scars. The way he looks at that police cruiser, I can only imagine the violent slideshow that must be playing in his head. The weirdest part about it all, is that he smiles while he’s imagining it.
“There are no outgoing calls from Vaughn’s phone,” Oscar says, checking his iPad. He must’ve installed spyware on Scott’s phone while I was severing his fingertips. What a dreadful team we make. “So, likely not.”
“Kali?” I wonder, because I’ll admit, it seems a bit overdue for her to come at me with some level of retaliation for what I did to her face. The fire-bombing was a nice touch, but not personal enough for her liking. While some people play in tropes and clichés, she likes to steal personal experiences and twist them into dark, ugly things. Like … how she ruined my homecoming for example. Or how she asked the boys to convince horse-faced Kaydence Mane to kick my ass for no reason at all.
It’s been a month, and we still don’t know why she was with Neil on Halloween.
His motivations I understood perfectly: I’m watching you, Bernadette, and I’m coming for you.
But Kali’s? And what’s up with her dating Mitch, but hanging out with some guy at Oak Park Prep? Shit, she has as many possible fathers for this future baby as I might’ve had for mine, had I been pregnant, too.
Speaking of …
Hael comes out the front doors of Prescott High, his mouth turned down in a sharp frown. He’s still pretty, with that red hair of his, those honeyed eyes, his ass encased in tight denim. He’s got a goddamn bubble butt, too, and he knows it, the way he swaggers around town.
“Aw, come the fuck on,” he groans, gesturing at Neil’s car with a tattooed hand. “I’ve got to deal with Brittany tomorrow, and now this? When do we get a trip to Hawaii, huh Vic? We work hard here in South Prescott.” Victor steps out beside his best friend, his emotions locked away behind a stoic face, as always.
“There’s no rest for the wicked, Hael,” I tell him, quoting Oscar. The dickhead in question glances my way, but I return his stoic look with one of my own.
Aaron is the last to appear, pausing with his arm brushed up against mine. It’s meant to seem like coincidence, but I can feel the sharp intention in the move. So can Vic. He looks at his friend for a long moment before turning back to the idling cop car.
“What the fuck is that about?” Vic asks, cigarette hanging limply from his lips. “Is he stupid or something?”
A shiver crawls down my spine as I shake my head.
“No. He’s watching us,” I explain as the car starts to roll slowly down the road, turning the corner and disappearing from sight. “He’s waiting.”
“Let him,” Hael says, cracking his knuckles and glancing over at Vic. “Because we have something planned for him.” He flashes teeth at me. “And soon, something soon.”
“I sure as shit hope so,” I murmur. “Because if he’s here, then he’s looking to start something soon, too.”
And I don’t like that. I don’t like it at all.
Hael is under the hood of the Eldorado when I walk into his garage on Tuesday, pausing near the open door to lean my shoulder up against the jamb. He doesn’t notice me at first, music trickling from his phone, the sound of metal on metal ringing pleasantly around the small space as he tinkers around with the Caddy.
Fortunately, his mom isn’t home or else I wouldn’t have stopped by without asking. She seems to be a pretty sore subject for him, and I don’t want to stir the pot—especially since today is the day we get the results of Brittany’s DNA test. My teeth clench as I think of her weepy face and all the bullshit that spews from her lips. Maybe dousing her in her own pumpkin spiced latte wasn’t the best idea, but I don’t give a crap.
Hael is mine now. Period. Baby or no baby.
I’ve made up my mind for good.
I lick my lips and shift nervously as Hael slides out from under the hood, shirtless and covered in grease. My heart stutters when I see him sit up, raking dirty fingers through his red hair. When he spots me, he smiles in the most infuriating way possible. Cocksure asshole, I think as he stands up, the muscles in his abs and chest rippling with the movement.