“You can’t see the guy’s face, but you can see them argue for a minute before he gets his ass handed to him.”
“So not only did he see the person, he knows them. Why lie?”
He sighs. “Don’t know yet.”
“There’s a reason.” Victoria begins pacing and we all look to her.
The thing about Victoria is she’s a little secret seeker, sees what others don’t, finishes the puzzle when she’s only got half the pieces... most of the time.
Mac adds, “Yeah, like there’s a reason Coach Von didn’t fight back.”
Our eyes fly between one another.
“Not even a single hit?”
“Nope.”
“Motherfucker.”
Maddoc’s jaw tightens. “He knew we’d find out and go looking.”
“And we’d pause on the first person with a mark on him. Whoever it was has something on the guy.”
“Fuck,” Mac hisses.
Tension tightens my chest. “What is it?”
“The equipment container lock was cut. Looks like some shit’s missing, but I need to get the lights on to be sure.”
“Someone’s fuckin’ bold.”
“Almost too bold,” Victoria wonders out loud, looking to us. “They went after the coach, the scoreboard, and the gear? He says he doesn’t know who it was, but didn’t fight back and someone was careful enough not to be in view of the camera but left beer bottles behind?”
“We’re missing something...”
She nods. “If it was a bat that was used on the board, but not on the coach, then we need to start with someone on the team. Starting pitcher or star hitter maybe?”
Maddoc nods. “Lucky for us, it happens to be the same fucking person.”
Raven leans back. “Scope him tomorrow, invite him to party tomorrow night.”
Everyone nods and there we are.
We’ll bring the mouse to the mouse hunt.
Chapter 10
Royce
Micah makes it up the steps of the girls home right as a group of them push out of the door. They pause at the sight of him, but he’s not used to these kinds of girls. They don’t smile and gawk at the good-looking fucker, they shoulder right past him and down the road they go.
Raven and Victoria laugh at the offended look on his face, but we just shake our heads.
He’ll learn quick enough.
They’ll be plenty of the trust fund girls at the school who will fall at the sight of him, but it won’t be these ones.
Last night, Mac let us know when Micah got in, so me, my brothers, and the girls came down to meet him while giving him his first task.
A plan I’m about to cancel when the girl is the last one to make it out of the house and her smile goes straight to Micah, it’s tight-lipped, but it’s there. When he leans in to give her a hug, she accepts, a familiar manila folder hanging from her hand—her Brayshaw High paperwork.
I shift in my seat, watching. Annoyed with how I feel so damn annoyed.
And of what?
Fuck if I know!
Raven leans over as much as her belly allows, resting her forearms on the dash. “That girl is Bass Bishop’s little sister?”
Maybell’s well-played words of wisdom come back.
Expectations are for fools, and you are far from one of those.
“Not what you’d expect?”
In my peripheral, Raven shakes her head. “Far from it. I guess I pictured someone tall and rogue model-like, like him.”
That gives me something fun to focus on, and I look to Maddoc with a grin, waiting for his reaction but all he gives is an exhaled rumble, making his woman laugh.
“Man, I’d kill for an ass like that,” Victoria muses, dragging my attention back to Brielle.
“Same,” Raven agrees. “How’s it so... full?”
My head snaps back to the porch as the two climb down the stairs, his hand at the base of her back, as if she needs to be led.
She doesn’t.
An unexpected urge to knock Micah off the steps follows, but I push that shit back, letting irritation take its place.
I must growl out loud as Raven turns to me.
She grins. “You doin’ okay back there, Ponyboy?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. Ass is your jam.”
The girl was wearing a school uniform fit for a forty-year-old every time I saw her, minus yesterday when she wore a pair of baggy sweats and T-shirt—road trip, comfort clothes—but like Raven pointed out, I can spot a nice ass from a mile away, find that shit under any kind of material known to man, thick or thin. So, like I said. I saw it.
Gotta admit, she’s got more than I realized.
Hips too.
Not that I care.
With each step Brielle takes, her smile spreads wider.
“Look at her.” Captain watches her. “She’s not even nervous.”
“She’s the last thing from nervous. Excited, maybe even content.” Victoria tips her head to follow her as she passes the front of the SUV and keeps toward Mac’s that sits at the edge of the curb, waiting for them.
“Told you. Off.”
“Does this girl know anything about us, man, or is she coming in blind?” Cap glances my way briefly.
“Guess we’ll see.”
“Poor girl.” Raven sits back. “She has no idea what she’s in for.”
Not a fucking clue.
The laughter and chatter die down as we head for the school.
We’ve got a mess to clean, and today is setup day.
Brielle
Last night, after Mac and Micah got all of my bags put in my room, Mac took us for a late-night burger to fill us in on their newest issue and go over some things he said we needed to know—things that are expected and what’ll get us a one-way ticket underground.
Okay, so he didn’t use that term, but I think it’s fitting.
People here, they do disappear, but nobody talks about that.
Just like we’re not to talk about anything that’s shared with us, we take part in, see, discover, or even fail at. Basically, we’re like the CIA, but really not at all, more like rogue rebels.
Or they are. Not me.
I’m ‘whatever Royce tells me to be’—words Mac awkwardly delivered on behalf of his BFF.
I decided he’s the Manny Rae to Royce’s Tony Montana, but a version who doesn’t die in the end at his best friend’s hand.
Okay, maybe that’s a really bad comparison, but it’s fine.
He’s important, that’s all I know.
“All right, it’s all yours, my man.” Mac passes a set of keys to Micah.
Keys to his now car, his bonus for joining their team.
We look over to find a black Denali.
Identical to the ones the Brayshaws drive.
Micah frowns from it to Mac, but Mac only nods.
“GPS is already set to get you back to the school,” he shares. “Follow it and don’t be late. You’ll draw attention to yourself being new and we don’t want to make a show.”
We nod and switch cars.
Micah is grinning from ear to ear and keeps whistling as he checks out gadgets on the dash.
He looks to me with a smile. “How about some flat cakes? I saw a McDonald’s across the bridge when I drove in?”
“Mac told us not to be late.”
“We have a half hour and look.” He pushes buttons on the navigation system. “It says it’s six minutes away.” When I hesitate, he nudges my shoulder with a smile. “Come on. New place, new life. It’s just a pancake.”
I laugh. “I already ate… but I guess I could go for a hot chocolate?”
He laughs. “There we go.”
As Micah said, we’re there in six minutes, and pulling away after three.
He looks to me with a grin that dims as he faces forward. “Is this weird, being in a car with me like this?”
I exhale. “Kind of, but surprisingly not as bad as I thought
it would be when Mac suggested it last night.”
I look to Micah and we both laugh.
“Hey, so,” I tread lightly, messing with my phone in my palm. “Did you meet everyone at the boys home?”
Micah shrugs. “I met a couple. I guess some were out late, some are gone on jobs and shit. Be back in a week or something.” He scowls. “Why, you not meet any of the girls?”
“No, yeah, I did. All of the ones who were interested in laying eyes on the new girl anyway, the rest stayed in their rooms.” Micah laughs. “I was just... wondering—” About my brother.
We begin rolling across the bridge, but as we do, a car cuts us off, and Micah’s forced to slam on the brakes.
My body flies forward, but the seat belt catches me. Unfortunately, not my drink, and then my entire chest burns with steaming cocoa.
I gasp, pulling at it, and Micah turns to me with wide eyes.
“Shit!” He throws the thing in park, and turns to me, but as my head lifts, I realize the car that cut us off has stopped.
I hit his arm, frowning forward. “Micah...”
“I know, here let me help. I—”
“No. Micah... look.”
His eyes pop up to mine, then snap out the front window.
The car rolls backward, toward us.
Micah tenses. “What the fuck?”
“Go.”
He doesn’t move.
“Micah, go.” The car stops inches in front of us.
Micah quickly throws the thing in reverse, but as the rearview dash cam pops up on the screen, a low curse leaves him.
And shit is right.
Another car is behind us.
“We’re blocked in.”
As if over his initial surprise, Micah throws the thing in drive, his eyes hard on the road. “Not for long.”
He inches forward, his bumper teasing against the car ahead of us, but that car, he backs up, its tires screeching. So, Micah throws it in reverse, and slams into the one behind us.
The front one comes back, hitting against us right as a third car, much larger, flies up beside us.
I scream as it takes out the mirror, getting as close as it possibly can.
My heart begins to pound in my chest, and I try to breathe through it.
Micah guns it, driving the car behind us back, then flies forward at a bit of a curve, effectively driving a small wedge between the two front cars and we manage to slip through, but within seconds, all three are on our ass.
“Shit,” I hiss, the pressure at my temples doubling.
I throw my seat belt off and Micah cuts wide eyes toward me.
“What the hell?” he shouts, gripping my arm when he takes a sharp turn. “Sit down and buckle. If we wreck, you’re out the fucking window.”
“There’re three cars to our one, Micah!” I shout, throwing myself into the back seat. “We’re getting penned in again.”
I reach over the third row, my hand shooting up to grip the handles at the top when Micah swerves again.
With one hand, I yank off the siding and voila!
Emergency road kit.
I dig through it, my hand meeting a cool piece of metal right as the car comes to a screeching halt.
I fly over, hitting my back on the side panel, a crowbar now in my hand.
“You good?!” Micah shouts.
“Yeah.” I tear out the wrench, my eyes wide when I look out the back door. “Oh shit. Micah, they opened the door.”
“Up here too. Fuck!”
I spin around, and sure as hell, two people with masks over their faces climb from the car in front, the drivers of the cars behind us doing and wearing the same.
My vision begins to fog, but I fight through it and spin, holding one of the weapons out for Micah.
He grips it, looking from me quickly and back.
Slowly, they round the car, one on each side of our doors, one at each of the back doors.
They bang wildly on the windows.
Micah tries to hit the gas and fly forward, but the car in front of us must have had another person inside, because they sensed it and rev back at the same time.
The guy beside his door hops back, and Micah sighs. Cutting a quick glance to me.
“Get in the driver’s seat, Brielle. Get the fuck out of here.”
“What—”
He throws his door open and jumps out.
He lifts the weapon, going straight for the guy, but he forgets to watch his back, and is quickly wrapped up and taken to the ground.
“Shit!”
I hop over the seat, locking the door right as another one is slamming his palms against it, tearing at the handle.
The guy’s head tilts like the freak from The Purge, and he slams a hand on the window, but then his arm disappears behind his back, and I blink rapidly, my pulse far too erratic to stop the blood flow to my brain.
His hand flies out, and on reflex, I flinch.
But that hand, it doesn’t hold a gun or knife or whatever I came up with in my head.
It holds a key.
I inhale, and then the lock pops open.
The door is yanked open, and he darts forward, but I lift the crowbar from my lap and thrust it forward as hard as I can, driving it into the person’s neck.
And that person?
He laughs.
Everything in me both freezes and melts, and I tear the mask off his head.
“Are you shitting me?” comes out as a harsh whisper.
The other three walk around, each pulling off their masks.
They grin wide, eyes trailing and while I can’t see the shades of them, I can see their figures, and I know who they are.
I blink several times, long and hard, and when my lids open again, things are a little clearer.
I stare into the shadowy eyes across from mine, feel the strong grip that wraps around my fingers to push the crowbar down, and a grin that tugs at the lips inches from mine.
A fourth car skids up beside us, and in my peripheral, I watch as the door is thrown open, a fifth person stepping out.
And then heated breaths meet my skin, just over my collarbone, and the devilishly delivered words whispered send a shiver down my spine. “Welcome to Brayshaw.”
Holy.
Shit.
I’m not sure how long I stare into the chocolate eyes before me, but then his lips lift, and right as the shapes around me regain their clarity.
My eyes fly from one figure to the other like a pinball, waiting to see more of each one, but at the same time, eager to see more from the next.
The infamous Brayshaw boys, and the rest of their family stare straight at me, a different expression on each of their faces, but I do my best to focus on one at a time
The boys, they’re so easy to tell apart, each with distinct features of their own.
Maddoc, who stands there with a blank face, has thick, dark hair, and caramel-colored skin which gives him away instantly. He’s every bit of a living Greek god. An angry, eerily emotionless one. From what I’ve gathered, he’s the one to watch. Not the leader, as they’re all thought of as equal, but there’s something about him that merits extra caution and meticulous care.
Captain stands beside him and offers a slight tip of his chin and a small smile. He’s as tall as Royce and Maddoc, but with wider shoulders, creamier colored skin, and blond hair—the most obvious contrast of his adoptive siblings. He’s got that all-American vibe going, but to be blinded by first glance is to miss the confidence in his wide stance, the tension in his shoulders—he’s pretty, but perilous.
A gorgeous girl with golden hair that meets her hips has her elbow propped on Captain’s shoulder, but I’m not sure who she is.
His BrayGirl, maybe?
A quick laugh comes from the left and my head jerks that way.
My breath lodges in my throat as my eyes land on Raven Carver.
Or I should say Raven Brayshaw.
Long, dark hair, ink black and shining, she tip
s her head with a grin.
The heir to the entire Brayshaw empire who nobody even knew existed until she showed up on the doorstep of the very group home I now live in, if what I’ve learned is true.
A product of rape in a war between the founding families of this town, raised by a vile mother, a whore in true form, every bit a trailer trash disaster, and abused as a young girl.
Yet here she stands.
Strong.
Bold.
Inspiring.
Very, very pregnant.
“That.” She jerks her head. “Is Victoria, and my sister. And yes, Cap’s BrayGirl.”
“Bitch.” Victoria draws my attention with a smile. “I’m his now, tomorrow, always... and you.” She nods with a smirk, her eyes falling to the crowbar in Royce’s hand, slowly coming back to mine. “Are off to a good start.”
Royce’s eyes fall to my top and he frowns. “You good?”
I look down with a nod. “Yeah, it’s... I’m fine.” It stings, but only a little now.
“Good.” He looks to Micah as he steps up to us. “Never cross this bridge. Graven Prep is on this side, and we don’t fuck with them. They’re on their own and as long as they keep staying out of our way, we’ll leave them that way.” He turns to Micah again. “You didn’t really think we’d let you drive around in a beast like ours, did you?”
“Well, I definitely didn’t think you’d trash a perfectly badass ride, either.” Micah chuckles.
“That’s fair.” Royce grins, tosses him a set of keys and slowly they back away, climb into their ride and off they go. Just like that.
Me?
I remain frozen in the seat they left me in.
The pressure surrounding my eyes is long gone, but it now sits heavy against my chest as a sense of pride blooms within it.
I trail the black SUV as it pulls away, carrying the family who earned my brother’s loyalty as he did theirs, the teenagers who live like grown-ass men in a world like no other, full of chaos and crookedness and... freedom.
The family Bass came to believe in and gave his all to in hopes of earning me a place beside him.
Yes, they took my brother from me without pause or consideration of the girl they were leaving behind, or more, casting out alone, but I can’t say I don’t understand why or that I’m angry over it.
Break Me Page 11
