Home > Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(15)

Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(15)
Author: C.M. Stunich

“What do we do with her?” I ask as we stand outside on the deck in the morning, icy wind whipping around us. It’s only Wednesday, and we have until Sunday to figure out how to proceed with the Vincents, but this little girl … is someone out there missing her? “We can’t leave her here.”

“We can’t take her back with us either,” Victor warns, and that’s where I hear it: the cold, cruelness of a leader. Taking Alyssa back is what I want to do. She can just live with us, right? I’d take care of her. But it’s too goddamn dangerous, too risky. If she is officially missing and we’re caught with her, we’re in big trouble. Even if she’s somehow not missed by anyone in particular, one phone call from the wrong person and we might have to deal with the authorities. Risking Heather, Kara, and Ashley for a stranger is something we can’t do.

“Let’s put her with the Peters,” Oscar says, leaning his elbows on the wood railing of the deck. I don’t miss the way the other four boys still in the early afternoon light, like he’s said something disturbingly out of the ordinary. To his credit, Oscar barely stirs. He remains where he is, dressed in a suit and tie, like he usually is. Guess he isn’t planning on hitting the beach today.

To be fair, the weather is tumultuous and wild, the beach windswept and besieged by waves. I’ve already told the girls that if they want to play in the sand, it has to be near the deck of the house. That’s November on the Oregon coast for you.

“Good idea,” Vic says, as if the other guys aren’t still staring at Oscar like he’s nuts. “We’ll have Leigh place Alyssa with the Peters. Excellent. Next item on the agenda: what do we want to do with the Vincents in the long-run?” Victor turns to me, and I shiver when his dark eyes pass over me. I know what he thinks when he looks at me because it’s the same twisted intensity inside my own chest. That feeling, it writhes like a snake with smooth scales and a wicked tongue. I hop up on the railing next to Oscar and watch him stiffen up as he pretends I don’t exist.

“What was your original plan?” I ask, looking at each boy in turn. Aaron is staring back at me like his heart is breaking a little everyday he doesn’t touch me. My fingers tighten on the railing as I resist the urge to hop down and curl up in his strong arms. I already miss his smell. Probably why I ended up grabbing one of his hoodies to wear out here in the crazy weather. “I mean, before they started dropping news about Ophelia. What were you guys going to do?”

“Take their Ferrari Spider out for one, last test drive before we dismantle it and sell off the parts,” Hael says with a dreamy sigh, leaning his head back and holding out his tongue to taste the mist drizzling down from the gray sky. “As a mechanic and car enthusiast, I have to say, you guys make me do things that haunt my nightmares.”

“Shut up, Hael,” Oscar snaps, even testier than usual. Jesus. I look at him with a healthy dollop of skepticism, but he ignores me. Dickhead. I lied. He is not the master of control; Victor is. When Oscar is uncomfortable, his control starts to splinter. Shit, I have one of those splinters jabbed into my heart and bleeding me dry. Hael flips Oscar off, but he ignores him. “Leigh is obsessed with image and wealth; we’re going to take away everything she has and force her into poverty, where she belongs.” Oscar’s glasses are specked with droplets of mist which, really, is the dirtiest I’ve ever seen them.

“We have some other interesting twists planned, but her level of narcissism is astounding,” Callum comments, standing on the railing with very little effort. Bet he could perform an entire dance routine up there without falling. “We have pictures of a dozen girls and boys she’s sold off in the past; we were going to plaster them on her walls and torture her a bit.” Cal cringes slightly, reminding me of the night that Danny died, how upset he was. He told me, in his own words, that he wasn’t upset about killing the guy, only in that he did it spur of the moment and put us all at risk. At the time, I thought he was bluffing. I don’t think that anymore. “But I don’t think it’ll upset her the way we want it to.”

“Let’s go raid her wine cellar,” Aaron suggests, lounging in an Adirondack chair. “Let’s break some of her shit. Let’s trash her fucking house. Did you see the way she looked at us yesterday? She was terrified we were going to mess up her perfect life.”

Vic snorts and nods, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re right. I mean, it’s a lot less bloody than I had hoped for, but it’s important to hit these fuckers where it hurts. Besides, by the time we’re done using the Vincents against Ophelia, they’ll wish they were dead.” Victor smiles, and it’s an appropriately hideous expression. “You know that my father is the only man she ever loved. Her next two husbands died under mysterious circumstances.”

“Ophelia Mars is the ultimate black widow, for sure,” Hael chuckles, pushing up from his position against the railing and rubbing his palms together. His eyes slide over to mine as he grins. “Wine drunk sex is always fun. You wanna get wine drunk with me, Blackbird?”

“Hael …” Victor warns, taking a possessive step closer to me. I look up at him, big and beautiful and aggressive, and I feel my palms itch with the need to touch him, to be closer to him … and also to punch him. That’s our thing, me and Vic. “But I like the brainstorming here. Let’s have some fun with this.”

“Havoc on a honeymoon,” Cal sings, hopping down from the railing and then letting his head fall back with raucous laughter, just like he did in the hallway when he was arrested. “Let’s break some stuff. There’s a signed Babe Ruth baseball bat in a display case that’s been calling my name since we got here.”

Hael chuckles and high-fives Cal.

“Fuck sports, am I right?” he shoves open the doors and prances inside like we aren’t involved in several mysterious plots against our lives. That’s Hael for you; he hides his darkness with cocky glee. “Let’s do a wine drinking contest. Last person to finish their bottle is a pussy.”

“Humans emerge from pussies; balls just nut.” I shrug my right shoulder. “I’d rather be a pussy than a ball sack.”

“Fair enough,” Hael says, kicking open the door to the basement. He pauses and snaps his fingers like he’s just thought of something. “Let’s save the most expensive bottles for later. We can bring the Vincents down and make them watch us break them all and pour the wine down the sink.”

“Oh, you’re wicked,” Cal cackles, following Hael down the dark stairs.

I stay where I am, because with the way Aaron’s looking at me …

He steps close, ignoring Vic’s snort of irritation. Oscar, on the other hand, doesn’t bother coming inside. I fucking hate that man, I think, feeling my skin prickle.

“Hey,” I say softly as Aaron reaches out and takes my hand in his, rubbing his thumb over my wedding ring and then shifting his touch to my HAVOC ink. The still-fresh tattoo on my knuckles stings, a forever reminder of Aaron bent over my hand, the needle in my skin, his fingers using a rag to gently wipe the blood away. “Are you okay?”

He looks up, and his lips tilt into a genuine smile. He only gives them to four people: the girls, including Heather … and me. His affection hasn’t escaped my notice. Actually, I find myself leaning into it the way a flower tilts toward the sun. Even a voodoo lily needs light.

“I’m okay,” he says as I close my eyes, savoring his touch against my hand. When I do that, squeeze my eyes shut tight, I can pretend like we never broke up, like we’ve never been separated from each other. “I heard about … you and Oscar.”

Oh, fuck.

With all the crap we’ve had going on, I haven’t had a chance to tell him about it.

I open my eyes, but Aaron doesn’t look pissed the way I thought he would be.

“I didn’t mean to hide—” I start, but he shushes me with a kiss that tastes like sugar and dreams and Victorian houses painted a pretty shade of pink. Penelope would’ve shipped us, Aaron. When she was alive, she did ship us. Fuck me. Fuck my life. Sadness sweeps over me all of a sudden, like a tidal wave consuming the beach. I can’t breathe for the pain of it.

“I know you didn’t mean to hide it,” he whispers against my mouth, teasing his fingers down the arms of my baggy, borrowed sweatshirt. When I look up and see his wavy chestnut hair curling across his forehead, I almost die. He’s too cute. How can he be so cute?! Why am I crushing like a little girl? I am over that shit. I am. I’m … I’m … “And I’m not as dumb as Vic,” he whispers, putting his mouth near my ear and rubbing his face along the side of mine.

Somewhere close by, Victor growls. Like an animal. Like a beast. A savage motherfucking beast.

“Our girl, Bernie. Ours,” Aaron says, pressing close to me. Our fingers end up tangled together, palm to palm. I can feel the scar on his, where Victor must’ve cut him when he joined Havoc. Thinking of them pressed hand to hand like this, bleeding into one another, makes my heart spasm with a desperate sense of hope.

I thought that by joining Havoc, I was acquiescing to the idea of never having a life.

“You always wanted a normal life; now you’ll never have one. That's all you ever wanted, Bernadette.”

Aaron said that to me on our way to the soda fountain. He wasn’t wrong. I think I could’ve been happy living a normal life. Doesn’t mean I can’t be happy living an abnormal one. Because it’s still a life, isn’t it?

“Oscar’s … maybe. But I can deal with that because it also means mine.” He kisses me again, but he holds back on the tongue, leaving me to strain forward, wrapped in his scent, desperate for more. When Aaron lets go of my hands and steps back, I feel dizzy for a minute, almost like I’m floating. We stare at each other like we might die if we don’t get to be together.

   
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