Page 12 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
Coraleigh’s husband, still cradling his injured hand against his chest, gives her an insider sort of look, like he agrees with that statement. Figures. He must wonder how his wife brings home such hefty paychecks.
“A set-up?” I echo as Oscar adjusts his glasses and glances my way. It’s impossible for me to miss the wash of color on his arms and neck, his legs. He’s Aphrodite’s Achilles, but instead of dipping him in the river Styx, he was dipped in ink. I wonder if, like the hero of Greek legend, he has a vulnerable spot that I could pierce with an arrow of my own?
“Before Eric and Todd skipped town,” Oscar begins, tilting his head slightly to one side. His raven-black hair is tousled by the fingers of a coastal breeze, softening him for just the briefest of moments. But then I blink, and the image is gone. He’s as beautiful as a marble statue, but only half as warm. “They texted Leigh to set up this meeting.” A strange smile takes over Oscar’s face, one made up of endless voids and moonbeams. “The Kushners were going to buy a little girl.” He leans down and puts his palms on his knees in a very patronizing sort of way, like he’s leaning over to speak to a pair of naughty children. “Where is the child, Leigh?”
“You want the girl?” she asks, exchanging a look with her husband. His face is written up in a document of terror, but his wife doesn’t seem to get it. She turns back to Oscar, eyes hopeful. “We can get you the girl. As many as you want, for a good price, too.”
“Stop playing games,” Victor says mildly, casting his obsidian gaze in Oscar’s direction. He looks … bored? I take that as a good sign. There is no danger here, in this interaction. “We know the girl’s at their place. Shall we go pay her a visit?”
“No, we don’t do business at our home,” Leigh says, shaking her head, as if this is business as usual. Even Mr. Vincent looks mildly mollified, like getting his hand broken isn’t out of the ordinary for this line of work. I guess sex-trafficking young girls is risky business.
My vision colors with red as my hands begin to shake. I flex my fingers several times, trying to work out the violent quivering that’s taking over my body.
“You remember me?” I query, confused at her nonchalance at seeing my face. Eric looked terrified when he saw me. Why is Coraleigh so … businesslike? She turns to stare at me, her lips pulling down into a frown. The tiniest trickle of blood runs down the side of her face, plopping onto the front of the aqua-colored North Face jacket she’s wearing.
“No, but I’ve heard about you,” she says, folding her hands calmly in front of her. “I’ve heard about your gang, too. I have information to barter, if we can find an acceptable price.”
Heard about us? Color me confused.
Callum looks up at Vic and frowns, fingers twitching, like he’d enjoy putting a knife to Leigh’s throat the same way that he did to Todd Kushner. Instead, he stands still, like a good little Havoc soldier. Hael just lights up a cigarette, completely unconcerned with either of the Vincents.
“We can pay,” Vic says mildly, nodding his head as if he’s deep in thought. See, the thing is, he rubs his chin when he’s actually problem solving in that pretty head of his. This is all just for fun. “But first, we want to see the girl.”
Coraleigh and her husband exchange another look before she turns back to Victor and gives a nod of her own.
“Okay, then. But if the Kushners show up asking after her, I’ll have to say I sold her to you.”
Victor grins and even though I spent the morning fucking him, and sucking his cock, the expression gives me the chills.
“I don’t foresee that being a problem,” he says, and then Hael and Cal each use a balled-up fist to cuff both members of the Vincent couple in the back of the head. There’s a very disturbing cracking sound, like bone being shattered, red drops of blood flecking Hael’s knuckles as he shakes his hand out. The boys are like a pair of well-oiled machines, the muscles in their arms hardened through bullshit and bullying.
The couple crumples to the sand, and while Mr. Vincent is lucky enough not to still be awake, Leigh starts to moan.
I take a deep breath as Cal hits her again, and again, and again until she’s quiet, and then hefts her up to toss over his shoulder.
“What are we going to do about their buggy?” I ask as Hael does the same to Mr. Vincent. The boys load the couple up in the back seat of our rental. The front end is a bit scratched up, but not to the point where one might assume we’d ramrodded someone with it.
