Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(5)
I frown, blocking out the refreshing aroma, not understanding what he’s getting at, and that’s when the squeal of old brakes rings in my ears.
My head jerks toward the street to find the little white car that left him behind, the driver launching himself out of it the second it’s in park. He rushes around the vehicle, yanking the back door open as he canvases the area around us.
I don’t have to do the same to know this block is quiet and empty this time of morning.
A sliver of panic zips through me, tingling my spine and lodging my breath deep in my throat.
Royce dips down, swiping my legs from beneath me, my body now cradled in his arms, so I quickly latch on in case he decides to try and toss me around.
Before I can wrap my head around what’s happening, before I can process any of it, we’re stepping from the grass onto the street and sliding into the back seat. The door’s slammed behind us, and suddenly we’re moving.
This is definitely when I should snap out of my shock and scream, kick and fight, and go full Karate Kid on his ass, but all I can think of is oh.
My.
Shit.
A Brayshaw just kidnapped me.
And I straight-up let him.
Chapter 2
Royce
Well, this didn’t go as planned.
I came here to find Brielle Bishop, but ended up letting her cousin stick my junk down her throat, and not well either.
Technically, that shit’s not my fault—the girls played me, but I’m the dumbass who fell into it.
I showed up, mind dead set on a specific type, a girl hard enough to be the sister of the bastard who earned the top spot in my family’s dirty deeds quicker than any before him. A girl with edge and grit, dirt under her nails and a chip on her shoulder.
So yeah, I thought Brielle was the rough, tough, jaded looking one of the two I found myself in front of, not the tiny, tired little thing who can’t even prop against a window without twisting her fucking ankle.
I look to the girl, still sitting in my lap, not fighting me, not wide-eyed and worried, not pissed off and punching. She should be doing one of those things.
She’s not.
She’s calm and cool, and it’s pissing me off.
Maybe she’s not all there?
Right as I think it, her right hand lifts, and I’m pretty fuckin’ convinced I’m right, ‘cause that hand, it doesn’t come down to scratch or hit me.
Nah, the freshly snatched mini thing slips it between the seats in a dumbass move to introduce herself to the getaway man.
“I’m Brielle,” she says.
My boy Mac frowns from her to me, but when she nods her head, he lets out a low sigh.
With tight lips, he brings a hand around to shake hers. “Mac.”
“I knew it. Not Maddoc or Captain. Interesting.”
My eyes snap to hers at the mention of my brothers. “What’s interesting?”
“That you’re here and they aren’t. I thought you guys were like, the Three Musketeers.” She surges.
When my blank expression doesn’t break, she nods back and forth like a broken ass bobblehead, her big-ass glasses and short silk-like hair only adding to it.
“You know,” she leads. “All for one and one for all...”
The girl even adds the little fuckin’ fist raise thing.
Mac chuckles but clears his throat to hide it.
I meet his eyes in the mirror, and it’s clear as damn day he’s amused. It’s also clear what the dick’s about to do next.
He adjusts the mirror so he can see Brielle better.
“So, uh, Brielle,” he asks. “Got a last name?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” She shrugs.
“Not in our world.” He grins.
“Ah, yes, the infamous town with no legal system other than a couple cops on payroll to deflect outsiders. Nothing but the crack of a whip delivered by one of three wild boys.” She looks to me, and yeah, there’s a note of mockery in her smoky tone, but I get the sense she’s teasin’. “Tell me, playboy, is yours leather?”
Mac’s shoulders shake with a laugh he holds in, but I’m stuck trying to figure this chick out.
“So,” she begins as she relaxes back.
Relaxes.
In a car with two fuckin’ strangers who just grabbed her ass up without a word of why.
Her head even falls onto the doorframe as she changes the subject from where I come from to what she’s wondering. “Where we going?”
I glare at her.
Why’s she so chill right now?
“You used to random fucks picking you up and throwing you in a plateless car or somethin’?”
“No.” She scoffs a laugh. “Are you used to traveling ten hours to the house of the little sister of the guy you hired to play mobster for your lives?”
“The fuck?” I jerk back, sliding my body from under hers.
She falls onto the floorboard, but quickly lifts herself onto the seat at my side.
“Your brother’s got a big fuckin’ mouth.”
“Don’t talk about my brother!” she fires back instantly.
“Fuck your brother,” I snap loudly, and her neck stretches slightly. “He’s not allowed—”