37. Hendrix
Hendrix
I t’s Monday morning after my near abduction, and let’s just say the world around us looks a hell-of-a lot different.
For starters, I’ve watched the entire weekend as scary men in suits got assigned to every corner outside the Lavell mansion, and Vic’s techs installing some souped up surveillance systems all throughout it too.
The front, back, side, everywhere within a five mile radius has been planted with his tech company’s newly advanced censored cameras and AI facial recognition programs. Types that the Secret Service would probably use.
But, then again, I’m pretty sure it’s Vic the Secret Service relies on to protect politicians.
As much as I knew there was brilliance behind Vic and his company, the power hadn’t fully dawned on me until seeing him in action.
A courtesy he was adamant about upholding, not wanting Theory or me to feel like we’re being smothered.
I mean, we were, but politely from the shadows.
What else has fully dawned on me is how much this man, along with Saint and Carlo, are no. Longer. Fucking around.
Another thing Vic reassured me of when demanding Theory and I remain on school grounds during the week.
“Trust me, kiddo, this is for your own good,” Vic tries to convince me amidst overseeing operations with the metal detectors installed at school.
Parents of the kids made it clear with Headmaster Beaumont they aren’t happy, given detectors usually come hand in hand with sketchy neighborhood kids and public schools.
Not super expensive elite ones.
A bit ridiculous, given extra security isn’t something a parent should stick their nose in the air about, but who am I to judge when I’ve been doing the same?
“You have like twenty guys surrounding us and the building,” I remind him, even though I doubt he needs it. “It’s drawing even more attention than I’ve already been getting.”
Like I said…hypocrite.
He pauses whatever instructions he was giving one of the guys working a computer, then turns to me, not a lick of joking in his expression. “You could’ve been seriously hurt that night, Hendrix. Or worse. I’m not sure you’re fully grasping the severity of what happened.”
He’s not exactly wrong…I’ve been as busy compartmentalizing feelings as he was upgrading his level of security.
Almost being abducted and watching your boyfriend assist in murder will do that to you. It’s why I needed to spend this time focusing on Saint, his pain, his past, and how I can tell he’s been feeling guilty about me getting caught up in his family’s drama.
There’s also the fact he admitted to torching Gunner’s cousin…over something the guy said about me.
So, yeah. Any foreseen trauma of mine will have to take a back seat.
“Morning Daddy…” Theory skips over to us in her uniform pants and blazer, uninterested by the crazy as she pops a kiss on his cheek. It’s as if all the chaos is her average Monday.
“Sissy…” she greets me too, but with a sideways hug. “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?”
“Other than why your sister insists on delaying the inevitable?” Vic pins me with an impatient glare. Probably because we’ve been doing this dance for over thirty minutes.
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you or Mom actually told me why the Ivanovs would choose me to pay a visit to.”
“That’s easy…” Theory scoffs. “They assumed you would be the easiest target.”
Ouch .
Vic looks at his daughter like she just cursed the Lord’s name in vain during Sunday mass…or maybe that she’s proving a valid point.
“What?” She shrugs. “I’m not saying she is, just that strategically they’d figure the stepkid would be given the least protection.”
“Shut up, Theory,” Saint grumbles from behind me, saving Vic the energy of scolding her, and when I turn I find him exactly how I expected. Tired eyes, untucked uniform, Letterman, fitted, and holding a white plastic bag.
He’s barely slept for two days, either with his face buried in a laptop or jumping out of bed from every bang that came from outside my bedroom window.
A few times he even stormed into the hallway, nearly blowing our cover on the sleepovers our parents still aren’t aware we’ve been having.
Or relationship for that matter.
Well, except for my mom. I haven’t missed the questionable eyes from her every time Saint laughs in my direction. Thankfully, her and Auntie have been too busy inspecting me for PTSD and not a secret stepbrother boyfriend.
“Hey.” I smile when he’s at my side, fighting the urge to reach on my toes and kiss him. “Took you a while.”
He’s been sneaking out of bed in the mornings before I wake, and both times I’d find him fully dressed sitting in the dining room, with stacks of pancakes and bacon waiting for me.
Except for this morning when I found a text he had to run an errand, and that he’d meet me here with breakfast.
Vic shares a look with Saint, one that tells me the errand most definitely had to do with me.
“Managed to piss off Ali again…he edges as punishment.”
Ah, yes. His trusty sandwich maker.
“You get me one too?” Theory peeks into the bag, where Saint pulls out a round aluminum foil covered sandwich.
“Fuck yeah!” She snatches it from him.
“Language,” Vic warns.
Jesus if there’s anything good to come out of us being glued to our dorm rooms for the week, it’s the time I’ll spend not treating Theory like a seven year old.
“Bell’s going to ring in twenty minutes, so you guys head inside and eat then get to class,” Vic orders, the exhaustion in his tone as prominent as the exhaustion on Saint’s face.
It’s for this reason I cave, but not before walking through the metal detector with a tight smile and hands in the air.
Not only are there four men, a Stanley, and a Carlo littering the halls, but I’ve got an edgy Saint to my left, and Theory with an equally tense Levi to her right as we make our way to class.
Saint’s arm, along with his Letterman is draped possessively over my shoulders, something that every kid around us seems to be gawking at. Including a torn up Annalie.
Pun intended .
“Girlllllll…” Theory mumbles to me from the corner of her lip. “These bitches be grillin’ yo’ ass in big bro’s jacket.”
“I put up a good fight…but lost it to his threat to serenade me.”
Theory snorts. “Oh, please. You got him wrapped around your pretty middle finger.”
“You. Are. Delusional.”
She gives me a look that screams “Oh, yeah, sure” then tilts her head to the nearest classroom, making the entirety of the uptight group screech to a halt. “Alrighty guys, this is moi .” Theory passes me to get to Saint, then kisses him the same way she did Vic earlier.
“Check ya later, sissy.” She winks at me, then struts off carefree as Stanley follows.
Saint shoots a glance at Levi, who then follows Theory too.
“Doesn’t Levi have Biology?” I question when we’re moving again.
Saint’s jaw is sharp enough to cut through glass. “I’ve got him shadowing Theory until shit blows over.”
“So, he switched to each of her classes…sounds oddly familiar.”
The joke, as cute as I think it is, falls on deaf ears as Saint glares at something in the distance. It alarms me at first, but when I trail his line of sight I find not an it , but a someone .
Stevenson, hand in hand with his girlfriend, trying not to look at us.
“Really?” I deadpan when he tightens his arm around my shoulder. “You’re publicly pissing on me, now?”
Saint’s lip twitches into a scowl when Stevenson casts a glance at me. “Motherfuckers need to know you’re mine.”
“I’m not an object, you dingbat. So quit it with the caveman shit.”
Of course, the fucker does the complete opposite, lifting my chin and tilting my head to face him. Saint’s lips are close, too close for any stepbrother to have near his stepsister. “A caveman would fuck you right in the middle of the hallway for your loser ex-boyfriend to watch.”
Zero doubts Saint would do just that if I agreed.
And a small, very sick part of me would consider it if it meant staking a claim on him too.
“Haven’t you tortured the guy enough?”
“Not even close.” His icy glare returns to Stevenson until he’s behind us. “I still didn’t punish his ass for not letting you sit on his face.”
Enter…whiplash.
“First of all!” I whisper. “Lower your voice…and second of all, you may quite literally be the only dude on this planet to go from possessive caveman to getting mad at your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend for refusing to eat her cooch!”
Saint tilts his head with a lazy shrug. “He made you feel insecure.”
I blink at him. “You are such a freaking anomaly.”
The second Saint and I pass the threshold into the classroom, I’m met with Mr. Beckett placing a hand on my shoulder. “I heard about the mugging, Hendrix. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Mugging. Right. Because that’s a believable reason to amp up security at the school.
“I am, Mr. B, thanks for checking.”
A friendly nod turns to a shake of Beckett’s head when Saint glowers at him, then the hand he’s using to comfort me.
Unlike the halls, the passing of English class remains pretty anticlimactic, the max shock factor being a tie between convincing Archer to shut up about Gunner’s cousin and Saint reading aloud a passage from Romeo and Juliet. With me .
There’s also been Annalie’s satisfied glances at my lips, and me holding out a paper that says “At least my scar won’t be permanent, bitch.”
Grammatically correct and everything.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight, Hen? Slumber party?” Archer beams from the desk beside me, packing up his books.
“How about a big fat fucking no?” Saint retorts.
“Quit being a dick,” I mumble, low enough for Archer not to hear.
Saint may or may not be over my best friend’s latest investigation, but now that I persuaded him to drop it, he’s going to have to find a way to get over it.
Preferably without sewing Archer’s mouth shut like he suggested.
Saint responds with yet another one of his perfectly crafted shrugs, and I go back to finding a way to let Archer down easy.
“Maybe another night, Arch. Vic is in full panic mode.”