The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy #2)

by C. M. Stunich

  “What I don't get is what killing a bird has to do with, well, like, anything?” Spencer says, but I don't have any answers. Doesn't seem like anybody else does either.

  “You know, that same night you guys surprised me with the spiders, I went to the girls' dorm and found red wax all over the coffee table. I figured you guys had set up in their first, but then moved to the kitchen …”

  “We were never in there,” the twins say, and then Tobias sighs.

  “The only person who goes to the girls' dorm regularly besides you is Ranger. And we didn't tell anyone else that that was your place.”

  “So the red wax … could feasibly be from these same psychos?” I continue, pointing at the ring of candles with the dead bird. I feel physically sick to my stomach. Whoever it is that's plaguing this school, they're clearly insane. I mean, not that that wasn't obvious before with the whole 'murdering people thing', but really, animal sacrifice? It's so nineties crime scene cliché.

  Instead of scaring me, all the morbid display does is piss me off.

  “I wouldn't say could be,” Church continues, his voice low and even. “I'd go so far as to say probably is.”

  “Well, fuck these assholes,” I say, feeling my body heat up with anger. “I mean, really? Does killing a small, helpless bird make you feel tough?” I hold my arms up and turn toward the woods. “Does it? Well screw you! I'm not afraid of your notes, or your candles, or anything else. Let's go.” I turn and take off down the path, the Student Council following after me.

  I hope the bastards heard me. Because I was serious. I'm not afraid of them.

  And I refuse to run.

  When I come down the stairs, dressed in a short, navy blue cocktail dress, the boys turn as one unit, and I swear, they all gawk at me. Well, maybe except for Church. He just doesn't seem like the type to gawk.

  “Looking good, Chuck,” the twins say together, flashing matching grins.

  “Holy shit, you're hot,” Spencer chokes out as Ranger flushes slightly. He's seen me dressed up before, but I guess there was a little too much going on that night to properly process things.

  I blush and do a little twirl on the landing, so they can take it all in. I've got on sexy red heels that Monica insisted I blow every cent of my sweet sixteen birthday money on, as well as more makeup than I've worn since I moved here. I even put the falsies on, and threw a super quick coat of red on my nails that I know I'll probably take off before school on Monday. Not that boys can't wear nail polish—Ranger does sometimes—but I just don't want to draw that sort of attention just yet. I'm happy keeping my secret to this group right here.

  “You look beautiful,” Church says, smiling at me and tapping a single finger against his lips. He closes his eyes briefly, like he's taking in the moment, before slowly opening that amber gaze again.

  “Didn't you say you were going to fight Spencer over Charlotte? Now's the time, bro.” Micah dances out of his brother's way when Tobias whips a green glare his direction.

  “Oh, really?” Spencer asks, leaning back against the wall in that cocky way of his, quirking one dark brow up and ruffling his silver hair. “You want to fight me, Tobias?”

  “Not really,” Tobias replies, crossing his own arms over his chest. “I mean, shouldn't whatever happens be Charlotte's decision anyway? Are you guys really dating? Seems like it’s just a sex thing.”

  “Oh my god,” I groan, putting my hands over my face.

  “It isn't just sex, you condom-faced ass pig,” Spencer growls, cocking a small smirk at the end to show he's only half serious. “We have a thing.”

  “I'd argue,” Tobias continues, tucking his hands into his pockets and giving Spencer a long, studying look. “That we had a thing, too. You know, I let her stay in Amber's room.”

  Spencer's eyes go wide and he glances from me to Tobias, and then over to Micah.

  “And what about you?” he challenges as I try to figure out how to dig a hole and crawl into it. “You want to fight me, too?”

  Micah just throws this cocksure little smile out, and Ranger grumbles low under his breath, clearly just done with the whole situation.

  “You know Tobias and I share everything,” he says, swinging a dark gaze my direction. The way he drinks me in, from heels to hair, I can feel it, a certain tension in the air between us that was there that night on the hood of his car, this burning need that makes me squirm.

  “Since Amber, you mean,” Spencer corrects, and both twins give him withering looks that he meets dead-on.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Ranger snarls, stepping between the three of them. “We've got murderers, sacrificial animals, and a cross-country move to deal with, and you guys are fighting over Charlotte like bucks in heat? Jesus Christ, grow up.”

  “You know,” I say, coming down the rest of the stairs and pausing in front of them. “This is exactly why I didn't want to be the only girl at an all-boys school.”

  “If you think we like you because you're the only girl,” the twins start, pulling off a fairly long and complicated sentence with surprising precision, “then you're sorely mistaken.”

  “I liked you when I thought you were a boy,” Spencer asserts, his smirk fading slightly.

  “And I would like to get out of here before the headmaster shows up and finds out what we're up to,” Church insists, and then we all pause at the sound of footsteps.

  “Fuck.”

  I scramble around the corner and head to the back door, letting myself out and closing it softly behind me. I can hear the murmur of voices from inside as I sneak around to the front and wait for the guys to come out.

  “What'd you say to him?” I whisper as we meet up just outside the pool of yellow cast by the porch light.

  “That we were taking you to the releasing of the paper lanterns.” Church tucks his hands into the pockets of his navy blue slacks and smiles brightly. “He didn't seem to find it hard to believe that you were so angry at him you bailed out the back door.”

  “I am angry with him,” I say, glancing over the dark patch of the woods to where dozens of paper lanterns are floating into the night sky. Damn. A lot of people really did care about Eugene Mathers, huh? I feel like a total asshole. “Is it wrong for us to go to a party when everyone else is, you know, in mourning …”

  “We spent a whole week in mourning. I've spent most of my life in mourning. Let's go.” Ranger leads us down the road to where a car's waiting at the edge of academy property.

  It's another limo, and my brows go up, but I don't argue.

  When the guys told me we were going to 'the city' for a college party, I sort of assumed like Bridgeport or something (it's the only city in Connecticut that I'm even aware of). But instead, the limo takes us an hour and a half away, right into the heart of New York City.

  “Holy shit,” I blurt when our ride stops at the curb in front of a massive skyscraper. Right away, I can tell it's a fancy ass sort of place, with a doorman and a lobby with marble floors and velvet chaise lounges. Yep, Toto, we're definitely not in Nutmeg anymore.

  “Mr. Montague,” the doorman greets as he lets us in, and my brows go up.

  “You come here often?” I ask, and Church loosely shrugs a single shoulder, still dressed in his Adamson uniform. None of the guys seemed to care if they changed or not. Hell, maybe it's a status symbol sort of thing? They all have little black rose enamel pins on their breast pockets, right next to the Adamson crest. Maybe they're wearing their uniforms out of respect for the deceased?

  My breath escapes in a rush, and I try really, really hard not to think about that ring of red candles, and the decapitated bird inside of them.

  Or the dead boy hanging in the tree.

  A shiver travels through me, and I reach out to clasp Spencer's hand. He takes mine and squeezes back, our fingers entwined. My gaze swings over to him, and I flush.

  “My parents own the building. I have an open invitation.” Church doesn't even look at me as he tosses that juicy bi
t of arrogance over his shoulder, and I narrow my eyes.

  “He's the richest person in school, huh?” I ask, and Spencer grins.

  “Most definitely. By, like, leaps and bounds. Why? Think you picked the wrong guy?”

  “Leaps and bounds, huh?” I start, but then the elevator is swooshing open and there's a sea of glittering girls with hair like silk, dresses like jewels, and faces painted like magazine models. My stomach clenches, and I feel that same old, self-conscious monster of envy inside of me. I've never been the prettiest or the most popular, but it's been something I've always wanted.

  Except, then I look over at Spencer, and I remember that gaping, emptiness inside my heart when I thought he was dead. But he's not. He's here now, and there are paper lanterns floating in a dark sky to celebrate some other boy I didn't know.

  I exhale, and some of that insecurity goes out with the breath.

  Maybe … it’s just something I used to want?

  “Ladies,” Church purrs as they giggle and bite their lips in his direction.

  “He's a seventeen year old junior in high school,” I blurt, narrowing my eyes at the coeds.

  “So? We're only a year apart,” the one in front says, turning to look at me, surrounded by dudes. “Besides, you have a few extra boys. You could spare one or two, right?” The women laugh, and then stream around us, letting us into the elevator which, by the way, also has its own attendant.

  “Were you defending me against the pervy college girls?” Church asks, smiling brightly and tossing golden hair from his forehead. If this were a Japanese anime, there'd be sparkles. I frown at him.

  “What would you say if a bunch of college dudes were hitting on me? Gross, right? Like, I'm in high school.”

  “A lot of girls like college guys,” Church retorts, lifting his amber eyes up to the ceiling as if in thought. “My sisters always did. They found them mature, experienced, just slightly in the realm of the forbidden.” He drops his attention back to my face, and throws a royal smirk my direction. “Would it bother you if I went home with one of those girls tonight?”

  “They only want to fuck you if they get your money, too,” the twins supply together, lifting their hands up on either side in a gesture of faux innocence.

  “Right.” Church reaches up and loosens his tie as the doors swing open and the sound of blaring music thrums down the hallway. Ranger sighs, and then pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, offering one up to Spencer.

  “I hate these parties,” Ranger mumbles, but then he and Spencer are lighting up, and the twins are leading the way toward the open doors. Isis by Joyner Lucas and Logic is playing, and the first thing I notice when we walk in are the drugs.

  “Holy sweet baby Jesus, is that cocaine?!” I choke out, and Ranger gives me a look with his dark sapphire eyes.

  “Weed, coke, alcohol. Pretty standard fare. You don't party in California?”

  “I …” I start, but I guess I have seen Monica and some of our other friends oohing and aahing over Heather's cousin's connection to some small-time drug dealer. One time she brought cocaine to a party and everyone tried it, but me. “I guess.”

  But like here? There are people doing lines on the coffee table. Or like, off of each other.

  I feel so out of my league.

  “This is insane.”

  “Don't worry about any of these people,” Spencer says, waving one hand while he holds his cigarette with the other. “They're just background noise.”

  The twins come back with drinks in their hands, both of them holding onto the same cup. They offer it out to me, and then glare at each other.

  “We got you a drink,” they say as I reach out to take it, my fingers brushing theirs and sending a hot thrill through me. Spencer watches us carefully, and then stabs his cigarette out in an ash tray.

  “Are you aware those cause cancer?” I joke, and he swings his turquoise eyes over to me with a grin, hooking his arm around my shoulders.

  “We all have our vices,” he admits, guiding me through the grinding, sweaty bodies of the crowd toward the balcony. There are other high school students here, too, dressed in uniforms similar to ours. North York Prep is the one that stands out the most. They're all wearing stark-white, girls and boys in pristine slacks. They glare at us as we pass by, and I cock a brow.

  “What's all that about?” I ask as Spencer takes me to the edge of the glass railing, and my stomach flip-flops dangerously. Oh god. We're on the top floor, aren't we? After a brief moment of nausea, I step forward and curl my hands around the metal railing that tops the glass panels. All around us, the city lives and breathes and glitters. I've only been to NYC once, and I definitely didn't get to see it at night from the roof of a penthouse suite.

  “North York Prep is douche-canoe central,” Tobias supplies, stepping up on my other side. “Just ignore them. They just want to banish us back to Bridgeport.” He shudders as I sip my drink, and then notices my perplexed expression. “It's like, uh, Huntington Park is to Los Angeles.”

  “Right.” I stand there for a moment, and then turn back to the city. “We're in Manhattan, aren't we?”

  “Of course,” Church supplies, leaning in the corner, his long body pressed against the glass in just such a way that I think if someone wanted to, they could push him right over the edge. He doesn't seem concerned. “Where else would we go?”

  I roll my eyes, and then take another sip of my drink, staring down at the cocktail with its fancy little mint sprig and big, round ice cube. No way in hell the twins made this.

  “Bartender,” Micah whispers, appearing on my other side. He pushes between me and Spencer, and I see Spencer frown hard. He's not happy about it.

  “Bartender who doesn't care about serving underage kids, huh?” I ask, and then I down the whole drink and grin. “Fun.”

  “Let's get a round and toast Eugene. He died for a good cause.”

  “Did he?” Spencer asks Micah, and they exchange a look.

  “He died, so you didn't have to,” Micah says with a shrug, and then he takes off with Tobias, returning with a fresh round of drinks. We all lift them up in salute. “To Eugene,” Micah says.

  “To Eugene,” we all repeat, and then pour just a bit over the edge before knocking them back. Spencer breaks out his stash of weed, and lights up a small glass pipe.

  “Aren't you supposed to smoke first and then drink?” I ask, remembering the Valentine's Day party, where Spencer and I danced and he didn't know it was me, like some fucked-up Cinderella moment.

  “Only if you don't want the alcohol to boost the THC in—” Spencer stops to look at me, really look at me. His turquoise eyes widen, and some of that hurt I saw in the hallway that day comes out. “You. You're … you're your cousin.”

  “What the crap are you going on about?” Ranger asks, looking between the two of us, the flashing lights from inside catching on the blue streaks in his hair. He has this alternative sort of look, with the black plugs in his ears, and the eyeliner, the tattoo that I can see on his chest now that his shirt's been partially unbuttoned. But to be honest, he looks the least happy to be here.

  “The cousin I danced with at the Everly party. You … Charlotte, duh, fuck.” Spencer rakes his fingers through his hair, and then passes the pipe over to Tobias, like he's seriously reconsidering smoking it. “You were right in front of my fucking face, and I missed it.”

  “That's why I was asking if you really wanted to smoke that after drinking so much,” I hedge, and Spencer glances over at me like he's both pissed and ashamed. “My grandfather's name really is Charlie, by the way. Some of my aunts call me Charlie …”

  “This is insane,” Spencer whispers, running his palms down his face and then pausing. He drops his hands to his sides and then exhales sharply. “I feel like I never got to be properly mad at you guys because you were all so upset. But I am still, angry I mean. And I've been over that bit of conversation we had again and again.” He purses that hot mouth of his
and narrows his eyes. “Explain the fake packer penis to me.”

  The twins snicker, and Micah flashes a huge grin.

  “We gifted Charlotte a packer penis, like the kind gay dudes put in their pants to seem bigger.”

  “Or that transgender dudes use sometimes.”

  “Right,” Spencer says, grabbing another drink off a passing tray. Did I mention there are waiters with trays of food and drinks walking around? Like this is some legit shit, not like any party I've ever been to before. Guess the upper crust in New York do things a little different. I'm used to coolers full of soda and beer, the best weed in the country for dirt cheap, and sandy beaches lit by moonlight and bonfires. “So that's what I grabbed onto, huh?”

  “You grabbed it?” the twins ask together, exchanging a look, and then turning back to us. Micah speaks next while Tobias purses his lips. “And it passed then? You believed it was real? See, I told you that one had good reviews.”

  “Were you two, like, involved before you even knew her secret?” Tobias asks as he frowns hard in our direction, green eyes dark with frustration.

  “Were you?” Spencer retorts, lifting his chin up. “Well, you know, I mean after you found out her secret, since you knew for months.”

  “Stop!” I shout, and luckily the music's too loud for anyone but the closet partygoers to hear us. “I hate that you guys were close, and now you're fighting because of me.”

  “We're fighting because they lied to me,” Spencer growls out, the hurt thick in his voice.

  “We're fighting because we're both into Charlotte,” Tobias whispers back, and I swear, the mood shifts. Hole, please hear my call and open up beneath me, so I can die in peace. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath. “And by both, I mean Micah and me.”

  Micah exhales as I open my eyes, and then shrugs his shoulders, almost apologetically, as he looks at me.

  “You painted a pretty picture on the hood of my Lambo,” he says, and Spencer frowns hard. “But my best friend almost died. I'm sorry, but I can't fight with him over a girl, not even one as pretty as you, Chuck.”