Fearless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #5)

by Ivy Fox

  “I… um… I need a shower,” she whispers meekly, waving her hand to my mom, who is still seated in the kitchen.

  “Okay, Princess. Come with me.”

  With my hand on her lower back, I usher her to our small bathroom. I grab a towel from the small cupboard and hand it to her before pulling the shower curtain open.

  “The shampoo with the mango on it is my mom’s, but I’m sure she won’t mind if you use it. But I can always go out and buy some if that doesn’t work for you.”

  “No. It’s fine. I wouldn’t mind a toothbrush, though. Scrubbing my teeth with only my finger and toothpaste every day isn’t very hygienic.”

  “You’ve been wearing the same T-shirt for the last three days, Princess. I think hygiene has left the station.”

  “Hey!” She punches my shoulder, the first trace of a smile I’ve seen in days finally blooming on her lips.

  But when she realizes what she’s done, her grin drops cold onto the tile floor.

  “No. Don’t do that,” I say, my hand finding its way to the nape of her neck. “It’s okay to smile, Princess. Even laugh.”

  “Is it?” she rebukes, her long lashes batting a mile a minute.

  Even with rings under her eyes, her skin tone paler than usual, and her hair reminiscent of a medusa portrait, she is still the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.

  “Every time I look at you, you fucking take my breath away.”

  “No, I don’t. Look at me. I’m a disaster.”

  “You’re my disaster. My perfect disaster.”

  She swallows dryly, her pale cheeks starting to gain some color to them.

  “I… um… I should…” She tilts her head to the bathtub.

  “Yeah, of course. I’ll leave you to it,” I reply hoarsely, stepping out of the bathroom to let her do her thing.

  But once I’ve closed the door behind me, I slump against it just to get my bearings. I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the shower being turned on when my mother decides to appear and slap me aside the head, moving me away from the door.

  “Go and get the girl a toothbrush, Santo, and stop standing in my hallway like a cat who is trying very hard not to eat the canary. You will not make me a grandmother at thirty-five, sinvergüenza.” She continues to chuckle, pushing me away from the very naked and very wet girl currently taking a shower in my bathroom.

  Argh.

  Someone should have warned me that doing the right thing is synonymous with blue balls.

  “Yeah. I should definitely do that,” I grunt.

  “Go and be quick about it. I don’t want to leave Elenora all alone in the house, but I’m pulling a double shift at the diner today, and I have to leave in less than an hour.”

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll be quick,” I tell her, picking up my winter jacket and keys and rushing out the door, only to stop when I find Maya once again sitting outside in the hallway.

  “The fuck, Maya! What did I tell you?”

  “I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I didn’t want to bother you so early in the morning. Besides, Mom should have been done by now. There’s only one of them in there this time. How was I supposed to know he would take so long?”

  “Jesus fucking Christ. If the limp dick is harmless, then what are you doing sitting outside for?”

  “He’s one of Damasio’s.”

  That’s all she needs to say for me to understand why she didn’t feel safe in her own home.

  “Fuck. Okay. Then you might as well come with me, kid.”

  “Where are we going?” Maya asks excitedly as she quickly gets up to her feet.

  “We’re going on a grocery run. Princess needs some toiletries. You know, girl stuff.”

  “Oh, you mean like tampons and such?”

  “What?! No! God, Maya. I meant like a toothbrush and a comb. Shit like that.”

  “You did say girl stuff.” She shrugs like I should have chosen my words better.

  “Sometimes I swear I don’t know how your brain works.”

  “It’s a mystery. Even to me.” She winks as we begin to walk down the stairs.

  “Hmm. You’re in an awfully good mood,” I state suspiciously.

  “Spring break is almost over. Monday we finally start school again.”

  “You know most kids would prefer to stay on vacation than go to class.”

  “Yeah, well, most kids don’t live in East River,” she mumbles, her cheerful disposition taking a melancholic turn.

  “Ain’t that the truth, kid. Don’t fret, though. We only have one more year at Pembroke. Afterward, you can ditch this shithole for college. You’ll never have to come back again.”

  “Feels like forever, though.”

  “You’ve made it this far. You can handle another year.”

  “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” she mutters, chewing her bottom lip like Elle does when she’s worried or nervous.

  Since Princess dropped my ass after I hooked up with Boy Scout, the two of them have been almost inseparable, which I’m kind of grateful for. Ever since Elle has started hanging out with Maya, Lace and her brainless sidekick, Kim, have pulled back on all the constant bullying they inflict on her.

  I’m not blind.

  I know the shit Maya has suffered since we enrolled at that school. I always told her if she needed me for anything, even putting those skanks in their place, that I’d be there for her. Maya might come from a shitty home and even shittier parents, but she has her pride and prefers to deal with her problems by herself. I’ve always respected that about the kid. Nonetheless, a weight was lifted off my shoulders when the two girls deepened their friendship.

  The only ‘friendship’ of Maya’s that I don’t trust is Reid’s.

  That fucker played me good and kept his so-called relationship with Maya a secret. Having suffered being someone’s dirty secret myself, I don’t trust anyone who hides that part of themselves from the outside world. And neither should Maya.

  “Damn it.” I hear Maya grumble, pulling her hoodie over her head and stepping behind me.

  “Well, look who we got here?” Damasio snickers before stretching his leg and placing his boot against the wall, blocking our passage down the stairs.

  “Move,” I grunt, narrowing my gaze at the fucker.

  “Not so fast, Santo,” he croons, his eyes lingering a little too long on the girl hiding behind me. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Been busy.”

  “You always are, aren’t you?” he mocks, staring at the dirty imprint his boot made on the wall, before turning his attention back on us. “Rumor has it you’ve been busy because you got some oil heiress bitch stashed away up at your place. That true?”

  “No,” I deadpan.

  “You sure? One of my boys swears he saw you a few nights ago, bringing home that girl who has been all over the news recently. That wasn’t her?”

  “Like I said, no, it wasn’t.”

  “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Why don’t we take a trip back upstairs so I can see for myself?”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening, asshole.”

  “You wanna bet? I don’t need your permission to kick your door in, Santo. If I want to see who you’ve been hiding back at your crib, then that’s what’s going down.”

  Motherfucker.

  I’ll kill you before you ever get the chance.

  “It was me,” Maya interjects, uncharacteristically calm considering the predicament we’re in.

  “You?” Damasio drops his leg from the wall and stands straight up. “Nah, Maya. My boys know you. I know you. Every mouthwatering curve on you. The girl Saint brought home earlier this week wasn’t you. Tiny as shit, they told me, and you, Maya, are anything but tiny. Thick and big in all the right places. Just how I like ‘em.” He smacks his lips and adjusts his cock over his black jeans, just to drive the point home.

  I’m about to fucking kick this asshole’s tee
th in when Maya squeezes my shoulder and pushes herself in front of me.

  “I’m telling you it was me, Damasio. Saint was just walking me home from the library the other night. Your crew must have been high on the pipe or drunk off their asses and seeing things.”

  “Maybe.” He taps his finger on his lips as he considers Maya’s explanation. “Maybe.”

  “Are we done here? We have shit to do,” I growl, pushing Maya away from the line of fire.

  “Yeah, we’re done. But I’m keeping my eye on you. On both of you.”

  “Whatever,” I retort, pushing him to the side so Maya and I can pass.

  “I’ll be seeing you, Maya. Real soon, baby,” he warns behind us.

  Maya’s ten seconds of bravery begin to falter. She’s trembling so hard she almost misses a step and falls to her face. The only thing that keeps her from falling face-first is my unrelenting hold on her. It’s only when we rush outside our apartment building that she ventures to say anything.

  “Elle needs to go, Saint. I don’t think he bought my excuse.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think so either.”

  East River Projects is no place for Elle, not if Damasio is sniffing about.

  She’ll hate me for it, but I need her gone.

  And there is only one person I know who can talk her into leaving without putting up too much of a fight.

  Chapter 25

  Chad

  “Where is she?!” I growl, checking his shoulder as I push my way into his home.

  Saint points unapologetically to his bedroom door down the hall. Rage like I’ve never felt before scorches me from within. I hold him by the lapels and slam him against the wall.

  “Do you know how fucking worried we’ve all been? Her brothers were going out of their minds searching the whole city for her. They even put an Amber Alert out for her.”

  “She told me she texted Holland,” he explains with a sneer, slapping my hands off him.

  “She did. But her text—and I quote, ‘I’m fine. I’m alive. Don’t worry about me.’—isn’t exactly reassuring, now is it?”

  “And how the fuck is that my fault?” he scoffs, throwing his arms in the air.

  “You could have called someone.”

  “I did. I called you, asshole!”

  I throw him a menacing glare and march over to his room, opening his door and finding Elle asleep, laying all curled up in the fetal position.

  She looks so small in his bed.

  Fragile.

  Breakable.

  Things Elle has never been for a minute of her fearless life.

  “I’m taking her home,” I whisper under my breath before drawing closer to her.

  Saint just leans against the wall in total silence. I run my fingers through her hair, coaxing her awake. Her eyelashes flutter, a small smile tugging on her lips when she sees me.

  “You gave us quite a scare, babe,” I coo lovingly, sitting beside her.

  “How are my brothers? How’s Snow?” she responds, her voice still soft from sleep.

  “They’re all worried about you.”

  Her gaze falls, and then she turns around, facing the wall, her back to me.

  “Elle?”

  “Just tell them I’m alright. I just need a few more days,” she retorts evenly, shutting down my request.

  “Fine. If you don’t want to go home, then at least let me take you back to my place.”

  “No. I’m staying here.”

  My heart plummets to the floor at the finality of her statement. I get up from the bed, thinking she wants me gone, but gasp in surprise when she turns just enough to hold on to my wrist.

  “Can you stay?”

  I look over at Saint, asking for his permission. She came here for him, after all. Not me. He offers me a clipped nod and then slides down the wall, hugging his legs up and bowing his head on his knees. I take off my shoes and slide in next to her. Immediately I realize she’s wearing one of Saint’s T-shirts that hits just mid-thigh, her legs completely bare. Jealousy hits me like a Mack truck, conjuring up every dirty scenario they could have been up to these past few days while the rest of the world was looking for her. I fling my arm over her waist and hold her tightly until I hear her breathing become shallow, sleep taking over.

  “That’s all she does,” Saint whispers from across the room. “She sleeps the days away. Hardly eats or talks. But at least she’s stopped crying.”

  I squeeze her to me, breathing in the scent of her hair, cherishing the warmth of her body next to mine.

  “You should have called me earlier.”

  “You’re lucky I called you at all,” he retorts with a bite.

  Ever so carefully, so as not to wake her up, I look over my shoulder and find Saint’s focus fixed on the girl in my arms.

  “Why did you call me then?”

  “Like I told you over the phone. She’s not safe here. You need to take her.”

  “She doesn’t want to come with me.”

  “Well, make her then.”

  “When has anyone ever made Elle do anything she didn’t want to do?”

  “You’re good at convincing people to do your bidding.”

  “Never with her,” I whisper, brushing her hair with my fingers. “Never with you either.”

  Saint’s obsidian gaze meets mine for a fraction of a second and then turns away. I return my attention to Elle and just concentrate on her breathing. The sound soothing my anxious heart. After I’m certain she’s deep in sleep, I gently unlatch my grip on her, knowing that I need to give her brothers a heads up about where she is. Saint stands up straight as I make my way to the door. As I pass him by, I notice the hollow dark circles under his eyes. While Elle has been sleeping her sadness away, he’s been vigilantly awake to watch over her. I tilt my head to the door, silently asking him to follow me out of the room and into his kitchen.

  “I’ll need to tell her brothers where she is,” I tell him, pulling out the phone once I’m sure we are out of earshot. He grabs it and takes it away from me.

  “Not yet,” he says. “You can tell them that she’s okay, but that’s it. She’s not ready to go back into that house, no matter how much they insist on it. That place has too many ghosts waiting for her there.”

  “Fine. Any other requests?” I snap bitterly, hating that he knows her inner thoughts better than I do at the moment.

  Is this why Elle didn’t come to me?

  Did she think I wouldn’t be able to help her?

  That I wouldn’t understand?

  Why? Why did she choose him and not me?

  As if reading my thoughts, Saint leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest with an all-knowing smirk on his lips. Not wanting to see his smug grin for a second longer, I turn my back on him and walk into the living room area to call Ash.

  Of course, that conversation goes to hell fast when I tell him his baby sister is refusing to go home. The only thing that soothes his concern is when I promise him I’ll have her back at my place by the end of the day. That does the trick. After all, when he was dealing with his own baggage last year, he found a safe haven living at my house for a spell. Mom did wonders helping him sort out his own issues, and even though I didn’t come out and tell him that Mom would do the same for Elle, I also didn’t do anything to rectify his assumptions.

  Elle and I may be out of sync right now, but I still know her—down to her core. She’ll never confide her secrets or darkest thoughts to a professional, let alone my own mother. At times, she won’t even admit them to herself. But on those rare occasions where Elle does bare her soul and pull down all her layers so you can see right into that heart of hers, it’s a fucking wonderous sight. Not many can boast they have been privileged enough to witness it. For a time, I was the only one she confided in.

  Not anymore.

  Now she has him.

  Once I’ve sorted Ash out, I hang up the phone and
walk back into the kitchen. Saint’s now seated at the table, arms stretched behind his chair, staring at me.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” he rushes out.

  “What am I wrong about?”

  “I didn’t fuck her.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “But that’s what you’re thinking,” he points a menacing finger in my direction. “That I would take advantage of her vulnerability?”

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking,” I snarl, running my fingers through my hair to keep me from losing my shit.

  “Why the fuck are you so pissed at me then?” Saint asks, offended, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.

  “I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at this whole fucking situation. There’s a difference.”

  “Then stop looking at me like I’m at fault here.”

  “I didn’t say you were, Saint, so stop putting words in my fucking mouth,” I rebuke, resentment starting to course through my veins.

  “You could have fucking fooled me, Boy Scout. You’ve been giving me the evil eye since you got here,” he seethes, nostrils flaring.

  “Are you honestly surprised? It’s not like we’ve been on the best of terms lately.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” he mocks, pretending to slap his forehead. “How could I forget? You hate me, now.” He cackles as if my feelings are a fucking joke to him.

  Blinded by rage, I rush toward him, slamming his back against the fridge while pinning him down with my forearm pressed to his neck.

  “That’s right. I do hate you. You fucking ruined my life!” I spit in his face.

  “I didn’t ruin shit. You did that all on your own, Boy Scout,” he quips back, his fury matching my own.

  Our breathing becomes heavier as we stare into each other’s eyes, my half-mast cock springing to life in my jeans by our close proximity.

  “I could have loved her. We could have been together if it wasn’t for you,” I growl, adding a bit more pressure to his windpipe.

  “Excuses. You’re the one who didn’t have the balls to make up his mind. Don’t blame me for your shortcomings,” he stutters between breaths, never making a move to release my hold on him.