“The feds?” Vic inquires, shaking his head and letting out a long sigh as he closes his eyes. “I know you’re not a snitch, so … color me intrigued.” He opens those obsidian eyes for me and smirks. “Lay it out, Mrs. Channing.”

Aaron makes a sound of annoyance, tightening the grip of his hand against my hip.

“When Hael and I went to Pussy Point,” I say, trying and failing to hide the smile in my voice. He chuckles as he glances my way and our gazes cross. It doesn’t take much imagining to remember the hot feel of his hands on my skin, his palm skimming my belly, his head between my thighs. That tongue, so explosive, so wicked. “It took the cruiser about seventeen minutes to catch up with us.”

Oscar is the first one to get where I’m going with this.

“We use that window of time to kill Mason,” he muses as I flick my attention his way. “And if something happens, we have the feds banging down the door to rescue us.” An arrogant twist of his lips belies the cool, detached tone of his words. He’s impressed with me. Can’t even deny it. “This could work, Bernadette.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I say as I shift once again on Aaron’s lap. This time, he drags me back against him, his breath warm against the side of my neck. “Of course it’ll work.”

“This still involves putting you in harm’s way,” Aaron adds, and I glance back to find him watching me. He keeps saying he wants a haircut, but fuck if the sight of a chestnut curl flopping against his forehead doesn’t do my ass in. “What if Mason recognizes you? You’re not exactly … an every woman.”

I snort at that and shake my head.

“This is where we come back around to the original argument. I won’t be playing a call girl, but to get into that club, I’ll have to dress like one.”

“No.” Vic stands up from the counter and moves over to the table, standing beside Callum where he remains crouched and contemplative. “I’m not letting my wife dress to please Mason cocksucking Miller. You dress in a black hoodie and jeans like the rest of us.”

“Except—as we all know—white supremacist Nazi cocksuckers don’t let women into their ranks. The only women who will be at the club will be strippers and hookers. And Victor, come on, every Prescott girl knows how to don a wig and do some contouring. Nobody will recognize me.”

“Mason might,” Victor corrects, and I roll my eyes. I glance over at Cal for help. Out of all of them, he’s usually on my side.

“Mason will,” Callum says, standing up, still perched on top of the table. His head nearly hits the ceiling. If it were a regular eight-foot ceiling, he most definitely would have.

“You don’t know that,” I retort, but if Cal is saying it, he’s probably right. “Regardless, the plan is good, and it’s worth the risk. If we’re going to stay in Springfield … shit, if we’re going to stay in Oregon … then we need to move. Don’t you want your inheritance? You promised me gifts. And shoes. Lots of fucking shoes. And all the weed I could smoke.”

Of course, Victor knows that I barely care about shoes and pot. What I care about is changing things around here, giving Heather and the girls a strong future, and kicking some GMP ass. This pedo ring they’re running with Ophelia’s help, it stops on my watch. Even if running away would be the safest option for all of us, I can’t do it. I won’t. Not when girls like Alyssa or Penelope or Stacey are preyed on and destroyed, their beautiful and vibrant lights snuffed out by the scum of the earth.

“How do we get Vera into the club in the first place?” Oscar asks, but I just smile. I’ve already figured that out, too. I take the crown that’s sitting on the table, the one that Vic dropped on my bloodied head back at the school, and slip it on.

Of all the things the cops took from me as evidence, I was allowed to keep only this.

Must be fate.

“Guess what I learned from Vera this morning?” I ask, shifting once more until Aaron grabs me and presses his mouth against the throbbing pulse in the side of my throat. Never underestimate how fun it is to get a man to nut in his fucking pants. Best part is: you can help him strip down and clean up after—then invite his mouth between your thighs.

“Clever little Blackbird,” Hael chuckles, shaking his head. “No need to be so coy. What did you learn from your little hooker friend?”

“For years, one man’s been responsible for supplying Mason with girls, ones that nobody cares about, with no family, ones that society doesn’t care if they live or die.” I exhale and adjust the crown so that it’s sitting straight. I glance back at Aaron again, because I wonder if this might shake him more than the other boys, considering everything he went through.

“Yes?” Oscar prompts, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Tom Muller,” I say, and Aaron goes completely stiff beneath me—just not in the way I was enjoying a few seconds prior. His hands go still on my hips, his grip tightening until it’s almost painful. Tom threatened to sell him into the sex trade not all that long ago. He’s understandably wary of the guy. “And I know just how to get ahold of him.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” David says, his casual stroll across the Oak Valley Prep campus turning into something of a half-jog as the boys and I close in on him. His brown eyes are wide with fear, a bit of sweat pooling on his upper lip. He’s not bad looking; I can see why I chose him out of a crowd for a one-night stand. But now, having been with all five Havoc Boys, he may as well be a flashlight next to the brilliance of the sun.

“David,” I start, his name both a warning and a placation escaping my red-painted lips. “Slow down, okay? We just want to talk.”

He turns the corner only to run into Aaron.

“Oh, fuck,” David groans, face paling considerably as he slumps back against the brick wall of some fancy-ass building with the name of a rich dead cis-het white guy on the plaque outside the door. “Not you again. I already went out on a limb helping you.”

“Which is why, despite everything your father has done, you are not on our radar,” Aaron tells him, his face darkened with the shadow of ugly memories. It might only have been a few days that he was missing, but it’s left a mark on him. The threat of rape and death will that to ya. I wonder briefly if we shouldn’t get out the handcuffs again and work our way through it as a family … “But we need your help.”

“Look,” David starts, wetting his lips, his eyes darting past me as the other boys catch up to us and form a half-circle around the frightened prep school boy. Money can buy a lot of things, but dignity and bravery are not anywhere on the list. “I don’t think you quite understand what you’re dealing with.”

“We know that your father supplies girls for a man named Mason Miller,” I retort, and David goes ghost pale. I mean, like me after I spent seven days in the darkness of a closet. Ashen. Sallow. Desperate. He doesn’t like this, and I don’t blame him. Even by talking to us, he’s risking a lot.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” David murmurs, reaching up to adjust his blue tie. He’s wearing the gray Oak Valley Prep uniform—jacket, slacks, tie. Looks like something from a Japanese anime if you ask me. Or, like this one book I read back in freshman year—Filthy Rich Boys. Swear to fuck the author of that was an anime junkie. Bet that’s where she got the idea for the uniforms. “You don’t want to be messing with Mason Miller, Bernadette.”

David and I stare at each other, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s recalling our relatively basic one-night stand. Kissing, groping, condom on cock, penetration. Bam. That was about it. It was nice, but nothing to write home about.

“Can you not look at her like that?” Aaron growls, his possessive streak making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He’s sweet and he has a good soul, but I can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his eyes narrow … he wants to kick David’s ass for having touched me once upon a time. “Don’t think we don’t know you once slept with our girl.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” David murmurs, eyes darting from Aaron to Victor, Callum to Oscar, pausing at Hael before flicking back to me. “Look, I’m like … a five on the Kinsey scale. I swear, I barely even like girls. I was drunk, and I … What do you even want from me?”

“We just want to talk to your dad,” I tell him, pausing and glancing over my shoulder at the sound of footsteps. Mack Holdman, boyfriend extraordinaire, to the rescue.

“Pardon me, boys,” Mack says, shoving his way through the cluster of Havoc Boys like they aren’t all at least six inches taller than him and imposing as fuck. “Are you harassing my man, Bernadette Blackbird? Because I like you, but I won’t if you’re back for another round.” He gives me a look and then pauses to flip off a passing student. “That’s right you homophobic piece of shit, keep walking.”

I follow his gaze over to where a very familiar figure waits beneath a tree.

Trinity Jade.

“She’s a homophobe and a royal cunt?” I ask, shaking my head as the emerald green snake of jealousy wraps itself around my throat. If she touches Vic, she’s a dead woman. But … we do also sort of need her help, so the royal ass beating that I owe her will have to wait. “Good to know.”

“Her father only donates to political campaigns that emphasize the dismantling of human rights for the LGBT community.” Mack pushes some dark hair back from his forehead as he looks from David’s sweaty face over to Aaron’s deep-set frown. None of the other boys say anything which is probably good. I don’t trust Vic to deal with David without trying to kill him. And … well, let’s just say nobody here is a fan of using my hookup as, well, a hookup in a different sense. “Anyway, what can I help you folks with?”

“We need to see Tom,” I tell Mack, remembering what Aaron told me about his brief interaction with the couple. Honestly, there’s a chance that by giving him a ride against Tom’s and Ophelia’s wishes, Mack and David inadvertently saved both Aaron’s life and my own. No need to tell them that though. Don’t need them to think we owe them or anything. “Could you set up a meeting for us? That’s all we want.”