by Amo Jones
“Madi!” my dad yells from downstairs. I walk toward the girls, snatching the expensive box of chocolate from them, tucking it under my arm. I evil eye them, walking toward my door.
“Coming!” I yell back, opening my door. I turn around to face them and point my finger. “This conversation is not over.”
Walking down the long stairwell, I see Dad is standing beside the opened front door. His face is blank, his jaw taut, and his eyes hard. Oh no, now what have I done?
“What’s up, Daddy?” I coo, coming to the door. He looks outside and I follow his vision until I’m looking directly at Bishop, who is standing there in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt, with combat boots on his feet. My mouth waters, and it’s not from the chocolates.
“Hi,” I say to him, ignoring how his hair still looks damp and how relaxed his stance is. Both legs spread casually, his jaw tense, his eyes hard, but his mouth inching toward a smirk.
“I got this, Dad.”
My dad stalls, looking to me and then to Bishop and then back to me. He kisses my forehead and then looks into my eyes. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Of course we will.
I smile. “Sure thing.” I’m not looking forward to this chat.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Bishop, stepping outside into the dark night and closing the heavy wooden door behind myself. He steps backward and takes a seat on one of the steps. His car is parked directly in front of the stairs, and I’m even more annoyed at how distracted I must have been to not hear his car pull up.
“I told you,” he says casually. “We need to talk.” Ignoring the fact I’m in tiny little booty shorts and a tight tank that rides up my tummy, I take a seat beside him. Thank God my feet are covered by my socks. Bishop looks down to my feet. “Is that Banksy’s work?”
“I’m shocked,” I scoff sarcastically. “You know Banksy?”
“I know his artwork.”
Trying not to look at him, I flip open the box of chocolates and sit them in the middle. “I can share.”
I give in and look at his face, catching his eyes piercing into mine. His mouth is behind his shoulder and he’s studying me like I’m the most important test in history.
When the silence becomes too much and my face feels like it’s going to burst into flames, I pop a chocolate into my mouth. “What?”
He pauses and then shakes his head, looking ahead of himself by breaking our eye contact. I instantly miss his demanding glare. “You’re different.”
“I’ve been told that all my life,” I snark. His jaw tenses. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“You and Carter?” he counters.
“Are none of your business.”
“Really?” He scoffs, swinging his attention back to me, and when his eyes lock onto mine, my breath catches at the intensity of it. “Pretty sure you made it my business the second you were screaming my name and clawing up my back.”
“I don’t scratch,” I correct him casually, sucking the chocolate off my fingers.
His eyebrow quirks. “Sure about that, kitty? I can show you the marks if you want? Pretty sure they’re still there.”
“You don’t get to ask about me and Carter when you had Ally on your lap.” I keep the jealousy down, because that’s exactly what I am. Jealous.
“Ally is nothing. It’s what she’s always done. She hangs around us like a fly does to shit. It’s nothing, never has been. I thought you would know this, but then I forgot you were new.”
“So if that’s true, what? What did you want to talk about?”
He exhales. “I don’t fucking know, Madi. Jesus.”
“Call me when you figure it out.” I go to stand, when his hand catches mine. I look at him and he stands, towering over me. “All I know is that I fucking hate when Carter has his hands on you, and I’m not familiar with this feeling.” I’m guessing this is a shit time to bring up his ex, so I swallow my nosy questions.
“But?” I ask, because... I don’t know why. I’m a girl with fully functioning lady parts, and Bishop is hotter than sin, and that’s all I got.
“But this can’t ever work, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. I’m not used to not getting what I want.”
“I see that.”
He chuckles, his finger running down the side of my face. “Fuck, kitten, you have no idea the kind of crazy shit you have me feeling.” His smile falls and his jaw tenses. “But we can’t.”
“Why?” I whisper, looking to his mouth. “Why can’t this happen?”
“That’s the shit part,” he replies. “I can’t even tell you why.”
“Then you already know this discussion is over.” I’ve come to realize there are secrets upon secrets, and no one is telling me anything. I’ve brought it down to it not being any of my business, but it’s getting old real fast. I’m not one to pry into other people’s business, but these secrets he, Nate, and the guys have are starting to itch at the back of my brain.
“Yeah,” he replies, looking down at me and stepping backward. “I just wanted you to know that I wish it could’ve been different between us, and shit is about to get worse.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, as he walks back to his car and gets into the driver seat. “Me too.”
I go back to my room, slamming my bedroom door to find the girls snuggled in my bed and watching Netflix. “We’re fucking going camping.”
“I JUST WANT YOU TO be careful, baby,” Dad assures me, loading up his third round. He points toward the cutout target, then squeezes the trigger, emptying out.
I point toward mine, closing one eye and zoning in to the bull’s-eye. I squeeze the trigger on the pistol and fire. The kickback isn’t as bad as it should be with someone light like me firing a Desert Eagle, but it’s Daddy’s, and he’s had me shooting this since I started out. It may sound dangerous to some people, but our home has always been a strong advocate at exercising our second amendment rights, and aside from that, we love to hunt deer. I don’t own a pistol; I own shotguns, and use them often.
“I’ll be fine, Daddy.”
He looks at me worriedly, and we both remove our protective glasses, waiting for our targets to come up. “I don’t like Nate and his friends.”
I roll my eyes, unclipping my target man and seeing I shot within range. “Daddy, you don’t like any boys.”
“No.” His tone changes, becoming stern. “Madison, I’m serious. I don’t like those boys.”
I take my grin away from my amazing shots and look toward Dad. He hardly ever uses that tone with me, and it sobers me some. “Okay, Dad, I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” He smiles again and then looks at my target. “How’d you do?”
Walking into my bedroom after seeing Dad and Elena off again, I flop down onto my bed, mulling over my thoughts from today. After Bishop left last night, Tatum and Tillie ended up crashing in bed with me halfway through a Sons of Anarchy episode. Tatum was bored out of her brains during episode one, but Tillie and I wanted to watch it. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I slip it out, sliding it unlocked and answering. “Hello?”
“I’m almost home. Come out when I beep.”
“Why?” I slowly rise from my bed.
“Because I’m back to babysitting duty, so you have to stay near me.”
“Yeah...” I shake my head. “...about that. I don’t think my dad actually put you on babysitting duty, Nate. The man doesn’t like you very much.”
“Fuck your dad,” he mutters.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Get out of the house and come down when I beep, or I’ll drag you down over my shoulder. And just so you know, Hunter and Brantley are here.”
“Fine!” I blurt, hanging up my phone and tossing it onto my bed. I walk into my bathroom and let my hair trail down to my tailbone before shoving on a NY baseball cap. I’m still in my yoga pants and tight tank from shooting, but I slip out of my running shoes and put on a pair of Air Max 90s. I’m picking up my
phone from the bed when Nate beeps from outside. Taking the steps two at a time, I walk out the front door and pause.
“I can sit in the back,” I say to Brantley, as he gets out of the passenger seat of Nate’s Ford Raptor. Brantley doesn’t answer; he just slips into the back. “Or not,” I mutter, stepping up on the running board and sliding into the seat.
“So you know how it’s Halloween this weekend?” Nate grins as he pulls us out of the driveway.
“It is?” I ask sarcastically. “I didn’t even realize.”
“Yeah.” Brantley smirks from the back. “It is.”
I look to Nate. “So why am I here, anyway?”
“I told you.” He looks to me, pulling down a street off ours. “I have to look after you.” He pulls us into a long gravel driveway, up to an old southern-style-looking home. High ceilings, white pillars, the American flag flying proudly outside the front door.
“Do we all live down the same street?” I ask Nate.
Brantley grunts in the back, ripping off his seatbelt and getting out of the truck once we stop. I look to Nate nervously. “Nate, I don’t really wanna be here if this is Brantley’s house.”
Hunter clears his throat from the back. “Don’t worry about him.”
I look to Hunter, shocked about him talking to me. “But I do worry.”
Hunter rolls his eyes, taking off his belt and opening the door. “She’s a lost cause if someone like Brantley scares her.” Then he shuts the door and follows the way Brantley led toward the house.
I follow behind Nate as he leads us through the massive entry to the house and then downstairs into a bedroom. There’s an entry door to the side that goes out to the swimming pool, and the whole back wall is floor-to-ceiling windows. I flop down on one of the single sofas in the corner of the room. Hunter and Nate slide open the door and walk out toward the pool, laughing. Fucking Nate, leaving me in here with Brantley. Brantley is brooding, over the top, and... silent. He’s around six feet, dark hair, piercing dark eyes, and a sprinkle of stubble over his jaw. He’s the definition of scruffy hot. Brantley leans on the door, looking out to Nate and Hunter.
Wanting to break the silence, my no-filter comes out in full effect. “Why do you hate me?”
He looks at me over his shoulder. “You’re not a very likeable person.”
“Really?” My eyebrow quirks. “And you think you know me well enough to make that assumption?”
He scoffs, pushing off the door and turning to face me, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I don’t have to know you to make that assumption. I’ve heard enough.”
“You’re a bit of a dick.”
He looks directly at me, his eyes piercing into mine. I fight the need to squirm. “I’ve never claimed to be anything else, kitty.”
“What did I do? Or what did you hear I did?”
“It’s not what I heard,” he says casually. “It’s what I know.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You make no sense,” he responds, walking toward me. He’s wearing a dark shirt, loose jeans, and black boots. He stops directly in front of me, bringing both hands down to the armrests on either side of my chair, caging me in. Leaning down, his eyes go from my lips to my eyes and then back again. “You think because Bishop fucked you that you have a free pass?”
My heart launches in my chest, and surprise must spread over my face, because he laughs, a menacing tone in his chuckle.
“Oh what? You thought he actually wanted to fuck you?” He tilts his head and leans closer so his nose is touching mine, his lips a whisper away. I hold my breath. “Naw, kitty. That was all part of the plan.” He inches forward, his lips brushing over mine. “Get you wet and needy, fuck you inside out, pretend that you meant more than an easy piece of ass.” He pauses, searching my eyes. “‘I wish it didn’t have to be this way,’” Brantley mimics Bishop’s last words to me from the other night.
My vision turns bleak. Everything in my peripheral turns black. “It was a trick?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
Brantley laughs. “This is all a game, kitty. And you’re in the middle of a very fucked-up board.”
I snort sarcastically. “You think I care?” I brave myself to bring my eyes straight to his.
His narrow, dropping to my mouth. “Prove you don’t.”
“You hate me.”
“I’ll fuck you as hard as I hate you.”
My eyes grow hooded as I run my tongue over my bottom lip. “I sort of have a boyfriend.”
He laughs, his eyes still searching mine. Everything in the center of me kicks up to scorching levels. “Carter?” His hand flies up to my neck as he pushes my head back into the chair more. He tilts his face. “You and I both know he’s too vanilla for the shit that goes on in your head.” He pulls me up off the chair by my neck.
I match his stare. “Big words. All talk, no bite?” What the hell am I doing?
He laughs, the grip he has on my neck tightening, and then he pulls me into his mouth, catching my bottom lip between his teeth. He tugs on it roughly then slips his tongue into my mouth. I open it, angry at everyone. Angry at Nate, because I don’t know if his caring about me is genuine. Angry at Bishop for using me like a toy. Angry at my-fucking-self for thinking Bishop was into me. Just make it go away.
I wrap my hands around the back of Brantley’s neck, and his grip disappears from my throat as he pushes my hands away from his skin, picking me up from behind my thighs and throwing me onto the bed. He crawls up to me slowly, gripping my wrists and slamming them above my head.
“Brantley, Nate and Hunter will come back soon.”
He smirks, his eyes darkening and his waist pinning me to the bed. “Yeah, sort of counting on it. I’m sure we can work out a roster.”
“Not happening.”
“You say it like you’re the one in charge here?” he asks, running his finger down my sternum before coming back up to my throat.
He squeezes again, and my core clenches in response as my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Yeah.”
His mouth drops to the side of my neck, his legs coming between mine, spreading me wide. “You like that shit, huh?” I do. He grinds into me, his hardness pushing against my sex.
Make it go away.
“Interrupting?” A voice breaks our embrace, but Brantley stays there, looking down at me, and then grins.
“Depends,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Bishop, who just walked in the room. “Care to join? Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared.”
Bishop stays silent, so I inch up onto my elbows to look at him.
He looks at me and smirks. “Naw, I’m good. I’ve already had her. I don’t feel like shoving my dick in dirt for a second time.”
“Ouch,” I reply deadpan. It hurt more than I care to admit, but being told I was being used has somewhat numbed any pain afterward. I hate Bishop Hayes.
“Yo! Brantley has—” Nate walks into the room, speaking directly to Bishop, when he sees me and Brantley on the bed. He rolls his eyes. “Get off her, dawg.”
“What if I don’t want him to get off?” I snap. If I’m dirt and mean less than nothing to these boys, then what’s the point of walking out with my dignity? “Or what, Nate?” I smirk at him. “Mad it’s not your tongue down my throat?” Then I push off Brantley’s chest, crawling out from under him toward the edge of the bed. “I’m leaving.” I walk toward the door, straightening my tank.
“Oh, come on, sis. We’re just playing.”
“Fine, but find a new toy.” I look to Bishop. “One that doesn’t feel like you’re fucking dirt.” I pull open the bedroom door.
“You fucked her?” Nate barks at Bishop.
Oops, did I let that slip? My bad.
I walk out the front door and then break out in a jog. I know my house is only a five-minute walk, but I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now, and I have a feeling Nate will try to chase me. Bishop, Nate, Hunter, and Brantley have already stir
red shit with me. I don’t even want to see what Saint, Ace, and Jase are capable of, what with them being the older brothers. It was all a game. Bishop pretending to give a fuck, they played me like a fucking fiddle.
THE NEXT DAY, I’M SITTING beside Carter in the cafeteria, when Tatum drops her bag beside me. “I fucking can’t wait for Halloween this weekend.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing it in the woods,” I answer, taking a bite out of my apple.
Carter nudges my arm with his. “Leave your guns at home?”
“Maybe.” I look up toward Bishop. “Or maybe not.”
Carter follows my eyes. “Trouble?”
“You could say that,” I mutter, dragging my eyes away from them. Ally walks across to their table, and I roll my eyes. Here we go. Only this time when she goes to lower herself onto Bishop’s lap, he pushes her off, and she falls to the ground in a mess. Nate laughs, Brantley grins, Hunter barks out a hyena howl, and the rest of the boys snicker, watching her with distaste. Every single one of them are assholes. I don’t like Ally, and I might even go as far as to say I hate her a little bit, but that proved there is not one redeeming quality in any of those boys. They’re all assholes. Usually, there’s at least one in a group who isn’t. But not here and not them. I’ve tangled a web with the school bad boys, and now I have to unleash my claws to escape.
“What’s going on with you guys?” Tatum asks, taking a swig of her water.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You locked Nate out of your room last night. That’s not nothing.”
“I don’t like Nate very much right now.”
Carter hooks his arm around my waist and pulls me into him. I know I should pull away. Nothing good will come from me leading him on. But I can’t help it. Having someone who is interested in me makes me feel wanted. That’s all a girl really wants, isn’t it? To feel wanted?
“Hey.” I turn to face him. “I’ll drive out on Friday. I just need to do a couple things beforehand.”
“I can come with you,” Tatum adds.
I shake my head. “It’s fine. I have Google maps or whatever. Just give me the details on where we’re going and I’ll meet you all out there.”
