by Amo Jones
“You done?” he questions casually.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Sis, you’re on speaker.”
“I don’t care.”
He laughs.
“Tell me where I’m going,” I snap.
He yaps off the directions as I drive. As more time passes and more directions get spoken, it sends me deeper and deeper into the outskirts of town. “So you’ll get to a dark gravel private road to the left. Do you see it?”
Chills creep down my spine. “What? Yes.” I look from left to right, and I’m pretty sure I’m seeing shadows whip past my windows and weaving into the trees on the side of the road.
“Good girl.” He pauses. “Take that turn.”
Something doesn’t sit right with what he’s saying and his tone, but it better be worth it, and they better be in trouble, or I will so be telling on him.
If I’m still alive, that is. If not, I’ll just come back in ghost form and tear up their lives.
Pulling down the dark, eerie, bumpy gravel road, with nothing but the bright headlights of the SUV guiding my way, I swallow down my nerves. What the fuck is he doing, and why the hell did he tell me to come down here?
“Nate?” I whisper. “Maybe I took the wrong turn.”
Silence.
“Nate!” I yell at the phone. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing, sis. Keep going. We can see your headlights.” What am I doing? I’m basically relying on the fact that Nate and I had bonded a little and our parents are together. I’m not sure those facts are worth my life. No, he wouldn’t. I’m just being paranoid. The only time, except for school, when I didn’t bring my fucking pistol either. I sag in defeat. My dad will not be impressed with my not carrying, and my mom will no doubt be screaming at me from the other side about how these are the reasons why she and my dad educated me so much on firearms. I’ve failed as a fucking daughter. I scoot up in my seat.
“Nate, I don’t fucking see anything up here, but ja— oh my God!” I slam on the breaks, all four tires locking up in a skid. I squeeze the steering wheel tightly, banging down the locks on the doors. “Nate!” I yell into the phone.
Silence.
Slowly, I look up out the front windshield, the thick dust from my tires interrupting the dust still floating in the air, and that’s when I see it again.
Ten men.
Ten dark hoodies covering their faces.
Ten—
“Nate?” Understanding sets in. Ten.
Slamming the gear into reverse, I’m just about to floor it backward—to hell with anything or anyone behind me—when my driver window smashes into a million pieces, the tiny shards of glass falling onto my lap. I scream, my hands coming up to shield my face just as an arm slips inside and pops up the lock.
A deep chuckle breathes over the back of my neck as a leather gloved hand wraps around my mouth. “Hello, Madison. You may not know us, but we know you. We want to play a game. Here’s what happens if you lose....”
I BITE DOWN ON HIS palm, knowing it won’t do anything with the glove protecting it, but I refuse to go down without a fight. He laughs, pulling me out until the air is dragged out of my lungs, and then he drops me. My back slams against the gravel road. Hair flies across my face as dark hands come down toward me again. Fear drives my body into autopilot mode, so I launch my foot out, kicking, lunging, and tossing myself around. I won’t go down without a fight, that’s for damn sure.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I scream at them.
Scooping my legs under his arms, he swings me over his shoulder effortlessly.
“Nate!” I scream for him. “I’ll kill you. I swear to fucking God, you’re dead!”
“Not if we kill you first. Shut the fuck up.” Big shoulders continue to carry me down the dead road until he stops.
I raise my head, finding four dark shadows following behind us, all wearing hoodies to cover their faces. Scanning my eyes over each one, they land on who I’m pretty sure is Nate. “Why?”
He pauses, walking toward me just as whoever is holding me drops me to the ground. “Why, Nate?” I scream, my butt aching from being slammed onto the gravel.
Nate—I think— walks toward me, dropping to the ground until he’s kneeling in front of me. He leans forward, and if the ski mask wasn’t covering his face, I’d be able to see what I’m guessing is the smirk on his face. “You act like you don’t know.”
“What?” I turn and watch as he gets to his feet and opens up the back door of a long stretch limo.
“Blindfold her,” another voice says.
“What?” I whip my head from side to side, watching each of them. “No!” I shake my head, stepping back until my butt hits the car. A strong arm wraps around my waist from inside the limo and pulls me inside. I scream—a full girly scream—just as a blindfold is being tugged around my eyes, shutting off my vision.
Silence.
With no vision.
All I have are my listening skills, which, if I’m being honest, doesn’t have a very good track history. Breathing, deep breathing, in and out. That’s all I can hear as the car dips with people piling into the back. My chest rises and falls, my anger beginning to boil to the surface. I hear a door shut just before we start pulling out of wherever the hell we are.
“Why the fuck is this happening?” I decide to be the first person to break the silence.
“Stop the act, sis.” Nate. And he’s sitting beside me. Whoever pulled me into the car is sitting on the other side.
My head whips to where Nate is. “What fucking act? You’re truly starting to piss me off. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I came here because I thought the rest of you pieces of shit were in trouble! So you mean to tell m—”
“Jesus fuck, someone shut it up.” That came from the voice beside me. Nate chuckles, but I ignore him. My head turns to the other voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I truly am. I’m so fucking sorry for actually leaving my warm bed and coming to make sure the rest of you are fucking safe and to bail you out of whatever the fuck you were all doing!”
“Nate, man, is your old lady serious about her dad? ‘Cause I feel sorry for you.” That came from someone opposite me.
I flip whoever that was the bird, not knowing whether they can see me or not.
“Sis, play nice. You do as you’re told, and this will end fine.”
“Yeah, except for the fact I don’t think she’s very good at doing what she’s fucking told.” That was the voice beside me again. Deep, domineering, and—
“Well, fuck!” Nate gripes beside me. “Tell me what the fuck to do ‘cause I got nothing! She is a girl!”
“Are you sure?” a voice opposite me asks. “I mean, she’s into guns, and has a smart fucking mouth on her. Maybe she’s not. Maybe I should check?”
“Fuck off, Hunter.” That was Nate.
I turn rigid. “No one will be checking anything.”
Nate shuffles beside me. “I’m going to ask you something, sis. Answer me truthfully, because where we’re taking you, you won’t make it out alive if you can’t be honest.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, mimicking his tone. “And who the fuck is that?” I bite out.
“Here we go,” the other voice beside me mutters.
“I’m sorry, would you like to wear the fucking blindfold?” I ask him, annoyed.
“I volunteer!” another voice says.
“Shut the fuck up, Cash!” Nate’s hackles rise again.
“Cash?” I scoff.
“You too!” Nate yells toward me. “Shut up.”
“Can someone please remove this blindfold?”
“I like it on you,” that same voice murmurs across from me.
Nate growls. “Back to my question!” he yells, though I get the feeling he’s not yelling at me this time. “Listen, we need to know if you’ve been here before.”
“Where?” I ask.
“To the Hamptons.”
Instant. “No.”
“This makes no fucking sense,” the voice beside me mutters again.
“Are you a virgin?” Nate asks.
That earns him a scowl. “What?” I sputter. “What sort of question is that?”
“Answer the fucking question.”
“She is,” the one beside me says.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I scoff. “Would you like to answer all my questions for me? And I’d rather not talk about that.”
“Are you going to keep delaying your answers?” he retorts.
“I’m not—” A hand skims up my right thigh, on Nate’s side. “What are you doing?” I shove his hand off my leg, only for it to come straight back. “Go with it, sis.”
“Okay, first of all, if you’re going to be feeling me up, could you keep ‘sis’ out of your mouth?”
He laughs, then his hand skims higher. “But I’d rather not.” Nate pulls away. “No, you’re right. This is too weird. Bishop.” He must lean over because his breath falls over my face.
“Yeah, no, that’s not what I meant!”
Bishop growls. Straight up growls. “Move, Nate.”
Nate’s leg that was brushing against me is now gone, and I turn my head toward where Bishop is, to ask what the fuck is going on, when I’m suddenly on my back and a hard body is hovering over me.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, feeling a little claustrophobic with my lack of vision and with him lying on top of me. Although he isn’t resting his whole body on me, his waist pins me down.
“Bishop,” someone warns opposite me.
His body brushes over me, and I slam my mouth shut. Warm, misty breath falls over my mouth in shallow pants. “Answer me when I ask you a question. If you lie, I’ll do something you may find inappropriate. Do you understand?”
“Um, honestly? No, I don—”
His mouth presses against mine, warm, soft lips heavy on my own. My blood heats and my ears begin to pound. He lifts lightly. “Do you—” He brings his mouth down to my ear. “—understand?” he growls into the thin flesh of my neck.
“Ye—” I clear my throat. “Yes.”
“All we had to do was kiss her to shut her up?” a voice says, then I hear a whack, and then he grunts, “Ouch!”
“Have you ever lied?”
What kind of question is that?
“Yes.”
“Are you a virgin?”
“That’s a tricky question.”
“How so?” he asks. I can almost imagine the head tilt.
“Well...” I clear my throat. You will not remember. “It just is.”
Pause. Silence.
“She’s not lying,” Bishop whispers.
“Yeah, we’ll be talking about that,” Nate says from the other side of the car.
“I doubt that, brother. The only thing you’ll be talking about is how you missed a flying bullet.”
Silence, and then laughter from everyone but Nate and Bishop.
“Do you trust me?” Bishop asks.
“No.”
“You’re smart.”
“Debatable, considering my current circumstances.” He lifts off me, and I scoot up from my position.
“Take off the blindfold.” I grip onto it, pushing it up my forehead. There are gold neon lights lining the inside of the... stretched Hummer? No wonder so many people could fit in it.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, looking around and out the windows. “Where the fuck am I?”
I look to Bishop, finding him every bit as delicious as I found him at school. Even though he and I had only spoken once before this, it’s still hard to realize it’s the same guy. Before tonight, I only had stare-downs to compare anything to besides the night he made Brantley leave me alone.
“Take her home.” Bishop doesn’t look at me; he looks straight at Nate.
“We can’t do that,” Brantley growls from a dark corner, his hoodie still over his face. Bishop still has his on too, along with his loose expensive-looking destroyed jeans.
Bishop looks directly at Brantley this time. “We’re taking her home.”
“Um, not to be a pain in the ass or anything, but you guys owe me an explanation. You pulled me out of bed at three in the morning, kidnap me, and then...” I look directly at Bishop this time, his eyes peering straight back from under his hood. Damn. Focus. “...kiss me. What the hell is going on?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Bishop says, his eyes not moving from me. “At least not now.”
“Hmm, see, I have a problem with tha—”
His hand comes out to mine, and then he tugs on me roughly until I’m on his lap, straddling him.
“What are you doing?” I push on his chest. Hard chest—check! One of his hands snakes up my spine and then toward the back of my neck, while his other remains clenched on my hip. He pulls my face down to meet his until his lips are skimming over mine. “Whatever the fuck I want to do. Now, do us all a favor, and shut your fucking mouth.”
I slam my mouth shut, my teeth pulling in my bottom lip. His eyes drop to my mouth before coming back to my eyes.
“I just realized I’m still in my pajamas. Yes, I want to go home. Take me home.” I climb off his lap and his grip on me loosens after a few seconds. Plopping down beside him, I look at Nate. “Fuck you.”
“Oh, you love me.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I don’t.”
“Sure you do.” He grins at me. “I’m sorry, kitten.”
“Nope.” I shake my head, pulling my hair out of its ponytail before raking my fingers through and pulling it back to the top of my head. “I’m not cool with kitten either.”
“But it’s cute.” Nate grins.
“Exactly, and I’m not.”
“Truth,” Brantley murmurs. “She’s fucking annoying. Call her... rat.”
I flip him off, and his eyes darken, but not in the way Bishop’s do. In a way that would probably send chills down my spine, because I’m 100 percent certain he hates me.
We’re pulling back up our private driveway, and when the car stops, I go to launch out the door.
“Wait!” Nate halts me. “I’m serious, sis. You can’t tell anyone about what happened tonight.”
“What the fuck did happen tonight?” I ask, looking at all of them.
“We—I can’t talk about it with you.”
“Well, why fucking kidnap me then?” I’m looking directly at Nate now. “Why not just say to me, ‘Oh hey, wanna play Truth or Dare?’ Like, fuck, Nate!”
“Fuck,” he grunts and then looks to Bishop. “We should have done that.”
Bishop shrugs. “Never played that fucking game, and ain’t about to start.” Bishop then looks to me. “And that ain’t what we’re about, Kitty.”
“Oh! No you—”
Nate pushes me out and then slams the door. My mouth drops open at the closed door just as the stretched Hummer starts to pull out. I bring my hand up and flip them off, not doubting they’d be able to see, before I stomp up the marble stairs and then to the heavy double doors. A yawn slips past my mouth, and when I see the large clock that hangs on the feature wall inside the sitting room, I know why. The sun is about to come up, and I don’t want to risk waking Tatum or having her inquire where I’ve been, so I walk into the living room. After removing my shoes, I pull down the throw from the back of the couch and curl into the warm, soft blanket.
MY LEG FEELS HEAVY, AND the first thing I smell is—
“Bacon!” My eyes pop open.
Tatum walks into the sitting room with a frying pan in her hand and her hair already flat-ironed dead straight. “Get up, we need to have breakfast and then we need to leave.”
I groan, leaning back into the couch. “School.”
“Yes!” she hisses. “School! And by the way, if my snoring annoyed you so bad, you should have kicked me out. You didn’t have to sleep out here.”
“No!” I shake my head. “That wasn’t it. I just struggle to sleep with other peop
le.” Not entirely a lie. I’m actually not the best sleeper when it comes to sleeping around other people. I get anxiety. Am I breathing too much? What if I accidently touch them in my sleep? Not in a sexual way, but yes, what if in a sexual way? I don’t do well with it. I’m much more comfortable sleeping on my own. Also, I don’t share covers. Ever.
Tatum rolls her eyes, sensing my lie, but not knowing what part or why. “Come on. Breakfast time.”
I push up off the couch. “I’ll be out in a second. I’m going to jump in the shower.” Climbing the stairs, I walk into my room and consider checking to see if Nate is in his room, but think better of it. Asshole. I don’t know what the hell that was about this morning. Do I want to know more? Yes, probably. But am I angry more than anything? Yes. I’ve also come to the conclusion—between my trip from the couch to my room—that they’re a seriously fucked up group of friends. Not only are they edgy, mysterious, and bossy, but they’re... alluring. Exactly why I must stay away from them at all cost. Especially Bishop Vincent fucking Hayes. Motherfucker kissed me! And... and I loved it.
Cursing at myself under my breath, I make a mental note to go shooting after school. Since it is Friday and no doubt Tatum will want to do something this weekend, it’ll be better if I get it out of the way early. I pull down some army green skinny pants and a white tank before slipping into the shower and rinsing off all of last night’s fuckery.
Massaging the conditioner into my hair and taking in the silence of Nate’s room, I’d say he didn’t come home last night. So much for “I have to look after you.” Lying ass. Stepping out of the shower, I pull down my towel and dry off quickly before getting dressed. Blowing out my hair, I brush on some light makeup, let my dark waves hang down my back, and then slip on my leather bangles plus the one my mom gave me before she passed. It’s a leather Pandora charm bracelet. We would get new charms for it for every defining moment in my life. According to Mom, even dying my hair was a defining moment, so yup, we had a charm for that too. Wiping away the condensation on the mirror, I scan my face, gliding the wand of my lip balm over my lips. I have an angular, sharp jaw, cherubic pouty lips, and hazel eyes. My eyelashes are long and thick and natural, and my skin holds a natural shimmer of gold in it from my mother’s Spanish heritage. I don’t think I’m bad to look at, but I’m not anything special either. Especially if you stand me next to someone like Tatum or Tillie.
