumont, my best friend and total asshole extraordinaire, told you about what happens behind closed doors at the Beaumont Manor?” Blaise rambles and I frown at him.

  “Yes. It was… really fucking bad, but now I have everything I need to know to navigate this mess we’re in.” I force confidence into my voice but, fuck, I’m not sure we’re going to be navigating shit. It might be closer to blowing everything the fuck up and praying for the best.

  They share a look but I ignore it. I push my empty plate away and gulp down the last of my iced coffee before we have to start moving off to our classes.

  “Star, he hasn’t even told us that stuff. Fuck, he really is serious about you.” Blaise mumbles and my frown at him deepens.

  “You thought he wasn’t? Wow.”

  He cringes, cheeks flushing slightly, and Harley snorts at him before cutting in to save their asses. “Blaise and I both spend all of our spare time figuring out how to get you alone. Ash doesn’t. This dick has been… concerned that Ash is having second thoughts because he’s never really been the type to embrace celibacy.”

  Fucking idiot boys! I blush and clear my throat. “He told me last night he’s waiting for Avery to stop being so defensive. He also told me I should start coming to your room.”

  I see the predatory gleam in both their eyes and I hold up a hand. “I’m thinking about it. I’m not interested in hearing more gossip about how much of a raging whore I am. I’m pretty fucking close to snapping and stabbing some rich dickheads as it is. I don’t need to test my patience much more.”

  Harley glares around the room with that fierce challenge of his and students start averting their eyes, turning their bodies away from his wrath. I’ll say it again; I must be so freaking broken because that look is such a turn on. He turns back to me and smirks at my flushed cheeks. He cups my cheek gently, kissing me dirty, deep, and with entirely too much tongue for the audience we have. Blaise cackles at the looks we get from those brave enough to look as we break apart.

  “I’ll take care of them for you, babe.” Harley murmurs and my blush deepens.

  “Now who’s flirting?”

  All eyes follow us out of the room, especially when Blaise slings his arm over my shoulders, I hold my head high. Who the fuck cares what the rich assholes think? Not me.

  Okay, I care a little.

  Just enough to want them all to fuck off.

  Chapter Ten

  Choir is still my least favorite class.

  Miss Umber smiles as Blaise and I walk in together and take our seats. She still insists we sit at the front so she can ‘monitor us’, which is her way of saying ‘giggle and blush at Blaise’. I guess this is my life now, such a steep price to pay for the rock god in my bed.

  Avery has transferred out of choir to take on extra dance classes and I have no one to share looks with at the lusty eyes Blaise has on him the second he starts singing. I mean, the ones other than mine.

  “Okay, class! Time to start thinking about your performance for this year! You will already know from your syllabus that you’re going to be working on your own original material to sing this year, an exciting challenge for some of you and a regular occurrence for others.” Miss Umber says with a coy and completely inappropriate look at Blaise, who in return looks mildly uncomfortable.

  I scoff at him and nudge him in the ribs. He’s always been a shameless flirt and I have no desire for him to stop; he wouldn’t be Blaise Morrison without it. He wiggles his eyebrows at me like an idiot.

  “You’ll be working in pairs, so choose wisely!” She turns to start writing on the board, detailing a list of requirements and resources for songwriting, and Blaise steals my pen from me when I start to take notes.

  “I’ve already written our song.” He whispers into my ear, and grins cockily when I shiver.

  “I can’t take credit for your work.” I mumble but he just shrugs.

  “Sing it with me, let me record it, and listen to it yourself. That’s going to be the hardest work in the assignment and you’ll be the only one who can do it.”

  Fuck.

  He’s not wrong about it being hard, but I desperately want to be able to do this. For myself and for him. Ash would also probably sell his soul for the song. I’ve had to ban him from playing the video Avery recorded of me singing around me because he listens to it so often.

  “I don’t know if I can. Listen to it, that is. I can… if you sing it for me I can copy you with the ear plugs in.”

  Blaise threads his fingers through mine. “We’ll work on it together. We need to get you past this because I’m putting it on my next album. It’ll be a single and on the radio and it’s going to be huge. I want you to sing it onstage with me someday. We can’t do any of that if you can’t listen to it.”

  Holy fuck.

  I suddenly feel too warm, too full, too loved. I don’t know how to deal with it at all so I nod and squeeze his hand.

  My good day comes to a screeching halt in our history class.

  I look down at the paper in my hands and blink my eyes furiously like that’ll somehow change the mark written in bold red ink.

  B+

  I’ve never gotten lower than an A+ in my entire freaking life. Never. Even when Harley beats me in our classes it’s only by the smallest of margins and yet here I am staring down at a B fucking plus.

  My head fills with a high pitch buzzing noise and my mind checks out entirely. Gone. Closed for some serious freaking maintenance. My breathing shallows into these weird little pants - I’m probably hyperventilating - and I vaguely feel a hand on my back, rubbing slow circles, while an argument starts around me. I can’t seem to focus away from the panic that has broken my brain.

  A chair scrapes back sharply, the warm caress of breath down my neck, and then I hear a low rumbling voice as Ash whispers in my ear, “Avery will fix it, Mounty. Just breathe, for fuck’s sake! No one is going to die over one crappy grade.”

  That’s some perspective, right there. My chest eases enough for a deep, gulping breath. Just one, but it brings the room back into focus and I can hear the war waging around me.

  “Mr. Beaumont, get back to your table! And Miss Beaumont, I will not be spoken to like that in my own classroom. If your little friend is unhappy with her mark, she will just need to work harder.” Ms. Vivienne snaps out and, hoo boy, big mistake. My eyes finally unglue themselves from the mark and I look up at my best friend as her shoulders roll back and her chin lifts.

  The room stops.

  Stops talking, stops moving, stops existing.

  Ms. Vivienne glances around, frowning and unsure of what the hell is going on, like the clueless fool she is.

  Avery stands slowly, smoothing her skirt down with a steady hand. She’s been teetering on the edge of bloodshed all week and this bitch just stepped into the ring. Ash leans back in his chair to survey the class, but there isn’t a single student willing to meet his eye.

  Sheep, the lot of them.

  “If you think you can come to this school and play games with my family, then you’re a stupid, desperate, old cunt that has a lot to learn. I’ve been lenient on you; observed the social niceties and played by the agreed set of rules, but now you’re going to get the same as every other miserable whore that walks these halls. You have a single chance to give Lips the mark her paper deserves, right now, or you can continue down the path to your own destruction because I assure you, Ms. Turner, that you are not in the position of power here. I will wipe all traces of you from the face of the Earth.”

  Ms Vivienne’s cheeks flush and she flicks a look at where Harley’s hand is still rubbing circles into my back. Her eyes narrow. The bitch is fucking deranged. If Avery’s icy speech didn’t
make her quake in her stupid whore heels then she’s clearly got no survival instincts.

  “Go straight to the principal’s office, Miss Beaumont. I will meet you there after the bell and we will discuss your actions with Mr. Trevelen. He will find an appropriate punishment for your unacceptable behavior and threats.”

  Avery tips her head back and laughs, and even I shiver at the sound.

  Harley starts packing his bag and when he sees I’m still struck dumb by the red ink he packs mine as well. Ms. Vivienne’s eyes flash at him as her focus shifts away from Avery and to the only person she really seems to give a shit about. “Mr. Arbour, I have not dismissed you.”

  He snorts at her and stands, tugging me to my feet, and Ash and Blaise both get up as well, bags packed and slung over their shoulders. Harley even grabs Avery’s bag so she’s not weighed down during her rage-filled stomping to wherever-the-hell-it-is we’re going.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! All of you, sit down this instant! I will be calling your parents!” Ms Vivienne screeches, but her eyes are still fixed on Harley. His hands clench into fists and Avery tucks her arm into his to prevent him from smacking the bitch out.

  Ash gently pries my numb hands away from my bag and throws in over to Blaise, who swings it over his shoulder easily and walks out of the room with a cocky smirk at our gaping teacher, calling out to her, “Good luck with that!”

  Avery stomps after him, tugging Harley with her while he fumes. Ash tucks me under his arm carefully and steers me out of the room, his grip so secure that even my numb legs can’t trip us up.

  “It’s just a mark, Mounty, stop gasping like you’re dying. Avery will have it fixed in under an hour.” Ash says, and he leads me to the dining hall. None of the teachers we pass spare us a glance and Ash doesn’t speak again until he has me settled in our usual seats at the long, empty table with a plate of pasta and an iced coffee in front of me.