Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,88

in such a dark club, I doubt he’ll recognize us. The rest of you”—I point my finger at Cal, Oscar, and Victor—“will set up in the hall and inside Mason’s room. Regardless of what girl he picks, he’ll come up the stairs and we’ll have him alone and surprised. A one-on-one fight isn’t necessary. We just need to be slick about it.”

“And what if something goes wrong?” Vic inserts, a muscle in his jaw working as his frustration builds. It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it sort of turns me on. He’s coming from a place of wanting to protect me. Shit, I wouldn’t mind if he dragged me to bed and ordered me around under the sheets, but right here, I’m the HBIC. He needs to back the fuck off. “We’re all trapped together inside a GMP-owned club with Mason Miller. Sounds like a really great way to end up dead. Only positive I can see is that we all go to the other side together.”

I glare at him across the surface of the table. Like I haven’t thought about this already? Asshole.

“Listen to me, Mr. Blackbird,” I snap back at him, shifting on Aaron’s lap and feeling the growing bulge between his thighs. Good boy. Get it up for me, Fadler. “And I’ll tell you my contingency plan.” With a tilt of my chin, I indicate the closed curtains and the police cruiser parked across the street. Half-surveillance, half-protective detail. Gotta hand it to Sara Young, that woman knows how to plot. “I have a contingency plan.”

“The feds?” Vic inquires, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh as he closes his eyes. “I know you’re not a snitch, so … color me intrigued.” He opens those obsidian eyes for me and smirks. “Lay it out, Mrs. Channing.”

Aaron makes a sound of annoyance, tightening the grip of his hand against my hip.

“When Hael and I went to Pussy Point,” I say, trying and failing to hide the smile in my voice. He chuckles as he glances my way and our gazes cross. It doesn’t take much imagining to remember the hot feel of his hands on my skin, his palm skimming my belly, his head between my thighs. That tongue, so explosive, so wicked. “It took the cruiser about seventeen minutes to catch up with us.”

Oscar is the first one to get where I’m going with this.

“We use that window of time to kill Mason,” he muses as I flick my attention his way. “And if something happens, we have the feds banging down the door to rescue us.” An arrogant twist of his lips belies the cool, detached tone of his words. He’s impressed with me. Can’t even deny it. “This could work, Bernadette.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I say as I shift once again on Aaron’s lap. This time, he drags me back against him, his breath warm against the side of my neck. “Of course it’ll work.”

“This still involves putting you in harm’s way,” Aaron adds, and I glance back to find him watching me. He keeps saying he wants a haircut, but fuck if the sight of a chestnut curl flopping against his forehead doesn’t do my ass in. “What if Mason recognizes you? You’re not exactly … an every woman.”

I snort at that and shake my head.

“This is where we come back around to the original argument. I won’t be playing a call girl, but to get into that club, I’ll have to dress like one.”

“No.” Vic stands up from the counter and moves over to the table, standing beside Callum where he remains crouched and contemplative. “I’m not letting my wife dress to please Mason cocksucking Miller. You dress in a black hoodie and jeans like the rest of us.”

“Except—as we all know—white supremacist Nazi cocksuckers don’t let women into their ranks. The only women who will be at the club will be strippers and hookers. And Victor, come on, every Prescott girl knows how to don a wig and do some contouring. Nobody will recognize me.”

“Mason might,” Victor corrects, and I roll my eyes. I glance over at Cal for help. Out of all of them, he’s usually on my side.

“Mason will,” Callum says, standing up, still perched on top of the table. His head nearly hits the ceiling. If it were a regular eight-foot ceiling, he most definitely would have.

“You don’t know that,” I retort, but if Cal is saying it, he’s probably right. “Regardless, the plan is good, and it’s