Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #3)(85)

In the middle of the night, I wake up and find him standing over me.

“They're back,” is all he says, turning and leaving the room as I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. The bed still feels nice and warm behind me, like maybe Oscar didn't get up all that long ago. I climb out of the covers and head down the stairs, finding the boys outside smoking joints.

I'm beyond relieved to see them all safe.

“Here,” Cal offers me up a joint, but as soon as I get close to him, he yanks me down into his lap and envelops me in his oversized hoodie. “Sorry to wake you up so late,” he says, grinning as he presses his face to the side of my neck. “But we have news.”

“Good news?” I quip, sitting back and looking down the row of boys in their pj's, several joints making the rounds amongst them.

“Not really,” Hael says, scratching his temple with a single finger. He looks exhausted, so I grab Cal's phone from his pocket to check the time. It's nearly four in the morning. “The Charter Crew took over Wesley's, smashed a bunch of windows, terrorized a bunch of kids who were just trying to grab a burger and a quickie.” He takes a drag on his joint and exhales, filling the air with skunk-y sweet smoke.

“Okay, and?” Aaron asks, rubbing at his face, clearly tired and cranky and ready for a few more hours of sleep. “What else?”

“They've padded their numbers with hired thugs,” Callum explains as my eyes drift over to Oscar. He's sitting in the chair furthest away from me and refusing to partake in proper weed culture. It's all about sharing and passing, but yet again, he refuses to participate. His iPad is open on his lap, but he's not looking at it, staring up at the round silver disc of the moon. “The only people from Prescott High that were there were their core crew: Mitch, Billie, Kali, Logan, Timmy, and Kyler. It was very clearly a set-up.”

“Holy shit,” I murmur, flicking my attention to Vic. He gives me a very slow, very lazy smile that clearly says, told ya, princess. Glad I sent your ass home? I ignore him. “So they have to be working for Ophelia then, right? I mean, to get the money for something like that?”

“At this point, I'd almost guarantee it,” Victor says with a slight nod, glancing over at Oscar. “You reckon she's keeping Mitch around, so she can play this off as just some high school turf war shit?”

“More than likely,” Oscar replies, turning back to look at us. I'm relieved to hear that he sounds like he always does, smooth and cold and calculating. Everything else about him is different right now. His lack of glasses, his casually wrinkled clothing, his bruised face. Even the warmth I can still feel at my back, from where his body was pressed into mine is different. “She can safely assume that the world will infer that anything that happens to us is a result of a petty, little gang war. If the media found out that her son's wife was executed in cold blood by a hitman, it wouldn't look very good for her. Ophelia can keep as many cops in her pocket as she wants; the people will decide her fate at that point.”

Victor stands up from his chair to pace the grass for a moment, smoking and smoothing his palm over his purple hair.

“Alright, so we proceed under the assumption that Mitch is my mother's pet. We need to untangle the mystery of Kali and Neil, however. That, and we have got to deal with Brittany. It's been too long already.” Vic snaps his fingers and points at Hael. “Text the little thot and invite her out or something. Pretend you're interested in a hookup if you have to. Just get her alone somewhere.”

I bristle at the suggestion and shift in Callum's lap, but Hael just smirks at me.

“Aww, what's the matter, Blackbird? You jelly?”

“Fuck you, Hael,” I murmur, but I know how important dealing with Brittany Burr is. Her father had my boys arrested; she broke her Havoc price. The first and only time this has ever happened was during the latter half of sophomore year. My boys put a kid in a full-body cast, burned his trailer to the ground, and had his mother fucking deported.

They do not play around with this shit.

“I can be pretty charming when I need to be,” Hael says with a shrug. He's shirtless and wearing only red plaid boxers and a crimson-colored hoodie. I have to physically force myself not to look at him. “She'll show up, if only to bitch and whine at me a little. What are we going to do with her?”

“Cut her skin where Daddy can't see and leave her permanently scarred,” Callum suggests, hugging me close. It's strange, to hear such violent things come out of such pretty, smiling lips. “Then we wait for her baby to be born and finish the job. There are plenty of loving couples looking for a baby; let's give the kid to one of them.”

“I like this idea,” Vic says, with a nod. “It solves our issues in both the short and long-term. Hael, once you get her to meet you, take her to the cabin and keep her there for a long weekend. We'll scare the fuck out of her but cover it up like she's staying at a friend's.”

“Got it, boss,” Hael says, yawning and saluting at the same time. Aaron is basically comatose, leaning up against the wall near the sliding glass door with his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his shirtless chest. I have no idea what cabin, exactly, it is that they’re talking about, but Aaron did say they had hidey holes all over that I didn’t know about yet.