Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,79

hanging out the top and sides.

“Oh, Brittany,” I murmur, leaning over her and smelling that intoxicating peach and vanilla scent, the one that makes all five of us so crazy that we’d dedicate our lives to creating a gang just to protect it. That’s commitment right there. “So good at sucking dick, I swear, I never wanted to leave.”

Bernie slaps me across the face. It’s mostly teasing, but a little bit serious. Very Prescott. If I had, like, a varsity jacket or something, I’d lay it over her shoulders to claim her. Since there’s nothing like that around, I grab the pink leather Havoc jacket and slip it onto her beautiful shoulders.

My cock stirs in my jeans as I step back and look her over, head cocked to one side.

“You want to take the Eldorado out and see if you can’t get the hang of that stick shift, little bird?” I glance up as Victor comes into the room behind her, his dark eyes on mine. Back when we were thirteen, we made a pact to protect Bernadette but keep the romance out of it. Obviously, that didn’t last. We just can’t seem to help ourselves around her. But sharing isn’t easy for someone like Vic or Oscar or even Aaron.

But me, that’s something I can handle. Besides, the more times I offer to participate in a threesome or an orgy, the more sex I get. Win-win, baby.

“Try to see if you can’t lose the cops for a bit as Oscar suggested,” Vic starts, his hand tightening on the newel post at the bottom of the stairs. Seems like he takes a second to gather himself and then relaxes his hand before dropping it to his side. “And if you do, time it and see how long it takes them to catch up.”

I nod, tossing the Camaro’s keys into the air and grabbing them in my palm when they fall back down.

“I’m sure Oscar will fill you in, but Brittany said the VGTF is taking cadaver dogs out to Tom’s. It’s only a matter of time before they see … what the GMP is doing with all those dead Charter kids.” I chew on my lip for a moment as I watch both Bernadette and Victor take in that information.

“What … interesting news,” Vic muses, likely wondering if we made any mistakes on the forensics side. A stray piece of hair. A fiber from a distinct item of clothing. Dirt from a very specific place. There’s always a chance that the feds connect some of those murders to us. But there’s also a really good chance that they don’t, that they blame another gang for violence they deserve to be blamed for anyway. Consider it repayment for all the crimes the GMP committed that they’ve gotten away with, all the girls Mason’s killed.

My throat gets tight.

Fuck. That’s my worst nightmare right there, that something happens to Bernadette, that somehow, our selfishness and our need to keep her gets her killed. Nothing in our life so far has been filler; it’s all been brutal necessity. And we all deserve that, don’t we? A little fluff, a little fun, quiet moments to color the in-between.

“Super dope,” I agree as Bernadette grabs my arm and lets me lead her to the door. Losing a police tail during a driving lesson should be fun. But I think Bernie’s up for the challenge. “You miss me while I was gone?” I ask, and she gives me a very characteristically Prescott eyeroll.

“Miss you while you were up at Brittany’s fancy house, pretending that her baby bump belongs to you? Of course not. I wasn’t jealous at fucking all.” Bernadette looks me over skeptically and then swats at me as I move to open the driver’s side door for her. “No chivalrous shit, remember? We talked about that.”

“Well, you fucked-up with Kali. So I get to open your damn door a time or two. Get that tight ass in the front seat and show me you’ve got the ovaries it takes to drive a fucking stick shift.” I move over to the passenger’s side and hop in, loving the way her hand roams over the bloodred leather beneath her perfect ass. With the other hand, she grips the steering wheel in a way that tells me I made the right choice. I might not be good at a lot, but I can tell what person needs what car and vice versa. There’s something spiritual to it, like