Beautiful Soldier: A Dark High School Romance (The Heights Crew Book 3)

by E. M. Moore

  “Fuck,” Oscar roars. Under my hands, his heart beats fast, pounding out a frantic rhythm. Now that Gregory has retreated, I wonder what’s happened to her. The streets are worse than the upstairs room in Candy’s. If she’s here, maybe she isn’t being prostituted out anymore. That should be a relief, but somehow, it doesn’t feel that way.

  Oscar guns it, and I hold on tight, my arms snaking around his abs to get a better grip. He takes a few more turns before we slow in front of a corner grocery I recognize. Oscar lives above the store with his mom, even though I get the feeling his mother isn’t there very often. He stops the bike and turns it off, the vibrations of the engines cease, but my muscles are like Jell-O. I swing my leg over, hopping off the bike while Oscar helps guide me. He gets off next, much more gracefully, and opens a metal-corrugated door next to the door to his apartment. Inside, there’s a small storage room. He walks the bike in and then holds out his hand for the bike helmet I took off. He watches as I run my hands through my hair and then locks the place up again.

  “I thought we’d try here. Maybe she stumbled her way back home.” He pulls the door to the apartment open and holds it open for me as I follow him up the narrow steps.

  “What’s been going on with her since I’ve been gone?”

  “I haven’t heard from her much. I tried asking her about Gregory since she kind of remembers we saw her that day, but she doesn’t remember all of it. I don’t know if she still sees him or not, and I haven’t said shit to Johnny or K about what we saw. I don’t want them bringing her in. It’s possible she was too damn high to remember anything, and I don’t want them getting trigger happy because they think she’s holding back on them.”

  I swallow a lump in my throat. I would hope they wouldn’t do that. Johnny wouldn’t. I know that from the very depths of my heart, but K is soulless.

  He opens the door at the top of the stairs. He’s cleaned the place a bit since the last time I was here. I wait just inside as he walks around the apartment, checking everywhere. When he comes out of his mom’s room, he punches the wall.

  I walk up to him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

  His hands turn to fists. “It’s just so fucked up.” He turns ravenous eyes on me. “Everything is fucked up in this hell hole, but you.”

  The intensity of his words strike me. I crack a smile. “I don’t know. I’m kind of fucked up too.”

  “Not like me. Not like the rest of the Heights. I don’t even deserve to touch you.”

  My head snaps back as if he’s punched me. “Don’t do that.”

  His jaw ticks. “It’s fucking true, and you know it. Out of all the guys you’ve chosen, I’m the one you went slumming for. I’m a piece of shit thug who hits someone for accidentally spitting in his face right after I told him his friend died. My mom’s a whore and a drug addict. I’m no one, Kyla.”

  Shit’s real when he uses my actual name.

  “You need a lobotomy if you think that’s true.”

  He watches me like a man starved. He’s barely holding it together. His chest rises and lowers with the ferocity of his breaths.

  “You’re no one? You don’t deserve to touch me?” I start to strip. I pull my shirt off, dropping it at our feet. My breasts jiggle as I stand upright before him, and he takes his eyeful. I kick off my shoes and then shimmy out of my skinny jeans, kicking them to the side as well until I’m standing in front of him in my bra and panties. “Do you want to hear how many times I’ve thought about your cock sliding inside me?” I arch a brow. “When I was away at Greenlawn, I had a lot of time on my hands.” I stalk toward him, wiggling my fingers. “These fingers have gotten a workout, but I’m done with that. I want you to touch me.”

  Oscar’s gaze zeroes in on my cleavage. I have to say, this bra is doing a banging job. No wonder he’s looking at me like he could jump me right now. He swallows. “You’d let me do that. A street rat?”

  I back him up into his room. “Let you do that? I’d beg you.”

  Oscar groans. I don’t know what shit other bitches did to him, but he’s no one’s slut to keep around only when it suits them.

  “You’re not my dirty little secret, Oscar.”

  A spark fires in Oscar’s gaze, and he moves forward, hands cupping my ass as he grinds his erection into me. I’ve worked myself up for this moment. Dreamed about it in a fitful sleep. Daydreamed about it with my fingers coaxing my clit into submission.

  Oscar drops to his knees, nose nuzzling my pussy, but we’re not going there this time. This isn’t about me, it’s about us.

  I lift him with one finger under his chin and order him to the bed. “You’re too dressed,” I tell him.

  I watch like a greedy bitch as he whips his shirt off, throwing it to the other side of the room. His abs ripple in front of me. His darker skin pulled taut over the dips, signaling every last football workout he’s ever done.

  The remnants of his road rash pain me, but he starts on his belt next, and I help him, pulling at it while he works on his zipper. I take a handful of his jeans in my fists and tug down, revealing his tented black boxers.

  He kicks his jeans off, and I don’t give him time to stop me. I push him to the bed and crawl over him, arching my body into him until his cock rubs against the apex of my thighs. “Fucking Christ, Kyla.”

  I reach under the band of his boxers, running my fingers down his hard shaft. He pumps his dick into my hand at the same time. My panties are soaked, and my core throbs, aching for me to feel him.

  I move down his body, kissing his taut stomach. I remove his boxers as I kiss the angle of his Adonis belt, licking up and down the curved surface. I could eat my next meal off here and be one happy lady. The glistening pre-cum on his dick is too much to bear. I reach out, running the tip of my tongue over his slit. He watches everything I do with heightened anticipation. “Now look who’s wearing too much.”

  I reach around, unclasping my bra until my breasts fall heavily in front of me. They always feel like they weigh more when I’m turned on, and right now, I’m turned right the fuck on and they’re as heavy as boulders.

  Oscar moves his hand lower, cupping my mound. He moves the fabric of my panties aside, fingers trailing over my slit. “Wet for me.”

  I’m mesmerized by his touch. I keep still as his fingers play over my clit until he gives me a quick pinch. A startled cry pushes past my lips.

  He locks gazes with me. “Are you wet for me?”

  “Fuck yes,” I breathe.

  He pulls me toward him, and at the last minute when I should be collapsing on top of him, he twists until he’s hovering over me. He grabs the back of my panties with one hand and pulls them down. I lift my hips, so he can drag them down over my ass and past my thighs and calves. His cock bobs between us while he traces his gaze over my skin.

  “Touch me,” I pant.

  He reaches out, agile fingers plucking at my nipples and smoothing over the swell of my breasts. He leans over, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it until my core burns with need.

  “Get inside me,” I plead. He reaches for a drawer at the side of the bed, but I wrap my legs around his hips. “Now.”

  Oscar drops his forehead to mine, breathing heavily. “Kyla.”

  “I want to feel you,” I tell him.

  He groans, the tip of his dick pressing against my entrance. I angle my hips, taking just the tip in, rocking up into him over and over.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He slams into me, and I cry out.

  My walls close around every last hard ridge. He presses his lips together, staring down at me in awe. “Please move,” I gasp.

  He doesn’t need another invitation. He pulls out, sliding back into me, grinding his hips. I press my fingertips into his ass, holding on while he starts a panty-melting rhythm that has me spasming around him in no time.

  He rides my climax out and then retreats. Intense pleasure ripples through me as Oscar gets a condom out of the drawer, rips the package open, and sl
ides it over his cock. “As much as I loved every second of that, I care about you more.”

  He gets back into position, pushing into me with ease, filling me up again as my head falls back onto his pillows. With stroke after stroke, he fucks me into oblivion. I swear the neighbors can hear our loud pants and guttural moans, but I’m unashamed of Oscar Drego. Or who I am when I’m with him. I want every last part of him. The jagged edges. The strong masks. The vulnerable side.

  He starts to shake, giving me one more facet of him as he pumps into me harder. He slams into me one last time on the heels of a moan that has me coming again right alongside him.

  I let out a breath as I hold him to me.

  “I think I love you, Princess. And that scares the shit out of me…because everything I love turns to shit.”

  10

  A while later, Oscar drops me back at the tower before going out to look for his mom again. I offer to help him, but he turns me down. He’ll be going into some seedier parts of the city and doesn’t want me involved in any of that shit. Especially since I’ve gone and “cracked like porcelain”.

  When I get to my apartment, a surprise waits for me. I do a double take because the swinging heavy bag in the corner of the room was most definitely not there when I woke up this morning.

  I walk up to it, admiring the quality. A steel bracket mounts it to the ceiling. I give it a good push, and it swings back. The damn thing is solid. Even as heavy as it is, it won’t pull out of the ceiling. The tower is probably made with reinforced steel. I doubt there are any wooden studs in this place. It was built to keep high priority targets safe.

  Brawler texted me earlier to say he was heading home, so Magnum must be behind this. I stroll to his apartment, knocking on the door. He opens it, visibly relaxing when he sees it’s me and that I’m safe. I hike my thumb over my shoulder. “Did you do that?”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I thought you could use it to heal your arm. Since K wants the fights back on, he’s going to want you headlining, so you need to recover as soon as possible.”

  I was afraid K would do that. I want to fight more than anything, but the last thing I want to do is injure myself getting there. If I start too early, I could potentially cripple myself permanently. Something tells me K won’t want to hear any excuses though.

  Magnum gestures with his chin. “Here. Let’s go into your place.”

  He shuts his door, and we walk across the hall. The bag in the corner is still softly swaying back and forth with minimal sound, which is perfect. “I guess I should have Brawler set something up. Maybe some easy opponents just to get me in there.”

  Mag strides over to the bag, admiring his handiwork. “That’s a good idea. I can’t imagine the money the Crew has lost over the last several weeks. The fights and Candy’s were their big moneymakers. Since Gregory ran off and Dunnegan—”

  “Got a bullet in his head?”

  He nods. “Got a bullet put into his head, they had to shut Candy’s down. Johnny will come back and get it on its feet again in no time, but I’m sure K’s not happy with how everything turned out.”

  I hit the bag with my left hand. “Did you notice Johnny’s black eye?”

  Mag side-eyes me. “I did.”

  “Big Daddy?”

  Mag holds the bag for me, and I throw a couple of punches with my left. “If I had to guess? Yes. He hasn’t hit him in a while though.”

  I stop, my hand falling to my side. “He’s hit him before?”

  “In school. I remember him coming to school sometimes with some bruising, but it hasn’t happened since...” Mag trails off and blows out a breath. “...I think since he started training under K.”

  “I fucking hate him,” I growl. The thought he would beat his own son is worrisome. Johnny’s supposed to be his number one. He’s grooming him for his position, right? Why would he make an enemy out of him?

  Because he’s not, I realize. At least not in his mind. He’s making him fall in line. He’s making him into the perfect little protege he wants him to be.

  It’s disgusting.

  Mag doesn’t say anything, and I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him. He didn’t bat an eye when I told him I wanted to kill Big Daddy K, but he hasn’t spoken out against them either. I know he’s with me, but why do I feel like there’s another story in here somewhere?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  I shake my head. “You haven’t said much about what I told you yesterday.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “It’s kind of a big deal,” I say, feeling him out. “I told you I wanted to take out the biggest leader in the gang world. Someone you’ve sworn to protect.”

  Mag lets go of the heavy bag and comes around, standing in front of me. “Death threats are commonplace in the Heights. My whole job is based on someone planning to kill someone else or keeping someone who’s at a high risk of getting taken out safe. You telling me that yesterday was just another day in my life.”

  “It’s so fucked up,” I blurt. Even now, I can’t believe the shit that goes through my head sometimes. And the shit that’s been going through my head started six years ago, but a lot of these guys have been dealing with this stuff since they were little kids. They didn’t grow up right in it like Johnny did, but they were around it. How many families sitting in the Heights right now know that a high schooler was shot dead today? How many of those families have little kids and just shrugged it off because stuff like this happens all the time?

  This just reinforces my decision that I need to end K sooner rather than later. I don’t care. I’ll kidnap Johnny in the process, get him out of the Heights, and then tell him what I did to his life. At least he’ll be out of here.

  I sigh because it’ll never work out that way. I need to save Johnny, then kill his father. Since I won’t leave without him, that’s the steps now. Even if I had an opportunity to kill Big Daddy K tomorrow, I can’t take it. Not until Johnny is completely on my side.

  “When the time comes, will you help me take him out?”

  Mag could be a wealth of information regarding K’s whereabouts. Not only that, the Crew trusts him wholeheartedly. They’ve staked their lives on him. He could be a tremendous help in this.

  “You want me to help you kill someone?”

  The tone in his voice makes me look up. Hesitation sits in the corners of his eyes, festering. “Yeah.” I wrap my arms around myself. “I do.”

  “There’s one problem with that, Angel.”

  My heart lurches at his pet name. I’ve never been someone’s angel before. He’s told me I might be Johnny’s saving grace, but angel is so much more... I don’t know. The name tugs at my heartstrings.

  “What’s that?”

  He licks his lips, and I watch him, mesmerized. Magnum is still mostly an enigma to me. I know I’m attracted to him. I know he’s a good person, and the feelings that bubble up inside me when we’re together are the same heartfelt feelings that rise to the surface when I’m around the others, so I know what I feel for him is legit despite not knowing much of his past.

  He cups my face. “I’ve killed people before, Kyla. I know what that’s like. I know what each one does to a part of my soul, and I don’t want that for you.”

  His words should melt me. They should turn me into goo at his feet, but all he’s succeeded in doing is pissing me off. “I will kill Big Daddy K.” No one is taking that from me. I’ve set my life on this path. It was my choice. My decision.

  “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll support you, but I won’t help you murder someone.”

  My mouth unhinges as I stare at him. He’s completely, one hundred percent, no doubts at all serious.

  He traces his thumbs over my cheekbones. “Don’t get mad.”

  “Don’t get mad?”

  He gives me a small smile that’s so unlike him. “You’re better than us. I understand that you want to do this, but I’m not going to walk you into the fire, Kyl
a. I don’t want to take your hand and lead you into something you won’t be able to just shake off.”

  “But K is a piece of shit. The world would be a better place without him.”

  “I’ve killed many pieces of shit, and yeah, that’s the reasoning I use, but it doesn’t make a difference. You’ll replay the same shit every day. You’ll remember the look in his eyes, and even worse, you might even remember the spark of joy you felt when you were taking his life.” Magnum’s demons darken his hazel eyes. “It’s not something you do and you’re done. It haunts you, and what’s worse, you can’t move on, the ghost of what’s happened staying somewhere else. The tragedy of what happened is in your own mind. It’ll forever be with you. Every morning. Every night. Every—”

  I raise my hand and press it to his lips. I turn my face into his palm that’s still cupping my cheek, and I kiss his hand. “I get what you’re trying to say, I do, but I am doing this, Magnum. You’re not going to be able to talk me out of it. I’m not just going to wake up one day and decide I can’t risk my soul or my mind. He never gave my parents a chance. He solidified my life when he murdered them. I’m not backing out because I don’t want to.” Vengeance has slithered in my veins and rooted. A bunch of pretty words aren’t going to kill off the vines.

  He pulls me forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I get it.” He brushes his lips over my skin as he talks. “I understand. Just please understand when I say I’m not going to help you do it.”

  I bite down on my lip. Even if it does feel like he’s chastising me, I can’t fault him for it. This was always my destiny. My fucked up murder adventure. I don’t need Magnum’s help. I don’t need any of the guys’ help, and honestly, it would probably be best not to get them involved. If this all goes to shit, they can continue without me.

  I take a deep breath. I should probably put some safeguards into place, so that if something does happen to me, they can leave. I should show them where my car is. I should tell them how to access my accounts. I can even tell them who my aunt and uncle are and, in turn, tell my aunt and uncle if any extremely hot men show up on their doorstep that they’re there to help them at whatever cost.