Bernadette and the others, they’ll go to the winter formal; they’ll start shit with the Charter Crew. But even though I know they’re well-equipped to kick ass, so what? As far as I know, only Ophelia, Tom, and Kali know where I am. And Kali could very well die before Havoc gets an answer out of her. She could run.
Best case scenario at this point is that Kali dies in her quest to murder Bernie, and I’m left here under Ophelia’s care. At least I won’t be raped. That, and I’ll have more time to figure out a way to escape.
Closing my eyes, I pull in a deep breath.
I might try to break my hand to get out of the cuffs, but it’s gonna fucking hurt. That, and if my plan fails, I’ll be in even worse shape than before. If only I could reach my goddam boot to get my shoelace.
As I’m debating the merits of giving that plan a try, I hear the sound of a car’s tires on the gravel drive and pause. Somebody’s here. I just hope to fucking god that it isn’t Kali. I clench my jaw until my teeth hurt, adrenaline pumping through me as I strain against my bonds one last time and then relax my body like I’m thoroughly defeated.
Not even close.
I would move heaven and earth to get back to Bernadette.
“Dad!” a voice calls out from downstairs, and I freeze. It’s a guy’s voice, probably around my own age. Dad. Is this Tom Muller’s son? What’s his name? David?
That’s right.
David fucking Benedict.
The guy who had sex with my girl because I wasn’t around to meet her needs. I grit my teeth so hard I’m surprised that none of them crack. Just the thought of her sleeping with someone outside of Havoc makes me want to start breaking necks. Inside of Havoc … I’ll deal with those feelings later.
“Dad, are you home?” the voice calls again, and then the door is opening and David is pausing in the threshold, his hand on the knob, his eyes wide. “Jesus Christ,” he chokes out. I make myself smile, even though the situation is anything but smile-worthy.
“Hello David,” I say, trying to pitch my voice low, the way Victor does, like he’s about to go on a murderous rampage but never does. Have to say, I’m pretty damn proud of myself for the way David shivers in response. “Mind undoing these cuffs for me?”
“Why …” he starts, but then he just steps into the room and closes the door behind him, putting his back to it. Already, I can see sweat beading on his face. His brown eyes flick back and forth in nervousness. He very clearly wasn’t aware that I was being held hostage in … well, wherever this is. A cabin of some sort, I guess. I know all about remote cabins: Havoc has one that we use on the regular. It’s how the boys were able to drop Danny’s body off, change, and meet Bernie and me back at the house so quick. It’s all of five minutes away from the house where Stacey held the Halloween party.
“Why am I tied up in your house?” I ask, trying for a casual shrug and cringing when my body protests the motion. Being tied up like this for so long fucking hurts. That, and I’m not exactly sure what happened when Kali hit me with her car. “Good question. Why don’t you unhook me, and I’ll get the hell out of here.” I try to keep the vitriol out of my voice, but it’s tough. I’m pissed. And as much as I know that Bernie can handle herself, that she’s got the rest of Havoc with her, I’m worried.
Kali is nothing if not a tricksy little rat.
“This is … holy shit, this is insane,” David murmurs, pushing up off the door to come stand beside me. He’s wearing a white tux, so obviously he’s planning on heading to the winter formal. We can’t be that far away from town then, right? He rakes his fingers through his gelled back hair, and I frown. Those fingers, on Bernie’s hips, on her breasts, inside her … Breathe, Aaron. You’re not an animal, man. You can handle this. “I can’t be involved in this. I don’t want to be involved in any of this.”
“If you let me go, you’ll be spared when Havoc takes their final wrath from your dad and Ophelia,” I say, and I mean it, too. We’re not evil, despite rumors to the contrary. Actually, I think we’re more than fair when it comes to dealing with liars, thieves, and underground scum.
David just stares at me like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Funny that, considering I feel about the same way. He moves toward the bed, like he might really let me go, but stops short.
“I can’t let you go,” he says, cringing slightly. “If my dad finds out …”
“Whatever it is that your father will do to you is nothing compared to Havoc’s malice,” I tell him, and I mean it. He’d be lucky to get knocked around by Tom in exchange for escaping Oscar’s long-fingered hands. “You know this is wrong, don’t you?” I ask, trying a different tactic. “All of this, just so Tom and Ophelia can get their hands on money that rightfully belongs to Vic.”
To be honest, I think if Vic could surrender his inheritance to Ophelia and wash his hands of her, he would. But he knows as well as the rest of us that his mother won’t stop there. If she gets that money, it’s game over.
“I don’t know anything about anything,” David whispers, and I can see from his expression that he’s absolutely terrified. “Kali came to me at a party. We hooked up once. And then … shit just got weird from there. I really have no idea what she does for my dad and Ophelia.”
“Well then, don’t compound that error by leaving me here to die,” I snap, noticing that David flinches like a kicked puppy. Wrong tactic. He’s too weak to yell at; he’ll just run. “Listen, David,” I start, but I don’t get to finish my sentence. Instead, we both freeze at the sound of another car outside.
Shit, fuck, and goddamn it.
“Oh, crap,” David murmurs, turning and fleeing the room, leaving me to lie there with fury building in my belly. Bernie was right about Kali, about David. All of it. Not that I doubted her, but if I live to get out of here, I want to see her rub it in Oscar’s face.
The distinct sound of the front door opening and closing travels up to me, and I close my eyes to better focus on the murmur of voices downstairs. After a minute, there are footsteps on the stairs and the door to the room is opening. Tom is there, with David just behind him.
“In the room, son,” Tom says, holding that same shotgun he leveled on me when I was in the trunk. David hesitates long enough that Tom steps back and then rams his son in the spine with the gun, causing him to stumble. “Now.”
David complies, slinking forward and pausing next to the bed. He looks down at me with true fear coloring his gaze.
“Kneel,” Tom tells him, and then David starts to murmur. It takes me a second to realize that he’s praying. He’s fucking praying. The boy falls to his knees and Tom puts the barrel of the shotgun right up against the side of his son’s head. David is shaking now, but he just keeps murmuring those quiet prayers. “What have I told you about snooping around, David?”
“I wasn’t snooping,” David whispers, his eyes squeezed shut. “I forgot my jacket. I was just … grabbing my jacket. I promise.” Tom moves the shotgun away, putting the end of it against the floor.
“You’re not going to start running your mouth, are you?” Tom asks, but David shakes his head vigorously.
“I wouldn’t. I won’t.” He opens his eyes and looks at me with an apology hiding somewhere behind the fear. “I just want to go to the dance.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” Tom snaps, and David scrambles to his feet, taking off while I’m left to lie there in a prone-ass position, as helpless as the day I was born. Anger rushes up to clog my throat, but I’m not stupid enough to mouth off against a psychopath with a shotgun while all four of my limbs are handcuffed to the wooden frame of a bed. Strength and bravery don’t come from outright defiance; you have to temper that shit with intelligence. “You.” Tom laughs as he takes the shotgun and presses it against my flaccid cock. A cold fear runs through me, but I take a deep breath and look the man in his dark eyes without flinching. Monsters feed on fear. There’s a reason the villain never just kills the protagonist, right? Because death is boring. Fear, on the other hand, is something that can be consumed and licked like dark chocolate. I remain still. “You’re a little old, but I bet we could still find a buyer with a dick this big. Fluff up that chestnut hair on your head …”
“When your time comes, you’re going to die choking on blood,” I respond coolly, and Tom laughs. He jams his gun against my dick again and pain shoots through me, causing my vision to go splotchy. Oh fuck, that hurts. But I don’t flinch. I don’t do anything. Instead, to deal with the pain, I just think about my girl. At the very least, this arrangement we have with Bernadette … if something happened to my cock, she could still get her needs met with Havoc, and we could still be together. The thought makes me twitchy, so I decide not to even go there.
“Big talk for a man chained to a bed with his dick hanging out,” Tom says, shrugging his weak-ass shoulders. “But don’t worry. You’re not worth much without a cock.” He swings the shotgun up to his shoulder and then moves over to a dresser on the opposite side of the room, removing a small box and gesturing at me with it, as if I care. “Forgot the engagement ring,” he tells me, cracking the box and smiling. “I’ll be asking Ophelia to marry me tonight.”
“Gotta make sure you’re legally bound before she gets her money, eh?” I ask, and Tom laughs.
“Damn straight, kid,” he says, smirking at me as he tucks the ring in the pocket of his slacks and then runs his palm over his meticulously styled hair. Looks like he was aiming for that fifties greaser look but failed miserably. Trust me: any Prescott boy worth his weight in salt knows how to get his hair slicked back properly. This ain’t proper. “I’ll be back with some benzos, so enjoy your last few hours awake.”