“Why don’t you have the night off? Go and do something fun,” I suggest to Ellen after pulling the refrigerator open and grabbing a bottle of water. Something tells me she’s never done a single fun thing in her life, but who knows… tonight could be the night.
“Oh, no no. I need to clean out the pantry.”
Okay, so she’s even sadder than I thought. Noted.
“It’s Friday night. Go home.”
“But…” I raise an eyebrow at her and press my lips into a thin line, a move that works on almost everyone. Apparently I’m scary. Use what God gave you, Mom used to say. So I do, scaring the shit out of people on a daily basis. Or at least I did when I was in Heights. Fuck knows what the rich folk around here will think about me.
“Okay, okay. You’re right, I do need a night off. My pussy misses me terribly when I work a late shift.”
I scoff, just about managing to cover my amusement at her statement, although one look at her innocent face is all the evidence I need to know she’s talking about a cat. Great, we left the most notorious trailer park in Heights, and now we live with a cat woman. How the mighty fall. It’s a good thing she’s leaving, because what’s about to go down in this house would give her a fucking heart attack.
“You go home and stroke that pussy.” I suppress a chuckle. “We’ll be fine here.”
“You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“Sure,” I lie. I’m not sure why, but Ellen seems to think we need someone. To be looked after. She clearly didn’t get the memo about us looking after ourselves for the past fuck knows however long.
I leave her collecting up her things and shoot a message to my guys. I told them this was happening about ten seconds after James announced that he was going to be away on business this weekend.
His warning about no parties was a distant memory as I handed out his address to every fucker I know.
We’ve been here almost two weeks, and it’s the first time he’s left us alone for more than a few hours. I was starting to think he didn’t trust us.
Sadly, his little princess hasn’t been back. It’s a real shame. I was looking forward to having some more fun with her, but we all know she’s on borrowed time. School starts next week and there will be no running.
She’ll be right there for the taking.
The perfect prey.
The ultimate pawn in my games.
“We’re all set.” I throw my brothers a bottle of vodka each and a baggie of weed. “No more than that,” I say, staring at Cole. If he’s got tryouts for the Seahawks on Monday like James implied, then he needs to be sober and focused. “And no fucking pills. You hear me?”
“Yes, Dad,” Conner mutters with a two fingered salute.
I still at the mention of Dad, and something cold runs through my veins, reminding me of all the truths I need to uncover during my time here.
“The guys will be here within the hour.”
I take my own bottle and blunt to the front door. I drop my ass to the stone steps and light up. Fuck the pool house. This is going down in the main house tonight.
The first few shots of the vodka burn down my throat, but after the third… or fourth, I no longer feel it.
I flick the end of the blunt to the gravel of the driveway as lights make their way up to me. A smile twitches at my lips. I really fucking need this.
“Jag,” Dean calls the second he pulls up in front of the house. “This place fucking suits you, man.”
“You think?”
“Fuck yeah. The drug lord needs an appropriate mansion.” I laugh at his idiocy as other cars pile in behind him and people spill out onto the driveway, heading for the house. Bottles clatter as they carry them inside to get the party started. Someone I don’t recognize drags a set of speakers from his truck, and they disappear inside to set up.
Kelsey, my regular hook-up, saunters up to me dressed as she usually is: in very little. She steps into me, her sweet scent filling my nose, but, unlike previously, it does little for me.
“Hey, baby. I missed you,” she slurs. One of her hands slides up my chest and slips around the back of my neck while the other descends for my cock. My fingers wrap around her wrist before she gets to my waistband.
Taking her chin in my hand, I move her face so I can stare into her eyes. They’re dark and blown. “Fucking hell, Kels. You’re meant to be getting off that shit.”
“Yeah, I was. And then you left.”
“You’re not mine,” I snap, pushing her away. She stumbles but doesn’t fall. Shame. She’s always thought there was more to us than I ever let on, but she was a way to pass the time, nothing more. “Lay off the hard shit, or find your way back to the Heights.” She’s taken things too far one to many times, and the last thing I need is to find her OD’d in the pool.
“You need a drink and to lighten up,” she complains. “Find me later when you need some action.” She winks, but it’s not appealing in the slightest. Her lifeless blonde hair is doing nothing for me right now. I’ve got my sights set on a certain brunette.
Music booms as more people flood into my uncle’s house, and, after a few moments, I join them.
Falling down onto the opposite end of the sofa to where Conner has some girl grinding on his lap, I lift my bottle to my lips before pulling out another blunt.
Now this is a much better way to use this house.
Something smashes out in the hallway, but like fuck if I care enough to go and check it out.
“Donny is really missing you, man,” JJ says, dropping down beside me and thankfully cutting off the view of my brother’s tongue delving into that hussy’s mouth.
“So I’ve heard,” I mutter, thinking of the messages I’ve had from my boss asking when I’m going to come and do another run for him.
I fucking need to. I’m skint, and like hell am I going to use a cent of the money James has given us.
I was building up a nice little nest egg for the future until a fucking ghost from my past turned up and used my one and only weakness against me.
“Give me what I want, or I’ll go about it another way.” Even the memory of his voice sends a shiver down my spine.
Our father. Cunt of the century, and a man we all thought was fucking dead. Turns out he was just lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to ruin my life.
“I’ll be back,” I promise JJ. “Just got some shit to deal with here first.”
“What the fuck kind of shit could you need to worry about here?” He looks around at our lavish surroundings as the sound of something else breaking fills the room “Well, maybe aside from that.”
“Fuck that. I don’t give a shit about this place. It’s the motherfucker who owns it that needs my attention.”
JJ’s brows furrow. He’s probably thinking the same as everyone else in Sterling Bay: James Jagger is an upstanding citizen of the community and a prestigious businessman. If any of that means liar and master manipulator then yeah, that’s good ol’ Uncle James all right.
He’s covered his tracks well, I’ll give him that. But he seems to have forgotten one thing.
Me.
And I’m out for his motherfucking blood.
I’m not entirely sure how it happens, aside from the fact that Conner is involved, but sometime after midnight, the house begins to empty as everyone stumbles their way across James’ perfectly landscaped yard and towards the beach beyond.
Flowers get trampled, and bottles and half-smoked cigarettes and blunts get thrown every which way as we descend. No one gives a shit, and I fucking love it. I’m already pumped to see his face when he gets back to this disaster. I only wish I could be a fly on the wall when he gets the inevitable phone call about the out-of-control party in his beloved mansion.
The last thing I’m expecting when we eventually get down to the shore is to find another party in full flow. Only this one is a little different.
They’re drinking out of solo cups instead of bottles of liquor and, as far as I can see—or smell—there’s nothing illegal going on. It’s just a group of kids hanging out around a bonfire like a bunch of fucking boy scouts. Oh, and one more thing… they look preppy as fuck.
All heads turn our way as we come to a stop before them. Some guy wearing a blue and white Seahawks team jacket stands. I know his type immediately: privileged jock asshole. The one who thinks he’s hard. The one who thinks he can defend his school’s honor or some shit.
He’s got perfectly slicked-back blond hair and blue eyes. He’s such a fucking cliche it actually hurts my eyes to look at him.
“What the fuck do you want?”
I step forward, not because I don’t think anyone else will, but because it’s high time I made my mark. I’ve been to—or crashed—plenty of Bay parties over the years, but I’m fairly sure I’d remember this preppy fucker if I’d seen him before.
“For you to get out of my fucking face,” I taunt, closing the space between us.
Hunger for the imminent fight filters from behind me, whereas when I look over the douche’s shoulder, all I see are terrified wide eyes.
These fuckers need to be taught a lesson.
Ace Jagger is about to take over the motherfucking town, one rich douchebag at a time.
My fingers twitch. It would be so easy to pull out my knife and do this properly.
“We’re just hanging out down here. You’re the ones gatecrashing. But I hear that you Heights scum have a thing about crashing Bay parties. Probably because we can afford better alcohol.”
“Nah,” I say with a laugh. My lips curl, but I’m anything but amused as I bare my teeth at him. “Your bitches have tighter pussies.”
“Motherfu—”
“Bexley, stop.”
That voice.
A slender hand lands on the asshole’s shoulder before familiar dark curls appear, followed by her huge, brown eyes and full, pink lips.
I look between the two of them. Of course the princess would be with the captain. If I didn’t already want to take the motherfucker to the ground, then I fucking do now for having her touch him like that.
Innocent little Remi might have no idea, but she belongs to me now, and no one touches what’s mine.
“Move, Remi,” I warn, closing the space between us. “Rexley and I need to have a little chat.”
“It’s Bexley, asshole. And you’d better fucking remember that.”
“Is that right?” I taunt, “because I’m pretty sure the next name your girl there moans will be mine.”
Remi moves just in time for Bexley to cock his arm back, ready to take a swing at me. Sadly for him, he’s not aware that I’ve fought guys like him almost on a daily basis back in Heights, and I’m faster. Much faster.
My knuckles connect with his cheek before he even attempts his first punch. Girls scream, including Remi, and a few of his team members step forward, although as my guys move, they suddenly look like they could be about to run.
Fucking bunch of pussies.
Grabbing Bexley by his collar, I stare down into his panic-filled eyes. “The Jaggers are in town now. You’ll learn your place.”
“Fuck you,” he spits seconds before my head connects with his nose, making him scream like a little bitch and blood cover his jacket.
He comes at me, but he’s no match for my strength or speed. In only minutes, he’s on the floor, writhing in pain, bleeding and crying like a baby.
A couple of his pussy ass teammates drag him off as my guys wait behind me to see if they’re going to need to get in on the action. But it seems that the rest of the Seahawks are a little more switched on than their captain, because they stay put.
That doesn’t mean I can’t see the need to fight back in their eyes, though. They want payback for this, they’re just not willing to when I have half of Sterling Heights standing behind me. Our reputation clearly precedes us, and rightly so, most of the motherfuckers standing behind me wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the chance to hurt a Bay kid.
Turning my attention to Remi, I watch as she stares at me with wide, terrified eyes. I step toward her. She takes one back, and another, her pace quickening until she stumbles in the sand and ends up on her ass. I straddle her waist, her entire body trembling beneath me. I gather both her wrists in one of my hands and lift them above her head before dropping the other to the side of her head and gazing down at her. She refuses to hold my stare. Instead, she turns to the side defiantly.
Taking her chin between my bloody fingers, I squeeze until I know it’ll pinch and turn her so she has no choice but to face me.
“Look at me.”
It takes her a second, but eventually she concedes.
“You need to watch who you hang out with, princess.” I trail a finger from her rosy cheek all the way down her neck and to the swell of her breasts. Her breath catches and her skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Decide whose side you’re on tonight and either fuck off or come back to the house with me.”
Her body trembles again, but this time it’s not with fear.
I know what she’s going to say—it’s written all over her face before the words pass her lips—but I’ll give her this one chance. Next time, I’ll just take what I want, because a broken Remi is going to get me the answers I need.
