Chapter 12 #2
I tell myself I’m not going to enjoy being this close to Harley all night, and I also tell myself that I’m shamelessly lying. Harlow looks between the two of us and glowers at me. When she opens her mouth I tug Harley toward the makeshift dance floor and grab the bottle back from him.
The music is deafening and Harley has to curl his body around mine to press his lips against my ear. “How long should we let the asshole wait for us?”
I smile and turn my head to answer him, my heart thumping violently in my chest. “At least four songs. I haven’t danced in weeks and I don’t have to keep an eye on Avery. If you’re not down for that, you can leave me to it. I’m good.”
I turn and pull away from him just enough to dance.
I’m expecting him to take the out I’ve given him and just leave, or find someone else close by to dance with, but instead he grins at me.
Then, without warning, he pulls my hips back into his in a clear statement; we’re here together and if I’m dancing, I’m doing it with him.
The only thought I can muster up is ‘fuck it’, and I swipe the whiskey from him again.
Letting the warmth spread through my limbs, turning me into something pliable and fluid, I let go of everything.
All the stresses and worries, all the planning and manipulating, everything that I spend every waking moment thinking about.
He’s watching my back and I’m protecting his.
Harley is surprisingly good at dancing, even as we swap the whiskey between the two of us like there’s no tomorrow.
He manages to walk that fine line between dirty sexy grinding and mindless dry humping.
I’m panting like a whore in no time. It would be mortifying, but Harley is just as worked up as I am.
By the third song, we’ve drunk enough of the bottle that I tug Harley away from the music. We need to have enough brains about us to handle Joey but I’m not really worried. Harley is a seasoned drinker and I’m no lightweight, despite my size.
Finally satiated for the time being, I take a breath to clear my head before I meet his eyes with a steady look. “Let’s get this over with.”
Harley nods and I take the lead, making our way further into the woods where I know Joey goes to get high. There are groups of students already out to play, moaning and grunting following us as we make our way over to Joey’s group. I don’t look around; I don’t want to know who’s doing who.
When we reach the fence line, I see two very familiar figures leaning against the wrought iron latticework and, all at once, Joey’s master plan unravels before me.
He’s trying to out me, but fuck that. Fuck him .
I freeze before they spot me, ice settling in my veins, but the dealers are too busy doing lines to notice.
Even surrounded by the most degenerate students Hannaford has to offer, they both stand out like sore thumbs.
It’s not their shabby clothes, or the general unkempt look of them.
It’s not the way they’re standing, or the way they speak louder than the rich assholes making a spectacle of themselves.
It’s the desperation rolling off them in waves, the way every inch of them screams starvation, but that doesn’t just come from a lack of food; it’s deprivation on every front.
Every action they take, including coming here tonight, is driven by that ravenous need that can never be filled, while the rich kids loiter aimlessly solely because they’ve gorged themselves sick on life.
After a tense moment, Harley steps up to press himself against my back, moving in complete silence despite his size and the whiskey he’s consumed.
“Friends of yours,” he whispers into my ear.
Joey has seriously misjudged who I am.
The sociopath himself looks up and spots us standing here, grinning at me in an elaborate display of teeth and threats. Then the two Mounts Bay locals notice his attention is elsewhere.
The students might not know who I am, but the Jackal’s underlings clock me instantly. Dealers high enough on his supply chain that they sell to clients like Joey Beaumont, it also means I know them. Their names, friends, the women they’re fucking. I even know where they sleep at night
Where they sleep at night.
They almost drop dead on the spot.
Daniel damn near pisses himself as he scrambles away from Joey, like creating some distance between them will be enough to plead innocence, but he only takes a few steps before he must realize it’s worse to run and slams to a stop. That’s not how shit works and we both know it.
Trenton manages to keep his cool, despite being the younger of the two.
He meets my eye and dips his head, a sign of respect.
He’s only a few years older than I am, but the streets haven’t been kind to him and he looks rough.
He hesitates for a second before his eyes dart over my shoulder and he does the same to Harley.
It’s telling, and something I’ll have to think about later, when we’re not dealing with Joey’s little games.
I stare at Trenton with a blank face, watching as he starts to sweat, and Daniel is practically squirming. I can’t glance back and check if Harley is following my lead, but neither of the men look away from me regardless.
When the silence only stretches on, Joey frowns at his dealers and then turns to me with a scowl.
I arch an eyebrow at him, still not uttering a word. I don’t have to; the silence speaks loud enough that even he can’t ignore it. He wanted to out me as a either a whore or a drug dealer. Well, asshole, you guessed wrong.
Trenton finally breaks the standoff, jerking a thumb in Joey’s direction. “This guy bothering you?”
The words are calm and sure, his voice as steady as his hands are as he slips one behind him.
I know without a doubt that he’s gripping a gun shoved into the waistband of his jeans.
I could probably even guess the gun type, and the state it’ll be in, but it’ll do the job just fine.
One word from me and the eldest Beaumont child catches a bullet between his eyes.
I look at Joey and bait him with nothing more than dead-eyed look.
His lip curls into a snarl when he realizes his little reveal has backfired so superbly.
He’s too high, and arrogant, to notice Trenton’s movements; he has no idea his life is in my hands right now, or how tempted I am to give the order and be done with him.
The tension in Harley’s body tells me he hasn’t missed a thing, and his fingers wrap carefully around my elbow. I don’t know if he’s trying to hold me back, or if it’s a wordless plea to just do it, but the decision isn’t mine to make.
Not yet, anyway.
“He’s just a guy with too much money and too little respect for how things are done in the real world, boys,” I say, and Harley grips my elbow harder.
Trenton nods as he looks down at his toes. “What’ll it be then? You need me to take care of him?”
Standing at the front of the crowd watching on, Harlow’s frown in my direction catches my eye and her lip quivers as she takes a step away from Joey.
Hmm. She’s more observant than I thought.
I take in as much as I can from my peripherals while I hold Joey’s unblinking stare with one of my own.
Even as his eyes burn with their manic fixation, I refuse to back down.
“I’m here to go to school, not start a war. Head home, boys. Hannaford isn’t the place for you.”
Daniel takes off from the clearing, scaling the fence like he’s a pro, then damn near runs toward his car.
Trenton hesitates before stepping over to shake Harley’s hand, ducking his head at me respectfully.
The entire crowd of students watches in silence as he walks away briskly, not outright running but something close.
It’s not until the car starts and peels away that Joey finally speaks. “Who the fuck are you, Mounty?”
The grin I give him is all Wolf, and I lift the bottle of whiskey to my lips as I reply, “Maybe you should watch yourself until you know, Beaumont. I did warn you.”
Harley is all smug bravado as he chuckles behind me, grabbing my free hand and lacing our fingers together. “Come dance, Mounty. Let’s enjoy the rest of the night.”
It’s almost dawn before we finally leave the party and head back to the girl’s dorm, stumbling and cracking jokes and propping each other up like we’re the best of friends.
Staying for so long, and drinking too much, weren’t the brightest of ideas, but apparently, it’s a night for giving zero fucks.
It’s not even the whiskey that has me behaving like this.
It’s Harley, the dancing, acting like teenagers for once because, fuck, we are seventeen.
At least, on paper. Legally . It’s the Bay in us both that has aged us a decade or two.
For the first time, I resent the hell out of that place for robbing me of these sorts of experiences.
I mean, I loathe it for a dozen other reasons, but it’s like I was too busy trying to survive to think about the normal shit I was missing out on.
That just means I’ve got a decent head on my shoulders, but right now, getting a taste of what life looks like for the lucky ones?
Yeah, I hate that place a whole lot more.
I doubt he’s sober enough to pick up on my pity spiral, but Harley’s voice still, thankfully, interrupts it before I’m too far gone. “I’m sleeping in Avery’s bed tonight. If Joey comes up here again, I don’t want you alone.”
My hands fumble with the keys but I manage to unlock the door and get us into my room.
Harley slips his jacket off and hangs it over the armchair he’s claimed before kicking his shoes off to the side of the chair.
He’s still clutching the bottle of whiskey.
Nothing about the spacious room has changed since we’ve been gone, and yet somehow it feels too small now as we’re standing here together.