Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,81

she shifts gears and rockets off down the street while the cruiser struggles to find a break in the traffic to follow after us.

“Well, fuck me,” I laugh as Bernadette grins, taking another wild left turn as we jostle down a street covered in potholes. She might be a new driver, but I don’t have to tell her the ins and outs of south Prescott. We take a narrow alley next, then another right. The racetrack isn’t too far off now. “You must be really eager to get to Pussy Point, eh?”

“And you must be really eager to not get any pussy when we get there,” she retorts, slowing briefly as we near the dirt road that leads to the racetrack. One look at her face is all it takes to know that she’s reliving that awful moment when Aaron crashed the Camaro and was dragged out of the driver’s side window. He could’ve died then. Callum could’ve died on the day of the shooting. Things are rough for Havoc right now.

“If you’re not ready …” I start, because even if Oscar and Bernie had sex at the funeral home, that doesn’t mean she wants me pawing at her hot pink pants and pressing my lips against the side of her pale throat. Of course, I can’t handle things staying too serious for too long, so I just grin and steer the conversation in a different direction. “I’m more than happy to just rub one out. Vic still has that video of you and me, in the master bedroom. I caught him jacking off to it just the other day.”

Bernadette snorts like she doesn’t believe me, but then her green eyes flick my direction as if for confirmation.

“Really?” she asks, sounding surprised. Not as surprised as I was when I opened the bathroom door and walked in on that shit. Victor just stared right back at me, stroking his cock a few last times before coming all over his own hand. Getting kicked out of the room that day twisted my raw anger into something ferocious. And then finding out that he’d had a threesome with Aaron of all people, when the two of them are like oil and friggin’ water, that undid me.

Might still be a little salty about the whole thing. Vic is supposed to be more than a leader; he’s supposed to be my best friend. Then again, seeing him masturbating to that video must mean he wasn’t as bothered by the whole thing as he pretended.

“Really,” I confirm as Bernie slows a bit, taking us down the curving road onto the track and then past it, toward the old campground and the suburban street just beyond it. From here, it’s a straight shot to the Butte.

“You don’t always have to pretend, you know,” she tells me finally, even after I’ve twisted the volume on the radio so Bonnie Tyler can sing about “Holding Out for a Hero”.

“Pretend about what?” I ask, but even if I act like one sometimes, I’m not an idiot. I know what she means. You don’t have to pretend to be cheerful all the time. You don’t have to joke around when you’re pissed off. You can be honest. The thing is, I don’t feel like I have a right to. Oscar had a much harder life than I ever did. My mom might have some mental health issues, and my dad might be a murdering sack of trash, but other than being homeless for a while, what else is there?

“Hael, don’t play that shit with me.” Bernadette guides us up the steep, winding road toward the Butte. I’m not worried though; it’s plenty wide enough to make up for any rookie errors. Plus, there’s a metal railing along the right-hand side. Worst case scenario, she damages the fresh paint job. The thought makes me cringe, but I needn’t have worried: we make it to the top and into the empty parking lot without issue.

Bernie turns the ignition off as I pull out my phone, setting a stopwatch to see how long it takes the police to catch up to us. There’s always the faint threat of the GMP, but with our cop buddies, the assault rifle I’ve got in the trunk, and Bernadette’s scrappiness, we’ll be okay. Victor wouldn’t have allowed us to leave the safe house if he didn’t agree.

“Three minutes,” I say as the car ticks and cools around us and Bernadette adjusts her gaze from the beautiful vista