Page 83 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“Besides,” Vic says, gesturing with his chin in Hael's direction. “He picked this one out for you, all special and shit. You want to tell her about it, Hael?”
I cross my arms over my chest as Hael walks around the junker, whistling under his breath like he's checking out a particularly beautiful woman.
“Well, my dear Miss Blackbird,” he says, grabbing onto the trunk and pretending to fuck the crap out of the car's trunk. I'm not amused. I raise a brow at him, waiting for an explanation.
“I'm sure you think having your semen splattered across the trunk of the car makes it more valuable, but to be quite honest, I'm not buying it. Explain, or I'll start to think you don't like me.”
“This,” Hael begins, flashing a sharp smile. “Is a ‘57 Cadillac Eldorado.”
He pauses for dramatic effect, but since I don't know shit about cars, I just stand there, waiting for the rest of the explanation. Hael sighs and comes back around to stand next to Vic.
“Do you know what one of these things is worth fully restored?” he asks me, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He makes a nice complement to Victor, I must say, like they're two halves of the same deal. Like, maybe, if I were really lucky, I could have them both.
“I have no clue. Enlighten me,” I say dryly and Aaron smiles, scrubbing his hand over his chin. He likes seeing me saucy, even if he doesn't care to admit it.
“Girl, come on,” Hael says, throwing up his arms in mock frustration. “You impressed me on that first day, when you came sauntering up to us in your leather pants, all sexy and saucy, with that pretty mouth of yours, talking about my baby's grille.” He gestures in the direction of the Camaro, and then moves over to stand in front of me, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops on my leather pants.
“Say pretty mouth again and see what happens,” I quip, smiling at him. I pretend like I don't enjoy having his hot, tattooed body pressed up against me, but you know, I'm not a complete and total hard-ass.
“I stand corrected: a pretty mouth with an acerbic tongue, and teeth that'd just as easily bite off a dick as suck it. Better?” I cock a brow, and he nods, continuing. “Well, cranky Miss Blackbird, listen to this: a ‘57 Caddy Eldorado is worth a hundred and fifty grand when it's fully restored.”
“When it's fully restored,” I correct, peeking around him at the heap of trash propped up on the driveway. We're in a seedy part of town, not far from Billie's trailer. I wouldn't want to be caught alone out here after dark. Not without a gun, I mean. Or a knife. I could probably handle myself with a knife. “It doesn't even look salvageable to me.”
“Yeah, well,” Hael says, like the cocky motherfucker he is. He runs his tongue over his lower lip and steps back, walking backward until he gets to the side door of the garage. Hael kicks it open with his boot without even bothering to turn around, and then steps back, holding out a hand to beckon me forward. “You've never had the services of Hael Harbin at your beck and call, now have you?” I step up to the doorway and look aside, finding several other half-eaten rust heaps stacked inside the room. “Between all of these, I've got the parts I need to make this shit happen. I'll even let you pick the paint colors.”
I look at him, skepticism riding me hot and hard. I can't figure why the boys would give me a car, when neither Callum nor Oscar ever had one. And now, Aaron doesn't have one either when he needs it most.
“Why don't Cal and Oscar have their own cars?” I ask, truly curious. But even though I don't mean to, my voice is thick with disbelief and suspicion. Nothing good ever comes for free. Fucking nothing. I'm under no illusion that I'm a goddess to these boys—these men. Victor might be into me, Aaron maybe even loves me still, but I've seen what they can do, how easily I can be thrown away. That, and I'm still pissed about the video. There was a breach of trust there, and it's not something I'm going to get over easily.
“I totaled my last car,” Callum says with a shrug of his shoulders, pulling out a packet of salted almonds from his pocket and pouring them into his palm. “Got my license taken away. We pull enough illegal shit without bringing the cops’ attention to me on a technicality.”
“I have no interest in owning a car,” Oscar explains, completely deadpan. “If I wanted to waste my time playing chauffeur, I’d have been born as Hael Harbin.” He tucks the iPad under his arm and gives me a look. “Trust me: if it were up to me, I wouldn't give you such a nice car. Hael has enough to do without spending hours every day under a hood.”
