Hearts of Darkness: A Valentine's Day Bully Romance Collection

by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

  I’d known about Shane Williams’ rising stardom but learned Roman helped write his music and designed his promotional artwork. Both guys seriously intrigued me, Roman especially. He didn’t allow his lack of vision hold him back from his dreams.

  The two bikers were royalty in their outlaw world, born and raised in the Seal’s Cove, the Oregon Coastal community famous for its serial arsonist and murderer and for Joey’s stepmom, Olympia, and her renowned nonprofit. Joey’s younger brother had shot the arsonist, putting an end to his fiery rampage and earning him hero status.

  One thing for certain, Randall’s four kings had histories worth examining.

  “I’m nervous. I never dress like this.” Minnie distracted me from my thoughts.

  We were almost to the main building, running behind thanks to the time we needed to perfect our appearances; most of the students were already inside.

  “Let me look at you.” I wanted to admire my handiwork one final time.

  She stopped and twirled with a nervous giggle.

  Convincing Minnie to wear her contacts had been the biggest obstacle. Once I’d overcome that barrier, she’d been easy. I was pretty sure no one would recognize her.

  One thing different about Randall from Luther was the uniforms and accessory rules. The uniforms here were more like something waiters and waitresses wore. For girls it was a white button-down shirt and black pleated skirt, simple and far better than the plaid skirts and mandatory blazers at Luther. Slacks replaced skirts for the guys. And unlike my former academy, we could add stockings, shoes, and other accessories of our choosing.

  I couldn’t talk Minnie out of her knee socks, but I did get her to roll the waistband of her skirt up enough to show off her long legs. And thankfully, we both wore the same size shoes, so I’d talked her into a pair of strappy heels that looked cute with the socks.

  Her chocolate colored hair had been fun to style. I’d left it loose and trimmed her bangs, while making sure her makeup was impeccable.

  “You look good enough to eat,” I proclaimed, meaning it.

  “That would be you, Frankie.” She grinned. “And those stockings...maybe I’ll wear a pair tomorrow.”

  She laughed again at my shocked expression. After our battle today, I couldn’t imagine getting her into garter-less, thigh-high stockings.

  My thigh-highs were white fishnets that gave my fading tan a boost. I’d paired the uniform with my well-worn Doc Marten combat boots, and like Minnie, I’d kept my hair down, taking the time to create loose curls.

  Together, me blonde and her brunette, we’d have the guys begging for what they couldn’t have, because we were off limits. We’d both agreed that getting through senior year without drama was our goal. Relationships tended to bring drama, lots of it, giving us reason to avoid them.

  But considering our bottom-rung standing in the school’s social hierarchy, I doubted we’d make it through the day drama-free but didn’t share my wavering faith with Minnie. She deserved at least a few minutes where dreams came true.

  The thing about dreams...they can turn into nightmares in an instant.

  Phantom (Joey)

  Advanced creative writing was a fucking joke, not the actual class work but everything else.

  The instructor arranged the desks in a giant square, a design she said encouraged open sharing and dialogue. She’d been a therapist before becoming a teacher, and the boundaries between her past and present career blurred frequently.

  Due to the setup, I faced the door with Howler to my right, which allowed us to observe the back to school parade like two judges on a reality show. The girls made it their mission to reveal as much skin as possible, a challenge with uniform limitations.

  If all went as planned, this would be my final year watching these girls try to be women and the last year putting up with Ms. Tucker’s weird ass bullshit.

  Once I graduated and successfully completed my first major club assignment, I could patch in to the MC. But even then, my dad, our club president, expected me to go to college like he had.

  Educated bikers provided the club with more legal money-making ventures, according to him and my stepmom. They wanted me to be some business genius like Rowdy, continuing the club’s migration away from jobs that landed members behind bars or six feet under.

  What I wanted? I wanted to write crime thrillers.

  I’d never admit it, but my little bro’s addiction to the arts had impacted me. He was determined to become a tattoo artist and illustrator, me a bestselling author.

  My dad and Uncle Rowdy were pushing me towards a business degree, both believing I’d be a future Soul Scorchers’ president. The way I saw it, I could be both. Club prez and famous writer...why not? That’s what pseudonyms were for.

  “I give our fallen queen a ten,” Howler chuckled, dragging me back to reality. We’d been rating our female classmates when my mind decided to drift.

  Back in the game, I followed his and every other guys’ gaze to the door. Watching through narrowed eyes, I tracked my target’s movements.

  Fucking hell. There was no denying Francesca Allen was a queen in a school of peasants.

  Howler was wrong. She was nowhere close to fallen. Not yet. Unfortunately for her, my job was to ruin her and do it without questioning why.

  When we were done destroying her, she’d be torn to emotional shreds, bleeding from wounds no one would see. She’d feel them though. And then she’d withdraw from Randall before she could wrap her fingers around that diploma she was so desperate for.

  Shoving aside my need to annihilate her, I allowed myself to experience Francesca in all her powerful, pre-ruin glory.

  Pretending to be unaware of the stir she was causing, her smirk faltered when she ran her tongue over that plump upper lip before chewing on the lower one. Fuck me.

  She was one of those girls that commanded attention. She could have been in a plastic garbage bag and still turned heads. And she wasn’t just turning heads; she was making every guy hard and probably half the girls wet.

  She was pure poison to anyone without the right antidote; resisting her would be a test even with the cure.

  My body’s betrayal was proof of that. Because despite being armed with the antidote, my dick twitched when she slipped gracefully into her seat and crossed her legs, giving her admirers a view of her creamy fishnets and the tanned flesh they barely covered.

  I kept my expression neutral and waited. Seconds later, Ms. Tucker trotted in and shut the door behind her, a stack of papers clutched to her chest.

  Out of breath, she still managed to push out her introduction, giving the poor panting fools a moment to lower their lust levels. “Good morning everyone. Senior year is here, right on schedule. We’ll start off by reviewing our class projects and my grading system. Let’s not waste any time.”

  No. Let’s not. I see you Francesca. Really see you. You’re just a broken bitch that used bullying to inflate your pride.

  As if reading my mind, her gaze darted my direction before dropping back to the syllabus.

  She might have hid her reaction from others, but I saw exactly what I’d expected—a hint of fear.

  Francesca Allen would fall. And I’d make sure she fell hard.

  Frankie

  Getting through my writing class with Joey scowling at me was not the hurdle I’d prepared to jump this morning. At least Howler didn’t appear as intimidating, giving me a sly wink when his friend wasn’t looking. I still didn’t know the blond biker’s real name, and I couldn’t think of Joey as Phantom.

  I pretended to be absorbed in Ms. Tucker’s excited chattering about our upcoming assignments. There was no question she loved to teach and write...and talk.

  After reviewing our syllabus, she launched into a personal summary of her life and then expected each of us to do the same.

  My peers were not shy about sharing the reasons they attended Randall Academy. Like me, many had records and were forced from the public school system or ot
her private academies due to their offenses. Some had not adjusted to mainstream education and needed an alternative environment, while others had been dumped here by parents unsure what to do with their issues.

  If I was honest with myself, it wasn’t hard to see I fit in all three categories.

  “Phantom,” Joey introduced himself without any name correction from Ms. Tucker. “I’m here because I made sure a bully got a taste of the brutality he was so fond of.”

  Several guys chuckled and every girl except Traci, who I’d determined wasn’t into guys, practically swooned when he spoke. I struggled to meet and hold his accusing glare. It was as if he knew about my bullying behavior and wanted me to know he was on to my secret shame.

  “And...” Ms. Tucker prompted. “Your interests?”

  “Motorcycles, music, writing, and women,” he listed in a deep voice that turned my core to molten lava. I squeezed my thighs together, fighting not to squirm and thinking instead about what he’d revealed.

  I would have never pegged him for a writer. The fact he was confident enough to admit he enjoyed writing in front of a class where confessing crimes and competing over whose were worse surprised me.

  He caught me staring again and I glanced at the wall clock, silently begging it to move faster.

  Howler’s introduction provided no clue to his given name. Ms. Tucker would probably approve if I called myself Elvis, considering her reaction to the bikers’ not-real-names. My mom was big on Elvis.

  Why are you even thinking about your mom?

  That was a good question. Neither of my parents had bothered checking in after dumping me here yesterday. I expected my father to ignore me, but my mom?

  “Like Phantom, I like Harleys, women, and music,” Howler finished.

  I’d managed to miss his reason for being here thanks to my parents raiding my thoughts.

  “Miss Allen, you took advantage of the pass earlier, but you’re up now.” Ms. Tucker smiled encouragingly.

  She’d given us the choice to pass and share at the end. I was one of two to take her up on the offer. The second girl had jumped in already, leaving me as the finale.

  I offered a practiced half-smile that I hoped looked open and relaxed. “I’m Frankie Allen, new this year, obviously. I was involved in some violence that made changing schools necessary if I wanted to graduate, which I do. I enjoy dancing, cheer, reading and writing.”

  “Who fucked with you, princess? I’ll make sure they get theirs,” Reggie, a massive jock-type, bragged, popping his knuckles.

  “Language,” Ms. Tucker scolded gently. “Though your desire to stand up for Francesca is admirable.”

  She was okay with vengeance and nicknames but she couldn’t call me Frankie? I started to correct her but Joey decided to interject.

  “Reg, man, how do you know she wasn’t the one instigating the violence?”

  A bell chimed, bringing the conversation to an uncomfortable finish.

  “Great first day. Read the chapter on comma placement and...”

  Ms. Tucker was still talking when I bolted from my chair, scooping my pack off the floor. I was out the door after Traci, who appeared as eager to escape as me.

  She waited until I caught up and turned. “Fuck that counseling crap. I’ve had enough therapy to last a lifetime.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” My comment earned a smile.

  “I’ve never seen Phantom look so pissed at a girl. What happened?”

  “I —”

  “She knows what she did. Mind your own business.” Joey matched his pace to ours, taking the spot on my left.

  He was so close I could smell his leather jacket and a trace of motor oil mixed with something that had me picturing a stroll on the beach. Why did he have to smell so damn intoxicating?

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Traci said, ignoring him, which served as a reminder that he was an asshole, granted a delicious smelling one. “I’m in your dorm,” she added before turning to enter the restroom.

  “Do I know you?” I stopped, grabbing Joey’s arm.

  He shook my hand off like I’d scorched him. “I know you, Francesca Allen.”

  I noticed then a small crowd was forming, interested in their king’s confrontation with the new girl. A few cell phones were raised, capturing the moment; first day drama.

  Keeping my mouth shut seemed advisable. Without a word, I strode away, head high.

  “You can’t run from your sins forever,” he called out. His voice wrapped around me with warning.

  Cryptic much?

  I shivered and kept walking, refusing to look back. If he really did know about my past, things would go from bad to worse. I could count on it, because Joey fucking Phantom had an agenda. I was aware of agendas, especially ones that reminded me of my past plotting and bullying.

  He intended to destroy me. The question was, why?

  Howler (West)

  “Another slice, please?” I raised my brow at the middle-aged woman working the pizza bar. There were no limits on our food portions, but I liked to fluster the ladies no matter what their age. And flustered she was. Her hand shook as she delivered a third slice.

  “Just take it, you asshole.” Shane elbowed my ribs harder than necessary.

  I started to shove back but decided to wait. I’d get him later. Unexpected paybacks were always more fun.

  “Thank you,” I said to the woman who blushed at me like a virgin bride, or what I thought a virgin bride might look like. I’d never fucked a virgin, and I had no intention of getting married.

  Shane hummed his latest, unreleased song and grabbed two slices for himself, trailing after me to the same table we’d claimed since sophomore year. No one dared join us without an invite. I slid into my regular seat and scanned the room.

  Phantom had disappeared immediately after creative writing and wasn’t anywhere in the cafeteria. He’d been acting fucking weird since first spotting little Miss Francesca Allen yesterday in her parents’ SUV.

  I got it, sort of. He was under way more pressure to succeed than me. Boone and Rowdy had high expectations for him. I was more like his backup, here to keep him on track. Wolf, my old man, wasn’t as pushy, unless, of course, he’d been drinking. That was another story.

  “Hey man, pizza again?” Roman asked what he already knew. I didn’t bother confirming.

  Luna squeezed her massive frame under the table by his feet, where she’d stay until he issued a command. I moved my leg to give her more room to stretch.

  Roman never ceased to amaze me. I swore he could smell and hear like a vampire. He also had an uncanny sense of knowing shit. He’d explained how when one sense was taken away the others became dominate. But even after three years, I was still in awe of my friend.

  It probably didn’t hurt he’d been born with a photographic memory. I wouldn’t be surprised if he remembered the school’s exact layout from before the accident that had stolen his sight.

  “I think he likes the pizza lady,” Shane replied for me, earning a chuckle from Roman.

  Luna made a huffing sound and the lunchroom’s noise level dropped. I followed Shane’s gaze to where Francesca Allen and another new girl stood with their trays, ignoring the stares and snide comments like seasoned pros.

  “Who’s the new chick?” Shane asked.

  I stared and then coughed. “Uh...shit. That’s Minnie fucking Michaels.”

  “No way.” He turned to gape at me. “When did she get so hot?”

  “When she started rooming with our queen bitch.” Phantom slammed his tray onto the table, once again sneaking up like a ghost.

  As always, students checked to see what the commotion at our table was about, but they looked away just as quickly. The only group bold enough to even glance our way for longer than a few seconds was three ex-jocks led by Reggie.

  I gave the former linebacker a chin lift that he returned.

  Our groups had an understanding. As long as they adhered to our rules t
hey could stare all they wanted.

  “Where’d you go after writing?” I finally faced my bestfriend. We always checked on our bikes between classes. It was a habit.

  “Needed to think and update Boone.” He refused to meet my gaze, his eyes locked on Francesca as she maneuvered through the tables looking for a spot to sit, Minnie close behind.

  “You know, sometimes sugar is the best way to lure in your prey,” Roman said, earning a growl from Phantom.

  “I’m serious. I know you’ve got some mission or something with this girl. Bring her in close and then do what you gotta do,” he added.

  “Could work,” Shane agreed before turning back to his cell.

  “And what do you think?” He finally looked me in the eyes. “Should we play nice?”

  “Let’s wait for the right opening.”

  “Here comes your opening,” Shane chuckled, thumbs flying as he texted. I could never figure out how our favorite musician kept track of the world around him while glued to that damn phone.

  But as usual, he was right. Lacey and her bitch crew were coming in fast. Francesca and Minnie their intended marks.

  Chapter Four

  Frankie

  The only table with more than one chair available was the table where Joey and his gang were holding court, and Lacey and her friends were headed that way when she caught my eye and changed directions.

  “Oh no!” Minnie gulped. She squeezed her tray so hard I thought it might snap in half.

  “Fuck her.” I prepared to defend myself. I wouldn’t be the aggressor, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let me or Minnie get hurt.

  “Ah, nowhere to sit,” Lacey cooed. Her followers giggled right on cue, reminding me way too much of my former, so-called friends.

  “It’s sunny outside, why would we want to be stuck in this hole with you.”

  “Frankie!” Minnie gasped.

  “You should listen to your loser friend. She knows how things work around here. You’re either in or you’re not. You are most definitely not.”