Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(60)

“What the hell is this?” I ask and Aaron laughs, rolling his head over to look at me with a saucy expression on his beautiful face.

“This is where your grandparents probably came to fuck,” he says, and I make a face as the Bronco emerges from the woods and pulls into an old camping area buried in the woods. The signs are old as fuck and one of them clearly has a metal plaque attached that says Campground Closed. “This used to be the hookup spot before they expanded the Springfield suburban sprawl,” Aaron explains, turning left and snaking up a narrow single-lane road that connects to a neighborhood at the edge of the forest. “You could actually camp here and not see city lights.”

I look out my window at the darkness of the trees as Aaron rolls slowly down the quiet street and turns left again, sending us deep into a pretty Fuller neighborhood. It’s funny to me, because I know the kids who live here, on the outskirts of the neighborhood, are considered the ‘poor’ ones at Fuller High.

“That was fucking cool,” I tell Aaron as he holds out a palm, and I slap him a high-five. Even that small amount of contact makes my hand tingle, and I suck in a sharp breath. “Is that where you guys always go if someone’s following you?”

“Not someone,” Aaron corrects, his eyes equally as focused on the rearview mirror as they are the windshield. He’s watching for Sara. I turn around to look, so he doesn’t have to. “Law enforcement. Most Prescott kids know about the road, so it doesn’t help much there.”

“Well, it looks like it worked on Sara; I don’t see her anywhere.” I twist back around until I’m sitting properly in my seat.

“We do have a rendezvous point around here though,” Aaron says, slowing the Bronco and rolling down my window, so he can point out the twenty-four-hour convenience store on the corner. “They have a bathroom with a steel door, and a lock. If you’re ever on the run, and you need somewhere to hide, try this place. Even if you don’t have access to your phone. If one of us goes missing, we always check here.”

“Yeah?” I ask, feeling sassy as I lean back against the seat and look Aaron over. “And how often does one of you go missing?” Aaron just laughs and shrugs.

“Never?” he offers up, which makes me feel at least a little bit better. I watch him shoot a text off on his phone, and figure he’s letting Vic know we’re okay. “But at least you know this is here now.” Aaron curls his hands around the steering wheel and stares out the window with hard eyes for a moment. “We have so many little rat traps and hidey-holes and burrows around the city; you deserve a tour.” He glances back at me with a half-smile, his wavy chestnut hair falling across his brow. “Let me show you around sometime?”

“Are you asking me on another date, Aaron Fadler?” I ask, and he grins.

“If I were, would you say yes?” he queries back, raising both brows.

“Always,” I respond, and his grin turns into a smirk. Aaron hits the throttle, taking us the back way through the neighborhood until we pull into the driveway beside Vic’s Harley.

When we get inside the house, we find Victor waiting in the dark living room, smoking a cigarette. He watches us as we walk in, his eyes reflecting the light like a cat’s.

“Have fun?” he asks, but I can’t decide if he’s talking about us going mudding to escape from Sara Young, or about us fucking. Better be the former. It’s not like he wasn’t at the drive-in the whole time watching over us. Like I said, he’s a good actor when he needs to be. And right now, he’s being just as much a leader as he was when he told us to fire at motherfucking will.

He’s really trying not to fly off the handle; I appreciate that.

“We did,” I say, and then something occurs to me that I feel stupid for not thinking of before. It just hits my brain like a flash of lightning and then it’s out there and I can’t take it back. “But it’d be just as fun if you were to join us upstairs.”

Aaron goes stiff and still behind me, one hand gripping my hip possessively. But he doesn’t protest, not even when Vic laughs, the sound low and thick like smoke.

“Really? You think I’m the type of guy who likes to share? Not a chance in fucking hell.”

“Why?” Aaron retorts immediately, nuzzling into my hair. We both notice Victor’s shoulders stiffen, no doubt about that. “Are you scared you can’t compete?”

Silence stretches, taut and dangerous, and Victor grunts, shoving up from his chair.

“Glad to see you lost the cop bitch. We’ll have to be more careful from now on. She’s a tenacious little justice warrior.” Victor heads toward the kitchen, but I’m not done with him.

Neither is Aaron, apparently.

“You can’t keep running away from me because you think I’m a threat,” he challenges, pausing in front of the peninsula and putting his palms atop it.

Victor stops dead in the center of the kitchen, turning around so slowly that I’m almost positive he’s about to level a weapon at Aaron. Instead, he just lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

“A threat?” he asks, and even if he doesn’t think Aaron is one, there is most definitely a threat apparent in his words. “Aaron, my darling, my friend, my beloved brother.” Vic moves over to the opposite side of the peninsula while I stand at the end of it, stuck between two of my boys and sweating bullets. “You are not nor have you ever been a threat to me.”