The guy who runs the dune buggy place takes one look at the group of us—inked, young, irreverent—and asks for double the usual security deposit.

“Money is not an issue,” Oscar lies, handing the guy a prepaid debit card. I'm not sure if the guys stole it, or if it actually belongs to them. Either way, it's likely untraceable. The employee takes the damn thing like it’s dirty, hands over a contract for Victor to sign, and scrutinizes his fake ID—it says his name is Craig Johansen—for a very painful, very silent three minutes.

“We should raise the driver's age to twenty-one, if you ask me,” the idiot grumbles, like he's either brain-dead or has lived such a charmed life that he can't recognize danger when it's staring him straight in the face. How are his instincts not picking up on Callum's unblinking stare?

He's just lucky that the Havoc Boys take no unnecessary risks.

“Fuck, I hate people like that,” Cal says, glancing over his shoulder as the employee dawdles off, leaving us with the keys and a six-seater Ranger Crew XP 1000. Basically, it's like a souped-up golf cart for fucking around in the sand. “Such a judgy asshole. If I had spare time, I'd hide in his closet and scare the shit out of him when he came home.”

“Goddamn, you're creepy,” Hael murmurs with a roll of his brown eyes. He can joke all he wants about Callum, but I've seen his face dark and shuttered from emotion. Even the way he looked at Vic at the garage, when he was telling him to apologize to me, that was terrifying. I mean, not to me. But I would've pissed myself if I were Vic. “Oh,” he starts, grinning as he glances over at Oscar and lifts up the keys for inspection. Hael jingles them around, like he's teasing an angry cat with a bell toy. “You know you aren't getting that security deposit back, right?”

“I'm fully aware of that,” Oscar retorts, completely deadpan. His face is a perfect porcelain mask, like some sort of obscure art piece, so clean and empty and smooth with a frame of wicked ink at his neck. The lenses of his glasses shine, as freakishly clean as usual. I actually have to clench my hands into fists at my sides to keep from stepping forward and smudging the fuck out of them. “Get in the buggy, Hael.”

“Somebody's cranky,” Hael chuckles, grabbing the helmet off the seat and shoving it over his red faux-hawk. He pushes the visor up, so he can give Oscar another look. “Do you need another dip in Bernadette's period blood, huh? Would that calm you down?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, get in the goddamn buggy and shut your fat mouth,” Vic snaps as the color drains from my face. I'd thought Hael was asleep when I confronted Oscar in the bedroom; I was sort of under the impression that Hael and Aaron didn't know about me and Oscar yet. Victor gives me a look, as if to say well, what did you expect, we're family. I bet he told Hael. Even considering the closeness that Havoc brings, he and Hael are besties for sure.

That means … Aaron is the only one that doesn't know.

Goddamn it.

“Wicked,” Callum snickers, but he's smiling when I glance back at him. He holds out a hand, as if the dune buggy is some sort of carriage led by white horses. I put my fingers in his and let him help me in, even though I could've easily gotten in myself.

“He gets to do chivalrous stuff, but I can't?” Hael jokes as I flip him off and use the hair-tie on my wrist to put my hair into a messy bun at the base of my neck.

“He isn't cocky about it,” I quip back as Callum takes the seat on my left while Vic grabs the one on my right. Oscar sits in the passenger seat while Hael cackles as he sticks the keys into the ignition.

“Babe, if you're waiting around for me to stop being cocky, you'll be prehistoric before that happens.” Hael flips his visor down as I grab my own helmet and put it on. I'd bet my ass that the guys would normally shirk the idea of safety for safety's sake, but then … the helmets offer an element of anonymity. That, and there's a bit of a creepy factor to them, the way they hide the eyes.

Hael lets out a whoop of excitement as he starts the engine and takes off down the winding path toward the beach. We fly over a small bump at the end of the road, and my stomach lurches into my throat. It's fun, and I find myself grinning, despite the notion that we're actually going to see Coraleigh Vincent at some point this afternoon.

Still, it's exciting … enough. But the adrenaline rush is nothing compared to the highs I've been riding lately. Between my feelings for the guys, the scent of danger in the air, and all the bullshit situations we've been in, I don't think something as simple as riding a dune buggy would be enough for me ever again.

I've been ruined by Havoc.

Hael takes us over the biggest dunes he can find, tilting the buggy at angles that make me wonder if we're not going to roll backwards down the hill. My breath catches and I lean forward, hands curling around the top of the front seat. Even if the adrenaline rush is weak in comparison, it still makes for a good time. Actually, I'd like to do things like this more often.

Victor and I are married, but we've never been on a date. Like, a real date.

This is the closest I've come to having one with anyone but Aaron.

“You like this?” Vic asks, his voice muffled by the helmet. All I can do is nod as we shoot over the top of the hill and the buggy goes airborne for a moment before crashing into the sand. We have a lot to learn, me and these boys.

We skirt the edge of the sea, splashing through the foam and coating my calves and ankles with cool saltwater before shooting into a patch of thick sea grass. It's only once we pass through the reeds that I see the other buggy. It's much smaller than ours, a two-seater carrying a man and woman, their faces covered with their helmets.

My breath catches, and my heart stills in my chest.

This is Havoc in a nutshell, give me something pretty, promise me something wicked.

Hael turns the wheel and sends us heading straight for them.

Oh.

“You know you aren't getting that security deposit back, right?”

Hael's words click into place about ten seconds before the impact. I clench my teeth, digging my nails into the seat back for purchase as Hael lets out a whoop of excitement. Our buggy hits the side of what I can only assume is the Vincents' vehicle, sending it tumbling across the sand like a gymnast. The force of it knocks me forward and then sends me flying back. Both Vic and Cal keep a hand on my thigh, but my brain rattles around in my skull anyway.

It must be just a fraction of what the Vincents are going through.

Their buggy flips a few times and then slides down the dune we're resting on. I can hear the couple screaming—even through their helmets—as they struggle to get control of the vehicle. Unfortunately for them, it flips one last time and, with a tired groan, the little buggy comes to rest on its back like an upturned beetle, wheels spinning against the sky.

Hael drives us down the side of the dune and parks next to the overturned buggy, shutting the engine off and then pulling his helmet off. His bloodred hair is mussy and sexy as hell. Shouldn't rightfully turn me on so much, seeing the guys wreak havoc and leave chaos and mayhem in their wake. But it does.

I'm just that twisted.

“Oops,” Hael says as he folds his forearms on the steering wheel and parks his chin atop them. “I think we hit something.”