Page 62 of Arm Candy Warrior

Oscar’s face darkens. “How do you think she gets the drugs, Princess? Nothing happens in the Heights that the Crew doesn’t control.”

My mouth drops. I hadn’t thought of that.

“They don’t advertise it,” he continues. “They have different levels of businesses. They have legal ones like some of the small businesses in the area like grocery stores and dress shops,” he says, pinning me with a look. “Then they have the illegal but not terrible ones like the underground fighting ring. Then they have the businesses that ruin people’s lives.”

“How can you even stand to be around them when they’ve done that to your mother?”

He traces his fingers over my skin absentmindedly. “I understand that it’s just business for them. Besides, it’s my mother who keeps putting the needle in her skin. They’re not standing over her with a gun to her head, telling her to shoot up or else. It would be easy to blame it on them, but ultimately, it’s her decision.”

I run my hands through my hair and then clutch his shirt in my fingers. “I’m so sorry, Oscar.” I swallow. “And I’m so fucking sorry if I made you think you were anything less than what I feel for you.”

A lot of people have let Oscar down. That’s the running theme in the Heights. Come here only if you want to be kicked in the nuts repeatedly.

This place isn’t for me, and it’s not for the guys I care about. As soon as I end this, I’m taking them and their families away from here. We just have to make sure the job gets done before then, so there’s no one around to follow us. Like Johnny said, take out the big guys so the smaller ones are too afraid to regroup.

The only problem is: I have feelings for one of the big guys, and I won’t sacrifice him either.

A little voice in my head tells me I might be forced to. I try to kick its ass out of my brain, but I can’t.

Depending on what happens, I might be the monster in this story.

25

After Brawler returns with snacks, we—including Magnum—sit and watch TV again. I don’t let him stay in the background. I make him sit next to us like he’s actually a part of our group. I’m sandwiched between Oscar and Brawler again though. Oscar’s fingers trail over my thigh, and Brawler’s feet rub mine absentmindedly. I can’t deny that my heart is full sitting here like this. It’s easy to forget how I met these two, and why I’m here. It’s more difficult to forget Johnny though. In a way, I do. I forget how pissed he would be if he found us like this, and instead just miss him.

During a female fight, Oscar’s phone starts blowing up. Message after message pings through. He sighs, pulling it out of his pocket. I scoot closer to Brawler, putting my head on his arm. I don’t mean to peek over at Oscar’s phone. Okay, I kind of do. Not because I’m a jealous bitch, but because I’m wondering if the texts have something to do with the Crew. They don’t.

“Who’s that?” I ask, referencing the girl named Jaz who keeps texting him. The picture next to her name is all cleavage.

“A chick at school. Apparently, there’s a costume party at Candy’s tonight.”

I share a look with Magnum. That’s interesting. They’re hosting events at the strip club that aren’t focused on naked dancers.

“Could be fun,” Oscar says.

I glare at him.

He returns it, undisturbed by my murderous eyes. “I meant if we all go.”

“You’re forgetting I can’t go anywhere,” I tell him. “With you guys,” I add even though a lot of the time it feels like I literally can’t go anywhere.

He smirks. “You could to a costume party.”

I sit up, and Brawler’s hand clenches in mine. Call me crazy, but I haven’t had the typical teenager life growing up. I haven’t been to many parties, and a costume party sounds like a hell of a good time. I can be whoever I want to be. I can dance with Oscar and Brawler. I can—

“No,” Magnum says.

I turn to look at him. “No?”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

Well, now that someone’s told me no, I think it’s a fucking great idea. I stand. “I’m going. You can come if you want.”

He stands right along with me. The fight on TV already forgotten even though it was an evenly matched killer fight between two badass chicks. “Kyla, come on.”

“We should live a little,” Oscar says, not helping the situation.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mag grumbles.

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