Page 35 of Crooked Crows (Boys of Briar Hall 1)

Becca’s eyes narrowed for an instant, lines of confusion between her brows before she seemed to decide she didn’t care, or that it wasn’t her business.

I wondered what dive of a strip club my mom was undressing at these days. Or if, maybe, she was finally dead.

After what she did, she was lucky Dad didn’t kill her. Hell, she was luckyIdidn’t. But that was before I becamethis.

This broken thing filled with hate, running on instinct and reflex like some kind of animal. Something less than human.

I didn’t know what to do when she hurt me. Or how to react. I hadn’t seen it coming. At least, not from her. She was always a druggie and a bad parent all around, but she hadn’t ever donethat.Not until she got the dirty drugs, cut with who the fuck knew what, and decided I was the devil incarnate.

Explaining the bruises to Dad the next day when he came back after losing all our money at the racetrack was the hardest conversation I’d ever had. For a second, I thought about lying. Covering for her. But...I just couldn’t. I was done. Done covering for her. Done being the grown up at barely thirteen.

Dad made her leave that same day.

She never came back.

“Need a break?” Becca asked as I began to slow, sagging beneath the weight of the memory. Why did I have to bring her up?

I panted, my mouth parched from the heat and exertion. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

She lifted a brow questioningly, but handed me the gin. I twisted the cap and drank straight from the bottle. Not too much, just enough to feel the burn of it slithering down my throat, pooling warmly in my belly. Fixing the ache there.

I recoiled from the taste, shaking my head to get rid of the lingering tang of juniper.

“Better?” she asked as I took one more swig for good measure and passed it back.

“Much.”

The air was clogged with the smell of smoke, both tobacco and pot. Thick with a muggy dampness that clung to my skin.

“Hey,” a deep voice rumbled into my ear and I spun, my pulse picking up speed, but it wasn’t a Crow who’d slipped into our tight twosome. It was a guy I recognized from my second period math class. “It’s Ava Jade, isn’t it?”

“Josh?” I tried, though I was good with faces, I wasn’t always as good with names.

His alcohol glazed eyes widened in appreciation at my memory before narrowing coyly, snaking down the line of my body. “Yeah,” he said, moving his hips in time with the beat, inching closer. “Want to get some air? I could show you my truck.”

Annoyance flared through me before I could fully stifle it. “Well,Josh, I’m dancing with my friend. Or did you not notice?”

Becca laughed, putting her hands on my hips seductively from behind, beginning to pull me away. “Sorry, Josh, this little birdy is all mine.”

“Catch you in class, then?” he called as Becca attempted to save me from being preyed upon. Little did she know it was a hell of a lot more likely she was savinghisass.

I almost slipped on a puddle of spilled beer trying to turn around amid a cluster of hot, dancing bodies. I caught myself on Becca with a yelp, who giggled as she spun me away from the mess to drier ground. And right into a bubblegum pink catastrophe.

“Lennox?” Bri sneered, her upper lip curled in disgust as she dissected my outfit with her eyes, casting an accusing stare in Becca’s direction. Because clearly it couldn’t have been me who put an outfit like this together. Ha! There was a difference betweenhavingstyle andhaving the moneyto fund that style.

“Barbie?” I countered, making my eyes wide with false surprise. “Thought you’d be taller.”

Her glossed lips pressed together as her little group of minions stopped what they were doing to stand behind her, their stares just as skeptical as their master’s when they recognized me.

“What? Never seen real tits before?” I asked the one on the right and her head snapped up, moving her line of sight where it ought to have been from the start. I mean, I was flattered but…

“You trailer trashhoe,” Bri said on a laugh, smug as fuck with her hands on her hips. Andgodthat outfit was awful. So pink it hurt to look at. Paired with sky high stilettos that proved she hadn’t learned from the first time she almost broke an ankle here.

I grimaced. Damn, the hem of her dress was about two inches from showing the entire part of her lady bits.

She wanted to callmetrash? While she was wearing that?

“Whatever you say, Malibu Barbie. If you’ll excuse us—”

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