“When?” she asks, looking around, like she’s trying to make sure nobody’s overheard us. If I were her, I’d be doing the exact opposite, trying to make sure that everyone around me knew where I was headed. Just in case I disappeared. But, like I said, she just doesn’t think that way.

“Soon,” I breathe, letting my shoulders slump. Tampering with Brittany is going to be dangerous. If that balding asshole she calls a father even has an inkling that anything is wrong with his baby girl, I’m the first person he’s going to come after. “I’ll text you and let you know.”

To maintain control, you have to keep hard-and-fast rules. It’s the only way we can push back the GMP and hold this town. And trust me: Springfield is better off for it.

“Oh, like you’ll text me and expect that I’ll be at your beck and call?” she snaps back, making me remember all over again why I dislike her so much. Spoiled rotten princess, I think, grinding my teeth. I just need to keep her here for a few minutes longer to make sure Cal has time to break into her car and hide in the backseat.

“My schedule is a bit all over the place,” I snap back, knowing that I should control my temper but struggling with it, nonetheless. “Things are getting bad in town. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, holed up in that castle on a hill you call a house.”

Brittany just narrows her eyes at me.

“I’ve noticed,” she says, and then shakes her head. “But you have to admit, you and your stupid gang are at least partially responsible for that.” I sigh heavily, but what can I do? She’s not quite as dumb as I thought. Suspicion glints in her coffee-colored gaze. “Look, I’ll give you two weeks to get your shit together before I tell my dad you lied about our baby.” The way she cups her belly makes me sick. Whose kid is she carrying again? Some football player’s? I’ve already forgotten.

I’m just relieved as fuck that it isn’t actually mine.

Nah, the only girl I want to have a baby with is Bernadette. I figure she’ll have to have one for each of us, so we’ll have like, five kids. Five kids, five dads, one mom. Most of the guys on our crew don’t understand this arrangement. They’d rather they were the one with five women on the side. The thing is, when you find the right woman, you know it. And when that woman is the same person your brothers love, it all falls together.

Family.

We’re just one, big, fucked-up family.

It’s how I like it, how I always want it to be.

Brittany flips her hair at me as she saunters off, heading for the hideous custom pink BMW that daddy bought her. At the last minute, she spins around and runs back to me, throwing her arms around my neck and pressing her lips against mine.

There’s an immediate reaction in me, one of recoil and violent discomfort, but I manage to keep it together, carefully extracting her and pushing her back a step. I hate being touched without my permission. Maybe that’s why I became such a whore? Because then I could just keep giving permission, and I never had to worry that someone was taking something I didn’t want to give.

“Don’t get so excited so quick,” I push Brittany back a step and level a look on her frowning face. Shit, shit, shit. Even now, even with as much as I hate her and as much as I don’t want to be touched, I feel sorry for her. “I haven’t decided if we’re getting back together or not.” Jesus, that lie hurt my mouth on the way out.

“Because of that girl, Bernadette Blackbird,” Brittany spits, and I shrug my shoulders loosely. “Her stepdad was the GMP’s pet cop, you know that, right?” She looks up at me as I raise both brows. Fuck. Actually, I did not know that. I mean, we suspected it, but we didn’t know.

Guess we do now.

I wonder what other information Brittany Burr might be able to feed us?

“I did,” I reply carefully, sweeping some of Brittany’s hair back from her face and wishing I didn’t have to pretend like that. The only girl I want to touch is the little spitfire who’s managed to hold my attention for a decade. Blackbird. “Now, run on home and chatter to all your little friends about me. Go on, I know that’s what you do.”

Brittany smiles at me in a way that I think is supposed to be seductive. I return the look, keeping my mind focused on Bernadette so it’ll come across properly.

As soon as Brittany leaves, I dial up Bernie’s number; I’ve thought of an adjustment to our plan.

“Hey baby,” Bernie purrs, and I can just imagine her rolling her eyes at her own words. I grin in response. “Everything going okay?”

“New plan,” I say, licking my lips as I watch Brittany get into her car and pull out of the parking lot. “Tell Callum not to let her see his face, and then get some of the guys to deal with Brittany instead. If we play this right, we can convince her she’s in the hands of the GMP.”

There’s a pause as Bernie relays the information to Vic.

I know why he didn’t want to do this to begin with: Brittany needs to know she’s being punished by Havoc. The whole city needs to know that.

But he’s also not stupid enough to overlook her use as a pawn.

“Why?” Vic’s voice is dark as he takes over the phone call, and I exhale, swinging the keys to the Firebird around my finger.

“Brittany just dropped a bit of juicy intel into my lap. If we play her right, I have a feeling there’s a whole fuckload more of it. You should’ve seen the way she melted when I lied to her about the DNA results; she’s too easy to manipulate.”

I stay on the phone as I make my way over to the car, waiting as Victor contemplates what I’ve just proposed. If he agrees, he’ll text Callum, and we’ll move forward with the new plan. As of right now, Brittany should be pulling up to the stoplight at the corner of Fuller and Parrish. Cal should be rising up from the backseat like a specter, hands reaching for her neck … He’ll knock Brittany out, take over control of the vehicle, and that’s that.

“Okay,” Vic finally agrees. “But if this backfires on us, it’s your ass.” He pauses a minute for dramatic effect—typical Channing behavior—and then hands the phone back to Bernadette. As soon as I get home, I’m going to beg her to put some tall heels on for me again, so I can fuck away the nightmare of imagining what’s happening to Brittany.

I pause next to the Firebird and unlock it as Bernie’s voice pours through the line like black silk.

Even if I don’t always know who I am and what I want, I do know one thing: cars are in my fucking blood.

Cars … and Bernadette Blackbird.

Bernadette Blackbird

“Pack your shit,” Vic says as I crack my eyes open and find him sitting on the edge of the bed. Hael is still passed out naked beside me, sunlight streaming across his bare ass. Fuck, you could bounce a quarter off that. I bite my lip as I sit up with a groan, rubbing at my forehead.

“Pack for where?” I ask, and Victor gives me a tight smile.

“The snow,” he says, and then he stands up, giving Hael’s bare ass a dark look.

“Victor,” I start, pushing the blankets aside and rubbing at the soreness in my side. The stitches might be out, but I’ve still got some healing left to do. As least I’ve stopped seeing Kali’s ghost—for the time being anyway. “Why the fuck are you talking about snow?” I ask, leaning over to slap Hael on the ass. I just can’t resist an ass that fine, not even this early in the morning. He snorts at me, but he doesn’t move from his prone position in the center of the bed.