Noble Savages: A Dark High School Bully Romance Box Set

by Rina Kent

  “We rode around for a while. None of us wanted to go back to class. We decided to skip class and walk around in the woods.”

  Addy doesn’t seem convinced, but I shrug at her and she eventually looks away.

  “He won’t trust us. Me, especially.”

  “We’ll never know if we don’t try.”

  Addy purses her lips and lifts a hand, signaling for the waiter to bring our bill.

  I reach for my backpack, but she tuts me and lays a cool hand over mine. “It’s on me.”

  “I have money.”

  “I have more.” If there’d been even a shred of condescension, I’d have flipped over the table. Well, I’d have tried. But it’s obvious that she’s just stating a fact, and she doesn’t even look even vaguely interested in noting my reaction.

  “So…we’ll do lunch with them tomorrow?”

  Addy shrugs and smiles at the waiter when he hands her the bill folder. “If they let us, sure.”

  “Can you behave yourself for long enough?”

  She snorts, tosses a bill in the folder, and snaps it closed. “I’ll do my best,” she says dryly as she hands the folder to the waiter without breaking eye contact. “But no promises.”

  I laugh at her, shaking my head. It’s not the greatest plan, but if today was anything to go by, then it might just work. Briar hasn’t pranked me again, so maybe he’ll be receptive to us becoming friends.

  I know he wants to fuck me. As much as Addy doesn’t like thinking about it, maybe I can use the promise of sex to lure him into unburdening his darkest secrets.

  It kinda worked for me, didn’t it?

  Briar

  I head straight home after school, and spend the rest of the afternoon studying and shoving food into my mouth. It almost feels like a normal Wednesday. I have one more assignment to do, then I plan on vegging out in front of my X-Box. But I’m interrupted by another message from Addy.

  Hey, handsome.

  I frown at the message and do my best to ignore it as I carry on with the assignment Kruger gave us for homework today.

  My phone vibrates a few minutes later. When I flip it over, the new message shows up on my lock screen. It’s so short, I don’t even have to open my app to read it.

  Smile. You’re on camera.

  My stomach twists into a cold knot. I stare at the phone for a few seconds, waiting for more, but nothing comes.

  Fuck this. All she’s doing is trying to get into my fucking head.

  I turn off my phone, sigh, and stretch.

  I should go for a run, clear my head.

  If I’m lucky, I might even run into Indi.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Indi

  Denard came through on his promise. When I get home, I see Marigold’s car parked out front, not in the garage, which means she came home specifically to crap me out.

  Count on Marigold not to do this face-to-face.

  Bitch.

  I slam my car door shut and walk inside bristling, ready to handle whatever shit storm’s blowing my way.

  Cigarette smoke taints the air. I hesitate, then track it down the hallway. I stop outside the door that’s always locked. The smell’s definitely coming from here. I lick my lips and carefully knock on the door.

  There’s a thump, and then Marigold’s wavery voice calls out, “Come.”

  I turn the knob and walk inside. After two steps, I stop.

  This isn’t a study. It’s a bedroom. Paintings litter the walls — most done on letter-sized sheets of paper. Some pencil, some paint. Two large canvases dominate the wall opposite the bedroom’s large windows. But there’s no time to take in any details, because my eyes fix on Marigold.

  She’s sitting in the middle of the floor, an ashtray beside her and a cigarette in a long holder trailing smoke into the air.

  Her back’s to me, but I don’t need to see her face to know she’s been crying — the pile of tissues beside her legs is evidence enough.

  I stand there, not knowing what to say, and instead finally take scope of the room.

  I’d recognize my mother’s art anywhere. She had such a unique style. Her art concentrated on mythical creatures that looked somewhere between elves and fairies. She called them pixies, but they were nothing like the Tinkerbell I grew up with. Her pixies have sharp teeth and long limbs. Jagged nails and evil eyes.

  The backdrops were always breathtaking. Fantasy settings full of strange flowers and twisted trees. But in each piece of art, there would always be one of her creatures. You wouldn’t see it at first — she liked to hide them away — but once you did you couldn’t stop looking.

  I’m still staring at the right-hand canvas, trying to spot Mom’s creature, when Marigold speaks.

  “The Lakeview police department called.”

  My heart flies into my throat. I hurry forward, turning so I can see Marigold’s face. She’s got a photo frame in front of her on the floor. It’s a photo of my mother, probably no older than seventeen.

  She looks just like me, but so, so much prettier.

  “What…what did they say?”

  Marigold takes a long pull at her cigarette. Then she gets up, moving stiffly but batting away my hands when I reach out to help her.

  “They’ve closed the case.”

  I grab her wrists, holding on even when she tugs at me. “They found him! They found him!”

  Marigold’s red-rimmed eyes narrow. “Course they didn’t, you stupid child.” She tears herself free, her mouth twisting into a grimace. “The police these days are a joke. They said there wasn’t enough evidence for them to continue their investigation.”

  “Can they do that so soon?” I throw my hand into the air. “It’s barely been a week.”

  “I’m not a police officer, Indigo.”

  I snap my mouth closed. Tears prick at my lids, but I refuse to let them fall. Despite the fact that I know Marigold’s been in here crying — possibly for more than an hour, judging from the ashtray — it would feel like surrendering.

  I spin around, the paintings blurring as the first tear works its way past my defenses.

  Moments later, I’m in the woods. It was the only place I could think of to go where I’d be alone with my thoughts. Where I could scream, and no one would hear me.

  Except Briar, perhaps, if he happened to be out here. But what are the chances, right?

  The straight lines of the church pull me out of the thoughtless fog I’d lost myself in. I stop walking, staring ahead at the blackened shell of a building.

  Now I regret coming here. It reminds me too much of my house that night; black and gray and white with char, ash, and smoke.

  Marigold must have heard wrong. No one can close a case that quickly. Maybe she’s overreacting. I’ll contact the Deputy and speak to him. That’s what I should have done instead of coming here. The sun’s already dipped behind the Devil’s Spine mountains. It’ll be dark soon.

  But maybe I want to get lost in the woods again. At least, then, I’d have something else on my mind.

  I push on, stepping into the church and taking my time to look around.

  It must have been a stunning sight with its white walls and stained glass windows. Enough of the shell is still standing — I can see it was built in the shape of a Christian cross, with the pulpit up near the top and the pews down the longest branch of the cross.

  Before the fire.

  It’s beautiful now, how the forest has reclaimed it. The brambles don’t even look as sharp as they did that night—

  I shove away the thought. I’m trying to stay positive; thoughts of Briar won’t help.

  I run my fingers over the back of a burned pew, rubbing the black char into my skin and lifting it to my nose. It hardly smells burned anymore. Guess this happened a long time ago.

  Who builds a church in the middle of—?

  Footsteps.

  I freeze, for a moment too terrified to turn around.

  See, this is what happens when you thi
nk about someone too much. You end up summoning them.

  I turn to face him, because fuck, I wanted to be alone with him, didn’t I?

  But the figure headed for the church isn’t Briar.

  It’s Marcus.

  Something primal takes control. I drop into a crouch and glance around, scurrying to the back of the church, to the small area behind the pulpit.

  It’s dark here — most of the wall is still intact, and the spreading boughs of a tree act as a roof a few feet above my head. I carefully wedge myself behind a bramble bush and try to stop breathing.

  Footsteps crunch closer.

  What the hell am I doing? If Marcus sees me, he’s gonna think I’ve lost my mind. I should just have greeted him and left.

  But he won’t see me here, and that’s the fucking point. I won’t have to speak to him, explain my presence.

  Crunch.

  Crunch.

  He stops walking. My heart pounds harder as I wait for him to move again. Despite every atom in my body screaming at me not to, I lean to the side, craning around the bramble to try and see if I can spot him.

  He’s standing close to the main entrance of the church, head bowed. Even if he were to look up, I doubt he could make me out in these dark shadows.

  Head still down, he starts walking toward me with utter precision, one foot in front of the other, heel touching toe.

  Is he measuring the distance from the door to the pulpit or something? Sure looks that way.

  Shit. I shift further back, huddling into a ball. If he comes much closer, he might spot me.

  For some reason, the thought terrifies the living shit out of me.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Then he stops. There’s a soft sound, like he’s scraping dirt off the floor with his shoe.

  “Hey!”

  I almost wet myself. I squeeze shut my eyes and try desperately not to have a heart attack.

  “What are you doing here?” Briar’s voice echoes through what’s left of the church. Too loud, too cheery.

  “What, now I can’t come here anymore?” Marcus says grimly. “This place out of bounds or something?”

  “Course not.” Briar sounds either flustered or out of breath. “Just didn’t know you still came here.”

  “Hardly ever.”

  Briar’s footsteps stop. “What’s up? Your dad come back again?”

  “Was out for a run.”

  “What, in your school clothes?”

  Marcus makes an angry sound. “Christ, I’m sorry I dared set foot in your fucking church, asshole.”

  I can’t help myself — now I have to look. Moving as carefully as I can, I peek out behind the bush again. There’s almost no daylight left, so both guys are just silhouettes. Marcus has his arms crossed, and Briar’s are on his hips. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

  Marcus puts out his hands like Briar’s about to storm him. “Nothing, man. Just…I was just thinking about stuff.”

  “Sorry to interrupt. But I’m kinda glad you’re here.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  Briar moves back and leans against the pulpit. “Was there anyone with us that night, when we took Jessica upstairs?”

  Every single hair on my body stands on end. I stop breathing in shock, leaning forward as I strain to hear Marcus’s response.

  “What the fuck are you on about?”

  Briar runs a hand through his hair. “There, on the stairs. Did someone come up with us?”

  “No. Course not.”

  “You sure?”

  Marcus shrugs. “I don’t remember seeing—”

  “She sent me a video.”

  She? She who? Dammit people, use your words!

  “You’re shitting me,” Marcus says, a light laugh in his voice. “What’s on it?”

  “Nothing much. Us talking. One of us opening your bedroom door.”

  “That it?” Marcus snorts. “What’s that prove? Nothing.”

  “Yeah, but she says there’s more.”

  Marcus shakes his head, but before he can say anything, Briar starts talking again. “How fucked were you that night?”

  Marcus steps back, and his profile changes as if he’s tilting his head. “The fuck you suggesting, bro?”

  “Is it possible someone saw us? Came up with us? That you didn’t notice?”

  “I was fucked, but I wasn’t that fucked.” Marcus swipes his hand through the air. “You know what, I’m done cleaning up your messes, Briar. This one’s on you.”

  “I thought you cleaned this up already,” Briar growls.

  My stomach sinks into my shoes.

  Oh my fucking God.

  He did it.

  He raped Jessica.

  Most likely killed her, too.

  My body starts trembling, part rage, part terror.

  It’s still my word against theirs. Who the fuck would believe that I just happened to eavesdrop on this conversation out here in the middle of nowhere?

  My phone! I can record this—

  I pluck it out of my pocket without thinking and unlock it.

  A glow envelops me. I shove my phone under my school blazer, but it’s too late.

  “You see that?” Briar says, his voice changing direction.

  Because he’s looking straight at you, you fucking idiot.

  My eyes roll into the back of my head as I await my fate. Dry leaves and grit crunch under shoes as someone heads over to where I’m hiding.

  Fuck. If they know I overheard them…

  My skin goes ice-cold.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Fuck!

  “What does she want?” Marcus calls out.

  Briar stops walking, and his shoes scrape as if he’s turning to face Marcus. “I dunno. Justice, I guess.”

  “If she wanted that, she’d have gone to the fucking cops.”

  “Then what?” Briar storms back to Marcus. He sounds so furious, I wouldn’t be surprised if he lands a punch on his friend.

  No, not his friend. His fucking accomplice.

  They did this together, Briar and Marcus.

  Bile floods my mouth.

  No wonder no one could prove anything — Marcus helped Briar cover it up. Probably his other friends, too. So much for breaking into their little group and finding a weak link. No doubt they’ve all vowed to keep Briar’s horrible secret.

  “So why’d she do it, huh? Just to put me on a guilt trip?”

  I’ve never heard such venom in Briar’s words. I cringe back, hugging myself hard. Oh God, Addy wasn’t kidding. This guy’s a fucking psycho…and I was alone with him.

  Willingly.

  What the fuck does that say about me?

  “Addy’s a vindictive cunt,” Briar continues, “but she’s gotta have a better reason than that.”

  Addy? That’s who they’re talking about?

  My mouth drops open.

  “I bet you it’s money.” Marcus points at Briar, nodding. “I hear her folks’s business is going belly up. Tax evasion or some shit.”

  Briar cocks his head. “You’re shitting me.”

  Marcus shakes his head. “You’ll see. She’s gonna extort you for everything you’ve got.”

  “Fuck!” Briar whips around and punches the closest wall and that thump feels like it goes straight through me.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my life.

  Those two silhouettes don’t look like high school boys. They look like full-grown men.

  Dangerous.

  Edgy.

  Psychotic as fuck.

  I press my lips into a line, and do my best to vanish into the bramble bush.

  “But…she can’t have anything, can she?”

  They’re blocked out by the brambles now, but when Marcus answers, I can tell from his voice that he’s lost interest in the conversation.

  “Whatever, bro. Pay her, don’t pay her. Maybe she’s bluffing, who the fuck knows. Th
at bitch is crazy enough, she’d do anything to get you to confess.”

  “I’m not confessing,” Briar grates out.

  I bite my lip, giving my head a small shake.

  At least Addy won’t have to try convincing me anymore. After tonight, I know for a fact that Briar is every inch as guilty as Addy claimed he was. My jaw bunches as fury wells inside me. My hands fist, digging into my sides as I squeeze myself.

  I let this monster touch me.

  “Whatever man.” Footsteps signal Marcus’s exit.

  For a terrifying moment, I think Briar’s heading back in my direction. But I guess he has a lot on his mind, because a second later he calls out, “Hey, wait for me,” and hurries after Marcus.

  No wonder they’re so close. Blood brothers usually are.

  I have to speak to Addy. I have to know what she has on Briar. And then we’ll figure out a plan, once and for all, to take these fuckers down.

  My quest for answers is met with failure. As soon as I’m back home, I try calling Addy.

  Her phone is off.

  Screw this. Have car, will drive.

  But before I’ve gone more than a foot out of the front door, Marigold’s imperious voice brings me up short.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I haven’t even bothered to change out of my uniform yet. I adjust my blazer, facing down Marigold as best as I can. “Out.”

  Marigold lets out an unpleasant chuckle. “Not a chance, young lady. One of your teachers called a few minutes ago. Said you have something for me?”

  She holds out her hand. The other’s gripping the edge of her golden cigarette holder.

  I never even knew she smoked, now she’s a chain-smoker?

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  She clicks her fingers at me like I’m a dog, and I bite off the rest of my pathetic excuse.

  I storm up to her, rip my detention slip from my pocket, and hold it out for her to take.

  She snatches it from me, drags at her cigarette as she scans it, and then hands it back.

  “You should have gotten two weeks.”

  My shoulders slump. I shake my head and open my mouth, but she beats me to it.