Oscar's eyes narrow, but apparently, he doesn't want to talk about the fact that he went balls-deep while I was bleeding and vulnerable underneath him. He doesn't care. He's just a sociopath with a pretty face.

“The kids are situated; the Vincents are secure,” Aaron says, coming over to stand beside me. When he comes close, I can feel him, like there's a charge in the air, some electrical connection between us that buzzes pleasantly against my skin. “I told them we could eat and then swim again.”

“Almost done,” Hael says, putting the top on the sizzling pan of meat before returning back to the avocado he was slicing up. “Did you know cartels control most of the avocado production in Mexico? We should get in on that shit.”

“Fucking cartels,” Victor murmurs, but he's also rubbing his chin, so clearly he's thinking about something. “Any word on how the Charter Crew did making up that twenty-grand in product?”

Oscar makes a sound of annoyance and then sneers, tossing the magazine aside. Pretty sure he wasn't even looking at it—what use would Oscar Montauk have for modern décor in a contemporary world.

“Since Mitch Charter is driving a new car, I would say they aren't hurting at all. They either have sources of income I don't know about, or else someone big is backing them.” Oscar pauses, narrowing his gray eyes on the floor as he spirals into his thoughts.

“What about the gang that supplied them with the product in the first place?” Aaron asks, but Oscar is already standing up and shaking his head. He is, once again, wearing a suit and tie. It's like he doesn't know how to relax for more than five freaking minutes at a time.

“What gang do you know that takes on charity cases?” he asks, glancing over at me in just such a way that I know the look itself is meant to be an insult. I decide to ignore him this once, placing a single grape in my mouth and sucking on a tattooed finger for just a moment. My lipstick—we're on a roll here and this one is called Jilted—smears across my skin and Oscar watches it like he's mesmerized. As soon as he realizes he's doing it, he turns away. “Not likely. Someone is padding their pockets.”

“That doesn't make any fucking sense,” Victor snaps, clearly frustrated with the situation. “The Charter Crew is nothing. They don't even deserve a name. May as well keep calling them the Charter/Ensbrook brothers.”

“Someone wants them to pick on us,” Oscar muses, like he's thought about this before but found it too ludicrous to mention … until now. He glances up, gray eyes flashing, and stares Vic down. “What about your mother?”

The energy in the room shifts completely, and Vic's beautiful mouth turns down in a frown.

“It makes sense. Ophelia participates in this little … shindig.” Oscar waves a tattooed finger around in a circle as he stalks across the room and grabs his iPad. He flips the lid open, unlocks it, and starts to do … whatever it is that he does. “She makes easy cash by hooking the Vincents up with buyers for the girls and then feeds some of that cash into the Charter Crew.” Oscar snaps his fingers like he's onto something. “Mitch would just lap up an opportunity like this.”

Victor leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees and waiting for Oscar to finish his mini-rant. Our boss—holy crap, my husband—seems skeptical, but open to this theory.

“I mean, I wouldn't put it past Mommy Dearest to try and fuck me in whatever ways she can, but this is a little far-fetched, don't you think? Bernie's list, the Kushners, the Vincents, Kali. It's all tied together?”

Oscar bites his thumb nail, his gray eyes slits behind the shine of his glasses.

“I'm missing something,” he says, sounding frustrated, like this isn't something that happens to him often.

Funny that, considering he royally fucked my feelings after we had sex. But whatever. I spin a slow circle on the stool and then pause. My eyes flick to Aaron. He's heard about David already, of course, but it's not an easy thing to bring up. He … waited for me. That's pretty romantic, don't you think? Anyway …

“David Benedict,” I say, exhaling sharply.

The Havoc Boys all stop what they're doing to stare at me.

“Your Brittany Burr?” Oscar queries, obviously trying to be an asshole, even during a critical discussion of Havoc business. I fucking can't stand him sometimes. “What about him?”

“He goes to Oak Valley Prep,” I say, standing up from the stool. A strange feeling cuts through me as the puzzle pieces in my mind start to slide together. “Do we know the name of Kali's Oak Valley Prep hookup?” I glance over at Oscar, and he nods, checking the screen of his iPad.

“Yes, of course. Mack Holdman.” Oscar looks back up at me in triumph, but when he finds me grinning, the expression fades away as quick as it came. “What? Are you aware of something that I'm not?”

“David Benedict is bisexual, and he's been fucking Mack on and off since freshman year.” My grin gets a little wider. “Yeah, I actually did have a bit of a conversation with David before I slept with him. You're welcome.”

“Jesus,” Aaron murmurs, his arm brushing up against mine. I swear, I can feel jealousy reverberating through him. “Even if that's true, what does that have to do with anything?” I glance over at Aaron, recalling the look on Kali's face when she saw us snuggled up close in the hallway together. Jealousy, pure and simple. She has always wanted what I have. For what reason, I can't say. My life hasn't exactly been a bed of roses. Not sure I'd wish my existence on my worst enemy.

Oh wait, never mind. I most definitely would.

“Kali was at the same party I was, the night I slept with David.” I swear, Aaron cringes when I say that and then scowls. “She saw me with him, probably saw us leave together. If I know her at all—and I know I do—then she'd probably try to figure out who he was and go after him.”

“You're putting a lot on this theory; I don't like assumptions. You're just assuming that Kali would seek out David. Even then, so what? She's been leaving Prescott with Mack.” Oscar tucks his iPad under his arm and moves closer to me, so that we're only about eighteen inches apart. “Explain that.”

“David doesn't drive himself anywhere. He gets rides with Mack. In that blacked-out Lexus LX?” I raise a brow. “Come on, think about it. David might be bi, but Mack isn't. He is most definitely gay.” I feel so goddamn smug when I lay out all my well-preserved Springfield gossip. Fuller High, Oak Valley Prep, and Prescott High are all inextricably intertwined in their social circles. I mean, not that anyone at either of the other high schools would ever admit it. But come on, out of all three schools, who do you think is the best in bed overall?

Prescott High for the win, motherfucker.

“And you assume he's gay, why?” Oscar asks, cocking his head to the side, like he's trying to figure me out but failing miserably. I'm loving the look.

“Maybe he's actually a virgin but nobody knows the truth?” Hael queries, but I ignore him, focusing instead on Oscar's gray eyes. They narrow even further on me as my grin gets a little wider.

“Well, he's the head of the Oak Valley Prep LGBT club.” I tick off the note on my left pointer finger, the A of my HAVOC tattoo nice and visible. “He's described himself to me in a drunken stupor more than once as that little gay twink who's afraid to talk to other boys.” Second finger ticked off. Oscar is clearly growing more annoyed with me by the second. “He wore a tank top once to a Prescott Party that said Local Gay Magical Girl on it. Do you want me to keep going or …?” I trail off with three fingers raised, and then drop the two on either side, flipping Oscar off as I pretend I just have a little itch on the bridge of my nose.