Page 60 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
“Yes, my queen,” he says, but not at all sincerely. And he wants to put a gun in my hand tonight? Huh. Not a very smart choice, if you ask me. “We have black sweatpants and hoodies for our little excursion tonight. One sec.” He points behind me, pulling the cigarette from his mouth with his other hand. “There’s a bathroom right in there, so you can get cleaned up.”
“I wish you the worst,” I growl at him, making a face as I look down at my breasts and my ruined pants. “And you owe me a shopping trip; these were my favorite pants.”
“Nothing less for my wife,” Vic agrees, winking at me before he exits the room, and I get up to pee. The very last thing I need is a UTI, and I’m seriously prone to them. If I have too much soda, I’ll get one. Add in dirty sex with a bunch of assholes? I’m not all about needing antibiotics, thank you.
Victor reappears shortly after, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorjamb while he watches me wipe myself down.
“Need help with your tits?” he asks, and I elbow him as hard as I can in the stomach. He grunts, but that’s about it. Doesn’t even double over. “Here.” Victor hands me a duffel bag, and I set it on the toilet, pulling out black sweatpants and a hoodie, as promised. No bra or panties, but I’ll live.
Once I’m dressed, I put my hair into a loose pony and shove my ruined clothes into the bag to take with us. Victor waits for me by the office door, lighting up yet another cigarette. Chain-smoking again. Means he’s nervous as shit.
He shoves open the door and saunters out of there with every ounce of cockiness inside his DNA.
“Listen up,” he calls out as Oscar moves up to the open garage door to await his boss’ orders. Cal, Aaron, and Hael are still in the corner, gossiping and smoking. “Bernie and I just had a chat.” He holds up a hand and ticks off a finger. “First, no babies. That’s my job. Second, I’m not a referee. Work on your own crap.”
“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Aaron asks, blinking at Vic like he can’t quite believe this is happening.
“I’m saying: you can decide what the term Havoc Girl means to you. I won’t stop you.” Victor pauses and shakes his head, raking his fingers through his purple hair. “Don’t ever tell me I never did anything nice for you,” he murmurs, cigarette hanging from his lips as he lets his dark gaze pan across the other Havoc boys. It’s embarrassing as fuck, since I happen to be standing there with that I just got my brains banged out look going on. “I am Bernadette’s husband. But I’m also the middle letter of Havoc. You know I choose our family every time.” He holds up his hand and gestures loosely with inked fingers. “Figure your relationships out on your own time; just don’t let them interfere with mine.”
Victor continues on toward the garage door and out into the watercolor purple of early evening.
I step out of the office, adjusting the baggy sweatpants. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, alerting me to the fact that four very different, very hungry male gazes have just landed on me. Down, boys, I think, taking out another pack of smokes that Vic gave me and lighting one up. Sure, sure, it’s a filthy, dirty habit.
Did you think there was anything clean about my story?
“Well, now, that was unexpected,” Hael murmurs, running his tongue slowly across his lower lip. His expression—starved and wild all at once—doesn’t surprise me. Oscar’s, on the other hand, does. There’s the briefest flicker of desperation before Oscar clamps down on it and turns away.
“Get ready. We leave in fifteen.” He takes off after Vic as I turn to Aaron, Hael, and Cal with a smile.
“Wish I knew where we were going,” I grumble, but then I have to turn away again and clamp a hand over my mouth. Did Victor just … did he just tell me to play with his boys?! I jump when a hand lands on my shoulder, even though I can already tell by the gentleness of the touch that it’s Aaron. That strange flicker takes over me again, like lightning during a summer storm. This time though, I know what it is: happiness.
“Cute that he thinks I need his fucking permission,” Aaron growls, sliding his hands up and down my arms before letting them settle on my shoulders. He squeezes me with strong fingers, working out some of my worst knots. “But that’s what he just did, right? Give us his dark and unwanted blessing?”
“Pretty sure he did,” I say, but I’m still struggling to believe it.
