Reapers and Roses: (Grove High School Book One)

by A. R. Breck

  "Okay."

  He gives me a nod and not much else before walking out of my room in as quickly as he came.

  All I can think to myself is...

  He never even kissed me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Easton

  In time we hate that which we often fear. - William Shakespeare

  When I get the text from Rich, I know it's time to hightail it out of Rose's house. Can never keep him waiting. I've done that once before, and the repercussions were something I'd prefer to never have to go through again.

  And I had the bruises to prove it.

  Driving towards my house, I shoot off a text to Logan and Jackson that it's time to work and receive a thumbs up from them within a matter of seconds.

  They know that Rich doesn't wait around for anyone, too.

  I still have the scent of Rose on my fingers and I can still taste her on my tongue, and it's taking some serious effort to get rid of this hard on. My dick wants Rose, but my mind knows that sleeping with her would be begging to walk up shit creek.

  Although, I guess that didn't stop me from diving into her panties without a second thought.

  There's something about her - something that pulls me in and it's like my brain short circuits. She makes me feel like a horny kid and a monster all in one. It also doesn't help that I can't seem to get her off my mind. I've tried, trust me, I've tried. I've even tried to find some pussy from some of my old hookups. The only thing that I can focus on even when I'm balls deep in some other bitch is the thought of Rose's long, dark hair and her no-nonsense attitude.

  She thinks she's strong, and she wants to be strong. But I see the vulnerability beneath her expensive clothing and her not so strong poker face.

  Shaking off any and all thoughts of Rose, I pull into my lot and see Logan and Jackson already waiting for me. They hop in without a second thought and I pull out, speeding towards the warehouse where we will be meeting with Rich before we get to work.

  "What's up, bro? Where you been?" Logan asks, dressed in his black joggers and hoodie. Jackson is dressed similarly. We all try and dress comfortably when we do our runs. No one likes having to fight or run after some jackass when you're wearing tight jeans and some uncomfortable shoes.

  "Shit, you know." I know they will give me shit if they know I was knuckle deep in Rose's pussy.

  "Didn't you bring Rose home after school?" Jackson, ever the quiet one, chooses this moment to speak up.

  "Yep."

  "And? Did you fuck her yet?" Logan asks.

  I shoot him a murderous glare before looking back at the road. "Dude, shut the fuck up."

  "What?" Logan laughs.

  I sigh. "I'm not talking about this right now."

  "Why? I was just asking if -"

  "Bro, shut up! Easton, what did Rich say?" Thank God for Jackson.

  "He said to meet him at the warehouse and that six o' clock is when the shipment is happening. He wanted to discuss beforehand."

  Jackson nods his head, and Logan finally digs his horny head out of his ass and doesn't say another word about Rose.

  Parking in the alleyway around the block from the warehouse, we silently walk in and pass a few of my dad's lackeys on the way to his office.

  I knock on the door and hear the powerful tone of Rich bark towards the door. "Come in."

  I turn the knob and open the door, seeing my father sit behind his desk in his three-piece suit that oozes money. If I could, I would give a disgusted look at the money that shows in the little things that Rich has.

  It's funny, as we sit in this warehouse that Rich owns, with its crumbling, dilapidated walls and lack of any kind of decor whatsoever, in the center of it - sits Rich, in his expensive suit and watch. That's about the only thing that shows his wealth. Otherwise - everything he keeps in life is real and hood like the rest of us.

  He is dedicated to his roots, that's for sure. And I like that about him. I like where we come from. Wealth changes people, and I'm glad that Rich isn't one of those cases.

  "Boys, come in. Shut the door."

  Jackson shuts the door and the three of us walk up to his desk and stand there, waiting for his direction on our next run.

  "You guys are needed over at the warehouse in Minneapolis. A shipment will be arriving that we cannot afford any mistakes in. We've got a new crew working on the transport, and while I'm sure they will be fine..." He looks over at me and I nod. "I need you guys to make sure there are absolutely no mistakes."

  Logan and Jackson nod, and together we make our plans on driving out to Minneapolis and supervising the shipment that should be arriving in the next hour. This warehouse is one of our locations located in North Minneapolis. I try and stay away from anywhere in North Minneapolis because of all the shit that goes down over there, but sometimes it's just unavoidable.

  "Call Hugo if anything goes wrong, otherwise we'll talk soon." And with that, he gets back to whatever it is he is working on at his desk and dismisses us.

  Hugo is Rich's right-hand man, and also works under Randall and Collin, too.

  The boys and I exit with a nod and hop back into my car, quietly making our thirty-minute drive over to Minneapolis. We don't speak much, which is common right before we go on a run. Like before a fight, I usually sit in silence and amp myself up to prepare for whatever might be in front of me.

  Even though the days are growing longer, the sun begins to set on this cloudy day, making the drive to Minneapolis even less exciting than usual.

  I'm surprised that Hugo isn't going to be present during the shipment. He is one of the main supervisors during a job this big. Rich must have needed him for something else though, which is fine. It actually makes me a little happy, it means that he trusts us in some way or another.

  We pull up to one of the many empty warehouses in Minneapolis. I park my car and flick the key, turning the car off. "Ready?" I ask, opening the door before receiving an answer.

  It doesn't matter if they aren't ready. We have to be ready. And in the end, I don't even have to worry about them, because my boys? They are always ready.

  "Let's do it." Logan says, and the three of us walk around to the side of the warehouse, giving a nod to one of the regulars watching the side door in the alleyway.

  The warehouse looks tiny from the outside, but when we walk through the door, we immediately walk down the stairs which leads to a massive basement filled with about a hundred workers. Some are longtime workers of ours, while others are faces that I haven't seen before.

  We each move in separate directions to oversee different areas of the warehouse. Walking towards a group of new people, I pay particular attention to them unloading the milk crates which are filled with more cocaine then they can even imagine.

  Each of the men handle the boxes with care and certainty. None of them have shifty eyes or shaky arms. They all seem legit, but I can't base it off of a moments glance. Continuing my walk, I go up to a group of men who are working side by side and talking with each other.

  "Gentlemen, how's it going?" They each startle from my strong tone, but easily recover and go about their jobs.

  "Good, good. Very good." They don't recognize me, but they obviously know I am someone of power by the respect they give me.

  "Is this your first day?"

  "Yes. I've done smaller jobs in the past, but haven't worked in a warehouse before." One of the men with shorter brown hair responds while he continues to work.

  "Mmm. Well, I'll let you to it then." I make note to keep an eye on those two. They didn't seem suspicious, but you can never be too careful.

  I continue my walk and meet up with Jackson and Logan in the middle of the room. "How's it going?" I ask them.

  "Good, no issues that I've seen." Logan says.

  "Everything seems to be going pretty smoothly, actually." Jackson says. He looks suspicious, but he is kind of always that way.

  The workers move quickly, as is necessary. Quietly, smoothly, and efficie
ntly is nailed into everyone one of these persons heads when on the job. The last thing we need is some crackheads thinking we're throwing a party, or the police to catch on to our operations.

  Rich has quite a few police officers in his back pocket, but there are some that refuse to take dirty money.

  "This is almost boring. I was hoping for at least a little action." Logan pouts and I wrinkle my nose up at him.

  "You're a fucking idiot." Jackson groans.

  "What? This is the first time being in charge of a job. This is almost a joke."

  "No, it's not. It means that Rich has a loyal set of workers right now. We don't need to do anything to fuck that up." I growl. This dude is an asshole sometimes.

  "Whatever, it looks like they're finishing up. I'm going to make one more round." Logan grumbles like a petulant child and walks away.

  Jackson doesn't say anything, just shakes his head and walks in the opposite direction.

  I sigh as I walk towards the door. Sometimes, I can't believe I'm friends with those two. One's an idiot, and one's a mute. I love them to death and would die for them, but shit, talk about Beavis and Butthead.

  I glance over at the new workers, not noticing anything out of the ordinary or anything that would raise any suspicion. I must be right – Rich just has a bunch of loyal ass workers right now.

  Once the product is loaded onto the crates, they get wheeled out and loaded up into the various trucks. I watch as the workers start to disburse after the long hours of them standing on their feet. Glancing at my watch, I see that it's already ten o' clock.

  Shit, time flew by.

  The truck doors close and one by one they start pulling out of the back alleyway. Once the last one leaves, I nod towards the guard at the door and start walking to my truck.

  "So, what now?" Logan asks when I hop back on the highway.

  "What do you mean, what now? I'm dropping you fuckers off at home."

  "Already? Do you want to smoke or anything? I picked up some AK."

  "No. I'm fucking beat, and I really have to show face at school tomorrow. I have to get some shit done before I start training again."

  "Yeah, true. Jackson?" Logan looks over at Jackson and grumbles under his breath. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I let out a chuckle when I see Jackson's head tipped back and mouth wide open, already knocked out.

  "Well, looks like you get that blunt all to yourself." I smirk at him.

  Logan shakes his head but says nothing.

  Driving down the highway towards home, my mind drifts to Rose in her bedroom earlier today. Even the thought of her, remembering her smell and her taste, makes me instantly hard. I shift in my seat, grateful that it's pitch dark in here. It would be awkward to have to explain to Logan why I'm hard as a rock driving home after our day.

  I haven't had time to check my phone, but I wonder if Rose has tried to reach out to me. She seemed a little upset earlier, and I did leave abruptly. I can't really say too much to her, though. She shouldn't have to get mixed up into my own mess of a life.

  Just remembering the way she tasted on my fingers makes me have to conceal a tortured groan. Good God, what I wouldn't give to sink balls deep into her tight pussy.

  Her scent was pure and virginal, almost like discovering a hidden lagoon. You want to keep that shit all to yourself.

  I want to keep her all to myself, too.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Rose

  I think one who thrives on death may be defeated by life. – Elswyth

  I spend the rest of the evening feeling beyond out of sorts. By the time nine o'clock rolls around, I slam my phone down on my bed, finally giving up the hope that Easton may still be coming back tonight.

  I trudge out to the living room, still in a half daze from my powerful orgasm, only to find that my mom still hasn't come home yet.

  Where the hell is she? She usually is back from work hours ago, passed out watching her Housewives of Beverly Hills or some shit. Those woman used to be her, and I think she likes watching it and pretending that her life is still like that.

  Fucking pathetic.

  I walk back to my room and call her – only to have it ring over and over again until it gets to her obnoxious voicemail.

  Hello, this is Brenda. I am unavailable to take your phone call right now. Please leave me a message and I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you, buh-bye.

  Ugh. Her voice in it is so over the top that I'm almost embarassed to call her my mother.

  I don't think she would ever change her voicemail. Her voice and demeanor now days is too depressing… too hopeless. I'm sure it reminds her of what her life used to be like.

  And then when she drinks – she is either too emotionless, or emotional. One or the other, you never really know which one you will get until she is knee deep in liquor.

  I call her a few more times only with the same result until I give up and walk back to my room. With a sigh, I lay back down on my bed that still has a hint of Easton lingering on my sheets.

  Embarrassingly so, I lean over and take a whiff of my sheets, only to inhale his manly scent and have to fight to quell the heat that floods between my thighs. I've never been this turned on before. I've never been that… wet before.

  With Corey, it was a fumbling of fingers and hands, at least on my end. He seemed more experienced, which I tried not to think about back then due to jealousy, but now I just roll my eyes at his playboy ways. The little lubrication that my body made when we fooled around was barely enough to keep the wincing from my face as Corey plunged his fingers inside of me. In the end, he had to grab the lube from his bedside table to relieve the grimace from my face and my uncomfortable whimpers.

  Sadly, but not unsurprisingly, he still didn't get me off.

  Thoughts of Corey immediately make any heat that I have running between my legs fleeing for the hills.

  With one more glance at my phone, I see no new texts messages from Easton.

  Fuck this dude.

  I'm not trying to be a clinger, but I’m also not a slut. And if his plan is to just hit it and quit it, he can go look at the pussy posse down the road because that is not me.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, I hear and roll my eyes at the sound of my Mom moving around in the kitchen. I shuffle out of bed and throw on a hoodie before walking out of my room, squinting at the bright light shining in from the morning sun.

  "Where the hell were you last night?" I get right to the third degree.

  "I was just… out with some friends." She says without looking directly into my eyes. What is she hiding?

  "Hey… if you're into some serious shit, I think I have the right to know about it. What are you doing, hooking? Prostitution?" I'm just giving her shit at this point, but I can't deny that I enjoy the angry red creeping up her neck.

  She huffs and rolls her eyes at my exaggeration. "I'm not into anything. I was out with some friends last night and lost track of the time. And hey, who is the parent here, anyway? Don't question my whereabouts if you won't let me question yours." She complains.

  What is she, fifteen? And who the hell stays out that late on a weekday at her age! She's acting like a fucking teenager.

  "Um, neither of us?" I laugh and shake my head. Does she think that she has really been a mother since we moved here?

  She gives me that look - that look that she can only give when she's sober. She means business. She pops her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at me. "You better watch how you speak to me, young lady. Life might be different right now but that sure as hell doesn't mean that you get to act like a little brat all of the sudden. Quit acting like you grew up around here and start acting like the person I raised you to be!"

  "You might have raised me to be prim and proper, but haven't you ever heard of the term adapting to your environment? Well, that's what I'm doing. The reason we are in this situation might not be your fault, but that doesn't make you completely innocent in this situatio
n. You have barely acted like a mother since we moved here. You have been an alcoholic and acting like a child. Staying out all night? Ha! If you're going to do what you want, I'm going to go ahead and do what I want, too."

  "No, you aren't!" She shouts at me.

  I laugh. "Oh yeah? Just fucking watch." I shout back before slamming my door closed. Leaning up against the door, I take a few deep breaths and try to brush off my guilt. I miss my mom, my old mom. The one who wouldn't yell at me or fight with me over this petty shit.

  But I guess I wouldn't ever yell at her either in my old life. We've both changed, I guess. Adapting to our new environment or whatever you want to call it.

  Walking over to my wobbly dresser, I pull out a white lace midi dress and pair it with my green suede jacket from Guess. After hopping in the shower, I throw on some minimal makeup and dry my hair so it lays in a dark, straight sheet down my back. After slipping on my black heels, I open up my door to complete silence.

  A sad laugh falls out of me. Of course, my mom couldn't even stick around to talk anything out. No, she just walks away like she always does nowadays. And by the time tonight rolls around, she will be drunk off her wine again where talking will be out of the question.

  I grab my keys and am out the door, only to have déjà vu smack in me in the face. Logan is standing outside by his car, once again waiting for me. He has his signature cocky smile on his face – only today I'm not in the mood for it.

  "Not today, Logan."

  He frowns when he hears my tone and lifts himself off his car. "What's up, Rose?"

  "Nothing, I just want to drive myself today, all right?"

  He grimaces and approaches me like a wild animal. "Are you sure everything's okay? You sound… extra bitchy this morning."

  I grind my teeth to stop from taking out my mother-daughter issues on Logan. He just does what Easton tells him to do. He probably doesn't even really care about me.

  And by the way, fuck Easton too.