Victory at Prescott High Page 56
Oscar looks up at him, the light catching on the lenses on his glasses.
“Of course I have. Actually, Victor’s already asked me to purchase his grandmother’s old property in the name of a trust. Don’t act so surprised: where else could we live but together?” Oscar dips a second fry in the ketchup and slips it into that sharp mouth of his, closing his eyes for a moment while he chews. He opens them again and stares Aaron down. “We’re going to need a fortress, similar to the one Maxwell Barrasso lives in now. Fortunately, with Victor’s inheritance, we’ll have plenty of money to invest in a place.”
A shiver passes through me, one that Aaron feels as he wraps his strong arms around me and parks his chin on my shoulder.
“We could each have our own rooms, but yeah, a master bedroom of sorts for … orgies or whatever,” Aaron muses and I chuckle.
“Oh, I see how it is: we’re planning on orgies already?” I glance over at him, finding his beautiful eyes on mine. “We haven’t even … well, I wouldn’t call y’all running a train on me an orgy.”
“Running a train,” Hael repeats, snorting. “Is that what we did, Bernadette Blackbird?”
“If it walks like a duck …” I start, shrugging my shoulders and then pausing as Victor comes back into the restaurant.
“We should go,” he says, glancing over at Hael for a moment. In his eyes, I can see that Hael is right: something is percolating. Victor is all about family. All he’s ever wanted is this, the six of us together. All of the squabbling and the bickering and the arguing, none of that really matters. His grandmother’s property … all of us living together. For as deeply entrenched in hell as we are, that sounds an awful lot like heaven. “We could all use some sleep; we’ve got a big weekend ahead of us.”
“And an even bigger week,” I murmur as I rise to my feet.
On Friday, we take down Mason Miller.
On Monday, we start at Oak Valley Prep.
Not sure which of those two things is going to be more difficult; my opinion is that it’ll be the latter that really gets us. Prescott trash at Oak Valley. Gods help us all.
We’ll infect it like a poison, but honestly, I bet the place is better off for it.
The type of poison that Havoc bestows is the kind that tastes oh so very sweet indeed.
We make the two-hour drive to Portland in the Eldorado and the Camaro, with Vic riding his Harley. As per usual, as soon as we take off down the street, the police cruiser follows.
“You sure you’re alright to drive?” Aaron asks as I depress the clutch and get us lurching down the street. But it only takes me a second to recall the warmth of Hael’s hand and the gently murmured instructions from our driving lesson. It isn’t so hard as everyone makes it out to be.
“I got this,” I tell him, following our carefully planned route, one that uses the shortcut at the racetrack to buy us a few extra minutes. After a half-dozen practice runs, we can pretty much count on seventeen minutes before the cop car catches up to us.
Seventeen minutes to kill the second-in-command of the Grand Murder Party.
We must be fucking insane.
“Are you sure you’re okay to not be wearing your medical boot?” I shoot back, and he grimaces slightly, like he knows he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But that grimace, that cringing, that who me? look is what makes him so goddamn sexy. “We all take risks for the betterment of Havoc, I suppose.”
“Yeah, well,” Aaron starts with a small laugh, leaning back in the seat and running his palm over the leather, like he’s as impressed with Hael Harbin as I am. “Pretty sure that boot would give me away. I know we haven’t talked much about what, exactly, happened during the shooting but—”
“You beat a guy to death with a metal trash can?” I interrupt, and Aaron snorts at me.
“Okay, well, yeah, there is that.” He glances my way, studying the beautiful red wig I’m wearing with interest. Makes me wonder if we can’t incorporate something like this into our sex life. What is it that Megan Thee Stallion says in “WAP”? Switch my wig and make him feel like he’s cheating? Yep, something like that. Since I’d rather gouge my own eyes out with a spoon than share my men, I could spice things up with a wig every now and again. “One of the shooters that came into my bio class got away. He most definitely saw the boot. I figured I’d rather risk reinjuring it than getting caught.”
“Probably a smart choice,” I agree reluctantly, flexing my fingers around the steering wheel as I follow Hael in the Camaro, Victor trailing behind us. Cal and Oscar are with Hael, giving me and Aaron a moment to be alone. I can sense that he’s still watching me, taking in the lacey glove on my left hand—can’t exactly walk into a rival club with the word HAVOC inked onto my knuckles—and the way-too-short skirt with the garters underneath.
“If something goes wrong tonight, I just want you to know that even if I would’ve preferred it if you left Springfield altogether … I don’t regret the time we’ve spent together.”
“Don’t be so fatalistic,” I snort, but Aaron’s got a point. If this works, it’ll be quick, painless, easy. If it doesn’t … well, I’ve gotten used to living on the edge of a knife. Lately, that’s all we’ve been doing. If this works out though, we’re likely to get a few months of downtime. Maxwell will see that Havoc is truly a threat, that he isn’t so invincible as he thinks. With Trinity working the faux fiancée angle, Ophelia tamed, Maxwell mollified by the promise of a big cash influx, we might actually get to finish out our senior year with little disturbance.
“Well, I’m trying not to be,” Aaron says with one of those sexy boy next door grins, the ones that are floppy and sweet and completely irresistible. I like it even better because it’s paired with ink and a ruthless need to protect, to save, to shelter. He broke his fucking hand to get back to me. He killed a man in the woods with no weapon of his own. He took care of Kali when I failed to do it myself. “I like being with you too much to die yet. Besides, after hearing all this ass play crap, I feel like I’m missing out.”
“Oh my god, shut up.” I smack him with my right hand, keeping my gloved left one firmly attached to the wheel. Hael speeds up and takes a corner so tight that he cuts across the edge of someone’s lawn; I make sure to follow along exactly. There’s no room for error here. We have to stay together, and we have to outrun our little copper friends. “Remember the first time we tried anal?”
“I try not to,” Aaron says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that tells me he doesn’t care that we were fumbling, inexperienced idiots. It was still fun, I’ll admit it. But it was also way more intimate than I’d expected. I remember looking up at him and seeing this expression of bliss and wonder on his face. “Remember when Kali tried to tell you that anal sex didn’t count as sex?”
I laugh my ass off at that one; I’d forgotten she’d ever said that. How goddamn stupid. Anyone that says anal sex isn’t sex needs to have their fucking head examined.
“Do you …” I start as we near the racetrack and I see Aaron’s eyes flick to the windshield. He takes in the quiet night and the muddy stretch of track with a slight grimace. Poor Aaron. He’s had it rough lately. Crashing the Camaro, having the shit beat out of him, getting hit with Kali’s car. Tom stabbing him in the dick with the shotgun, breaking his hand, having to kill a girl we’ve been going to school with for a decade. He deserves a break. “Do you still think about her?”