Just Drop Out (Hannaford Prep, #1)

by J. Bree

“No, you’ll walk your ass out of here, and you’ll do exactly what she said,” Blaise says, and I’ve never heard him so angry. “See, you’re encroaching on my study time, and she’s the best tutor I’ve ever had, so if I have to beat you senseless myself to keep her here and teaching me, then I will, Hanson. Are you ready to bleed by me again?” Blaise cracks his knuckles to drive home the point, and Samuel stands. The chair falls as he lurches out of the room and out of my life.

The teacher announces a pop quiz in our next lesson, and the class erupts with groans and whining from the other students. Harley uses the distraction to lean in to me, to whisper into my ear. My body is still firmly in defensive mode, so I startle, grunting at the white-hot pain that threatens to take my vision, sucking air into my ravaged lungs too quickly. As I cough and hack into my palm, I can taste the coppery tang on my tongue, and I know the wet spot on my palm is blood. Harley’s hand wraps around my wrist carefully but firmly, like he knows I’ll try and pull away from his touch. Even with my whole body lit up with intense pain, my skin tingles underneath his touch as he looks down at the evidence of my internal bleeding. “Tell me who the fuck did that to you, or I’ll tell the teacher you’re spreading Mounty diseases by leaking blood everywhere.”

“Why would you care who did this to me?” I croak. His eyes quickly shutter and his jaw twitches. From the corner of my eye, I see Avery turn to stare at us both. Great. Now I’m going to be attacked on my way to the toilet at midnight and I’ll probably rack up some medical bills I can’t afford to sort out. “Spencer Hillsong. He had a couple of friends, but I didn’t recognize them.” Harley gives me a curt nod, and then I nearly fall off my damn chair as he stoops down to pick up my bag for me and starts to pack away my books. Avery is still watching us, and while she’s not outright glaring, I wouldn’t call it a friendly sort of stare. “Harley, you shouldn’t—“ He cuts her off with a sharp tone. “Shut it, Floss. Messing with her shit is one thing, beating her bloody is fucking disgusting. I’ll end that dickhead.”

“I told you to stay away from Joey. All of this is his doing. Honestly, you have no one but yourself to blame for this,” says Ash as he grabs my other arm. I grit my teeth, but I’m not sure if it’s because of his words or if I’m trying to take control of my body once again. The edges of my vision start to black out, and I can’t even choke out a retort. “It wasn’t Joey, it was Hillsong, and he’s a fucking dead man walking,” snaps Harley.

I’m struggling with my own feelings for all three of the guys, and their kind and gentle touches are just making this all the more difficult for me. It is not normal for a girl to be crushing on three guys this hard at the same damn time. I don’t want one of them, I want all three, even after everything they’ve done to me. I need to clear my head. I need some space, and I need it now.

“So what do you have planned for Hillsong, then? What skeletons hide in his closet?” If anything, the grin on Harley's face gets even more savage. He looks imposing, vicious in the best possible way. The kind of darkness my heart reaches out for because it recognizes it. I swear to god my panties damn near disintegrate at the look of him right now. “No explosion for Spencer. I told you, I'm going to end him.” A shiver takes over me. This could get out of hand fast, but that only makes it more exciting. “Give me details. I need to know what I'm signing up for.”

Harley glances down at me and gestures to one of the pews, right at the front where I’ll get the perfect view of what’s about to go down. When I’m comfortable, he dumps his bag next to me and then surveys the room. There’re about fifteen guys all standing around, and the air is thick with their eager bloodlust. None of them spare me a glance as they watch Harley with greedy eyes. “Anyone touches her or asks her for sex from here on out will get the same as Hillsong. You can film it and spread it around, for all I fucking care, but that’s how it’s going to be. We clear?” There’re nods, grunting, and a few phones make an appearance. Spencer laughs and puts his hands on his hips like he’s preening under Harley’s judgment. It’s gross.

“I can organize a cleanup crew if you want to kill him,” I whisper, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. Harley smirks at me and straightens.

“Is there a guy in here?” he says as he peers into my closet. My jaw drops. “What—why would there be a guy in here?” “You said you were naked. It’s five o clock, you haven’t just showered, and you’re wearing someone else's clothes. Who did you let win the bet?” He’s damn near hissing at me. I look down at myself, sigh, and then rub at my face. “I lied. I wasn’t naked, I’m wearing a shirt and shorts under this. I just—it doesn’t matter. This is my sweater. I’m not a wannabe model like the other girls here, and I like being comfortable. No guy. Not interested in seeing any guys here at Hannaford naked, thanks.”

I scoff at him. “Of course you do. What could a poor Mounty do against a billionaire sociopath?” He shrugs at me and flexes his fingers. I can't stop thinking about the damn necklace, until finally I sigh and walk over to where I’ve dropped my bag. I’ve been carrying it around for weeks, trying to pluck up the courage to give it back to him. “Don't ask me how I got this, and please don't start shit with me over it, just take it and forget this ever happened,” I ramble. He quirks an eyebrow at me, but he reaches for me. I drop the little gold chain into his outstretched hand, and he freezes. The look on his face breaks my heart. He's so reverent, so gentle as he cradles the little heart pendant in his big, bandaged palm. When he looks up at me, his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. I feel like scum for carrying it around for so long. “I'm sorry I didn't give it to you sooner. I don't even have a reason, I just didn't. Like I said, please just forget I ever had it.” “Lips, this is… I've been trying to get this back for years.”

He’s everything I wish I had, and it pains me to have him this close and to know it’s only going to last for a second.

He leans down and brushes his lips to my cheek softly. My eyes fall shut, and I struggle to stop myself from leaning back into his warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers into my ear, and then he disappears, closing my door quietly behind him and taking his heat and delicious smell with him. I feel gutted.

I have to focus to keep my scrawling handwriting neat enough to be read by mere mortals. Not that I think Blaise is mortal. Or mere.

set my pen down and fold my hands together, letting my face drop into a serene mask before I speak. “You’re going to be a man of business someday, Beaumont, and I’m here to help Blaise out with numbers. So, let’s look at some real world facts.” Ash tilts his head at me and motions me on. “I have a full ride scholarship that covers food, shelter, and clothing for thirty-six weeks of my year, which leaves me with sixteen weeks to have to financially provide for myself. I have a hundred grand in the bank. At my current rate of spending, by the time I graduate Hannaford and move on to college, I’ll still have more than seventy grand in the bank. I will get a scholarship for college, full ride just like this one because we all know I’m that good, so that money is going to keep sitting in the bank. When I start out in the career of my choice, I'm going to hit the ground running.”

“A phone call, Starbright? Is the school burning down? Have you castrated a young, enamored boy? Are you finally coming home?” Matteo’s voice settles into my skin like a throbbing wound. I feel like I need to scrub my skin the second I get off the phone, regardless of the fact that I only just showered. The banter didn’t feel fun anymore; it hasn’t felt fun in a long time. Now all I can hear is the possession in his dulcet tones. He’s speaking to someone he thinks he owns.

“Tch, kid, this is getting out of hand. You know, you wouldn’t have to keep running to me for help if you did some recruiting of your own. There are dozens of suitable candidates, all clamoring to sign up under the infamous Wolf. I could move some of my crew around for you. As a member of the Twelve, you have to have people behind you. This is why you need to come to some meetings.” I roll my eyes. He wants to give me some people to start a gang with. His people, so he can always have loyal eyes on my back. In his mind, it’ll make it easier for when he claims me and have the two gangs amalgamate to become one super criminal organization.

“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I’ve got a few leads. I’m looking for very specific skill sets, and if I’m going to do this, I’m doing it right. I gave you my word I’d be at the next meeting over the summer, didn’t I? Is my word not good enough anymore?” I finish with a teasing tone. Some might even call it flirty, but I just call it a necessity.

“I’ll send Diarmuid up with a copy of my files. He’ll be happy to come visit; he has a nephew who goes to school with you.” My eyebrows shoot up. Dairmuid O’Cronin was the son of an old Irish mobster. Forty years ago, the O’Cronin family had held a large territory. They’d exclusively run the docks and controlled the importation of drugs and weapons into Cali. Then the institution of the Twelve started and the family had lost members, lost loyalties, lost three-quarters of their territory, and rumor had it the patriarch of the family, Liam O’Cronin, had started to lose a grip on reality. Dairmuid had defected and became a gun for hire ten years ago. He is an unparalleled assassin, a terrifying driver, and he has a shitty attitude. I like him. The Jackal is one of the very few who can afford his price, so I have spent some time with him over the years. “Who is his nephew? I can’t imagine an Irish mobster going to Hannaford.” I hear the swing of Matteo’s knife in the air and his grunt as he impales the poor idiot’s leg. He doesn’t scream, he just lets out a grunt of his own. Buddy, you want to scream. If you don’t, he’ll only get more creative. “Kid goes by his mom’s name. Arbour. Blond and blue-eyed like her, too. Apparently, he looks fuck-all like the O’Cronins.”

My heart stops. Harley. Harley is the mobster’s son. ‘Honor before Blood’ Holy. Fucking. Shit. “Diarmuid will pop in and see him, and then drop off the file. Does that work for you, Starbright?” I hear fabric ripping, grunts of pain, and Matteo’s labored breathing. I hope to god he’s just carving the guy up and not…doing anything worse. I don’t want to think about it. “Yeah, thanks. You’ll only owe me two favors now.”

“I’ll send you the diamond back with Diarmuid, if you trust him with that.” Oh, did I mention I have millions of dollars’ worth of cut diamonds, all of the favors I’m owed, hidden in the safe under my floorboards? Yeah. My life is too complicated.

“Does the name Dairmuid O’Cronin mean anything to you?” I whisper, and then I watch as they both turn to stone. “He’s on his way here to speak to his dear nephew.” Ash breaks first, cursing long and hard under his breath in creative and colorful ways. I nod curtly and let Avery go. “Fucking call him. Now.”

Harley watches Avery’s manic scrubbing for a second, then says, “Fuck, Avery’s cleaning. What’s wrong? What’s this about?” I take a deep breath, and then just blurt out. “I have a connection to an underground criminal organization. The connection is not up for discussion. But he has a package for me. He tells me he's sending one of his hired guns to bring it here. The guy offered because he has a nephew who goes to the school. I was unaware that you're an O’Cronin.”

“You’re the fuckin’ image of Iris. It’s disturbing to see her standing there as a boy. There any of your Da in you at all, buachaill beag?” He takes a long drag and then blows the smoke directly up in the air, the wind catching it and letting it dance away into nothing.

I meet his eye and slowly shake my head. “I’m afraid not. It’s come to my attention just how sought-after Arbour is.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I grin, forcing the bravado I don’t feel into it. “I’m a fickle sort of girl. It brings me great joy to be able to keep Harley from those who want him. I think I’ll keep him.” Diarmuid blanches for a second, and then tips his head back and roars with laughter. He rubs his hands together with a vicious glint to his eye. “You bring my little nephew back to Mounts Bay and our mutual friend gets an eyeful of him? Blood and pain, little girl. Blood and pain.”

When he lets the little blood diamond fall onto his palm, he sucks in a breath. “It’s a thing of beauty, this. You know what it is, buachaill beag?” He waits until Harley finally shakes his head. “It’s a million dollars and a priceless fuckin’ favor.” “Tell him I’m buying Harley’s life with it, too. The envelope alone isn’t worth that, and he well knows it. Tell him I’ve picked my first inductee, and when he has questions, he can call me.” Diarmuid sobers and looks down his nose at me. “My Da will come for you both. He’ll kill him for standing here and listening in on this conversation alone.” I take a deep breath. I know the cliff I’m about to go over, and it’s a scary thing to do. Harley will know more than I’d ever wanted anyone outside of Mounts Bay to know. I need this conversation over. Now. “Liam O’Cronin can’t do shit to me. He knows it, I know it, and you should know it too.”

I didn’t bet on him pushing me through my bedroom door and then kissing me. It’s raw and dark and it’s fucking perfect. He’s not gentle about it at all. He pushes and sucks at my lips, but it’s nothing like the one Joey had forced on me. I moan when his tongue touches mine and take fistfuls of his shirt to pull his body into mine. His hands tangle in my hair and pulls until he’s got the perfect angle to deepen our kiss and steal my breath away. I feel it all the way down to my toes. This is how my first kiss should have been.

“I just bought your freedom until our graduation. I’m out the second the diploma touches my hand, so you need to get a plan in place for then. I can help, but I’m letting you know this favor has an expiry date. Until then, you’re… mine.” It feels strange to say that to him, and I can’t look at him as the words slip from my lips.

“I won’t tell the others. I don’t know how the fuck I’d explain it, anyway.” And then he walks out. Once again, I’m gutted as I close the door behind him. I’ve got to stop letting him in my room.