Page 17 of The Boy I Loved
“That’s unfortunate,” Mason said dryly. “So … no backdoor action, then?”
Nicholas’ lips twitched as he veered onto the exit. He was a man of few words, but that didn’t make him any less cold-hearted. He was more of a voyeur. He got off on watching, but when he did participate … it was like watching a monster come to life. Something in him snapped every single time. The light would fade from his eyes, replaced with something much darker and sinister, and then he’d lose it. Almost like he wasn’t in control of his own body. Sometimes he’d accidentally kill the girls while fucking them, which was also another reason he was the designated driver most of the time. Clay liked to use him on the tougher girls, though.
Another nervous giggle fluttered past Stacy’s lips. She knew there was something wrong now, just not to what extent.
“A-are we going to New Mexico?” Her throat bobbed on a tight swallow, her gaze flinging to one of the overhead signs we’d just swept beneath.
“Sure are.” Mason gave her one of his boyish grins. “Just relax and enjoy the ride. It’s the perfect place for a girl like you.”
Stacy went rigid, her wide eyes flying left and right, plotting out an escape plan—one that would be futile at best. We were prepared for anything. Always. There hasn’t been a single woman who’s been able to get the jump on us. Well…except for that one time. It was our third mission, and we were sent out to follow this girl around—Imogen. She was a pretty little thing, someone you wouldn’t expect to have a backbone made of steel. She had medium-length blonde hair, tan skin, and was about five feet six in height.
Like clockwork, we followed her for about two weeks. Her routine was always the same. In the morning, she’d leave her house and meet up with her friends for coffee and grab a croissant. Afterwards, she’d hit the gym and then shower before heading off to lunch. She took night classes at cosmetology school and went back home. On the weekends, the only thing that changed with her routine was that she’d throw clubbing or partying into the mix. She was the daughter of one of Clay’s old colleagues. Apparently, he shorted him on money once and was going into debt. So, Clay decided to take his daughter.
What wedidn’tknow about Imogen was that she wasn’t simply going to the gym to work out. She was enrolled in their Muay Thai program. Mason initially tried to lure her in with his charm, but she was a lot more observant than that. She wasn’t the type of girl to fall at a guy’s feet due to a few pretty words. She was smart, careful, and alert. We had no choice but to grab her off the side of the road. It was one hell of a battle, too. She carried a knife in her sock—another thing we missed. The little bitch drove it right into Vincent’s side. He still carried that scar, and he was lucky it hadn’t cut through anything vital. Mason punched her in the face, and she went right the fuck out. She didn’t last long within the ring. She became a liability. The end game had been to sell her. But she was a yippy bitch, strong as nails.
Nicholas ended up developing a sweet spot for her. To this day, he wouldn’t admit it to us, because if he did, and Clay got wind of it … well, that wouldn’t go over well. Imogen managed to piss him the hell off. She manipulated him, played off his feelings for her, used him, and when he finally realized it, she didn’t stand a chance. He fucked her so hard and so gruesomely, hand around her dainty little neck until it snapped beneath the pressure. He didn’t even seem to register what he’d done. Just kept pounding into her again and again and again, even when she made no sound, even after the life flickered out of her eyes. It wasn’t until he finished that a deep, rumbling sob climbed its way from his throat.
She was dead.
Since then, he’d been more careful. He’d only fuck the women if Clay ordered it. The wound was still fresh, so we never spoke of her.
“Can you guys just take me home?” Stacy pleaded, eyes glistening with unshed tears. The farther we got away from Greenbriar, the more on edge she became. “Please?”
Vincent groaned, snaking an arm around her shoulders. “You’re so hot when you beg.”
She flinched instinctively, just now coming to the conclusion that she was in a car with a bunch of monsters. “People will come looking for me,” she warned with a hitch to her tone. “We can pay you.”
“Yeah?” Mason asked, a small, amused smile gracing his lips. “That so?”
She nodded frantically. “My dad is loaded. He’ll give you all the money you want. Just please let me go.”
Nicholas rolled his eyes. We’ve had women try this tactic, too, and we were expecting it from her. It didn’t make it any less monotonous, though.
“Sorry, Stace,” I drawled, settling back in my seat. I’ve been quiet since we picked her up, but she was getting on my nerves. “This isn’t just about the money. It’s about loyalty.”
Her face paled. “Loyalty?” she repeated. “Where the hell are you taking me?”
I blew out an annoyed breath. The questions were always the same. “To our headquarters.” I shot her a grin over my shoulder. It wasn’t a charming one like she’d get from Mason. No. It was dead, sinister, and laced with bloodlust.
Finally, she jumped into action. She attempted to dive across the seat—well, over Mason to be more exact—as if he were the safer option. He grunted in surprise, winding his arms around her waist.
“Not so fast,” he taunted, wrestling her back into the seat.
Stacy snapped her arm out, her hand slapping against the side of his face. His entire body went rigid, his eyes darkening. Well. She just fucked up. A snarl was curling around his lips, but before he could retaliate, Vincent was jamming the syringe into the side of her neck. Her body tensed instantly, a pained sound climbing up her throat. It didn’t take long for her to go slack, her body toppling into Mason’s lap.
He ran his hands through her dark hair, his body still tense from being assaulted. The irony wasn’t lost on me. This was part of the job, but he did have his own vendetta against the female race, and one of them just hit him.
“Better,” he surmised, his eyes still hard as stone. “Much, much better.”
CHAPTER FIVE
HAZEL
I wantedto stay in bed for the foreseeable future—wanted to mope around and remain cocooned within my thick blankets. Unfortunately, my best friend had other ideas. With senior year fast approaching, we needed new clothes and school supplies. I stupidly agreed to tag along months ago, back when I still had starry eyes for the boy on the other side of the woods.
“We need red pens,” Tory commented, skimming over the list clutched between her fingers. We’ve been friends for even longer than me and Dom had. They never really got along, but they were both respectful of my friendship to the other. She was the only one who knew that things with Dominic had gotten a little complicated, that the lines had blurred. She was there to support me every step of the way but refused to go to his welcome home party. She thought it would be weird. It didn’t matter that most of our junior class was going.
My gaze skimmed over some of the shelves. There were rows upon rows of supplies lining each shelf. Binders, notebooks, markers, crayons, paper, glue, scissors, backpacks, and those were justthe basics. When I located the pens, I grabbed a pack for me, and one for Tory, tossing them into the cart carelessly.
