Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,80

the wheels are your wings or some shit. “Do you know what to do?”

Bernadette exhales and nods, glancing back at the dash.

“Push the clutch down, start the car, release the brake?” she asks, her voice this throaty purr that reminds me of black-painted fingernails dancing down the length of my cock. I shiver and wet my lower lip, nodding as she does just that. We end up exiting the driveway in a jerking, halting manner, but after that, it goes much smoother.

“A natural,” I say as Bernadette snorts and then manages to get us going at the next stop with a bit more ease. “Like I said, natural.” Glancing over my shoulder, I see our usual two-up of uniformed officers following patiently along behind. If I don’t think Bernie can handle outrunning them, we’ll stop and get a shake or something so I can take over.

“Any special destination in mind?” she asks, eyes scanning streets she knows just as well as I do, despite the fact that she’s never driven them before. I haven’t forgotten that beautiful red ten-speed bike she used to ride before joining Havoc. Besides, nobody survives past adolescence in Prescott without at least learning some of the local geography. It could very well save your life one day.

“Mm,” I start, mulling it over for a moment as I fold my hands together behind my head, closing my eyes against the cool breeze. It’s still winter, sure, but we’re verging on the edge of spring. It’s a hell of a lot warmer today than it’s been in a while. “What about … the Butte?”

“The Butte?” Bernadette retorts with a harsh laugh. “Are you kidding me?” I open my eyes just in time to catch her looking at me. She very quickly returns her attention to the road. “Hookup Point, you mean?”

“Only Fuller kids call it that,” I retort with a snort of my own. “We’re not in some black-and-white fifties movie. Say it like a Prescott kid.”

Bernie rolls her eyes at me as I grin.

“Pussy Point?” she says, but almost like it’s a question. “I’ve never actually been to Pussy Point. Let me guess: it’s rumored to have a special sort of magic that makes girls drop their skirts?”

“According to the biggest lesbian to ever attend Prescott High—Mara Chan—yes.” I slide one arm along the back of the seat as I scoot closer to her, taking advantage of the bench seat in the front to press our thighs together. The heat from her body percolates through me, and I shudder, sucking in a sharp breath as blood rushes to my cock. “She told me once that Pussy Point was a sure thing.”

“Why not call it Cock Point?” Bernadette challenges, flicking the blinker on and sending us in the direction of the racetrack. In order to use that shortcut, we need enough of a head start that the cops won’t see us. Otherwise, the secret will be out, and we’ll have fucked Prescott kids from using that shortcut for generations. Not a legacy I want to leave behind. You know, if there ever is a Prescott High again after this. “Because I can tell you: if I take you up to the Butte, you’re a sure thing.”

A laugh explodes from me, like a blackbird taking flight. See? I can do metaphors, too, even if I’m nowhere near Bernadette’s level of poetry.

“You’re an unholy little nightmare, you know that?” I tell her, but my voice is laced with affection. Seeing her sitting there in those hot pink pants, her tattooed left hand curled around the steering wheel, I’m filled with something I call dark bliss. It’s like, even though the whole world is fucked, even though bad shit happened and bad shit will continue to happen, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in this moment. My girl, the car I worked my ass off to restore for her, and us. Havoc. Together.

There’s not a single one of us who hasn’t suffered in our family life, who hasn’t been betrayed by somebody that was supposed to love and care about us. That’s why we’re all—Victor included—okay with sharing Bernadette. She’s the center of the wheel, and we’re just spokes. But it takes all of us to keep the fucking thing rolling.

My body is thrown violently into the back of the seat as Bernadette turns the wheel to the left so sharply that we end up making a full U-turn, right there in the middle of traffic. There’s no hesitation when