Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(28)

I pull over up the street to let Captain and Royce out and they slide into Captain’s SUV – always better to have a second escape if needed – and head for the edge of town.

He doesn’t say anything but his jaw clenches, a deep crease taking over his forehead.

Like Raven, he comes from nothing and holds only self-pride.

He keeps to himself, stays out of drama, can read people the best we’ve seen – it’s why we let him run our cash flow.

He gets respect because he handles business the way it should be handled, quick and quiet. Clean when he can, merciless when the situation calls for it.

Bishop’s no bitch. He’s a smart and solid motherfucker, we wouldn’t have him on our team if he wasn’t, but he sure as fuck is acting like one where Raven is concerned.

Thing is, the way this world is run, you keep your people tight and your lips tighter.

Your word and anonymity is everything. People won’t follow you if they think you’ll throw them under the bus when the heat’s on your neck.

He should have thought about that before he decided to hold back on us.

He’s hiding something, and that’s cool. At this point, we don’t need his ass to figure out what it is, but better believe he’ll be seen – the rat that led the way.

He can work himself out of that on his own.

We pull up behind a row of parked broken-down Hondas.

I spin in my seat to face him again. “You know who lives here, Bishop?”

“Nope,” he bites out.

I smirk. “Good. Now get the fuck out.”

The three of us step from our vehicles and rush for the door, an alert Bishop a few steps behind us.

We bust through the door and several around the room jump from their seats with slurred shouts.

Me and Cap pause in the center of the room while Royce moves for the sound system, yanking the cords from the wall and slamming it into the TV.

Captain tosses his bat in the air, catching it at the end and pointing it out at the few who attempt to step closer.

They pause once they realize who we are, then Bass steps through the door and his eyes widen as his gaze travels the room, spotting people who run in the outside circle.

“Fuck,” leaves him on a quiet note.

Yeah...fuck me, I fuck you, bitch.

“Benny Rodgers.” I lift my arms out, spinning slowly. “Where the fuck is he?”

When nobody speaks, Royce grabs the closest guy to him, forcing him to his feet.

He jerks the drunk’s head down as he lifts his knee, slamming him in the nose and watching him crash against the floor.

The girls scream, and a few more guys stand.

I look around the room again. “Who is going to tell me where Benny Rodgers is?”

“Upstairs, second door on the right,” a scrawny, younger guy mumbles under his breath.

I step in front of him and he looks up. “Show me.”

The guy swallows but does as I ask, and I follow him up the stairs.

I kick in the door he points to and charge right in.

The girl riding on the dick that must belong to Benny hops off with a yelp, but she doesn’t bother to cover herself.

“Get out!” she shouts.

“What the fuck?” He sits up quickly, reaching for something at his bedside.

I dart forward, grip his ankle and yank him off the bed, letting his head bang against the edge.

I drag his ass down the stairs.

He fights me every step of the way, but I quicken my pace until I’m tossing his naked body onto the lawn of what we’re told is his own damn house.

His partygoers rush out behind us, the girl he was fucking cussing up a storm and still buck ass naked.

“Get your ass in there and put something on!” Royce shouts at her.

But she ignores him, reaching into a pot by the door. She picks up a rock and chucks it at me.

I duck and it hits the car in the driveway.

Royce sighs and grabs her by the arms.

Benny stirs by my feet but freezes when I look to him.

The chick instantly goes off the fucking wall and starts screaming, so Cap rushes to the SUV, pulls out some duct tape, and tosses it to Royce.

He goes to rip off a piece, but she throws her hand up, clamping her mouth shut.

Cap points to some girl. “Go get her something to cover up with.”

The girl nods, running back inside the house and out just as fast with a blanket from the back of the couch.

Royce wraps it around her, and I look back to Benny.

“Benny Rogers, nomad in town who is supposed to lay fucking low or get the fuck out of our town, right? That was the deal you made when you moved here?”

“I do lay low!” he shouts, his embarrassment making him brave.

I laugh lightly, swiftly moving to push my shoe against his Adam’s apple.

He squirms under me, his eyes wide.

“I asked you a question,” I growl.

“He can’t answer you! He can’t even breathe!” the girl shouts, fighting against Royce.

“Quiet,” he shouts, and she clamps her mouth shut.

One of Benny’s buddies attempts a step forward, but Captain lifts his brass knuckle covered fist, spinning the bat in his other hand and the guy freezes.

I let up a little and he gasps for air. “I’m gonna ask you again, are you Benny Rogers?”