Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(21)

This only makes my frown intensify and my adrenaline pump harder.

Wary and aware of all movement around me, I turn to the girl while slowly closing my knife, but keeping it in my palm.

“Not so nice seeing me again, is it?” I bend, getting into her face, twisting my knee more and more, watching tears fill her pathetic eyes as she sinks deeper into the container. “This is the life you craved? Hm?”

When she opens her mouth to speak, I cut her off.

“You gave him up” — my body starts shaking — “her up, for this shit? Free fucking drinks and Friday nights out?”

Her eyes pop wide, and she pales, tears spilling down her flushed cheeks.

I lift my other foot off the ground, putting all my weight on her and she weeps.

Her back should be good and cut-up from the ridges of the bottle caps and sharp ice by now, but even still, it’s not enough.

She needs to hurt more, this is nothing compared to the bleeding mess she left inside Captain’s chest.

I move my knife to my left hand, my right darting out to grip her jaw, my palm covering her mouth. I can feel the curve of her teeth as I squeeze her cheeks against them, so I pinch harder driving them deeper, deep enough to bleed, and her eyes slam shut, more muffled cries leaving her.

He missed his baby girl’s first breath. Her first step and first word.

I swallow the rage before I do something I can’t walk away from, like snap her fucking neck. I get in her face and she cowers, looking every bit as ashamed as she should.

“You’re a dumb bitch and the world needs fewer people like you.”

I kick off her and spin around to face the room, but much to my surprise, their eyes fall to the floor. Only Collins stares head-on.

I move past him, but he falls in line beside me and we walk out without a word.

He’s quiet the drive back, but it’s short-lived and the second we hit his driveway, he locks eyes with mine, shifting his body to face me.

“You know.”

My brows hit in the center.

He knows?

“Know what?” I play dumb.

Suspicion grows in his stare and he shakes his head. “Wow.” He drops back in his seat.

“What?”

He looks away. “Loyal to them – without needing them to know it – and you’re still just an outsider with nothing but a slightly clearer view.”

“Cut the bull, Collins, and lay it out.”

He looks back to me. “You showed up at my house, going all fucking in, to protect these guys you hardly even fucking know, who clearly aren’t giving you anymore detail than necessary.”

“I don’t need to know all their secrets to know I don’t want them to fail.”

“When they didn’t offer information, did you ask what they stole from me?”

My ribs constrict, but I glare. “It was none of my business.”

“But what happens in this town is?” He studies me in a way that has me curious about the delivery of his question. Almost like he’s insinuating it is but wants me to think it’s not. Cryptic as fuck. “You are so dead set on Brayshaw running this place when you don’t even know the full story behind our families. We’re only a few pebbles in a much bigger pond, and neither one of our names are as clean as we claim.”

What the fuck does that mean?

I force a careless shrug. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“Ask me what they took, and I’ll tell you,” he dares, but he’s not being playful or arrogant. His eyes are clear as day, his features fixed in a serious manner.

My jaw sets tight.

Of course I want to know what it was, but I don’t want it to come from his mouth. He could make up something completely fucking random and I’d have no way of knowing if it were true or not.

“It doesn’t matter what they took. I’ll be out of here soon, so it makes no damn difference to me.” I climb from the vehicle and slam the door, hurrying forward and stepping through the one held open for him like royalty by his doting little maid.

I keep my eyes on her as I step in next to her, but hers fall to the floor. I head for the room he’s stuck me in, and lock myself inside.

I plug in my headphones and lie flat on the floor with my flashlight beside me, staring up at the ceiling. I flip my knife open and closed, over and over again.

As expected, sleep never comes.





Cap walks in, confusion drawing his features tight.

Both Royce and I push to our feet.

“What happened?”

He hesitates a minute, running his hand over the back of his head. “Fuck it.” He shrugs. “I have Mallory on a 24/7 watch,” he admits about Zoey’s mom. “Have since the day I found out Zoey existed, before I even knew for sure she was mine, no plans on calling him off anytime soon either.”

“Duh, man.” Royce laughs.

I look to Cap who glares, but Royce leaps over the coffee table to stand right in front of Captain.

“Come on, Cap, she’s the enemy. We all want her watched, and we knew you did.”

“How?” his eyes snap between ours.

“You told us when you were piss drunk, said you couldn’t hide anything from us.” Royce smirks. “Even your conscience is a good boy.”