CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

COLTON

ISIT IN the driver’s seat of a blacked-out Cadillac Escalade. Finn sits in the passenger seat, playing a game on his cell. The sound of gunfire is giving me a headache.

“Fuck yeah—Die. Die, you motherfucker…” He practically comes off his seat while screaming at it.

“You’re rocking the truck, man,” Alex snaps, kicking the back of Finn’s seat. “How are we supposed to go unnoticed if it looks like someone’s fucking in here?”

Jenks laughs from behind me.

“You’re just jealous because I killed you three levels ago,” Finn replies.

Alex huffs, sitting back in his seat.

My cell rings through the Bluetooth, and the sound makes me jump. Unknown caller shows up on the screen. “Turn it off.” I slap Finn’s shoulder, and he stops immediately, dropping it to his lap.

“Hello?” I answer.

“You in position?” our boss asks, straight to the point. The sound of thumping bass can be heard in the background at his club.

“Yes, sir,” I respond, looking around the abandoned parking lot before us. We’re tucked away in the very back, underneath some trees where there aren’t any lights. “Should be any moment.”

“Good. Get it done.” He hangs up, and I sit back in my seat.

Finn picks his cell back up, going back to his game.

Our boss is a sadistic son of a bitch, but I like him. He’s a no-bullshit kind of guy. We’ve worked with him for a little over a year now. He recruited us our senior year at Barrington University.

One year ago

It’s dark out here in the middle of nowhere. The feel of the gun tucked into the back of my jeans gives me comfort, knowing that if I have to, I’ll blow someone’s head off.

Car lights shine on the road at the end of the gravel driveway before they turn onto it and head toward me. The white ZO6 Corvette rolls to a stop, and Finn jumps out, wearing a black leather jacket, white T-shirt, and jeans. He’s got his hair slicked back and a joint tucked behind his ear. He looks like he’s about to have a photo shoot for GQ or some shit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, looking him up and down.

He grabs the collar of his jacket and pops it. “It’s not every day you get an invitation to the Cathedral by a Lord.”

I chuckle. “He doesn’t want to fuck you.” Reaching out, I steal the joint from behind his ear, and he pulls a lighter out of his jeans pocket, lighting it for me. “I mean, unless he’s into that kind of thing.” I take a drag and close my eyes, holding it in.

He snorts. “I fuck women in the ass. I’m sure a man’s is no different.”

I choke on the smoke I was holding in my mouth, and he laughs, taking the joint back. “Pretty sure you’d be his bitch,” I say through laughter. “Not the other way around.”

Another set of lights pulls in, and a red Maserati rolls to a stop next to the Corvette. Jenks gets out of the driver’s seat, and Alex crawls out of the passenger side. “You guys ready?” Alex asks, spinning his baseball hat around backward. He’s dressed in a plain black T-shirt and dark jeans with tennis shoes. The fact that he’s wearing a hat tells me he doesn’t give a fuck about his appearance tonight. Jenks has on light jeans and a white hoodie. Also, no fucks given.

“Been waiting on you guys.” Finn puts his joint out, and I roll my eyes at him. He makes it sound like he’s been here for twenty minutes.

“You guys packing?” Alex asks.

“Yep,” we all answer.

The Lords aren’t known for their communication skills. They shoot first and never fucking ask any questions. We walk up the steps to the Cathedral, and I push the double doors open; they squeak like they haven’t been used in years.

“I’ve heard this place is haunted,” Finn whispers.

Alex snorts. “Since when do you believe in ghosts?”

“Think about it, man. This would be a paranormal lover’s dream. All the people who have been killed here over the years, plus the cemetery behind it ...”

Someone clears their throat, cutting off Finn, and I turn to see none other than the man who is offering us the chance of a lifetime. He’s dressed in a black button-up shirt, sleeves rolled up his forearms, with black slacks and matching shiny shoes.

There are whispers about the Lords all over Barrington University. But you don’t know who actually is one. You have to be born into their secret society. Have their bloodline. But even that doesn’t guarantee that you will become a member. They have to endure years of initiations. I’m talking bloodstained-hands type. I’d join in a heartbeat if they would let me.

Alex steps forward. “Mr. Crawford—”

“You guys have weapons on you?” he interrupts him, not caring about introductions. He knows who we are.

We all nod.

“Hand them over,” he demands.

I pull the gun out of the back of my jeans and hand it to him. He removes the magazine and pulls back the slide, popping the bullet out that I had chambered. Then he tosses the useless gun to the ground. The sound of metal meeting concrete makes me cringe. The echo is ten times worse.

Finn pulls out his knife and hands it to him. He tosses that too. And so on with Alex and Jenks until we have nothing to protect ourselves with.

“Let’s go,” he orders and turns around, walking us down the aisle. I look around at the rows and rows of empty church pews. There are stairs on either side at the front of the room that lead up to a loft. In the middle sits what looks like a baptism pool, but there’s no water in it right now.

“I feel like it’s illegal for us to be here,” Finn whispers.

“Shouldn’t we sign an NDA?” Alex asks.

Tyson spins around, forcing us all to come to a stop. His dark brows turn down. “An NDA?” he repeats like it’s a word he’s never heard of before.

“Yeah.” Alex nods. “Or prick our fingers. Sign our lives away with our blood,” he jokes. “Otherwise, how else do you know we aren’t going to go and run our mouths about this place and what you’re going to pay us to do?”

The Lords take their oath of silence and duty very seriously from what I’ve been told. They will kill or die for it.

“I see.” Tyson nods once, tucking his hands into the front pockets of his black dress slacks, and steps into Alex. The others and I all take a step back, giving them space. “If you so much as say one word about me or anything I have you do to anyone other than who you see in this room right now, I’ll take a knife and cut both of your Achilles’ tendons out.” Alex swallows. “And then I’ll sit back and drink a glass of whiskey—neat—while I watch you crawl across the floor on your hands and knees with snot and spit covering your face, sobbing like a little bitch, begging me to end your pathetic fucking life.” Tyson gives Alex a chilling smile. “How’s that for an NDA?”

“I’m good with that.” Finn nods quickly, throwing his hands up. “I don’t need an NDA. My lips are sealed. I like walking.”

Silence then falls over us, and a coldness runs up my spine. Maybe Finn was right about this place being haunted.

Understanding that we know the bastard isn’t joking about his sadistic idea of torture, Tyson seems satisfied with our silence and turns, giving us his back, walking off to the right at the front of the pews through a door.

Jenks slaps Alex in the arm and whispers, “What the fuck, man?”

Alex just shrugs.

We walk down a hallway and take a left through a new door. It’s a narrow, spiral staircase down to a basement. When we get to the bottom, Tyson shoves open another door, and we step inside.

“Holy shit.” Jenks gasps.

Holy shit is right. It’s set up as an underground triage. It’s bright as fuck with large fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. There are a couple of hospital beds, monitors, and instruments scattered across metal tables. I also don’t miss the drains placed in the floor around the room. Makes me think they’re there for easy cleanup.

“What is all this?” Alex asks.

“Are you left or right-handed?” Tyson asks him, ignoring his previous question.

“Left,” he answers.

“Come here.” Tyson walks over to a chair in the middle of the room and pulls up an armrest, locking it in place. “You’ll go first. Lay your right arm out on the armrest. Palm up.”

Finn looks at me, his green eyes wide, and I shrug. I wasn’t given a fucking itinerary.

Alex plops down in the chair, laying his arm out while Tyson walks over to a table and grabs three black straps that resemble belts. Going back over to Alex, he orders, “Open your hand.” He places one of the belts right in the center of his palm. “Make a fist,” Tyson adds, and Alex does so, wrapping his hand around the leather. Tyson pulls it tight enough around the armrest to make Alex flinch and then buckles it in place underneath. Then he does it again with the second belt in the middle of his forearm, securing his arm to it. The third he throws in Alex’s lap. “That one goes in your mouth to bite on.”

“What—?”

We all turn around when the door behind us opens, cutting off Alex, and an older man walks in with a fucking doctor’s coat on. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He smiles. “Please, everyone have a seat. Get comfortable.” He gestures to the chairs and hospital beds that sit around the large space. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” He then walks over to a table that has what I can only guess is a tattoo gun on it.

“We’re getting tats?” Jenks questions.

“No. I’m not qualified to give those. An artist, I am not.” The old man laughs at his own joke.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Alex growls, trying to pull his arm free of its restraints.

“This is as close to an NDA as you’re going to get,” Tyson states. Walking over to a table at the back of the room, he picks up three backpacks and then comes over to drop them at our feet. “It’s your key to the castle, so to speak.” He widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. “And it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Your clock has to be off,” Jenks argues from the back seat, pointing at the dash.

“It’s not wrong.” Finn shakes his head, still playing that damn video game.

“We were told one o’clock.”

“They’ll be here,” I assure Alex.

“We’re going to be late. I’d rather not get my balls cut off by Ty, thank you very much,” Alex snaps.

Finn laughs. “He’ll make you eat them if you call him Ty again. I swear that dude hates you with a passion. Do we need to sign an NDA?” He jokes about that night at the Cathedral.

“Shut the fuck up.” Alex slams his fist into the back of Finn’s seat. “At least I didn’t cry.”

“I did not cry,” Finn says defensively. “I’m pretty sure I blacked out, though. Fuck, I still have nightmares about it.” He laughs at himself. “That shit hurt.”

Goddamn right, it hurt.

Lights pull into the parking lot, and I sit up straighter. “Showtime.”

I hear a backpack being unzipped in the back seat, and then a black mask is thrown into my lap, followed by a black hoodie. I slip them both on. Then I remove my gun from the driver’s side door pocket and cock it, making sure the safety is off.

“Motherfucker,” Finn hisses.

“What?” I ask, looking over at him, and he’s leaning forward, staring out the tinted windshield, his black mask already in place, gun in hand.

“He brought his daughter,” he growls.

“We’ll just bring her—”

“No,” I interrupt Alex.

“We can’t leave her. She’s a liability that I’m not going to take the fall for,” he argues.

“I’ll take care of it,” I say, reaching my hand out. “Someone hand me a backpack.”

Jenks places one in my hand, and I open it up, digging around inside to find what I need and slide it into the pocket of my hoodie. I gotta hand it to Tyson. He is always one step ahead. I swear the Lords have every drug known to man just stashed somewhere in case they need it for some fucked-up reason.

Seconds later, another car pulls up, and the man gets out. The guy we’re here for points at his daughter and makes the introductions. We don’t have a very clear view. They’re not standing under a light, and they’ve got their headlights off.

“What kind of sick man brings his daughter into this shit?” Finn wonders.

“Maybe she’s into it,” Jenks offers. “Women can be just as fucked up as men. Don’t be so sexist, Finn.” He laughs jokingly.

The statement makes me think of Raylee and our afternoon in her bedroom. I haven’t seen her since, but I can still taste her and the wine. Fuck, I want to pour champagne all over her and lick her clean.

“It’s done. Let’s go,” Alex orders.

I throw the SUV into drive, keeping my lights off, and slam on the gas, tearing across the parking lot. Bringing it to a quick stop next to the Jaguar and Town Car, I barely have it in park before the guys are already jumping out.

Screams erupt as the guys grab the man, and I reach for the girl but not before she gets a fist to Finn’s face.

“Motherfucker!” he growls.

“Let him go,” she cries, jumping on his back like a fucking monkey, wrapping her arm around his neck, choking him.

“Get the fuck off me,” he growls, letting go of the man he was holding. The man goes to run, and I lift my gun, shooting him in the head. The sound leaves a ringing in my ears. He drops like a rock, blood now running down his face.

Putting my attention back on Finn, I watch as he slams his back into the side of the Cadillac, smashing her between it and him, knocking her off. He’s gasping for air and yanking at his mask but not removing it. “Fuck, she’s ballsy.” He grunts.

“Hold her facedown,” I snap, pulling the syringe out of my pocket and biting on the end to remove the cap.

“Don’t touch me!” she screams as he grabs her hair and yanks her to the ground. He then straddles her ass and grabs her hands, pinning them behind her back. I kneel and yank the collar of her shirt down, sticking her in the neck, and she’s out cold instantly.

We both stand and look over the now unconscious girl. Dark red hair fans out around the concrete while she lies motionless. “Put her in the car. I’m going to see if the guys need help,” I say, picking up the cap and putting it back on the syringe before placing it in my pocket.

Tucking my gun back into the waist of my jeans, I walk around to the rear of the Escalade and find the guys tying up our assignment. “Did he give you any trouble?” I ask.

“Nope.” Alex pulls the zip tie tight around his wrists behind his back. “Fucker passed out immediately.”

“Go ahead and shut the hatch. I’m going to sit back here with him.” Jenks nods at me, jumping inside.

Once Alex moves out of the way, I push the button to close it. “Let’s go,” I order Finn, watching him over by the Jag.

“We’ll follow you to dump the Town Car,” I tell Alex, and he nods.

Getting into the Escalade, I watch as Finn closes the driver’s side door to the Jag before walking over and hopping into the passenger seat, and then I drive off.

________________

FORTY-FIVE MINUTESlater, I’m pulling into the lot behind Blackout—the club that Tyson Crawford owns. I don’t know his story, and I’d never fucking ask. But from what I’ve heard over the years about the Lords, he’s not the typical member.

We all get out, and I walk over to the door reserved for the Lords and us.

Undoing the watch on my left wrist, I move it down around my hand to reveal the black triangle tattoo that has four lines through it. It’s our NDA, as Tyson so nicely put it. The key that grants us unrestricted access to his dark and grim castle.

I slide it under the scanner, and the green light runs over it before the door unlatches. I place my watch back in place to hide it and pull on the steel handle just as Alex comes walking up with an unconscious man over his shoulder. I hold the door open for him and Finn, then Jenks. Locking the SUV, I wait to hear it beep before I pull the door shut.

This entrance takes you straight to the basement, underneath the sounds of the busy club. We make our way down, and I see Tyson standing by a man I know. Not well, but I used to see him around Barrington University.

“You’re late,” Tyson snaps.

“They were late,” Alex growls, tossing our assignment onto a metal table. “You’re welcome.”

The man shakes his head, chuckling. “I see what you mean,” he says to Tyson and then pushes off the wall. “Gentlemen, I’m Ryat Archer.” He reaches out his right hand, and I shake it.

“Colton Knox.”

He nods. “Ty just filled me in on what you guys do.” Ryat finishes his introductions. “How do you like working for the Lords?” he asks.

Alex snorts. “We don’t work for the Lords. We’re just Tyson’s bitches.”

Ryat whistles, looking over at Tyson, who points at the door. “You can leave whenever you want. Just cut that brand off your wrist.”

“I’ll bleed out.” Alex scoffs. “It’d be suicide.”

Tyson just gives him a chilling smile as if that’s the point. The only way out is death. “What’s the damage?” Tyson asks us.

“Colt shot one, and I got one,” Alex informs him. “Car and bodies disposed of.”

Tyson nods to himself. “So only two dead. Not bad.”

“Well, at least we didn’t kill this one,” Finn offers, pushing his dark hair back from his face. He’s got a bruise already under his right eye from the bitch back at the pickup spot.

We were ordered to deliver one client, unconscious but alive. Anyone else’s life was up to us. Honestly, I know the ones we kill are better off. I’ve seen Tyson make grown men cry and beg for their lives. Those are usually their last words.

“Maybe I should just let you guys handle all of them. It’d make my life easier,” Tyson says in thought.

“Nah, that’s half the fun.” Ryat slaps him on the back.

He’s got to be a Lord. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. He doesn’t seem like an errand bitch boy to Tyson. So that’s not an option. He had called him Ty. They have to be close. And he’s not wearing a Blackout security T-shirt. I look over his white hoodie and dark-wash jeans. He doesn’t dress in a suit like Tyson does, but that doesn’t mean shit. As far as I know, a Lord can be anyone. They strategically place them where they best fit in the world, whether it be the fucking president or an owner of a bar in a sketchy area.

“Any problems?” Tyson asks, cutting the zip tie on the man’s wrists and flipping him over onto his back.

“There was a girl.” His head snaps up to look at me when I speak. “He had his daughter with him.”

His blue eyes dart around the room. “Well, where the fuck is she?” he demands.

“Told you we should have brought her.” Alex gives me a fuck you smile. He wants someone else in the doghouse with Tyson other than himself for once.

“I wasn’t going to let her be killed because her father is an idiot.” I point at him, lying on the metal table. “I stuck her. Finn placed her body in the car they arrived in. She’ll wake up in a few hours and not remember shit.” The drugs he provides us with are some powerful ones. We’ve never used them on ourselves, but they drop a three-hundred-pound man like a drunk girl’s underwear. With how small she was, she could be out the rest of the night. And the side effects could cause loss of memory. I’m guessing on that one. They never live long enough to tell us. “Plus,” I add. “We had our masks on. Too much was happening for her to even retain any information to lead her back to us.”

He nods. “You better hope so.” Then he looks over at Finn. “I’m guessing she gave you that shiner?”

He reaches up and touches his face, hissing in a breath. “The bitch punched me.”

Ryat walks over to the guy, looking over him. “This is the president of Oakley’s Bank.”

Tyson nods.

“He’s been grooming his daughter for years,” Ryat states with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, he’s a sick bastard,” Tyson adds. “He’s been forcing her into a world that she should have never known existed.” He looks up at us. “If she comes for you guys, you’ll have your hands full. She won’t go down as easily the second time.”

“Meaning?” Alex asks, wanting clarification he can just kill her if there’s a next time.

Tyson smirks. “Meaning they don’t call her wicked for nothing.”

Finn snorts. “She was a crazy fucking bitch.”

“They always are.” Jenks agrees.

“Yeah.” Tyson pulls a pair of gloves out of a box and lays them on the table next to the guy while he rolls up the sleeves of his dark-gray button-up. “But they’re the only ones worth having.”

We wrap up what Tyson needs, and an hour later, we’re walking into the house. I make my way upstairs and decide to go by her room. Opening the door, I see she’s passed out in bed, and Tatum is asleep next to her. Some woman is on her TV screen that hangs on the wall running through the woods screaming while a man chases her down with a machete.

I walk over to Raylee’s side of the bed and see four bottles of wine. Two are on her nightstand, the others on the bed. All empty. I smile because I bet she thought of me while she was drinking those.

Her phone lights up next to her, and I pick it up to see it’s a text from Nate. Grinding my teeth, I open it.

Nate: I’m sorry, Ray. Please call me. I need to talk to you.

I delete the text and read over the last several he’s sent her. She’s ignoring him. Good girl. He doesn’t deserve a second of her time. Deleting the rest, I shut it off and place it back where I found it.

I run my knuckles over her cheek, pushing some blond strands off her face, then lean down, whispering in her ear. “I’ll take care of him, princess.” Then I exit her room to go take a shower and get some rest. I have to be up early in the morning because Tyson needs us back at Blackout.

RAYLEE

TATUM AND Ipull up to Mike’s house Sunday night, and she sighs heavily. I feel rested, almost like a new me. After we had several bottles of wine last night, we passed out in my bed. My body was exhausted along with my mind. I woke up this morning to find myself home alone, other than Tatum next to me, and was thankful for that. When you live with four guys, it can be overwhelming. Thankfully, most of them keep to themselves. They only ever bother me if Colt tells them to.

“You sure you’re okay being here?” Tatum asks, breaking the silence between us.

“Yep.” I nod once. I don’t give a fuck what people think about me. Clearly.

She scrolls on her phone for a few seconds and then looks at me. “The video is gone.”

“Doubtful,” I disagree and pull down the visor to reapply my lipstick. “It’s there somewhere, I’m sure.”

My cell dings, and I see it’s a text from Nate. Rolling my eyes, I turn the ringer off.

“What did it say?” she asks, watching me throw it into the back seat.

I won’t be needing that tonight. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” I woke up with it off this morning and guessed it had died at some point last night, so I haven’t been on it much today.

She pats my shoulder. “I still can’t believe Colt posted that shit online. That was over the line. Even for him.”

I don’t keep any secrets from Tatum. She knows what I’ve done with Colt over the years, especially that night with all of them after he stopped recording me. But who knows how many times he’s done that? How many videos he has just sitting and waiting to be used. “Why did you go to the party?” I ask her, changing the subject. I know it wasn’t to see her brother—they fight like cats and dogs. She wasn’t mad at me when I told her I slept with Alex, just grossed out.

“Billy didn’t want to go to the movies. When I told him that I wanted to spend time with you, he suggested going to Colt’s party. That I would get to see you when you got home.”

I nod and watch the kids partying on the front lawn of the Williams home. I went to high school with Mike and his twin brother Mitch when my mom and I moved here. Their parents are loaded, of course. So any chance they have to throw a party at their parents’ mansion, they take it. They must be out of town this weekend.

Mike and I have a history, but I’m not ashamed of it. It is what it is. Plus, if Mike hadn’t started fucking me and ran out like a little bitch when I got blood on his dick, who knows if Colt would have stepped in and shown me how it’s done.

“What are you going to do when you see Billy here with her?” I ask, changing the subject again. We’re only here because she wants to track down her boyfriend and see if the rumors she heard are true.

“I’m … I’m not sure.” She gives a rough laugh. “I guess it depends on if I’m drunk by then or not.”

“You know he’s going to marry her, right?” I hate to break her heart, but he’s been on and off with Cheryl since before I moved in with the Knoxes our sophomore year in high school. He cheats, she cheats, but they always go back to one another.

“Probably,” she agrees. “I saw the red flags before we even started dating.”

“You and me both.” I snort, referring to how I still allow Colt to fuck me. “We’re both color blind.”

She laughs and nods. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Tatum and Billy have a toxic relationship. The only difference between her and Billy, and Colt and me is that we actually do hate one another.

“She kept blowing up his phone Friday night at the party.” She glances at her cell and then tosses it into the back seat with mine.

“What was she saying to him?” I wonder.

“That she was sorry.” Tatum huffs.

“About what exactly? He was the one who dumped her last.”

She shrugs. “No clue, and he wouldn’t tell me when I asked.” Running her hand through her hair, she pushes the dark strands away from her face and smiles over at me. “How about we find out?”

I nod. “I’m ready when you are.”

She pushes the passenger door open and gets out. I smile, doing the same, needing some excitement. I’m a ride-or-die friend to the end. So if she starts throwing punches, I’ll jump right in and throw mine, no questions asked.

The house sits on twelve acres tucked back behind a tree line. It’s dark gray with black shutters, white columns, and a wraparound porch. It’s two stories and has a section referred to as the guest wing. I don’t think anyone ever uses it. Mrs. Williams keeps the property fully staffed at all times.

“In The End” by Black Veil Brides blares from the speakers when we enter the house. I instantly feel eyes on me. It’s the sex tape. Friday night at my house, I went straight to my room after I set Colt’s car on fire and then Nate showed up, so I never had to face anyone. Now I’m not only a slut but also crazy because of the stunt I pulled with his car.

Tatum gets my attention, sliding her arm in the crook of mine and raises her chin, noticing the way conversations die down around us. “They just wish their friend was as cool as mine,” she states, giving me a big smile.

I laugh. “Come on. Let’s get our drink on. Something tells me we’re both going to need it.”

We enter the kitchen, and I see Mitch standing at the large bar, mixing drinks. “Hey, ladies,” he calls out, seeing us.

Mitch Williams has always been a cool guy. Nothing like his brother.

He comes around the bar and gives us both a hug. “What’s been going on? What can I get you two to drink?”

“Dude, don’t act like you haven’t watched her sex tape.” A guy I’ve never seen before throws his arm over Mitch’s shoulders and winks at me. “Maybe the three of us can make one tonight.”

“Shut up, Joe.” Mitch shoves him away and grabs a couple of shot glasses. “Show some respect.”

Joe snorts. “You don’t respect whores.”

I flinch at his words but try to look unaffected by tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Ignore him.” Mitch gives us a smirk, pouring some vodka into the glasses. “Drink up, ladies.” He places them in front of us.

We both down them without question. Hissing in a breath, Tatum twirls her finger around in the air. “Keep ’em coming.”

“Uh-oh.” He pours two more. “Anything I can help with?” he asks, setting them in front of us as well.

“Nope.” She throws hers back, and I swallow mine.

“The night has just begun, ladies.” He grabs a couple of red Solo cups to make us actual drinks, and then hands me one of the cups. “Still drink Malibu and pineapple?” he asks.

Smiling, I take it from him. “I do. Thank you.” I used to spend lots of time at this house partying. Taking a sip, I put the cup down and ask, “Where’s your brother?” Might as well get this over with. He’ll have something to say about the video. And I’m sure it’ll piss me off. I’d prefer to throw my drink on him now rather than later.

He starts laughing while pouring Tatum’s drink. “In jail.”

“What?” Tatum gasps.

I chuckle, taking another sip. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Yeah, he got picked up yesterday. Since Mom and Dad are out of town for a few days, I’m pretending that I don’t know he’s locked up. I’ll get him out tomorrow morning,” he adds. “That way I know he can’t crash my party.”

“Thank God,” I mumble around my cup.

Mike and Mitch are very different people. They look identical—pretty, dark blue eyes, light brown hair that they both keep short on the sides and longer on top. But they dress different. Mitch has always been more preppy and makes sure he’s ready for anything. Whereas Mike would show up to school like he just rolled out of bed. They’re the exact opposite of one another. Mitch got straight A’s, while Mike barely graduated high school. I never really cared for Mike. I only went to his party that night five years ago because Colt told me I couldn’t. I snuck out of the house. I still don’t know how he found out I came here and what Mike and I did. I just wanted to fit in. It was hard being Colt’s stepsister who everyone ignored. Mike actually gave me the time of day that night, so when he led me up to his room, I didn’t think twice about it.

“Can you make mine a double?” Tatum asks, watching him mix her drink.

“That rough, huh?” he asks.

“Raylee? Tatum?” I hear a familiar female voice from behind us. We both spin around to see Raven entering the kitchen underneath a man’s arm.

As usual, she looks gorgeous. She’s a petite thing. Can’t be more than five-two without her heels on. She has her dyed-black hair pulled up and away from her face in a high ponytail. She wears a white dress that shows off her massive boobs, and black heels. Her parents got divorced our senior year in high school. Her mother wanted to get fake boobs to celebrate the settlement. She won but didn’t want to get them done alone, so she bought Raven a pair too.

Back where I grew up, that would be insane. Parents didn’t buy their young kids plastic surgery. But here? This town is full of rich kids who get whatever they want at the drop of a hat. Girls were getting their noses done as young as sophomore year.

“Hey, girl.” I open my arms to hug her when she pushes the man away.

“Haven’t seen you ladies in a while.” She pulls away to hug Tatum.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you over at the house.”

Raven is Alex’s on-again off-again girlfriend. They’ve been together since our junior year in high school. She’s just as crazy as he is. Rumor has it he killed someone over her. I can’t say I believe it, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I once watched him hit a guy in the head with a beer bottle because the man smacked her ass.

“Yes, well, let me introduce you to Rick.” She points over at the guy standing beside her. Clearly telling me the reason she hasn’t been at the house is because her and Alex are currently off.

I’ve always liked Raven. She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty. Tatum and I went out with her last summer, and she got us banned from a bar. Picking a fight with the owner’s daughter will do the trick. But to be fair, none of us started it. The bitch jumped Raven, and we couldn’t just stand by and not help a friend out.

I go to reach out my hand to Rick, but he pulls me in for a hug, his hand a little too low on my ass for my liking, so I push him off.

He goes to hug Tatum, and she takes a step back from him.

“We have to get together soon,” Raven speaks.

Her date’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket to answer. “Be right back,” he tells her and turns around, exiting the kitchen.

“Who are you dating?” Tatum beats me to it.

“I met him through my mom,” she answers, adjusting her dress to make sure her boobs are on display.

“Your mom?” Tatum pulls her lip back. “How old is he?”

“Thirty-three.” She winks, smiling. “No more playing around with boys.”

“Gross,” Tatum whispers. “He was like ten years old when you were born.”

Raven laughs. “Date up, ladies. I promise. You’ll like it.”

I look at the guy, and he’s talking to another girl, his eyes clearly on her chest. “He’s checking that girl out,” I tell her.

I’m not one of those friends who will keep secrets from you. If I know something, I’m telling you. You can hate me all you want after you take your sleazy, cheating boyfriend back, but at least I know you’re aware of the situation.

“We’re not exclusive.” She waves it off. “It’s just for fun.”

“You ready, Raven?” he asks, coming back over to us. “Let’s get the fuck out of here and go to a real party.”

I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m not a fan.

“Yeah.” She pulls us both in for a hug. “Call me. We’ll get together.”

They turn and walk out just as someone else catches my eye. Billy enters the kitchen with none other than Cheryl under his arm. They’re technically supposed to be broken up right now. He’s been dating Tatum for a month.

I clear my throat and nudge her arm. When she notices him, I feel her body stiffen beside me. “Motherfucker,” she hisses under her breath. “I fucking knew it.”

“What?” Mitch looks up, his eyes darting around the room to see what’s going on. He doesn’t tolerate fights in this house. He’ll be the first to knock a guy out just to break it up.

Billy has his back toward us, talking to a couple of guys over by the entrance. My eyes drop to see Cheryl’s hand in his back pocket, and I quickly down my drink. I’m pissed that I don’t even get to enjoy it.

Tatum storms off, and I set my empty cup down, wiping some off my chin. “Refill, please.” Then I take off after Tatum.

She walks up to him and taps his shoulder. He turns around with a smile on his face, but it drops the moment he sees her.

“Tatum?” He pushes Cheryl off him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?” She stabs his chest. “And with her?”

Cheryl averts her brown eyes because she knows damn well that Billy and Tatum have been dating. But who am I to say anything? I fucked Colt while I was with Nate.

“Tatum, let’s take this outside.” Billy grabs her arm.

“No.” She shoves him off. “We can talk about it right here.”

His eyes narrow down on her. “I’m nothing like your best friend.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” she yells.

He steps up to her, and I square my shoulders. “It means I don’t want everyone to know our business.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t parade around two different parties with two different women back-to-back,” I offer. Because why not? I never learned how to not be a smart-ass. It comes naturally.

His eyes go to mine, and he scoffs. “Maybe you should keep your legs closed.”

Tatum gasps and slaps him across the face. Billy bumps his chest into hers, and I shove him away from her.

“Guys. Guys. Calm down.” Mitch intervenes, pulling Billy away from us.

“I don’t know what this looks like, but—”

“What it looks like is you’re cheating on me,” Tatum interrupts Billy.

Cheryl throws her hands up in the air and all but runs out of the kitchen. I’m surprised when Billy doesn’t go after her.

“Babe.” He pushes off Mitch and walks over to her. “I love you. I’m with you. Why would I be with her?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You really expect me to believe that shit?” Shaking her head, she adds, “I’m done,” and goes to walk off, but he grabs her hand, pulling her to a stop.

“Please?” he begs. “Just let me take you home. We can talk.” He lifts his eyes and looks around the room for I don’t know what before they fall back to hers. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll show you my phone.”

I don’t like how he said he’ll tell her anything she wants to know instead of everything. It saves him from having to tell on himself. One of those, if you don’t ask, you don’t need to know situations. His way of controlling what he tells her. Rolling my eyes, I say, “Texts and pictures can be deleted.”

He ignores me. “Please, babe? I’m begging you. Just give me this.”

“You don’t owe him anything,” I tell her.

She hangs her head, and I know I’ve lost. She’s getting ready to leave with him, but I get it. This is Colt and me. Back and forth. Every fucking day. It’s literally the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. I have bruises and scars to prove it. Some of us will choose stupidity over rational thought when it comes to good dick.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine,” I tell her, placing my hand on her shoulder. I won’t make her feel guilty if she wants to leave with him tonight. She deserves answers. Even if she finds out they’re lies two months down the road.

She lifts her head and narrows her eyes on him. “I’ll only leave with you if you apologize to Raylee.”

“Oh, that’s not—”

“I’m sorry.” He looks my way, interrupting me. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

You could hear a pin drop. There isn’t even any music playing in the background. Just an awkward silence. And all eyes are on us. I nod once. “Thank you.” I’m not apologizing for what I said to him because that was the truth. Don’t want to get caught cheating? Don’t flaunt your side bitch around.

He holds his hand out to her, and she takes a step back. “I’ll meet you out in the car. I need a second with Raylee.”

He nods and turns, walking out of the kitchen, and hushed voices start back up again while “vicious” by Tate McRae starts to play. She turns to face me. “I’m so sorry, but—”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” I wave her off. “I just hope you keep an open mind. Don’t let him gaslight you. Don’t let him talk you back into a relationship until he tells you everything.”

“I won’t. Promise.” She pulls me in for a hug. “Love you, Ray.” And then she too is leaving the party.

I make my way back over to the bar where Mitch is now standing again. He hands me another drink. “I made this one stronger.”

“Thanks,” I mumble. I’m already starting to feel those two shots and the last drink I had.

“You can hang with me,” he offers.

“Sounds good.” I’ll leave after this. Not like there’s anyone else here who I want to visit with. I’ll finish this drink, get an Uber, and then go home and take a nice hot bath before locking myself in my room. Maybe watch a movie on Netflix. I’ll have Tatum bring me back to get my car in the morning.

“Ray? May I speak to you?”

The cup pauses halfway to my mouth when I hear his voice behind me. Mitch looks over my shoulder and then back at me, frowning.

I sigh and turn around to face Nate. “There’s nothing to say,” I inform him.

I understand that others won’t agree with what I like. Or what I want. But fuck him. He made me feel ashamed of what I like, and that’s unacceptable. “Thanks for the drinks, Mitch,” I say and walk off.

“Anytime,” he calls out.

I’m making my way through the living room when someone grabs my arm and yanks me to a stop. “Fuck.” I hiss, trying not to spill my drink at the motion.

I spin around to see Nate has followed me. “What do you want?” I snap.

He places his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

“I’ve been ignoring you for a reason.”

His eyes narrow, and he takes a step toward me, closing the small space between us. “I don’t know why you’re being a bitch.”

“Me?” I gasp.

“Yes, you. You’re the one who was cheating on me.” He removes his hands from his pockets and points at himself. “With your stepbrother,” Nate spits out with disgust.

“Look.” I push my hip out. “When I care enough to talk about this, I’ll call you.” Giving him my back, I go to leave but he grabs my arm again and yanks me back this time while spinning me around.

“You’re leaving with me. Now.” He growls in my face.

I laugh, shaking my head. He’s got to be joking. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Nate. It’s over. We’re over.”

His fingers dig into my arm, causing me to hiss in a breath before he starts dragging me out of the living room. Thankfully, the place is packed, so he has a hard time getting us through the crowd. I manage to jerk my arm free, and he spins back around to grab me again.

“I’m not fucking playing with you, Ray!” he snaps in my face.

“What the fuck—?” My words cut off when I see a set of green eyes watching me from across the living room. Colt is here with his besties and Mitch. What the fuck is he doing with them?

All their eyes are on me. My teeth grind when Colt leans in to whisper something to Alex. He nods, and then the three of them take off, leaving Colt there with Mitch, who then walks off as well. He’s just staring at me. A look that I know all too well. My body breaks out in goose bumps, and I swallow nervously. Heat rushes up my spine, and I blame it on the shots I downed. I have got to get the fuck out of here. And quick.

I look up at Nate and growl. “I need to use the restroom,” I lie. Now I have to figure out how to hide from two men.

He removes his hand from my arm. “You have five minutes.”

I refrain from laughing at that and spin around, making a mad dash to the front door, getting the hell out of here.