seventeen
The Heathen
“More,” Angel grits out, though his face is already closer to purple than red on the spectrum of face shades.
“You don’t have anything to prove,” Saint mutters, glancing over at our new star, the giant who should probably be playing QB in the NFL. Our team looks funny with the tallest guy being the quarterback. He’s not as tall as Bain Sincero, but he could swing that skinny freak around like a baseball bat if he wanted. The thought makes me a little too happy, and I nearly sprint off the treadmill before I can up the speed.
My feet pound the belt, and I grab my towel and mop my forehead, then wipe the grin off my face. I’d never forgive myself if I was laughing when Angel kicked the bucket. Death by competitive weightlifting. Then again, if he’ll kill himself trying to beat a guy who’s got a good four inches and fifty pounds on him, maybe laughing at his dumbass is the sendoff he deserves.
Royal, for his part, looks entirely unbothered. I’m not sure he even notices that Angel’s got the same amount of weight on the bar. The new guy’s alright, despite the shitty comment about Eternity he made the first time we met. He’s fuckin’ brilliant on the field, and off it, he keeps to himself. Dude doesn’t even live on campus, according to the Master, who checked him out for Angel.
Can’t be too careful with all the Disciples who’ve moved in over the past decade. We didn’t have to worry about that shit when we were kids. The Skull & Crossbones ran Faulkner like a well-oiled machine. That was the heyday, according to my brother-in-law, in the time between the reconciliation of the Skulls and the Crossbones, which had split into two separate entities, and the encroachment of the scumbags who call themselves Diablo’s Disciples.
The door to the gym swings open, and Royal glances over.
“Closed session,” Saint calls without looking up from where he’s spotting Angel. Everyone knows the gym is reserved for the team this time of day, and if anyone interrupts, it’s usually the Sinners trying to fuck with us and stage an “accident” with the weights that leaves one of us decapitated.
Not that I blame them. I’d do the same to every single one of them without hesitation.
Hey, even gangsters want to make the world a better place.
I see who it is before the others, so I hit the button to stop the treadmill. This should be some good shit. I glance at Saint, waiting for him to turn around and see his sister, but he’s trying to keep Angel from bursting an aneurism by lifting too much. To my surprise, Mercy stomps straight over to me, wearing those hideous wooden shoes she always clomps around in, a jean skirt that reaches her ankles, and a shirt that looks like a reject from the wardrobe of Little House on the Prairie .
“I know it was you,” she snaps, her eyes flashing with some of the fire I remember so well from when we were kids. It makes me wonder where all that went. Guess juvie’s not the only thing that can fuck you up.
“Hey, little lamb,” I say, grinning and pulling out my AirPods, a gift from Saint’s rich ass. “What can I do for you? Need me to kneel so you can squirt me in the face again? Because hot as that was, I think it’s my turn to give you a facial. Gotta return the favor, little sis.”
She gulps, her cheeks going pink and her startled gaze flying to the others in the room.
Angel drops the bar back into the cradle, and Saint turns to glower at us. I hop onto the edges of the treadmill, letting the belt crawl between my feet as it slows.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Saint demands, snagging his threadbare t-shirt and shrugging it on before dragging his hair from the neck. He winds it up in a bun while glowering at his sister.
Mercy tears her gaze from the way the thin shirt is plastered onto Saint’s sculpted body and back to me. “You trashed my room,” she accuses, stabbing a finger into my chest.
I catch my boys glancing at each other, the frown of confusion on Saint’s brow. Then he turns to Royal and the linebacker doing leg presses. “Give us the room.”
Angel puffs up like he’s ready to fight them if they refuse—the linebacker knows what’s up, but Royal’s new. But he just stands and chugs some water, then heads for the door.
“Mercy,” he says, giving her a quick nod on his way.
“Hey,” she says, gulping and staring at his sweaty body like she’d like to choke on his donkey dong. The chick has no chill whatsoever, and clearly doesn’t know her fuck-me eyes are eye-fucking every guy in the room. The thirsty little lamb will learn not to look at men that way soon enough.
“How the fuck do you know Royal Dolce?” Saint demands as soon as the door closes behind the two departing players.
“We’re both freshmen,” she says, shrugging. “We have a project together.”
“Try again,” Saint says, turning his back and grabbing a towel from the cart. “You can’t work with him.”
“What?” she demands.
“You heard me,” he says. “Find a new partner. One without a penis.”
“Okay…” she says, looking at him like he’s ridiculous and not just looking out for his sister. If Eternity were here, I’d do the same thing. No dude wants to think about his sister’s uterus being skewered from bottom to top with an inhumanly large monster cock.
“Trust us, he’s bad news,” Angel says, accepting the towel from Saint. He swings his leg over the bench and turns his back while he mops his face.
“It’s for class,” Mercy says, staring at Angel’s back, where a giant crow is inked into the entire canvas of his skin, stretching over his shoulders and down his arms.
“You’re studying shit for class,” Saint corrects. “He’s studying you.”
“He’s not studying me,” she protests, looking at him like he’s crazy. “He has a girlfriend.”
I laugh. “How’d you make it to college with that much naiveté intact?”
The defiant spark in her eyes makes me want to break her will so completely she’s a lifeless fuck doll who does nothing but beg for my dick and then sob for mercy while it pounds her so hard her soul leaves her body and joins mine in hell.
“Trust us, lil mama,” Angel says, twisting around on the bench. “We’re just looking out for you. It don’t matter if he’s got a different girl lined up to ride his dick every night of the week. His only project right now is wearing you down until you let him bust one out inside you.”
“No lies detected,” I say, hopping off the treadmill and draping my towel over the back of my neck. “Let him nut in the butt, and you’ll never see him again.”
Mercy’s chin juts out, making her fat lower lip look so delicious I want to bite it and listen to her whimper in pain. “Stop deflecting,” she says, like she’s suddenly grown a pair.
“Oh, so you think you’re in charge here?” I ask, gesturing between us. “You think you’re calling the shots?”
She just glares.
“That’s so cute.” I turn to the boys. “Isn’t she cute?”
“That’s not how this sacrifice thing works,” Saint says, shaking his head in disbelief.
“You trashed my room,” she says, crossing her arms and returning her attention to me. “Admit it.”
“Now, why would I do that?” I ask, throwing an arm around her. “If I was going to go in your room, I’d do it when you were there so I could hear all those sexy noises you make when you’re scared, like you did when I tied you up on HAVOC night. They make me so hard.”
She shoves me away with surprising strength. “Get off me,” she huffs, wrinkling her cute little nose. “You’re all sweaty.”
“You love it,” I say, reaching down and gripping the hem of my tank, my arms crossed over my abdomen. Her eyes follow the movement, and she gulps as I slowly peel up the damp fabric, dragging it over my abs, my chest and shoulders, and finally over my head.
Her gaze locks in on my pierced nipples, and a pretty red color starts to creep up her neck. The bitch looks like she’s ready to drop to her knees and suck me off right here.
“You need a picture?” I ask, stroking my palm over my tattooed chest and down my abs. “Because I’m down, as long as it’s an even trade. Titties for tatties.”
“What?” she asks, jerking her gaze from my piercings.
“I mean, if you’d rather touch, I’m open to that too.” I wink at her, and she tucks her hands behind her back like it’s the only way she can keep from reaching out and playing with the rings. “If you like hardware, just wait ‘til you see my dick. Oh wait…”
“That’s my sister,” Saint snaps, shoving past me. He swats me with his towel, and though it’s hard enough to make my ass sting, I know he’s not really pissed. Saint doesn’t lose his temper.
“What’s this about your room being gone through?” he asks, sitting down at one of the weight machines, watching her while he starts his reps.
“Someone trashed my room,” Mercy says. “I know it was one of y’all. If not this heathen, then it must have been you.”
“Not Angel?” he asks.
She glances at Angel and away quickly. “No.”
“You don’t think I’ve got as much reason for revenge as these two?” Angel asks, his serpentine eyes going hooded. Maybe she saw the tattered, threadbare strings the dumbass still wears around his wrist, the remnants of the friendship bracelets we all made one summer at church camp while we sat outside our cabins swatting mosquitos and talking over the drone of insects buzzing in the woods around us. She probably thinks it’s for her, not my sister. The thought turns my mood sour in an instant.
“It… There was a picture,” she mumbles.
“A picture?” I growl. “What kind of picture?”
“Of us,” she mumbles, staring at the floor between Angel’s feet.
“A picture of you,” Saint says flatly. “And Angel.”
“Were you fucking in the pic?” I ask, gripping the ends of my towel and rubbing it back and forth on the back of my neck hard enough to burn the skin.
“From this morning,” she says to the floor.
“What happened this morning?” I ask. “Besides us kicking the Sinners’ asses for you.”
“We… He… Kissed me,” Mercy stammers.
The weights slam back onto the stack as Saint wheels around toward Angel. “You kissed her?”
“Her mouth.” Angel’s gaze travels down Mercy’s body, hidden under that ridiculous costume she wears to hide her curves. “I just gave her a little preview.”
Her eyes widen, and she crosses her arms over her chest, but not before I see her nipples harden into points under her flimsy shirt. I can’t blame the girl. The way Angel eats pussy puts wine tasters to shame.
“We didn’t trash your room,” Saint says flatly, going back to the weights.
“Then who did?” she demands.
“I can think of one person who might want to scare you,” I say. “Or seven, to be exact.”
“You think the Sinners trashed my dorm room?”
I shrug. “We did kick their asses this morning.”
“Great,” she says, throwing up her hands. “Now you got the Hellhounds and the Sinners after me?”
“We didn’t send the Sinners after you,” Saint says. “You got on their radar the first fucking day of classes with no help from us.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” she demands.
“You could leave,” Saint says. “Go back into hiding at the Sisters of Mercy or whatever the fuck the convent was called where you were the past four years.”
She stares at him a second. “I wasn’t in a convent.”
“Really?” I ask, cocking my head. “Then why do you dress like that?”
“So, my choices are to drop out of school the first semester, or have twenty guys on campus trying to rape me?”
“We said we’d protect you,” Angel points out.
“Somehow I don’t think that’s what you said.”
“You’re ours,” Saint says. “We protect what’s ours. Even from the other Hellhounds.”
She gulps, her gaze moving from one of us to the next. “You three?”
“Just say the word,” Angel says, pulling his t-shirt over his broad shoulders and down his ripped abs. Dude might not be quite as massive as Royal Dolce, but he looks like a bodybuilder, broad and thick and hard as granite.
I’m not the only one who noticed, either.
Mercy’s got her thirsty bitch eyes roaming over him now. “And then what?”
He smirks and shrugs his shoulders, letting the shirt settle over his impressive muscles. “And then you give us what we want in return. We always protected you, Mercy. But you didn’t protect us. So now our protection comes with a cost. No more free passes, lil mama.”
She scoffs. “You protected me? Is that what you call the bricks that came through our window because of your family’s gang affiliation?”
“Did any of those bricks kill you in your sleep?” he challenges.
She doesn’t answer.
“Not a hair on your pretty little head was harmed,” he says, prowling toward her and lifting her chin. “Trust me, little lamb. If we wanted to crush your skull until you were unrecognizable to your own parents, we could have.”
She turns her gaze my way, and I try not to flinch at the knowledge that those words remind her and everyone else of my sister.
“So now you pay for protection like a common whore,” I say, pulling on a clean black tee.
Her crystal blue gaze searches mine, the unspoken question loud and clear. “And?”
“And we don’t let anything happen to you,” I say. “Like finding out things you don’t want them to know.”
“Why would I trust you?” she asks. “You hate me. You’d do anything to destroy me.”
Saint snorts quietly.
“What?” she asks, wheeling toward him. “Is that funny to you?”
He just shakes his head and continues his routine.
“What’s funny?” she demands.
“If we wanted to destroy you, you’d already be gone,” Angel says.
“So I’m supposed to trust the word of a bunch of heathens who—did stuff—to me without my permission?”
“Hey, you signed up,” I say. “No one forced you to do that.”
She glares like she’s imagining ripping off my testicles. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty hot. But I speak the truth. She could have told me to go fuck myself when I brought out the confession. She signed up to protect herself. It was a transaction, like everything in life. I didn’t force her to do shit. Besides, the bitch got off so hard she’ll never forget it. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy the game as much as the rest of us, no matter how much she pretends otherwise.
“Why am I even here?” she asks. “You’re a bunch of murderers. Obviously you’re not going to help me.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Angel says quietly, staring her down.
“What else am I supposed to believe?” she demands. “No one told the truth but me.”
Her words hang in the air, the room silent as Saint gently lowers the stack of weights and straightens. His gaze snags mine, checking in the way he always does, like he’s expecting me to go full psycho at any moment. I’m not sixteen anymore though. I’ve got my shit under control. Mostly.
“You think I raped and killed my own sister?” I ask Mercy, my voice quiet as I grit out the words that feel like ground glass in my throat.
The stubborn tilt of her cute little chin is going to be my undoing. “Did you?” she asks.
Normally pain turns me on, but that one hurts in a way I didn’t know I was still capable of.
“Stop being ridiculous,” Saint snaps, rising from the seat.
“It’s ridiculous to think you’re killers who were never convicted?” she asks. “Just because the prosecutor couldn’t find enough evidence, that doesn’t mean the crime didn’t happen.”
“You better walk out of here while you still can,” I say, my voice low but barely controlled.
“Fine,” she says. “But just so you know, I’m not going anywhere, no matter how many cryptic notes you leave in my room while I’m sleeping or on my door when I’m in class. If you can walk free after what you did, so can I. I don’t need your protection scam.”
She turns and clops toward the door in her stupid shoes.
Angel slips in front of her before she can walk out.
“You need our very real protection,” he says, a frown darkening his brow. “We didn’t go in your room, and you better fucking pray it wasn’t the Sinners. If it was, you have no idea what you’re getting into, and you damn sure can’t do it alone.”
“What choice do I have?” she asks, jerking away when he reaches for her elbow.
“You can bring payment to us in the chapel tonight,” I say behind her. “Come alone, and bring you rosary.”
She glances over her shoulder, her brows drawn together, forming a cute little line between them. “The chapel?”
“Consider it an extra prayer session,” I say. “After all, you’ll be spending it on your knees.”