Chapter 12
“CONTROL” BY HALSEY
Dust stirred up under my wheels as I climbed off my bike and started toward the barn. I tossed a glare at the loud hogs beside Uncle Dominik’s old house and tore my helmet off my head.
I’d barely picked Estelle up from preschool when I received a call from Levi—twice. First, he left me a nasty voicemail about picking up my phone, the other a quick answer from me once I had closed my car door. Estelle shouldn’t hear what those pricks had to say.
That tracker came back to bite me in the ass.
I figured they’d check on it eventually, but I thought I’d have a little more time.
If I was smart, I would have stashed it under another car and let these fools follow a stranger.
At least then, I would have given myself enough time to handle . . . her.
I hadn’t figured that little detail out yet. Quinntessa wasn’t very social, so gaining any information about her father was already making me frustrated. How did she expect to make friends if she wouldn’t talk to anyone?
She spends most of her time on the stupid football field, in her pretty vintage car reading a book, or napping before classes.
She was the least girl’s girl I’ve ever met.
She didn’t want friends. She didn’t want to go to school events.
She didn’t even flirt back with the soccer players who approached her in the lunchroom twice this week.
I remembered her reaction well. Oddly, it made me smile from across the room. Kaleb needed a heavy dose of humbling.
He had talked about Quinntessa’s thighs in the gym, according to Briar. He liked the way she chose to play volleyball over dodgeball on the left side of the gym. It meant he got to watch the show like most of the other boys.
Somewhere within his flirting, he confessed to liking her iconic hair style.
Quinntessa changed her hairstyle almost daily.
Some days, it was in tight curls and others in loose ones.
She wore messy buns and small, braided crowns.
No wonder she wouldn’t give him the time of day.
The only thing iconic about her choice of style was the heart always drawn by her eye.
Although, it still surprised me she turned him away. Kaleb Philips was considered an attractive junior, and Quinntessa didn’t bat a lash at his flirty antics. It was impressive how she remained focused on the small print inside her book over a boy drooling over her.
She was better off without him anyway. Kaleb was an asshole.
I walked into the barn with my fists stuffed inside my jacket pockets. Clenching and unclenching, I soon realized Levi wasn’t at the bar below but standing beside the stalls.
My feet dug into the loose hay scattered over the wood floors and stared at a young man huddled against the back of one of the horse stalls.
His blond, almost white, hair fell past his ears in tight, messy curls.
His eyes caught sight of me, and I suddenly recognized the boy from Blackheart Academy.
Jamison. That was his name. He was one of the baseball players. His father owed Papa a deep debt for years. I can only assume him being tied up in the horse stall was the exact reason I was called today, not because of the tracker.
Thank fuck.
I was relieved this didn’t have to do with the Dawson family. Yet, I felt myself pale at the state of the baseball player.
“Took you long enough,” Oscar chuckled and glanced up from his phone.
I dragged my feet around the short corner, in full view of Levi and the present Vincent brothers.
Levi’s heavy eyes heaved up to mine before falling back down to the blade he was sharpening. He didn’t stop the loud shrieks of metal striking the sharper until I cleared my throat.
“You’re late.” He stepped back and held the knife up to the light. “I told you to be here an hour ago.”
“I have my priorities. Get used to them, or stop calling me when you know I’m busy,” I reminded him, shoulders forced into a relaxed position as my eyes traveled. “What’s going on here?”
“Someone’s about to pay a lot of money for this kid, that’s what.” Oscar smirked.
Oscar Vincent was an eyesore. His dark hair was messy, and he always smelled of sweat.
I never understood why daughters of a few members flocked to him.
I remember Papa wanted me and Milo to interact more at a young age to seal a deal with the Vincent family.
Lucky for him, I wasn’t into Milo or any of the boys he placed in front of me.
Papa didn’t need an alliance with the weak Vincent men to stay on top. He was the mastermind behind multiple new operations since taking over for my grandfather. No one dared cross either of them. It would be like sticking a fork in an electrical outlet.
“Oscar made an offer to your father.” Levi smirked into the reflection of the knife’s blade. “Claims you’ll never kill someone. Why keep waiting for you to take over Dom’s spot?”
“The fuck?” I ripped my hands out of my jacket pockets. “You goin’ behind my back, Vincent?”
“I’m doing what needs to be done, Princess.” Oscar leaned back against the stall door and pulled a small carving knife from his pocket. He pressed the sharp tip into the pad of his finger and twirled the knife with a toying smirk. “You’re weak. We both know it.”
“I’m not, but thank you for being so insecure, you need to keep pointing it out,” I said with a soft chuckle.
Men were so cute when they were worried about their masculinity, like frightened Yorkies trying to fight the big dogs.
“What did you just call me?” Oscar pushed off the stall door and approached me, waving his knife behind him at Jamison. “I kidnapped a man!”
“You kidnapped a kid who loves to party with anyone who offers. He probably got into your car himself.” I crossed my arms over my chest and smirked at Oscar’s irritation.
I remained calm and took the chance to gather my thoughts.
“Did you think about how risky it is to kidnap a star athlete directly before a practice? How about when they’re preparing for the season with conditioning?
No, you didn’t. You’re no torpedo. You’re an uncontrollable bomb! ”
“I am not!” Oscar shouted adorably. I loved when men got this pouty.
It made my heart flutter with adrenaline.
Last time this happened, Duke stomped his little feet after I took a bat to his windshield.
“Just you wait, Battles. Your papa knows true, raw talent when he sees it. I am a fucking star, and you know it! He’s going to see that kid and hand me your jacket. ”
Oscar reached out and grabbed at the fabric of my uncle’s jacket. I was quick to knock the carving knife out of his hands, listening to it scatter across the floor. He darted at me again, and I blocked each of his grabby hands until he swung directly at my face.
I stumbled back in surprise, a soft sting on my mouth.
Had he hit me? Erica’s slaps hurt more than this.
I felt my throbbing lip and hissed at the sensitivity around my piercings.
I’d been hit before by these boys, but never in front of Levi.
He was watching closely as I shook away the stars rattling my brain.
“You fight like a bitch,” Oscar spat. “Your kid softened you up. Thought you grew some balls in prison.”
In seconds, I was overcome by a wave of rage.
I was sure my eyes flashed red as tears trickled into my vision.
I took a step forward then planted my foot and cracked my fist across Oscar’s nose as hard as humanly possible.
I swear, I heard bones crunch. It could have been my finger bones for all I knew.
They were throbbing before I even connected with his face, clenched so tight, I could hear my throbbing heart rattling the bones.
My chin raised, and I stood tall, watching him teeter back a few steps. He raised his hands to the blood leaking down his face before the force of my punch sent him tumbling onto his back. Oscar laid there for a few short seconds, holding his crooked nose, before scrambling back up from the ground.
“What the fuck?” he snapped, feeling his face. “You broke my nose!”
“Oh, poor baby.” I tilted my head and smirked. Blood dripped down my lip from my snagged lip ring. I’d have to clean that well later, or I was asking for an infection. “Do you need your mommy to kiss it better?”
Oscar’s face flushed with embarrassment when Levi chuckled. He picked up his knife from the floor and tried to approach me, but Levi slapped his sharpened blade across Oscar’s chest, dangerously close to his throat. He tensed, not moving a muscle in fear of being sliced.
“Enough.” Levi stared at me with a twisted smile. I swallowed as he turned the knife around, holding the blade so I could grab the handle. “Take care of him, Quincy.”
Oscar scoffed. “It’s my guy! I got him!” he cried out.
Levi raised his brows when I didn’t move to grab the knife. My gaze fell to the blade as I licked the blood off my lip using its reflection.
I didn’t want that. I couldn’t take it. Here I was, living a lie to two men who would kill me, waiting for them to cave under my demented stare like Levi hadn’t seen worse than me.
“As I said before, Oscar has picked the most public kill he could choose,” I reminded him. “If I wanted to kill someone using my brain, it wouldn’t be the star of Blackhawk’s baseball team. This is no blood I want on my hands.”
Levi tossed the knife in the air and caught the handle. He turned away from us and placed it on the side table, picking up his beer bottle.
“She’s right.” He turned to Oscar and shrugged. “So, what are you going to do to ensure our family isn’t affected by your mistake?”
“But I got him?” Oscar frowned, his icy blue eyes fluttering between us. “We ask for money! We get the dues. We kill him and dump the body—why are you not concerned she won’t kill? She’s the fucking torpedo now!”