Whatever It Takes (Bad Reputation Duet #1)(18)

I’m not scared of you.

He tilts his head a little, unperturbed by me. His amber eyes are full of flashbacks, memories that contain all that I’ve done. The longer I stare, the more I see the paintballs I fired, blasting against the window—panic and shrieking from inside, from his soon-to-be wife.

Some people say that if you mess with Loren Hale’s girlfriend, you’re on his “metaphorical” kill list forever. That he has ways and means to do you in, to make life not worth living.

Too bad for him.

Because I’m already there.

He can’t do me in. He can’t touch me.

I miss a portion of the conversation, only hearing the part where Loren says, “I’m not going to lecture you.”

I lean forward, not rolling over. “You can’t kick us out. We have a right to be here like everyone else.” I watch his narrowed eyes flit over my features. He recognizes me from that night—the night where he grabbed me and let me go.

He let me go. Who would even think to do that sort of thing? Who wouldn’t turn someone like me in?

John adds, “Yeah, it’s our first amendment right to be here.”

Ryke Meadows rolls his eyes. “You all smell like cheap fucking vodka.”

“Sorry,” I retort, leaning back with a glare. “We’ll buy better stuff next time.”

“That’s not what I…” Ryke lets out a frustrated growl, and I guess I’m tempted to provoke this “beast” and see him lash out. So I make a crude gesture with my hand and tongue, the vulgar gesture known to crawl beneath his skin. Less so when it’s directed at him. More so when it’s directed at a girl.

So I’m not really surprised when he doesn’t launch himself at me. He just breathes through his nose and looks to his younger brother to deal with us.

Loren rests his forearms on the table, glancing between each of us with less threat in his eyes. “Come on,” he says, “you all look no older than seventeen.” He gestures to me. “Drinking underage is illegal, so you’re not in a power position here.”

I glare at the table. No shit. I’ve never been in a power position before. Not once in my life.

“What’s your name?” Loren asks me.

“Fuck you,” I retort, and I switch my V-shaped fingers to a middle finger. Flashes go off by the window near my head, causing white light to flicker in my vision. I wonder if I’ll be in a tabloid like Celebrity Crush tomorrow.

Probably.

They’ll call me the “unnamed delinquent”—predictable.

“How was that bourbon bath?” Kyle snickers. He high-fives Nathan across the table, and I’m reminded of a recent prank. It was John’s idea. We filled a bucket with his family’s liquor—stuff I would’ve rather drunk. His parents froze his bank account for raiding the cabinet, so it’s not happening again any time soon.

When we had the liquor in the bucket, we tethered it to Loren’s front door.

We heard it doused him and Ryke. “Two for one”—Nathan had said.

It’s fucked up. Because they’re both sober, and Loren Hale is known for his stint in rehab and difficulties recovering from alcohol addiction.

Ryke looks murderous at John. “You think it’s funny?”

“Ryke,” Loren says and shakes his head like stand down.

And I mutter, “Pussy.” I think it’s easier pushing him away. He keeps thinking he’s going to change things with us—but he can’t.

Nathan laughs. “Nice, Garrison.”

I almost choke on the liquor. “Dude.” I gape and nudge his side hard. My hood falls off my head.

They don’t know our names, but now they fucking know mine. I look up, and Loren Hale is staring straight at me, his eyes full of sympathy—I don’t get it.

I’ve fucked with him for months.

Hate me, I think. Fucking hate me.

“What are you looking at?” I practically spit. Help me.

“You,” Loren says with hot malice.

I feel sick, my neck scorching now, and I lower my gaze to the table.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Loren begins. “You all have two options.” We stay quiet, waiting for him to say, Jail. Jail. Jail.

“You can stop the pranks,” he continues, “never come around our house again. If you’re that bored, I wouldn’t mind hiring some of you to work here. If you don’t want a job, I get it. You can have a discount on comics if that’s your thing.”

What?

I stare off in a fucking daze. Who is this guy?

Ryke says, “And I’d be willing to teach all of you to rock climb at the gym. But you can’t drink.”

“Sounds like so much fun,” Nathan says with a dramatic eye roll, grade-F level sarcasm.

I tear a corner off the paper bag. “And the second option?” I ask. Jail.

“You vandalize our house again or harass our girls, and we’ll press charges,” Loren threatens. There it is. “The minute we even see your goddamn pinky toe on our lawn, I’m calling the cops. Take it from someone who’s been in jail, you don’t want to be there. Even for a couple hours.”

I let out a short laugh. “When were you in jail?” The guy grew up as a rich trust fund kid like the rest of us. His dad could’ve bailed him out before the cops even put on the cuffs.