I don’t even have to wonder what pay him a visit means. Ron Cartwright is going to get his balls shoved up his own ass. Vic nods, acknowledging Hael’s words, and then continues.
“I planted the shit back in his locker, and then sent the admins on a wild goose chase.” Vic rubs at his chin, a sign that he’s thinking. His dark purple tee is stained with sweat on the lower back, even though it’s not particularly hot out. That’s when I realize that the armpits of my own shirt are wet, and I’m still shaking. What is it that’s going on between us?
“You double-double crossed him,” I say, and they all turn to look at me like they’re surprised to hear me speak. Guess they’re not quite used to it, a woman in their midst. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s shocked to realize that it’s been several weeks of this shit, and I haven’t ended up in anyone’s bed. Isn’t that why I’m here? “Brilliant. So now what? Your mom’s trying to sabotage you?”
“She’s tried before,” he offers, not like it’s much of a surprise. But then his dark eyes find mine, and a slight smile—a very slight smile—edges his lips. “But I think seeing you frightened her. This is getting real; she might not actually end up with my grandmother’s money after all.”
“How much is the inheritance anyway?” I ask, not even bothering for nonchalance. I’m interested, especially since Vic mentioned we’d all get a cut. I don’t believe it for half a second, but oh well. The fantasy is nice enough.
“Not enough to change the world, but enough to set us up for life.” Victor snaps his fingers in Oscar’s direction. “Find out where my mother’s staying currently.”
“What are we going to do?” Aaron asks, speaking up for the first time. I’ve noticed that Vic relies on the other three more than him, even though it’s pretty damn obvious that Aaron is not only desperate for Victor’s approval, but also that he hates him.
“I don’t know,” Vic says, pausing as a car comes crawling down the street. It’s hard to see who’s in it with the thick wall of foliage, but I notice that Oscar isn’t the only one that casually slips a gun from an unseen place on his body. Cal has one, too.
The leader of the Havoc Boys turns to me.
His eyes burn.
As dark as they are, I shouldn’t be able to see fire in the shadows. And yet I do.
My teeth clench.
“You know how to multi-task, Bernadette?” he asks me, and I nod, feeling my lips dip into a frown. Multi-task? How about trying to finish homework, shower, and sleep while making sure your little sister doesn’t get raped by the man who fucked your older sister into an early grave? How about hating school so much you have tears rolling down your face at the thought of stepping into the hallway, but knowing you have to go because a degree might be your only escape? The bullying, the homework, the shitty home life. Oh, yeah, I know how to multi-task like the best of them.
“Why?”
“We’re used to fighting wars on multiple fronts,” Vic says, almost absently, his mind already moving onto the next subject. He looks me square in the face. “So, tell me about the fourth name on your list.”
My jaw clenches, and I look away.
Vic knows every person on that list because he's been around for so long, because the Havoc Boys have always been invading my life, one way or another. But he doesn't know about Donald Asher.
Nobody but me does.
I glance away, my eyes scanning the wall of foliage near the front of the property and wondering who the hell was in that car. One of the older men from the other night, one of the Ensbrook or Charter brothers, or someone else entirely?
Is that what Vic meant, fighting wars on multiple fronts?
And now, with my list, they'll be starting yet another one.
My eyes flick to the other four boys, wondering how thin I’m stretching them with my request. They don’t seem bothered, and I know they have other accomplices who aren't quite so … public about their affiliation with Havoc, but still, I wonder.
As I turn my attention back up to Vic's darkened gaze, I can see that he isn't playing around. What he said wasn't a suggestion, it was a command.
“You'll do what I say when I say it.”
But in this moment, I can’t imagine it, sitting here on the lawn with five men who are worse than strangers. Five men who were the little boys I'd gone to school with, watched from afar, worshipped. And then I'd finally, finally gotten one to myself in the form of Aaron. The perfect boyfriend, the perfect lover … turned tattooed asshole because life wasn't fair. And I’m supposed to just blurt my secrets out in the open?
“Later,” I say, mimicking Vic's reaction from the other day. His eyes narrow slightly, and I can tell I'm seriously getting under his skin.
“No,” he says, and my brows go up. Oh really? We're going to test the strength of the leash already? My lips flatten into a line as he stares at me, a brooding thundercloud gathered behind dark irises. On the outside, though, everything is calm, still. “Now.”
I rise to my feet and turn, heading for the house and intending to slip into the bathroom for a moment. What happened with Donald … the thought makes me sick, stirs up a dozen worse memories, two dozen. A lifetime of regret.
I barely register what I'm doing until I've passed the bathroom and found myself halfway up a small staircase, my palm skimming the rough-worn banister. A few steps later and I'm on the second floor, standing outside a small bedroom.
Vic's room.
My hand tightens on the newel post as his smell wafts over me—that musky mix of tobacco and amber—and the back of my neck prickles with the awareness of someone coming up behind me.
“Get in,” he says, and I hear the steps creak as he continues up them, forcing me to move out of the narrow foyer or end up brushing against him.
Besides, my subconscious must've sent me up here for a reason, right?
I step into Victor's room and shiver when the door slams shut behind me. There's a single bed in here, twin-sized, and a desk, a few random rock posters on the wall, and a locked closet.
The one I spent an entire week in.
My breath catches, and I take a step back, accidentally bumping into the man who put me there in that dark square of hell. His warm, hot hands land on my shoulders, and I jump.
“The fourth person on the list …”
“Donald Asher,” I say, letting the name fall fast and hard from my tongue.
Moving forward, I feel one of my Havoc nightmares all over again, the boys' firm grips on my arms and shoulders, the bruises coloring my skin as they dragged me across these very same floors and shoved me in the closet. How loudly I screamed, my nails tearing as I clawed at the door …
I wasn't sure I was ever getting out.
“Don't do that,” Vic says on the end of a long sigh, but I'm already moving, grabbing the handle of the door and yanking it open. Inside, there's nothing but a stack of empty shoe boxes and a few hanging shirts.
None of the pain I remember is there, hanging in the air like a poison cloud. None of the fear. I feel like the universe is spitting in my face, leaving such an empty, innocuous spot where I suffered so damn much.
Slowly, carefully, I close the door.
I'm stronger now, but part of being strong means recognizing when you've got a trigger and deciding if facing off against that trigger will truly bring you any peace.
Right now, I don't need the stress.
I turn around and put my back against the door.
“Don is a prep school student,” I say, and Vic's eyes narrow, his mouth tightening. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches me with that unyielding expression of his.
I stare right back.
Silence follows, leaving this dark, empty space between us, this gaping void that feels impossible to cross. I'm trapped here, in this impersonal little room forever.
“Get on your knees, Bernadette,” Vic says, his voice cold. He reaches down with one hand and flicks the button on his jeans. My own eyes widen, and I feel my pulse begin to race. It's not like I haven't sucked a dick before, but … “Well?” he continues when I most definitely don't rush to do what he's asked.
My jaw clenches, and I feel that familiar anger rush over me, that need to defy, to fight, to win.
“He goes to Oak Valley Prep. I still know how to find his dorm room. Not an easy task, considering the fact that he roofied me at the restaurant before we got there.”
The expression on Victor's face doesn't change.
“Bernadette,” he continues, sliding his zipper down. My eyes flick away before he can free himself, and I realize that I'm sweating. “You can't do it, can you?”
I pause and look back, only to find out that Victor's fixed his pants again. His face is a dark shadow, passing over the sun, cutting off all the light. He's terrifying.
“I—” I start, but I'm not about to back down. I knew what I was agreeing to when I made this deal.
“You made a pact with us, and you can't keep your end of the bargain, can you?” Victor's nostrils flare, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them, there's fire burning in his gaze.
“I can keep it,” I say, breathing hard and fast. “I've always wanted to fuck you anyway, just to see what it'd be like. It's hardly a punishment.”
Tossing white-blond hair tinged with pink over one shoulder, I strut forward confidently and cup the bulge in Vic's jeans. Or … there should be a bulge, right? Only he's not hard, not at all.
He's testing me, just like with the ring … My finger passes over the engagement ring without meaning to, and I realize with a sudden burst of clarity that Victor told me about the ring's value to see if I'd do exactly what I thought about doing: sell it and run.
But I'm not going anywhere.
“I want this,” I say, looking him in the eyes. He stares right back, and the edge of his mouth twists up in a cruel sort of smirk. Not like Hael's smirks though, something different, something darker, some hidden emotion that plays at amusement, but in reality is on the opposite end of the spectrum.