Tame: A High School Bully Romance (Savannah Heirs Book 2) Page 5

  I turned and fought back a smile. Beau Boedecker was a twenty-one year old, rough-around-the-edges kind of guy with boyishly attractive features that meant he could still charm any Southern grandmother, despite his leather-clad outfit. His dad ran a motorcycle club up in Atlanta, and they occasionally worked with my dad. Beau started taking a more active part in my dad’s ventures when he realized that the MC business wasn’t as lucrative as cutting cash. He disappointed his family by not wearing the leather cut as a real legacy should, but he didn’t give a shit about that. When he moved here last year, we got closer.

  Maybe a little too close at times.

  The line between business associates and friends had been crossed years ago. But just last year, the line between friends and something more had started to be straddled, too.

  Smiling, Beau leaned in and kissed me on the cheek in greeting, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl with the leftover trauma infused in my blood. When he pulled away, my heart was racing like galloping horses.

  “Y'all hired a new guy?” Beau asked while dipping his brow in concern.

  Beau’s handsomeness was warm. He had tan skin from riding his Harley everywhere and hazel eyes that made my soul shudder when he looked at me long enough. His brown cropped hair was always effortlessly messy but still hot, and he stood at least two heads taller than me, his riding boots making his already tall frame even more imposing. I liked his friendliness and the way he spoke. Slow and steady, like every damn syllable was important. I also liked the way he listened to me like he saw the value in what I had to say. I hadn’t seen him since my captivity, but I was glad to see his friendly face.

  “Apparently,” I answered with a shrug, refusing once again to look at my dad.

  “Who?” Beau asked with a concerned frown. Everyone involved was protective of this operation. It brought in too much cash to be taken lightly. Usually, when someone new was brought in, it was by a vote, and only after the person had been around for a bit working in some of my dad’s fronts to earn their way into the inner circle.

  “Me,” a dark voice said from the corner, and I could feel my heart slam to a full stop like it was driving a car and suddenly crashed into a brick wall of cool disinterest. I hadn’t even noticed the door to the real office open, but there he was.

  Godfrey. Fucking. Taylor.

  My eyes widened when I saw him.

  He was wearing his aviators, even though we were inside, and was leaning against the cracked concrete of the wall, probably dirtying up his thousand dollar designer jeans and button up that he had rolled up his forearms. He was cocky. A bit of an asshole. And he looked good.

  Unlike most people who would have automatically walked over, Godfrey took his time. He removed his aviators, letting them hang on the first undone button of his shirt, and then looked us all over lazily like he wanted to put us on edge. He started with my dad and then moved on to Beau, even going so far as to arch an unimpressed blonde brow when he took in the leather of Beau’s jacket and his laced-up boots. Beau tensed and stepped closer to me, which only seemed to amuse Godfrey more.

  “Really?” he drawled at me, letting his blue eyes finally rest on me. He did what he always did when he looked at me—he started at my toes and let his gaze travel all the way methodically up to the top of my head, before settling on my eyes. “Big bad biker boy? Another cliche,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.

  Instead of answering him, I turned around, giving him my back. Godfrey obviously didn’t like that, because I heard the bottoms of his shoes scrape against the concrete floor as he made his way over. In seconds, I felt the heat of his body behind mine, and I knew he was close. Too close. But that was no surprise. In my short time of knowing him, I’d learned that Godfrey liked to push the limits. He didn’t just test boundaries—he crossed them and then waited to see how you would react.

  “You’re bringing in him?” I gritted out to my dad, letting all of my emotion bleed into my words. I must have looked adequately pissed off, because The Rocco Nomar flinched. I hadn’t told my dad that Godfrey visited me in the hospital or what he said to me that last day he came. But we had talked about him since he was the guy to pull me out of the burning car and all. That sort of thing seemed to come up in conversation. Except that made Godfrey my rescuer, so Dad was probably a bit confused by my extreme adverse reaction to his presence. I didn’t care. Godfrey may have been the reason for my stiffened spine, but we were definitely not friends, and having him around would only cause more push and pull.

  “Is that a problem?” Dad asked, while looking anywhere but at me.

  A problem? Hell yes, it was a problem. I didn’t want Godfrey here. I didn’t want the false, fake sense of comfort my body responded with when he was close. It was just part of my trauma, I tried to remind myself. He pulled me out of the car wreckage, so my brain associated him with safety. It was a fucking joke. He wasn’t safety. He was like a frozen lake, tricking you into walking over him, only to realize that halfway across, he was riddled with cracks. One wrong step, and the world beneath you would shatter.

  “Yeah. I have a problem with that,” I replied with a sneer.

  “Godfrey and I have a deal,” Dad stuttered. It was unlike him to sound so uncertain.

  “What kind of deal?” I asked warily.

  “The kind where I get to babysit his daughter,” Godfrey interrupted.

  I could feel his hot breath on my neck. A shiver of something that felt like both dread and need sent little sparks up my spine, dancing along my nerves. It was electric. It was dangerous.

  “Rocco, man. Come on. If you were worried about Rachel, you know I would have been happy to help,” Beau offered before grabbing my elbow and pulling me to his chest. The moment I was out of Godfrey’s orbit, it felt like I could breathe again, but the relief was short-lived. I went utterly rigid when Beau threw his arm over my shoulder, crushing me to his side like I was his property. I was getting really fucking tired of feeling like the world wanted to own me.

  Godfrey must have noticed my discomfort in Beau’s arms, because his grin grew wider. That impossible smirk reminded me of when I woke up in the hospital, burning with a fever and wanting to scratch myself out of my skin to get a damn hit. It reminded me of our rushed goodbye that felt far too meaningful for what it actually was. Silly me, I’d thought he genuinely cared about me and that was why he visited. His parting words to me quickly squashed that.

  “I stayed because I was curious. But now that I see you’re just a druggie with daddy issues, I realize there’s nothing special about you at all.”

  Asshole.

  Beau jostled me again, drawing me out of my memories, and my eyes snapped over to Godfrey. I wondered what he would think if he knew that he was the reason I agreed to go to rehab and why I hadn’t allowed myself to slip. I refused to let him be right. I didn’t want to be just another statistic or another fuck up. I didn’t want to be another addict.

  Beau kissed my temple with his soft lips. “You don’t have to stay, man. I got this.” My friend’s voice held an edge of cocky assuredness that grated on my nerves. But I understood it. Beau and I used to play with the idea that we’d one day end up together. Not because we had any glaring compatibility or even chemistry, but because things with us were easy. Yet for some reason, Godfrey made things not so easy, and try as I might, I found myself wanting to be in his arms instead of Beau’s, which was utterly fucked up. I hated him, I tried to remind myself. I let that fiery resolve seep into my expression, and I forced myself to settle against Beau’s chest.

  Godfrey’s all-knowing smirk dropped a hair, and surprise flashed through me. Testing this new development, I ran my hand down Beau’s arm and watched the way Godfrey’s eyes narrowed on the movement, his teeth clenching together. Interesting. Very interesting. And even more surprising than his own reaction was probably my own. Because I was suddenly filled with an intense, excited heat in my stomach. Not from touching Beau, but from the way Godfrey’s eye
s flashed with honest to God jealousy.

  “Godfrey is staying,” Dad said with a growl of finality that made my attention snap back to the issue at hand. Oh, right. I hated Godfrey Taylor and didn’t want him around.

  “You wanted out of the house, so he’s your ticket. None of JJ’s loyals know he’s working for me, so it’ll help keep you under the radar. After the last run-in they had with the Heirs, they won’t do anything too hasty, especially to the son of Gerald Taylor, who’s one of their supporters.”

  I crossed my arms and lifted my chin up with indignation as I returned Godfrey’s stare with half vulnerability and half insane want. For some reason, it felt like if I let this happen, if I let Godfrey be shoved into my life, I would become more ruined than I already was. “Pass,” I answered with distaste on my face. “I’m leaving.”

  “Predictable,” Godfrey scoffed.

  Something about the way he laughed at me made me snap. Predictable? I’d give him predictable. I’d shove so much predictable into his stupid, cocky face, that he’d be fucking shocked by it.

  “Don’t talk to her that way,” Beau spat.

  I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. One minute, I stood in the middle of this twisted, fucked up male triangle, and the next, I was moving. I went for the left corner of my triangle first. Grabbing Beau by the face, I yanked his head down and kissed him hard enough to bruise his lips. I heard Godfrey suck in a surprised breath, even as Beau’s exhale filled my ears. “I don’t need you to defend me, Beau,” I growled into his mouth. Dr. Taffy had told me to flirt. But I always was an overachiever.

  He didn’t have time to kiss me back before I was already pulling away, going for the next corner. My dad stood there, unmoving. I raised my hand and let my palm crack hard against his cheek. The slap was loud, but my steady voice was somehow louder. “That’s for going against JJ and for letting them take me.” I raised my hand again, and he didn’t stop me, even though he could have. I landed a second slap on his other cheek, making his head turn to the side. “And that’s for not rescuing me when I needed you most.” His head turned back to face me, his eyes only slightly widened to show his surprise at my sudden outburst after weeks of not talking about it at all. “You don’t get to keep telling me what to do. If I wanted to be a prisoner still, I would have stayed in JJ’s basement.”

  The pink of my handprints hadn’t even appeared all the way on my dad’s skin before I moved to the final corner. The top peak. The sharpest pinnacle of the trio, and the edge that I knew, I just knew, would somehow end up cutting me the worst. I stepped into him, even as he still had that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

  “What’s it gonna be, princess?” he taunted. “Smooch or slap?”

  “Neither.”

  I jammed my knee so hard into his balls, the other two men grimaced on his behalf. A look of shock crossed his face right before he dropped to the floor, and I loved that I caught him off guard. I loved it more than I’d loved kneeing him.

  I wasn’t special? Fine. He could think about all of my un-specialness in his sore sac until his balls dropped back down. Predictable? If I were, he wouldn’t be on the floor cradling his junk. I didn’t need his assessment of who I was. I didn’t need his mockery of my pain or my life. Fuck that. I’d leave his head spinning so much, he’d soon be wishing he could guess my next move.

  I didn’t know what the hell my dad had been thinking by bringing Godfrey in to babysit me, but I didn’t need him or any of them. They hadn’t saved me when I’d needed it most. I wasn’t going to let them pretend that they could save me now.

  I turned and walked, not away, because I refused to be the predictable princess Godfrey accused me of. Nope, I walked right through the second door, into Dad’s real office. The space was even more significant than the room I’d just come from, and I breathed in the smell of new money as I looked around at the printers. My eyes scanned over the sparse workers as they monitored the machines, and I eyeballed the stacks of cash near the currency counter. It wouldn’t be easy to skim some off the top without anyone noticing, but it was a risk I was going to take because I wanted my retribution. My dad got to kill Johnny Jack. He’d snapped JJ’s neck and severed his soul right there on the pavement of Highway 29. I guess it was only fair. JJ was my dad’s arch nemesis. I was just sorry that I hadn’t been able to watch.

  But for me? I still had a score to settle, and I wanted to do it myself. Which is why I hadn’t told my dad anything about Pick. Not his missing finger, his two different colored eyes, or the yellow stain of his teeth. I hadn’t told him how Pick had stuck me with needles and opened my legs more times than I could count. I hadn’t told him anything, because I knew that if I did, my dad would take the kill for himself, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to do it my way by hiring Forty-One.

  I wanted to be in control of Pick’s life just like he’d been in control of mine. And then? Then I wanted to be the cause of his death.

  Chapter Five

  Godfrey

  I’d admit it, the girl had some balls—metaphorically speaking, of course—and I had my own sore pair of balls to prove it. The first thing I noticed when I saw her was that she looked better. Rachel Nomar wasn’t that washed-out shadow of a woman anymore. Last time I saw her, she looked like her skin was on fire. She’d clawed at her taut, pale outer layer like it was personally offending her. Those assholes had pumped her so full of shit that I wasn’t sure she would make it.

  My friend, Luis, was the one that got her into that fancy rehab she went to on such short notice, although she wouldn’t know that. His mom was a frequent flyer at the local “resort,” and for some damn reason, I’d wanted to make sure that the poison running through her veins got out of her system. Of course, I didn’t tell her or her father that. I’d just pulled strings behind the scenes like I always did.

  Once my balls weren’t throbbing anymore from the bullshit cheap shot that she’d surprised me with, I pulled myself to my feet and dusted off my clothes.

  “You’re not off to a really great start,” Rocco muttered under his breath. “Is that how you normally get people to talk to you?”

  I sneered at him, thoroughly pissed off, and then turned to follow after the girl that I was supposed to be getting to talk to me. Hindsight, maybe I should’ve taken a different approach than goading her, but there was something about Rachel that made me want to push buttons even more than usual. I found her inside the room, sitting at a table, lining up the cutting machine as it spat out rectangles of money. I looked around, observing the room full of cash, more than a little impressed.

  I hadn’t known before today what Rocco’s business was, but the fact that he was into counterfeit was something I hadn’t expected. And he seemed to have a pretty well-oiled machine, too, so I was surprised that I hadn’t heard about it. He must run things very close to his chest, which was smart.

  “Welcome to my empire, Taylor,” Rocco said, walking up behind me. The scruff on his jaw hid some of the redness left on his cheeks, but I could still see his irritated skin glaring back at me from where his darling daughter smacked him across the face. Twice.

  If I hadn’t felt like my balls were going to fall off from the residual pain of my own Rachel-delivered assault, I’d be hard just thinking about the fury in her blue eyes.

  “Cutting cash, huh?” I drawled while watching that biker wannabe—Beau, was it?—sit down next to Rachel. I’d burned evidence for a few bikers before. They were all territorial and grit, but for the most part, they were also idiots. I couldn’t help but smile at the memory of how lackluster their kiss had been. I’d seen junkyard dogs fucking with more passion than them. That little show back there? I was pretty sure it was all for me.

  “It works. We make quality stuff, Taylor. Got an infrastructure of buyers that use the cash and bring back the real stuff,” he explained, and I nodded with genuine interest.

  So Rocco bought shit with the fake money and then collected the change? Smart man. But it didn�
�t explain why he is showing me all of this. If he’d genuinely just wanted me to hang around Rachel, there was no need for him to bring me here and reveal his currency business. I’d had a feeling the moment that I saw him at the races that he had ulterior motives. He loved his daughter, yeah, but he loved his power, too, and this room printed precisely that. Power.

  “So why am I really here?” I asked in a bored tone. Our voices were quiet enough that they couldn’t be overheard from the printers running. “Aside from my play date with your daughter. Which by the way, I’m not sure I’m the best candidate for. Seems like your Hells Angel over there is eager to step into that role. Which, since that’s the case, why did you ask me?”

  Rocco’s eyes cut over to where Beau sat with her. “I have my reasons,” he said simply.

  I stared at Rocco, taking in the shift in his expressions. Worry. Anger. Helplessness. If I had the ability to feel bad for someone, I might feel it for this man. But I didn’t. His feud with Johnny Jack was why his daughter was captured in the first place. He deserved every drop of guilt that seeped through his pores. “I hear you’re good at poker,” Rocco said randomly while walking ahead of me. It kind of bothered me that he expected me to follow, but I was curious nevertheless. So I walked, but at my own pace.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty good,” I said. I didn’t bother pretending to be humble about it. I knew what I was doing at the table.

  “I want you to bet using my cash. And I want you to win,” Rocco said, stopping in front of the stacks and looking at it with pride. “You can keep forty percent of the cut. By graduation, you could leave here with a very fat wallet.”

  I scoffed. “Those poker events have more eyes and hands on them than my dick does. There are too many variables. They check and double check and then triple check. There’s no way your cash will get through that system.”