Chapter Nine
Aloud noise woke me the next morning.
Jacques stood over the countertop, chopping various things and throwing them in the blender.
I pushed myself up, stretching out my kinks and coils.
“Thirteen.”
Mumbling under my breath, I shoved the dog bed back in the house and tossed the blanket in after it. I didn’t bother asking why I got another number.
After the house went quiet, I grabbed one of the dresses they left on the coffee table, tore off the collar, and carried the bed and blanket to the couch. The bed ended up being my pillow for a surprisingly restful sleep. Not as comfortable as Cairo’s bed, but far better than the night they planned for me.
“Thirteen,” I repeated. “What’s that supposed to be?”
Jacques finished his smoothie and took a sip. It looked awful. A thick, green sludge with floating black bits I couldn’t identify. Jacques, though, was another story. This guy did not spend the night on a frat-house couch, cuddled with a dog bed.
His hair was brushed back that morning. The tufts above his ears curled, at odds with the rest of his thick, straight rows of ebony. He opted for another outfit from the neutral side of the closet. Light gray sweater and black pants. Behind those thick frames, steely eyes watched me watch him. He was likely used to scrutiny. Gorgeous and a prodigy. People never took their eyes off him.
“That’s how many times you’ve broken the rules.”
“How? You started me at seven.”
“You framed us for murder,” he shot back.
“Fair enough. But still, after you guys went to bed, you couldn’t have expected me to sleep in a bikini in a doghouse. Now that we’re up, I’ll continue playing your humiliation game until you get bored of it.”
“You will tell me why that is,” he said. “Your willingness to play our humiliation game.”
I tugged the pink sheath dress over my head. The lingerie underneath shone stark in its revealing glory.
“Did Legend buy me shoes too? Show mercy and do not make me wear heels. I grew up on a farm. The only use for them is hammering a tilted post for the goat pen when I’m too far from the toolbox.”
“Collar,” he said.
Dutifully, I slipped it around my neck, flicking my name tag against its neighbors. Cairo saw fit to stamp the name of my owners on metal pieces to hang next to mine.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.
“Hands and knees. Face the doghouse.”
“Why? What’s this punishment, Jacques?”
“Hands. Knees. Doghouse.”
I was slow to move, so he stepped out from the kitchen.
I didn’t know Jacques. I couldn’t say if the Artic chill that frosted his glasses and put a shiver up my spine whenever he looked at me was an effect he had on everyone, or if it was just me who set him on edge.
“What are you going to do, Jacques?” I whispered.
The first real smile curled his lips. “Reason dictates you’ll soon find out.”
Swallowing hard, I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled to the doghouse.
A metal ring was screwed in the wall by the entrance. Jacques looped the leash through my collar and secured it to the ring. I wasn’t going anywhere.
I quivered as his shadow fell over me. I had a sense of Cairo and what made him tick. Jacques, on the other hand, was a silent unknown, counting down to a punishment I didn’t know if I could handle.
I tried to hold on to my resolution as metal clinked behind me. The Bedlam Boys choose my punishment. They hold me to the fire so I can breathe again. I can handle what they throw at me, but maybe it’s okay if some things I can’t.
“Stone, if you’re trying to torture me with anticipation—”
Thwap!
Stinging pain erupted from my left cheek.
I jerked, crying out, then choked on it as the right lit on fire to match.
“Two,” said Jacques.
I twisted to see the leather belt fall. I shrieked over the sound of flesh on flesh.
“Three.”
Oh no, please don’t let him be counting to thirteen.
He belted me again.
“Ah,” I cried. “Jacques, no, p-please, don’t—”
Thwap!
“Five.”
I clenched my teeth, viciously penning in a whimper. It burst out with the next hit.
“Six,” he purred. “What are the rules, de Souza?”
“I— I don’t remember.”
Thwap!
I spasmed—rocked by a burst of heat in my core. I felt my folds slickening, and in this getup, Jacques would see everything.
“Seven. What are the rules?”
“I don’t fucking remember!”
Thwap!
“Oh, Jacques. Holy shit,” I breathed.
Thwap!
My back arched. Trapped by my collar, it held me fast, branding its possession in the marks left on my neck.
“Tell me the rules,” Jacques said. He ripped my thong off, tossing the fabric on my back. I whined at his belt pressed to my pussy—the leather sliding over the wet, engorged flesh. “Now. You won’t like it if I ask again.”
I searched my mind for the speech he gave that day in Cairo’s room. I lost most of it around his statement that everyone on this planet was cattle.
What did he say?
“No... disrespect.”
Thwap!
“Jacques, please—”
“I still haven’t given you permission to use my name. That’s fourteen.”
I bit my lip, both so frustrated and sore I could cry, and so turned on I might explode with the next hit.
“No talking back,” I rasped. “No—”
The conversation came back to me. I glared in his eyes, and slowly, pointedly, trailed down to the bulge straining his zipper. “No false bravado unless I want my bluff called,” I said. “But what’s the rule on calling yours? I remember a certain cattle wrangler saying he had no interest in my body.”
“This isn’t sex, Rainey.” My name was sinful on his lips. “It’s punishment.”
A light slap hit my clit, pulling out a moan.
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” I spread my legs, resting my cheek on the floor, rocking side to side as his belt was made intimately familiar with me. “What did I do?”
“Your filthy pussy is dirtying my belt.”
“My filthy pussy is dirtying your pants,” I shot back.
Thwap!
“What’s this?” Legend traipsed into the living room. “A snack before breakfast.”
He dropped down next to me. “Don’t mind me. Continue with what you’re doing.”
Before I comprehended what was happening, Legend slipped my boob free and sucked my nipple between his teeth.
My mouth froze in an “o,” shock trapping the moan just short of freedom.
For years, I hitched a ride on Gran’s trips to the factory to sneak glances at Legend St. James. A face from a magazine. The kind of affable charm that came from something more than confidence. Not for a second did I delude myself that I had a chance with a guy who couldn’t be bothered to remember my face or name.
I was quite content with those stolen glances, and then just my fantasies when it became clear Legend was someone I needed to stay far away from.
And now here we are, and the guy who didn’t give a shit about my existence a week ago is tormenting me with an expert tongue.
“Legend, wait. I can’t.”
Thwap!
“Oh,” Legend said. “How rude of me. How’s that?”
Legend found my clit. He rolled it between fingers more calloused than a rich boy’s should be. The deceptive bastard ripped a moan from me that ended in a scream with my eleventh slap.
Another strike of the belt knocked me to the edge. Any more of this and my humiliation would be crowned for the enjoyment of all witnesses.
I burned with shame. I was on my freaking hands and knees, collared and chained, while one enemy milked me like a cow and the other whipped me like a horse. I was, in every single sense of the word, their pet. Used, abused, and—
My heart shot in my throat.
—destined to be discarded.
“Was that what you were looking for?” Legend asked, the smirk plain in his voice. He sharply flicked my helpless bundle of nerves, sending a jolt that lifted me off my knees.
“No, you twisted, sadist fucks, that wasn’t what I was looking for. This is what you want and when are you going to have enough.” I spun on Jacques. “How many lessons will it take to train me? How long till you get bored of your little game?”
“Reason dictates you’ll soon find out.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed. “I hate you. All of you. I was willing to confess. I still am! That should be enough for you.”
“It’s not.”
Thwap!
My arms buckled. A wave of pain and pleasure bowling me over.
“You wait, Stone. Reason dictates consequences are coming for you too.”
He raised a single, dark brow. “Is that a threat?”
I burned a hole in his skull. “I don’t make threats anymore. False bravado is against the rules.”
The genius he was, he caught on to my meaning almost immediately.
The belt rose high to deliver its judgment. Defiant down to the last, I arched my back to meet it.
“Jacques.” Cairo strolled in dressed in the same clothes he made me take off the night before. “What did you do that’s got our pet so upset? I can hear her bitching you out from upstairs.”
“Whatever he did.” Jacques hadn’t stopped indulging his treat for a minute. “He should keep it up. I’m digging this delicious irony of her swearing she hates us, while her pussy’s so wet she’s got me drowning down here.”
Cairo paused, pouring his coffee. “Hates us, does she?”
A dangerous edge poisoned his tone. Shuddering, I almost broke and said I didn’t mean it.
Almost.
Why should he get assurances of my feelings for him when I’d get none in return? If Cairo, Jacques, Arsenio, Roan, and Legend did throw me out after getting their fill, I for fuck sure hated them.
“That’s right,” Legend crowed. He slipped two fingers inside me, finding that spot with expert precision. “Go on, de Souza. Tell me how we’re all going to pay for bringing the cowgirl out of the farm girl.”
“No.”
Legend’s fingers disappeared and his mouth followed. Jacques slid him out from under me.
“No, you don’t get to come, and don’t you dare touch yourself. Good pets get treats. Bad ones mouth off to the hand that beats them.”
“Shove a pineapple up your ass, Stone. If there’s room in there with the stick.”
His laugh was deep and throaty music. It made me want to curl up and purr, then kill him for having that effect on me.
Jacques slipped his belt on, denying me in every way.
“One,” he replied, and left me on the floor.
Shutting my eyes, I rested my forehead on the wood-mimicked plastic, sucking slow lungfuls to steady my heart. I don’t know why I kept goading Jacques. I’d been butting heads with the guy since he sat down next to me in class.
Something about him ignited a rarely used side of me. Watching him push around Professor Valdez and calling the first sorta friends I made clucking cattle, made me want to show the genius he wasn’t as smart as he thought. He certainly didn’t, and never would, know enough to break me.
And in that battle, it’s Jacques: 3
My sore backside: 0
“With me,” Cairo announced. He unhooked my chains and led me off by the leash. “I’ve got a nine-thirty class.”
“You go to class?” I tugged the rein in irritation. “Why bother? You’ve got everyone bowing and scraping. I figured you sat around all day dipping your honey stick in everything that moves, and intimidating professors into giving you As.”
“Honey stick,” he repeated, setting foot up the stairs. “I like that. I’m gonna use it.”
“What do you even study?”
“Bioengineering.”
I stopped dead. “Wait, for real?”
“Do I detect a tone of surprise?”
“I— I thought—”
“That my aggression is a sign of low IQ, or the result.” He faced me, that handsome face chiseled to express a rare emotion—amusement. “A lack of emotional self-control would indicate the lack of discipline required for an intensive academic workload.” He winked. “Psych double major.”
I opened my mouth a few times, finding my voice. “Why?” was all I came up with.
“Bedlam doesn’t have a hospital. We have a local practice and Doc Nash, who turns off his phone when he goes fishing. A fact which almost killed me.” Cairo came down, casually looping his arms around me. “For the last two years, I’ve been developing a stent that reduces the risk of blood clotting to virtually zero percent. Patent in the works.
“After I sell the design to the major medical companies, I will have enough to open Bedlam’s first general hospital,” he said.
There was something to say in response to this shocking and truly selfless revelation, but my mind refused to supply it.
Cairo swept my legs up, carrying me the rest of the way. “As for psychology, I’ve been called many things in my life. I was curious if they were true.”
“Psycho. Sociopath. Sadist.”
“Basically.”
We entered his room. Cairo kicked the door shut behind us.
“Well?” I asked. “What’s your diagnosis?”
I was dropped on my feet and slammed against the door so fast, my cry wasn’t half off my lips as he towered over me.
“Completely normal, functioning member of society, gorgeous. No psychopathy, or compulsions. I just really”—he licked the tip of my nose—“really enjoy hearing you scream, tasting your tears, blacking out from you throttling my dick while begging me to stop.
“We all need a hobby.”
Cairo tugged off my top. The collar also made a blessed new home on his bed. Hooking me around the waist again, he towed me to the bathroom.
I let him turn on the shower and put me in without a fight. Cairo’s bathroom was a small, but clean space. There wasn’t much to say for it. Decorations consisted of black towels, black bath mat, and damask wallpaper that likely came with the house. It was just a bathroom, so it made sense he didn’t put as much effort as he did with his bedroom. Still, I noted he could be bothered to label place markers for the items under the sink, and line up his body washes and shampoos by height.
“No psychopathy, huh?” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Cairo squirted shampoo on top of my head.
“I can bathe myself, you know. Been doing it since I was four.”
He didn’t bother to respond.
My eyes fluttered shut as the pads of his fingers kneaded my scalp. I moaned softly.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did Doc Nash’s fishing trip almost kill you?”
“Why do you think you can ask me that?”
“Because you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t want me to ask. I took a few psych classes too.”
“Really want to know?” Cairo moved down my neck, digging magic fingers into my shoulders.
“I do,” I said. “I want to know who you are, Cairo Sharpe.”
He kissed the tip of my ear. “I’ll tell you.”
I twisted to face him, placing my hands on his hard, sudsy chest. “You will?”
“You’ll know everything, my Rain,” he said, “after I do.”
My smile dimmed. “What does that mean?”
“What evidence do you have against my father?”
“Don’t bring him up to me.”
“Rain,” he said, heavy with warning.
“We don’t talk about him, Cairo. Ever. As far as we’re concerned, when we’re together, Jack Sharpe does not exist.”
Cairo grasped my chin between two fingers, tipping me up. A gentle touch, but unbreakable.
“You don’t set the rules, Rain.”
“I set that o-one.” My voice cracked. “We don’t go there, Cairo. Don’t ask me again.”
“Don’t ask me again. Who, what, when, where, or how in regards to my life. It’s my terms or nothing. You’re a bit slow to understand that, but you’ll get there soon enough.”
I tore away from him, snatching the curtains to climb out. Cairo snatched me back.
He hooked the back of my leg, and we both went down. Landing back to the rim, I struggled and fought, more furious with him than I’d ever been. I’d take a lot in my path for redemption and understanding where my life went wrong. But not this.
Using Sheriff Sharpe against me after all that man had already done. After all he’d taken.
That was unforgiveable.
“Unforgiveable, Cairo,” I barked. “You play your little game of kings with everyone else, but not with me. I’m different. You know I am, or you wouldn’t have brought me here. Don’t ever use your father against me. Promise.”
He said nothing, and a burst of anger rocked me.
I slapped him across the face.
“Promise!”
“I promise you this.” His expression didn’t shift. “If you don’t calm down, I’ll make that spanking you got seem like a tickle. You won’t sit for a week.”
Chest heaving, I quieted—though my glare had plenty more to say.
“I won’t bring up the sheriff.”
My arms dropped, opening to accept him as he slid me closer, easing me on his lap.
“You won’t?”
He shook his head, resuming my bath. “I won’t have to. You’ll tell me everything. All on your own.”
I tucked in the crook of his neck, threading my arms around him. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re different.”
ROAN
“No, Cairo!”
A low murmur sounded from the other side of the door.
“You can ask how many times you fucking want! I’m not walking around campus on a leash!”
Another murmur. Then a crash.
“Fuck you. Fuck your leash. Fuck this pet shit. Fuck—”
I eased down the stairs, bypassing the impending homicide—against who, I couldn’t tell.
The lady did stab me.
I touched my bandaged side. My cock twitched in my pants.
I was known for eclectic tastes in the bedroom/car/closet/woods. Which is why I picked people who could keep up with me. That said, in the revolving door of freaks, sluts, and delectably delicious skanks, none of them could push past a pinprick of the finger before skeeving out at the blood and shouting the safe word.
Not Rainey “Yummy” de Souza.
She wielded that knife like a warrior—a sex goddess. Riding and bucking on my fingers as she delivered justice. And when she decreed that my punishment wasn’t over, she sheathed her blade in my skin without a moment’s hesitation.
“Not good enough.”
I’ve jacked off to the fiery-eyed, dark-haired beauty bringing the knife down half a dozen times since.
I now understood Cairo’s irritation with anything that reminded him of why it took so long for Rainey to come into our lives.
If that woman’s not my soul mate, who is?
Legend waited in the living room, riffling through his shoulder bag.
Well, one of them.
“Hey.” I slid in next to him, slipping my hand up his shirt. “How long has it been since I sucked your dick?”
His grin was wolfish. “The answer will always be too long.”
He slipped his hand up mine—for a different reason. Legend’s touch tickled around my bandage.
“Sure you’re up for it?” he asked.
“When am I not?”
“I warned you one of these days, you’ll piss someone off who is more than willing to carve you up,” he said.
“—humiliating. How am I supposed to face people? How will you?!”
Cairo came down with a raging vision in a clinging silver dress cut way low and ending way high. All her assets and curves shown on full display, along with her single accessory—a pink collar.
“And how lucky am I that I finally found her,” I said to Legend.
Arsenio and Jacques tromped down a step behind. Those two were frosty bastards who didn’t give off any emotion when standing there waiting for you to be worth their time, worked as well. Still, I’d bet another go with Rainey and my knife, they were checking her out too.
Full, sweet lips pinched in annoyance. A rack I was looking forward to falling asleep in strained against the tight fabric. Long sable hair was swept into a bun—Cairo’s idea, I wagered. It left everyone free to see the collar for miles around.
“I have a ten a.m. class,” she said. “I’m not walking in there like this.”
“Aww,” I cooed. “It’s adorable that you think you have a choice.”
“I’m serious. I need law school recommendations from these professors. They have to take me seriously.”
“Aww. It’s adorable you think this is a debate.”
Rainey flipped me off.
“Two,” Jacques said, brushing past her. “Let’s go. We have matters to handle.”
Rainey tried digging her heels in. Arsenio scooped her over his shoulder and carted her out the door.
The house my mother gifted us on Greek Row was a five-minute walk from the student union. One or all of us went there in the mornings. Bagel Glory and all the breakfast shops in that place were overrun by students who didn’t think about what would happen after they moved out and Mommy stopped cooking for them.
Those students, at some point, ended up on the terrace where we sat every day, holding court. We never called it that, but I liked it all the same.
Arsenio set her down as we neared Homer Green. All eyes of those studying, lounging, frisbeeing on the grass found us, then they found her.
Rainey flushed redder than a maraschino cherry.
“Just smile, gorgeous.” I came up next to her, planting my hand on her ass. “Anything’s a fashion statement when you wear it with confidence.”
“A leash tied around a guy’s wrist is not a fashion statement.”
“You’re right, it’s a kink.” I licked the shell of her ear. “You keep walking around looking this damn good, I’m going to introduce you to another one of mine.”
“Not here,” she hissed when my hand traveled lower. “Later. At home.”
It was cute she thought she got to decide the when and where. It was even cuter she didn’t question I’d be coming on that ass again, or that it was our home.
In spite of her flaming cheeks, Rainey lifted her chin. Head held high and gaze straight ahead, she marched on Cairo’s firm lead.
The Bagel Glory lady dropped her tongs at the sight of us.
She stared openly at Rainey, who suddenly found a spot on the wall extremely interesting.
“Cinnamon sugar bagel,” said Cairo. “And a water. You can put it in a bowl.”
Her eyes bugged. “Listen here, whatever you want to get up to in the privacy of your home is your business. But do not bring that nonsense outside and involve decent people,” she snapped. “Shameful.”
The lady flounced off to have a fit in the back—super angry she wasn’t getting any.
“I’d be mad too,” I called after her.
Someone else came up and served us. “I’m sorry, sir. The way she spoke to you was unacceptable. Your food is on us.”
“Everything bagel with walnut cream cheese,” I said. “Oh, and fire her.”
Debra, as the name tag read, didn’t argue. “Of course, sir.”
“Roan, no,” Rainey cried. “You can’t get her fired. This is her livelihood.”
“This is the service industry, and she just shamed customers—literally—and refused to serve them. If you don’t think that’s a fireable offense, you’ve been on the farm too long.”
“You five are shameful,” she muttered, “and when are you going to quit with the farm-girl stuff? My clothes had to go because they reminded you of it. If you’re going to keep reminding yourself, I get my stuff back.”
I molded myself to her backside. “It’s a crime to let you walk around in that many layers.”
Rainey turned to me, smirk playing on her lips. “Shouldn’t be a problem, then. Since when are you guys law-abiding citizens?”
My brows shot up my forehead. Holy hell. Flirty, witty, and unwilling to take an ounce of shit. You can dominate me anytime, baby.
Damned if she isn’t already, another voice said. Part of me was happy to buy out the farm-girl aisle, and hold the clothes hostage till she whipped my surrender on the edge of a riding crop.
Alright, all of me was.
“You want out of these clothes so badly, we can arrange something.”
Rainey pinked, assuming I meant something else. Fine with me.
We got our food and went out onto the terrace. Paris looked up from her breakfast and spat her drink in Amy’s face.
“Rainey?”
“Oh ho,” someone called. “That’s the way to do it. You guys are fucking legends!”
He kicked off a roar of hooting, hollering, and wolf whistles. Rainey tried to duck behind Cairo.
She was still learning.
Cairo dragged her out by the collar, positioning her front and center. “What do you think you’re doing? You hate us and you’re ashamed to be seen with us?” He tsked. “I’m starting to feel undervalued in this relationship.”
“Don’t invent reasons to be mad at me, Cairo. Take the collar off. Please, you made your point. I want to curl up on the ground and die.”
“The ground? Well, it wasn’t like you were going to get a chair. You’re a pet,” he said, bringing her to the table. “Hands and knees. Now.”
“And if I say no, Jacques says three and the world keeps spinning. I can live with that.”
“If you say no.” Cairo spoke in her ear, but not too low for us. “I say five and deliver your punishment right here. Right now.” He kissed the tender spot on her neck. “One peek at those red cheeks is Viagra on steroids. These repressed shits would love a look.”
Rainey’s throat bobbed visibly. I read her internal struggle clear on her face, and naturally did nothing to help her. She was lucky to have a strong, handsome beast like Cairo put her on her knees. As lucky as I was to have Legend, and now her.
Fixed on us, she dropped to the floor, sitting on her legs like kneeling before an altar. She didn’t drop her head or break contact.
We did that. Though, we had taking our seats as an excuse.
“Rainey?” Paris ran up to her. “What the hell is going on? We were supposed to hang out at my place last week and I didn’t hear from you. What happened?” She spun on Cairo. “What did you do?”
Cairo didn’t see his sister as reason to look up from his breakfast. “It’s what she did, not me.”
Panic flashed on Rainey’s face.
“She disrespected Jacques in front of their entire class,” Cairo finished. “The TikTok video is still trending. You know better than anyone, Evie, that shit like that doesn’t stand. You should’ve warned your friend.”
“For that, you’re putting her through this? You’ve finally lost it. You fell off this ego trip and cracked your head!”
“You should be happy. This is us showing mercy,” he said. “Ask her if she’s grateful.”
“Shut up.” She put her arms around Rainey. “I’m so sorry, you’re not putting up with this for another second.”
“It’s not your fault.” Rainey grasped her arms, stopping her. “You warned me. Wounded wolf, remember? I agreed to endure this so they wouldn’t make my life difficult in other ways,” she said simply. “Eventually, they’ll get tired of this humiliation game and everything can go back to normal.”
Don’t bet on it, sweetheart.
“This is demeaning. Whatever Cairo threatened to do—”
“Hilarious.” A raucous guffaw cut her off. “I see you finally put the bitch in her place.”
Alfie strode up with a drink and egg bagel. He munched on it, the masticated egg and bread in full view with his horse chewing.
“New girl thought she was better than us. Didn’t have to follow the rules.”
“I’m not new, jackass,” Rainey said. Still on her knees, but damned if she didn’t tower over Alfie. “And I don’t have to follow the rules. There are no rules or anyone with the power to enforce them. There’s just a bunch of guys ballsy enough to take charge, and the chickenshits who ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ ’cause standing up for themselves never occurred to them.”
“What did standing up for yourself do for you?” Alfie snapped.
“Fonsie,” Cairo said. A wrinkle marred his perfect brow.
“That’s a nice collar, Stormy. Windy. Whatever the fuck your name is.”
“Alphonso,” Jacques spoke up.
“They brought you to heel, you little bitch, so let me teach you your first trick. Catch.”
Alfie threw the iced tea at her, exploding the drink in her face and down her chest.
The table rocked, nearly tipped by all of us jumping from our seats at once.
Cairo got to Alfie first, sinking a punch in his gut that doubled him over. The next hit was mine.
I tackled him, dropping him flat and jarring agony through my sore thigh and chest. It heated up my excitement, stoking just beneath my rage and granting me a semi as I punched him once, twice, four times in the face.
Legend lifted me up, only to deliver a savage kick. And then we were all on him, forming a ring and stomping the shit out of the moaning, crying heap.
“Stop! Guys, please, he’s had enough.”
Rainey and Paris pulled us off one after the other. Paris went for Cairo and got hoisted up and dropped behind him. He grabbed Alfie’s collar and reared for another blow.
“Cairo.” Rainey shot between them. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You don’t have to do this.”
Rainey murmured to him, easing him back as her fingers found his temples, gently kneading. “Don’t be this man for him. He’s not worth it.”
Ragged breaths tore his lungs. He clutched her waist. To move her aside, I wasn’t sure, because he stopped short.
Interesting.
My brows crowded together, watching Rainey de Souza do something I’d never seen anyone do.
Defuse Cairo.
“Get him out of my sight,” Cairo barked.
Three guys picked up the broken, bleeding mess and carried him away.
“Listen up.” Cairo faced her to the silent crowd. “Rainey de Souza is our girl. Standard rules apply. You don’t touch her. You don’t speak to her unless spoken to. You do not disrespect her. Am I understood?”
“Yes.”
“Am I?” he shouted.
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Spread the word. If I have to repeat myself, everyone pays for it. Paris,” he said.
“What?”
He tossed her his keys. “Take her to get cleaned up.”
“You don’t give me orders,” she said, even as she hugged Rainey and led her away.
It was such a Cairo thing to say and do, I asked myself why those two swore they had nothing in common.
We went to retake our seats, and slow clapping shattered the quiet.
“Wow. I definitely take back what I said.”
The familiar voice was quickly attached to the face, coming up the back entrance leading from Homer Green. His friends trailed him.
Arsenio stepped out in front, sizing him up, but saying nothing and giving even less away.
These crashers were going for a surprise entrance. Why give them the satisfaction of seeing they caught us unawares?
“What?” The green-haired guy grinned. “No hello?”
“No,” said Arsenio. With that, we reclaimed our seats and our breakfast.
“Are we sure Fonsie got the message?” Cairo asked. “He got half the beating he was owed.”
“Alphonso did two years at community college and then transferred,” I said. “Obviously, he spent enough time away from us since high school, he forgot...”
Screeeee.
Five chairs scraped across the concrete. The crashers dropped their seats between us and plopped down.
Legend’s left brow twitched—sign of something the mortals rarely got to see. Legend St. James shedding that manicured, high-browed personality for the true man beneath.
And it’s an arousing sight. Worth bringing out for sure.
“You clearly want our attention,” I said. “Why don’t you get to the point and tell us why you’re in my school?”
“Thought you’d know by now.” Green Guy kicked back in his seat. “Looked us up down to our blood type and birth weight.”
“You overestimate your importance. Going forward, you should rate it on the level of the piece of lint I found tangled in my pubes yesterday.”
They howled, smacking the table.
“Roan Banks,” Green Guy said. “So, you’re the funny guy, and son of the dean. Let me continue the introductions. I’m Jeremy Ellis.” He pointed across to the guy sandwiched between Legend and Jacques. “That’s my brother, Micah.”
My brow lifted just a fraction. Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have dismissed these guys so quickly.
Jeremy was handsome—now that I was bothering to look at him. The green hair worked with his blue, swimmable eyes, angular cheekbones, and the crow lying on his neck. He had a rich biker look going on. Leather jacket partially concealed a screamingly expensive watch. But his brother, Micah...
Micah’s long, dark hair was as inky as nature intended. It fell in soft curls to his shoulders and wrapped around his fingers when he brushed it back. His full, pouty lips weren’t made for sneering, and contempt didn’t sit well in his big, maroon eyes. Micah Ellis was too pretty to look mean.
I raked him up and down. Very, very pretty.
Micah caught me looking on the way up. Flashing him a small grin, I winked.
He pulled a face, looking around like I must’ve meant that for someone else.
“That’s Gael Stoll,” he continued, pointing out a burly guy with little hair on top but plenty on his arms. “Jonah Hayes.”
A blond guy in a leather bomber jacket and shades saluted us.
“And Bentley Levine,” Jeremy finished out.
The last guy rivaled Jacques in height, and almost in looks with the glasses he was rocking. Their similarities ended at the lack of beard and the nasty glare he was giving us.
“We’re from Hunter’s Crest,” Jeremy said, “where they call us the Crows. We transferred in at the start of the semester, but took our time getting to know everything, and everyone.” He leaned back in his seat, spreading out his hands. “You five run this whole town like you’re bangers and this is your turf. Everyone is too afraid to do anything about it because of your mommies and daddies.”
The guys didn’t say anything. They didn’t pause eating their food either. Jeremy was the equivalent of elevator music, and even I was about to change the tune.
“I know, I know,” he sang. “These jokers are interrupting your breakfast to tell you what you already know. So, here’s the point: thank you.”
Cairo dipped a napkin in his water, using it to clean blood off his knuckles.
“Seriously, thank you for all the work you’ve put in with these people. Fuck knows it’s easier to take over the masses when they’re already lying on their backs with their bellies exposed.” Jeremy’s tone changed. “This is our town now, Bedlam Boys, so take my advice and accept defeat before you start the war. This is one fight you can’t win.”
Hands returned to pristine, Cairo snapped his fingers. “You guys,” he said, pointing to a table with half the football team. “Escort these gentlemen out of here.”
“Wha— Hey!” Jeremy shot up, drawing his knife on the advancing linebackers. “Back the fuck off!”
“You see, Jeremy?” Bentley said. “These guys are stupid. A waste of our time. Here we are dangling it in their faces, and they’re too dumb to ask. Don’t you want to know why we’re certain this dump will be ours?”
“Because you’re with Foundry,” Arsenio stated.
Their smiles wiped away.
Sighing, Jacques pushed his glasses up his nose. “Jeremy and Micah Ellis, son of Steven Ellis. Your father made his millions playing the stock market. He was on the short list of people we suspected of silently, and financially, backing Foundry. We’ve been unable to hack the company records to confirm it, but you’ve just done that for us.”
“Foundry’s been buying property all over Bedlam,” Jacques took over. “It started with the fifty acres out by Westchester Drumlins. Foundry tried to petition to build a factory out there, banging on that it would bring in jobs and enrich the community.”
“Town hall rejected you,” Legend said, “and Foundry retaliated by coming hard at farmers, pensioners, and anyone hard up with above-market offers on their homes and property.”
“You’re carving up Bedlam piece by piece,” Cairo threw in. Their eyes ping-ponged between us. “Word is you’re taking the next vote straight to the people. You need fifty-one percent of eligible voters to back the creation of a brand-new town—independent from Bedlam. And how fortunate you’ll have the land, homes, and conveniences for your new citizens to move right in.”
“You’re convinced they will,” Arsenio finished. “Free themselves of this lawless place run by a couple of young, if handsome, men who keep the boot on their throats. Actually, you’re certain the vote will go your way because Daddy’s money is greasing the road. I’d ask why he and Foundry care so much about an out-of-the-way town deep in the bush, but I know that too.
“And so do you.” A smile stretched across his lips. “You know why your old man wants this town, Ellis. Wants it so bad he sent you and your Girl Scout club to intimidate the only ones who could stand in his way.”
Jeremy paled. He lowered his knife hand, stepping back.
“You can’t have it,” Arsenio sang. “Even if you succeed, you’ll never get what you came here for. But go ahead and give it your best shot. While you’re doing that, pick up a history book and research what we do to tyrants in Bedlam.”
I playfully cuffed Jeremy’s shoulder. “So? How’d us dummies do?”
Jeremy laughed. Couldn’t have been more forced if he wasn’t trying. “Terrible,” he said. “Totally wrong. Don’t know where you got all that bullshit from, but my dad doesn’t want this shit heap. Just a part of it, and the whiskey distillery on top.”
He sneered at Legend. “Did you tell your boys the business is going under and you won’t be able to pay them to be your friends anymore?”
The mask broke. Legend rose from his seat, and the charming son did not rise with him.
“This is what I’ll tell you,” he hissed. “Tomorrow, you’re going to wake up and find something missing. Something you can’t live without. And when you do, you’ll crawl back here sobbing and licking my fucking boots, dripping apologies. I suggest you make them good.”
“You don’t—”
“Tomorrow,” Legend said. “Set your alarm.”
Reddening, Jeremy retracted his blade, shoving it in his pocket. “We’re outta here,” he said. “Oh, one thing. I wouldn’t get too comfortable. Crystal Canyon is making a comeback.”
Arsenio raised his voice. “Bedlam now.”
“Bedlam forever!” rebounded our audience.
Cairo grinned at him. “We’re pretty comfortable.”
Jeremy stormed off, muttering something about cults and pistol-whipped dogs. I stood as Micah streamed past, brushing my finger across the back of his hand.
He knew without a doubt that was for him, and he didn’t say anything. Not to tell me off or holler for his brother. Micah cast one last look at me, then picked up the pace to catch Jeremy.
Promising, I thought as I claimed the empty seat by Legend. Never slept with the enemy before. That’s another one off the bucket list.