Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,101

in here that make up some of the rooms. The doors have all been turned inward, making them nearly impenetrable.

I text Vera as Hael and Callum do a quick check of the parking lot. Here, girl. That’s all I send, just in case the feds get another warrant to take our new phones. Not that it really matters. Even if Sara and Constantine figure out we were here, they’ll never know why. It’s not like the GMP is going to report Mason’s murder.

The underground operates within its own set of fucked-up rules.

Leaning my shoulder against the wall of the club, I can feel the pulse of the music from inside, a dirty heartbeat that speaks to the underbelly of the city, beckoning forth its darkest denizens. I make sure to keep my eyes on my phone, pretending to scroll as I wait for Vera to unlock the door from the other side.

If someone stumbles on me, they’ll think I’m a stripper or a hooker. Either way, I likely won’t be shot on sight the way the boys might.

Coming, Vera texts, and less than a minute later, I hear the sound of a chain-lock being removed, the metallic swish of a deadbolt. The door cracks open and within seconds, I’m surrounded by a sea of male shadows, pushing me forward and inside. Just me and a cloud of Havoc, baby.

“Be careful,” Vera hisses, reaching out to grab my arm with her pink-nailed hand. “Mason is edgy tonight.” She has to shout to be heard over the music, but I consider what she has to say, nodding before I slip down the hall with Hael and Aaron trailing behind me. “Grab a bottle of liquor and start pouring. Any girl that isn’t dancing or fucking is makin’ drinks.” Vera peels away from me, heading for the stage at the front of the room.

It’s hard to see in the dirty shadows of the club, but it’s clear that there’s someone sitting in the frontmost booth, the crest of his head barely visible above the back of the blue cushion. I straighten out the black miniskirt I’m wearing and turn to face my boys. They’re both hyper-alert, eyes darting around the club to take in any possible threats, cataloguing the exits.

Glancing down at my phone, I see that two minutes have already passed since we got here. Jesus fucking Christ, this is going to be tight. Shit, it might not work at all. Mason might not pick a girl, or he might decide that today of all days is going to be one where he takes an hour before selecting one.

Then what?

Will I snitch to the fucking feds to keep a girl safe from Mason’s perverted hands?

The answer to that question scares the shit out of me.

I know I would.

I seriously fucking would.

Forcing Aaron and Hael into a booth near the bar, I snatch a bottle of booze as Vera suggested and go about pouring them each a drink. I take my time doing it, waiting for them both to throw back the shots just so I can pour some more.

“He’s just fucking sitting there,” Aaron growls, checking his phone for the time. It just keeps tick-tick-ticking away. If the police cruiser arrives to find our cars empty, the six of us disappeared into the depths of a known gang hangout, then they’ll come in looking for us. We can’t risk that; it’s an emergency contingency plan for a reason. The last thing Havoc needs is to be seen as a pack of snitches in the southside. “What gives?”

I glance back just in time to see a man with dark hair and an uneasy smile rise from his seat at the front of the room, like it’s a dirty throne made of rusted nails and the bones of people he’s broken in the pursuit of his own sadistic pleasure. Vera is right there with him, working that curvy Prescott body of hers, flashing her tits.

None of it is working.

Mason moves right past her, pushing his way through the crowd toward the bar and ordering a drink. A part of me wonders if we haven’t misjudged him, if he isn’t, in some small way, distraught over the death of James Barrasso. Maybe tonight he isn’t looking for pussy?

But, of course, that’s a ridiculous thought.

Mason’s black gaze lifts up to mine and it’s like an arrow has pierced straight through my chest. I take a step back, my ass bumping into the edge of the table