Vic chuckles, and the sound rumbles through me in the best possible way, taking over every part of my body and delving inside. Vic's laugh owns my blood, my bones. What the hell is gonna happen when we fuck for the first time?
“What did you expect? Bloomingdale's?” He snorts as he climbs off the bike, and I follow after him.
I’m not about to dignify that response with an answer, so I stay on his heels as Hael peels into the lot and damn near runs me over with that stupidly beautiful car of his. I go to slam my fist on the hood as we pass, and Vic grabs me by the wrist.
His dark eyes are deadly serious when I look up into them.
“Don’t ever touch Hael’s ride without his permission,” he warns, pulling me along after him as Billie rises to her feet and stretches, popping her ass out like a cat in heat.
“Well, hello there, Victor Channing,” she purrs, sauntering over to him and flipping her dark hair, so that I can see the teal color underneath. Her brown eyes slide from him to me, and she frowns. “What can I help you with?”
“We need a dress for my fiancée,” he says, just like that, matter-of-fact and without a single shred of emotion. The stare he levels on Billie is intense, so much so that I almost take a step back. Almost. But then, I’m not scared of the Havoc Boys, not anymore.
“Your fiancée?” she asks, blinking stupidly at first me, then him. “Seriously?”
“Did I fucking stutter?” Vic says, his voice sharp enough to cut. Billie takes a step back as the other boys come up the rickety stairs behind us. “Let us in.”
Billie turns and scrambles to unlock the door, holding it wide and waiting until all six of us have moved inside before she shuts and locks it. She glares at me as she passes, and I flip her off, tattooed hand held high. Vic stiffens, but I guess he accepts that I can handle my business and doesn’t intervene.
“Right this way,” she says, leading me through what’s actually a surprisingly nice interior and into a side room that’s filled with clothing in garment bags, metal racks with hanging poles on all four walls. “What are you looking for, exactly?”
“We’ll take a look and let you know,” Vic says, moving confidently into the room. Somewhere further back in the house, a baby cries, and Billie hesitates.
“That means leave, and we’ll pay you on the way out,” Callum says, towering over her in his hoodie and shorts. Billie’s face registers a true moment of fear before she scampers off. Pretty sure her kid is like, a year and a half old. She had him sophomore year with some guy who’s in prison now.
At least I managed to avoid that particular fate.
My eyes slide to Aaron’s, and he looks away, green eyes dark, like maybe he had the same thought I did. We were never careful, hardly used birth control. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up like Billie Charter.
She shuts the door behind us as Oscar starts flipping through dresses.
“Boss,” he says, after systematically discarding a good two dozen dresses before he pulls one off the rack. The other guys make themselves comfortable, like they could care less what I wear, but are determined to be here regardless.
That’s Havoc for you, blood in, blood out.
Oscar unzips the plastic, flashing a white dress with long sleeves, but a low-cut back. I’ve got ink all down my arms, a little on my breasts and neck, but none on my back just yet. He knows my body too well; it’s almost scary. That is, if I were capable of being afraid of anything anymore.
“This'll do,” Vic confirms, taking the dress from Oscar's inked hand and studying it carefully. “My mother's a sucker for money, and this screams loaded.” He tosses it at me and nods with his chin. “Put it on.”
There's a challenge in Vic's dark eyes that I meet head-on. He thinks I'm going to shy away from something as stupid as this?
I've been stripped bare in my heart and soul, had my emotions torn off and tossed aside. He thinks I give a shit about being naked?
“This dress is ugly as hell,” I say, and several of the boys chuckle.
“Yeah, well, my mother is the queen of the designer label. Never said she had any fashion sense. She buys whatever's the most expensive, doesn't care what it looks like.”
“It's your funeral,” I mimic, staring at him with a blank expression as I shrug my leather jacket off. It falls to the floor in a heap, and I exhale. Here goes nothing.
My fingers curl under the hem of my shirt, and I tear it over my head. That dress won't work with a bra, so I reach back and unclasp the hook, letting the cups fall forward and slide to the floor.
“Jesus,” Vic grumbles, rubbing his hand over his mouth. Oscar takes notes on his iPad before glancing up at me like he's bored, like he couldn’t care less that my bare tits are hanging out.
“Like what you see?” I ask sneakily, but Oscar just gives me this tight, little smile that infuriates me to no end.
“I prefer my women with bigger breasts,” he replies smoothly, and I grit my teeth, reaching down to flick open the button on my jeans.
“I prefer my men to be able to hold their own in a fight,” I fire back, and Oscar's brows go up as Hael howls with laughter. Vic grins, and I turn away, noticing that Aaron's watching me with a severe frown. Callum, meanwhile, just smiles, almost sweetly.
With a quiet breath, I kick my boots off and shove my jeans down my hips, leaving my panties in place. Nobody complains as I unzip the dress and wiggle into it.
“Allow me,” Vic says, moving over and putting his huge, inked hands on my waist. A fire rips through me, and I close my eyes. It feels good when he touches me, too good. I don't like it. Makes me nervous, all that fire and tension.
He zips me up and then steps back as I turn around to face him.
The white dress hugs my curves and reveals just enough skin to be sexy without showing off too much of my ink.
The expression on Victor's face says it all: he likes this dress. A lot.
“Shit, that's hot,” he murmurs, rubbing at his chin again. Seems to be a tell of his for when he's deep in thought. In that case, I don't have to worry about seeing too much of it, huh? “But is it too hot? My mom is a serious bitch. She might feel intimidated if you look too pretty.”
A frown turns down the corners of my lips.
“You're shitting me, right? Your mom gets jealous of your girlfriends?”
“Never had a girlfriend. And you,” he touches his fingers to the side of my face, “you are not my girlfriend: you're my fiancée. Oscar, let's find something more … matronly.”
“What a shame,” Hael murmurs, his big body leaned up against the door, like some sort of royal guard. “I like the white one.” His brown eyes track over me, making me shiver; I can feel the heat in them from here.
“We'll get two,” Vic agrees, jaw working as he watches me. “Billie and her brothers owe me money anyhow.”
Oscar selects another dress, something that reminds me of an outfit my great-grandmother might’ve worn to church on Sunday when the family was still rich. Did I mention she was ninety-nine years old when she passed? And buried in a dress similar to this, kid you not.
As I'm shedding the white dress for the weird muumuu thing, a man passes by the exterior window and pauses to look in at me as I clamp my arms over my chest in an attempt to cover my breasts.
“Oh, hell no,” Hael says as he pushes up off the door and goes for the window with Callum in tow.
Hael shoves the window open and hops out as the man starts to run. The two Havoc boys take off after him as I gape in surprise.
“What the fuck is going on?” I choke out as Aaron steps up to stand beside me.
“That's Kyler Ensbrook. We have unresolved shit with him and his brother.” Aaron pauses dramatically and then swings his green-gold eyes down to my face, like there's something here left unsaid but he's not going to be the one to say it.
“That, sure,” Vic starts as he glances back at me. “But mostly it's because nobody looks at our fucking girl without consequence.” Vic steps over to the window and hops out.
“This is nuts,” I grumble as I slip the hideous frock on, and then shove my feet in my boots. Nobody stops me as I go for the window and climb out, following the flattened trail of grass toward the woods. I've just barely crossed into the shadowed darkness when I find Kyler Ensbrook on the ground with blood streaming down the sides of his face.
“I'm going to kill you both!” he screams as Hael and Callum circle him like sharks, and Vic watches, back against the trunk of a tree, tatted arms crossed over his chest. He barely glances my way when I stumble into the clearing.
“Apologize to Bernadette,” Vic commands, and I shiver. That's a voice made to control armies, to start riots, to incite violence. Vic could rule the world, if you know, he wasn't just some poor gang-banging asshole from the wrong side of town.
“Eat shit, Vic. Your girl has ugly tits anyway.”
Vic's face hardens in a way that's terrifying, this darkness closing in that swallows him whole.
“Break his face and teach him a lesson.” Victor pushes up from the tree and turns to head back toward the house.
He’s not being hyperbolic here: he’s dead serious.
My eyes flick over to the guy on the ground, hands curled over his head, a wet spot forming on his crotch. He’s pissed himself. He’s quite literally pissed himself.
Fuck.
If I don’t do something, Hael and Callum really will—and it’s gonna be bad. Trust me: I’ve seen them at their worst. I know what they can do. I know what they’re capable of. It’s why I hired them, isn’t it?
There’s no time to think, so I don’t bother standing there and waiting around for the boys to crush Kyler’s skull in. Instead, I race forward and kick him as hard as I can in the shoulder. An agonizing scream tears from his throat, but he won’t die from a bruise or a dislocated shoulder.