Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(9)

“She’s not just some girl.” Cap frowns. “She’s ...” He trails off, not knowing the right words to describe what she’s become. What we thought she had become.

“She’s important to you?” His voice calmer than normal, almost troubled.

My brows pull in.

“Has she grown close to one of you specifically?” he questions warily.

“All of us,” I snap at him before they can answer.

“Or so we thought.” Royce glares at me, mouthing what the fuck.

Our dad’s quiet a few seconds.

“Listen to me,” he starts cautiously, and instinctively we all lean closer to the cell phone. “Be smart, think before you act, but do not hold back if you need to handle business. You three are Brayshaw, if people need to be reminded, show them what that means. Don’t let them forget who’s in charge, Graven around or not. They’re digging, and they may have discovered some things they weren’t supposed to yet. Keep him there, right under your nose where you can watch him.”

“You expect us to let that little bitch run in our halls?” Royce questions. “Run on our fucking court?”

“Yes,” our dad’s answer is instant, but he pauses a moment before adding, “Make no mistake, Collins Graven has changed the game. I’m afraid it’s not about you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asks, his eyes hitting mine.

Captain’s features grow dark and he slowly looks between the two of us. “Raven.”

Why would he go after her other than to get to us?

“Boys,” our dad stresses. “Do not lose her to them.”

“She’s not exactly easy to control,” Captain barks.

“And she just played us, could have been this entire time. We can’t trust her,” Royce spits. “She’s a liability at this point.”

There’s a deep sigh through the phone and then, “Do what you must, sons. Hold tight. Everything is in the works.”

The line goes dead.

“The fuck does that mean?” Royce hits the seat and drops back against his own.

“I don’t know.” Captain puts the SUV in drive and we’re back on the road in seconds. “Guess we’ll find out.”

I turn to look out the window.

If she thinks she can fuck us over, she’s got another thing coming. They both do.

She wants to fuck with my head? It’s worked.

She wants to prove a point? She’s done it.

She thinks I’ll back down? She’s fucking wrong.

My jaw clenches, a heated poison burning in my veins at the thought of her with him.

Don’t lose her to them, he said.

I’ll lose her to no one.

Raven Carver is mine whether she wants to be now or not. Period.

She wants to pretend she doesn’t see me the same, I’ll force her fucking hand, in time. Problem is, I’m far from patient.

Go on, play your games, baby. I’ve got more moves than you can handle.





“Don’t look so glum, Rae.”

“Fuck you, Collins.”

“Begging again? So soon?” He stuffs his phone in his pocket. “It’s only been two days since you fucked up their world on their own turf, sweetness.”

“You’re a fucking fool.”

“But I’m your fool, right?” He laughs and drops down across from me. “Great job, by the way, not sure I told you that yet. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t so sure you’d follow through.”

“I said I would.”

“People say a lot of things, but you know that.” He grins and I want to slap it off his face. “You see how quick they gave up on you? Bet you didn’t expect that. You probably thought they’d tear you right back, right away, yet here you sit, wearing the same shit you did two days ago and still ... no Brayshaw to the rescue. Not even one out of three.”

I clench my teeth as discreetly as possible.

I don’t know what I expected, but I won’t show this chump my regret or the pathetic ache his words cause. Not that he’d read it right, he’s too blinded by his need to win a war he’s nowhere near equipped for. I’m almost curious if he wants it or if it’s simply because he craves notoriety.

Or maybe it’s acceptance?

Makes me wonder what he saw and heard as a kid.

I break our stare off and glance around the room.

This is a big ass house both empty and cold, more of a showroom of sorts. No color or real sign of living other than the ring around the coaster on the coffee table. Stone colored statues and ugly ass art fills the place.

Maids likely come in each day and out each night, cleaning up after the parties he throws almost on the daily – his need to have people close – and leaving him food to reheat in the fridge.

Maddoc had said, other than Collins, it was only his mother and grandfather, the last Gravens standing outside their men around town, but there’s no sign of them anywhere.

“Your dad really dead?”

His glass tumbler freezes at his lips – yeah, he’s that guy, does the whole ritzy shit, bourbon on the rocks like a typical rich boy trying to play like his pops. Sipping on it like a bitch.

He can’t shoot a shot like mine do.