by K. M. Raya
What would she think of us tonight?
Would she regret what happened between us?
Would she be disgusted with me?
A part of me hopes so.
Chapter Eleven
Angel
A three day weekend has the school and all of its students in an uproar.
Beth and Les have both texted me this morning, begging me to come to the bonfire tonight. Back in the Hamptons, my ‘friends’ avoided the sandy beaches in favor of their daddy’s million dollar yachts or fancy clubs they were way too young for. Here though, young people are a different breed entirely. The rich boys and girls are still just as privileged, but there’s something undeniably wilder about Californian’s that just doesn't exist in the east.
As I make my way down to the beach, I can already make out the flickering light of not one but three good sized bonfires. It looks like the entire school is here for the party and probably the surrounding schools too. The waves are calm in the distance and even though the sun set an hour ago the air still holds on to the last bits of warmth—just enough to make wearing shorts comfortable. I’m wearing all black tonight, a simple bikini top covered with a mesh wrap and dark jean shorts. With my hair tied back in a high bun, I feel comfortable and more carefree than I have in a long time.
The smell of smoke mixed with sea salt and cooking hotdogs fills my nose making me smile. Leslie told me they’d be by the water so that's where I go first.
“Finally!” Beth squeals from somewhere down by the dark waves. “Get that sexy ass over here, darlin!”
She’s clearly wasted and it isn’t even eight o’clock. Her blonde head comes into focus followed by an unavoidable view of her hot pink top that’s purposefully three sizes too small for that chest of hers. She’s so pretty and carefree. I wish sometimes that I could be more like Beth. She has no idea how good she has it.
“Hitting that bottle pretty hard, are we?” I laugh as she grabs my hand and drags me towards the closest fire.
Beth makes a ‘psshh’ noise, waving her hand at me and forgetting she still has an open beer bottle in her grip. She flings liquid all over the place.
“Not hard enough if you ask me, I’m, gonna get p—plastered tonight . . .” she slurs, but then under her breath I hear, “It’s n—not like Grace will give a s—shit anyways—”
Gently nudging her in the shoulder, I lean down and whisper, “Honey, I think you're already plastered.”
Snorting, she blows a kiss before wandering back towards the keg—which happens to be surrounded by some of the guys on the football team.
‘She’ll be there for a while . . .’
Grabbing a fresh beer from a cooler near the fire, I glance around, taking stock of the new faces. I can recognize the majority, but I can also tell that there are some public school kids and some of the boys from Caruthers College just on the outskirts of town.
I stand there for a while, listening to the hum of conversation around me, happily sipping my drink but never really able to let down my guard. I never can just let myself . . . be. Seeing the world through blood red lenses is both a blessing and a curse. Knowing that these people can carry on with their little lives as if their trivial problems are life and death while in reality they have no idea.
My mind drifts to the Brothers—like always and I hate myself for it. No matter what I do I can’t get them out of my freaking head. I’ve met boys like them before. I grew up around privileged, entitled trust fund brats. Many of them were beautiful . . . but not like them.
Every night as I lay awake in my bed unable to sleep, it’s their faces that flash in my mind's eye. Their eyes that bore into my soul as if they know something about me that I don’t.
There's an aura of danger that surrounds them, both as a group, and as individuals. Sometimes I feel like I must have something really wrong with me if I’m this attracted to danger. I must have some wires crossed in my brain because I honestly don’t think I could ever want an ordinary guy they way I want them.
It’s fucked up and I’m well aware of that.
“Hey there stranger.”
I snap my head up, caught off guard as Finley Cassini heads straight for me. He has a beer in his hand that looks warm, as if it’s nothing more than a prop. But his eyes are glassy—he might be a little high.
It doesn’t surprise me to see him here, he tends to pop up anywhere with the potential to piss off a Brother. Technically, the Brothers don’t own the beach, though there might be some who would challenge that statement.
I have nothing personal against the guy. He’s done nothing to me. Being annoying isn’t exactly a crime and I don’t feel the need to act like a complete bitch tonight. I hall honesty, I have no idea what provoked the confrontation back at Captain's house party, but none of it had anything to do with me.
I know I did the whole knife and gun thing . . . but it was sort of necessary and I hope he realizes that instead of holding it against me. I really don’t want to be seen as the psycho new girl.
I watch him approach with that cocky swagger that he can’t quite pull off because he's so inebriated. His hair is artfully tucked behind his ears and his pouty lips look just a tad swollen. Finley isn’t a bad looking guy. On the contrary, he’s actually sort of pretty, but the lack of depth in his watery eyes turns me off. Any normal girl would probably be enamoured with him, but he does nothing for me.
“Didn’t get enough the first time, Cassini?” I ask around a long pull of my nasty beer.
He smiles, feigning bashfulness and sidles up beside me.
“Aw, come on, I could never get tired of that pretty face.” He nudges my arm with his playfully.
“Mhmm, just tell me what you want and go, I'm really not in the mood,” I grumble, attempting to seem unbothered.
Try as I might, Finley's presence still unsettles me a little. It's not because he seems like a necessarily dangerous guy but rather because he’s so unreadable. On the outside he comes off as funny and charming, but I don’t know him well enough to make that judgement. I do, however, catch myself looking around to make sure the Brothers aren’t watching.
They seem to think this guy is the devil incarnate so I’m pretty sure they’d give me tons of shit for talking to him. So far though, I haven’t seen any sign of them here. Maybe I’m in for a reprieve tonight. I’m also sort of glad that those dumbass twins Fin likes to hang with don’t seem to be here either.
Or . . . they might just be keeping their distance from the crazy chick with the gun. Either way it's a win for me.
“Where's your harem tonight?” Fin asks, causing me to practically choke on my beer.
Turning my head, I squint at him, wrinkling my nose in disgust.
“My what?”
He tsks, “You know who I’m talking about, baby girl don’t be shy. You lead those assholes around this place like dogs on a leash.”
“Wow, you really are as crazy as they say,” I tease but there's an edge to it.
“Ouch—alright I'm sorry I asked.”
We stand in silence for a few minutes feeling increasingly more awkward and Finleys probably enjoying it. People are beginning to pay us some attention. They’re whispering behind their hands and flicking their eyes over the two of us standing side by side.
This town and all the people in it seem to be well aware of the discord between factions.
“You want to go for a walk?” he asks suddenly.
Sliding my eyes to him suspiciously I ask, “Why would I go anywhere with you after that shit you pulled?”
He faces me and blows out a long breath.
“Look . . . the Brothers and I have a history. It's a long and painful-ass story that I don't really wanna get into, but just try to at least understand that every story has two sides. And by the way . . . I’m not the one who pulled out a weapon. I really didn’t mean for things to go that far that fast.”
‘Okay, Valid point.’
“See, that's what none of you see
m to get. I don't want to take sides. I don't want anything to do with this little war you guys have going on.”
“Then don't.” He touches his fingertips to my forearm gently, nudging me playfully but it doesn't feel like a come-on.
“C’mon, It's just a walk, not a marriage proposal, let’s just get away from prying eyes . . . it makes me nervous.”
Now that I agree with. Being observed and studied isn’t something I’ve ever been comfortable with.
I consider my options and conclude that a walk sounds pretty okay.
“Alright, let's go,” I concede, unable to deny my need to get away from all the stares. “But no funny business,” I warn and he holds his hands up in mock surrender as I turn to pass him.
We walk along the sandy beach with our shoes off, enjoying the feel of the hot sand as it releases the last lingering bits of heat from the days sun. There’s a slight chill in the air, but it’s refreshing rather than uncomfortable.
Just beyond the break in the waves I can make out the shapes of surfers gliding through the dark water in their reflective wetsuits. They look so carefree with their heads thrown back in laughter while their friends cheer them on from the shore.
I find myself wondering if Holden might be out there. . .
“I see that head of yours spinning, what's wrong?” Finley asks.
I’d failed to realize he’d been watching me closely the whole time.
“Just thinking about surfing,” I supply wistfully.
His eyebrows rise and he grins. “Do you like to surf? I didn’t take you for a beach bum.”
I laugh, “Yeah right, not much time to surf in Switzerland, Paris and London.” My memories turn towards my former boarding schools. Why Papa ever decided to send me so far away still escapes my comprehension.
“Boarding school . . .” I add when he looks at me in confusion.
“Yikes.” he hisses through his teeth. “Well you're here now so why don't you learn? I'm sure you can wrangle some kid into giving you lessons.”
Frowning, I sigh. “It's not so much the surfing . . . It's how happy they look out there with nobody telling them what to do—who to be,” I whisper that last part. “I want that.”
Finley frowns. “Are your parents controlling? I know mine are,” he sneers. “My dad likes to think he can tell me how to eat, how to breathe and even how to sneeze sometimes but he's really just an asshole.”
His jaw is clenched. I don't know who his dad is, and I don't want to either.
“Papa can be when he wants to, but it's kind of hard to be controlling when he never actually takes the time to see me. I’ve seen him maybe three times in the last year, and even then it's like he has better places to be. If I’m not at boarding school, I’m at home with my tutors while he jets off somewhere else, ignoring me as usual.”
Finley watches me sympathetically while I vent.
“So no, I guess my parents aren't really controlling—not in the way you're thinking anyways.”
Looking down at my feet, I stop so I can dig my toes into the wet sand just below the hot dry layer. Deciding we’ve walked far enough, I plop down and make myself comfortable while Finley takes a moment to follow.
“How’d you end up here? I know Seaside’s nice and all, but most people grew up here and have no choice.”
Wrinkling my nose, I glance out to sea.
“Now that's the real mystery isn't it?”
Finley smirks. “I like a girl of mystery, breaks up the monotony a bit.”
“How is that anyways?” I ask. “An all-boys college sounds pretty boring to me, I thought college was all about experimentation and shit.”
“Ugh . . .” He groans, but his cheeks flare pink before laying back in the sand and staring upwards. “I hate that fucking place.”
We both laugh.
I can relate actually. Most of my boarding schools had been all girls’ academies. Draven was actually the first co-ed school I’d ever been to and so far it seems to give me nothing but trouble.
“You attended Draven Prep at one point, right?”
His body stiffens just the slightest bit next to me.
He clears his throat loudly.
“For a while, yeah. It's a long story, but I dropped out senior year pretty much because of my dad. Like I said, he’s a fucking asshole and burned his bridges real fast. Too bad he’s not the one feeling the consequences,” he grumbles.
‘Ah, here we go . . .’
“Did he piss someone off or something?”
Finley rolls his eyes up towards me and I smirk down at him.
“Like you don't already know the rumors.”
He rolls up onto his elbows. “Let’s just say good ole dad couldn't keep it in his pants and now the sons have to deal with the fallout.”
“Is that why the Brothers hate you so much, because of your dads mistake? That’s so fucking childish.” I shake my head.
A part of me understands more than most—the way family feuds can tear entire cities apart. Being a child of the mafia, I’d seen firsthand what happens when you cross family and friends the wrong way.
“I really shouldn't be telling you any of this . . . I think I'm just drunk,” he laughs again. He does seem a bit wobbly and he’s slurring his words a little.
‘Maybe it’s wrong to take advantage.’
“I think I’m gonna head back for another drink,” he announces, clearly putting a stop to this conversation.
He sits up, brushing the sand from his shorts.
“Dude, I think you've had enough . . .” I look him over skeptically.
He grins. “Dude? You going full Californian on us, baby girl?”
Groaning deeply I shove him in the leg, “Don't ever call me that again.”
I can’t help but laugh though. I actually didn’t hate talking to Fin. He seems like a cool guy, despite what the Brothers claim.
“I'll check you later, hot stuff,” he promises, sending me a mock salute before turning to walk back down the beach towards the fire and alcohol.
✽✽✽
A hand clamps around the lower half of my face, cutting off my air and causing me to panic instantly. I scramble backwards but whoever came to fuck with me brought friends.
My vision goes black but my senses are still sharp. Someone has placed some sort of bag over my head. Arms hook beneath my armpits, dragging me through the sand and another pair of hands grab my flailing legs, clamping down until I'm completely immobile. I'm not a heavy person, so whoever they are they lift me with ease before carrying me off.
They're quiet, giving away nothing of their identity. For a moment I suspect it might be one of my Papa’s henchmen, but I immediately dismiss the thought. Papa would skin them alive if he knew one of his associates touched me. He may not love me, but I’m still his property.
No, whoever this is they’re being either reckless or stupid—either way I'm most likely fucked.
I let myself fall slack, causing the one holding my arms to grunt in surprise. Something my trainers always taught me in self-defense class was to make it as difficult as possible for kidnappers to take me. I make myself dead weight, forcing these assholes to work for it.
Eventually we slow down. We’re still outside, just further into the trees, which surprises me. I figured whoever they were might put me in a car and take me to a secondary location.
A part of me feels relief.
Secondary locations almost always mean death.
After setting me down harshly, my hands are thrust behind my body and bound tightly with a thin rope. Moonlight shines in my eyes as the bag is ripped from my head and a small strand of hair is pulled with it, causing me to involuntarily whimper.
“Oh, would you grow up already?”
Squinting through the darkness of the trees, I can just barely make out a head of long blonde hair and scathing blue eyes. My stomach sinks while my treacherous heart soars. It's Carter Draven—in all his glory, lit by a shaft of moonlight making hi
m look ethereal and dangerous at the same time. He looks like some sort of avenging angel with that golden glow around his shadowed face.
I know the guy is a jerk . . . not to mention the whole lot of them are suspicious as fuck, but kidnapping? I didn’t think it was their style at all.
“Is this where you chop off my fingers and mail them to my family?” I snap breathlessly, glaring at the beautiful boy from beneath wild strands of my tangled black hair.
I’ve seen this scenario many times over my short eighteen and three quarter years on this earth. Granted, I’m usually on the other side of things, but all the same.
“Someone shut her up!” Carter barks and then I'm suddenly teetering to the side thanks to a push of a foot I never saw coming.
Spitting soil from my mouth I turn to glare at the offending foot only to find it attached to a really pissed off looking Ellis Faux. His piercings glint in his lip and eyebrows and for a moment, it's all I can focus on. I'm trying my damndest to work this out in my head.
‘What did I do to make them hate me so much?’
I'm sure the other two are around here somewhere. If I know anything about them it's that they work as a unit.
Ellis has no visible human expression on his handsome face. He looks at me as if I’m some sort of stranger. I know we don't know each other well, but damn, the cold detachment there startles me.
In the short time I’ve been able to observe him over these last few weeks, I’ve seen a darkness inside him that freaks me out a little. He holds himself coldly, detached from everyone else and it makes me incredibly curious as to what could have done that to someone so young.
A tug on my hair makes my scalp burn as someone forces my head back. Fingers curl in my thick hair, yanking it out of it's loose bun. I stare straight up into a pair of black eyes and a grim set mouth.
Holden hovers over me, eyes skimming my face—studying me. He looks cruel tonight. He looks like he’s out to hurt someone, that someone being me apparently.
“What were you doing with Cassini?” Holden asks, gripping my hair tighter in his fist. I can feel the blood rushing to my head, making me want to close my eyes against a wave of dizziness.
