Wild Girl: A High School Bully Romance (Slateview High Book 2) Read online

  Wild Girl

  Slateview High #2

  Eva Ashwood

  Copyright © 2019 by Eva Ashwood

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Thank You For Reading

  Books by Eva Ashwood

  One

  My heart hadn’t slowed down since the gun went off.

  My ears rang with the echo, and even when I closed my eyes to block out the world around me, I could still see him. Flint, his eyes wide, face drained of color, his mouth slack-jawed. Blood spattered across the gravel of an alley I’d had no business being in.

  Breathe, Cora. Just breathe. It’s over. It’s done.

  I’d been repeating those words on a loop in my head for the past hour, trying to regain my footing on a world that suddenly tipped and tilted under me, threatening to send me spinning off into space.

  Let it go. Stop thinking about it.

  But I couldn’t just get over it, could I? How was that possible when I could still feel Flint’s hands on me, when I could still see the expression on Kace’s face when he’d looked the grungy, grizzled man in the eyes and murdered him?

  Why wasn’t I more regretful about that? Why wasn’t I sorry he was dead?

  What did that say about me?

  In, out. In, out.

  I sucked in a raspy breath as I sat on a chair in an abandoned old office building the boys had driven us to. The electricity had been turned off in the building, and it was drafty and cold. Orange streetlights flickered low outside the dusty windows, and noises from the world outside infiltrated the space—sirens in the distance, car engines rumbling, the occasional shout or raised voice. This part of Baltimore was run down and sparsely populated, and few people were out at this time of night, but every sound from outside put me on edge anyway.

  My fingers felt stiff, and my skin felt almost numb, like I’d been outside in the cold for too long. Vaguely, I knew I was in shock, but I couldn’t quite get that thought to mean anything.

  Whispered voices on the other side of the room rose over the random noises from outside, and I blinked, glancing toward the shadows where the Lost Boys stood in a huddled circle.

  “We need to do something about Flint without Nathaniel hearing about this.”

  “We get rid of the body. It’s not like Nathaniel will have any witnesses saying they saw us around the fucker.”

  “Yeah, but you know he’s got eyes everywhere.”

  Nathaniel Ward… Their boss.

  He was a local crime lord who had his fingers in several different kinds of illegal dealings. The Lost Boys had been working for him for a while, doing relatively low-level tasks in his operation. Flint had been one of Nathaniel’s right-hand men, the liaison between him and the Lost Boys. What would Nathaniel do to the three boys if he found out they’d killed someone important to his organization?

  Fuck. This is all my fault.

  “Just dump him in the ocean. I mean, even if he gets found, it ain’t like they’d be able to pin it on anyone, and ain’t no one gonna be sad to see him gone.”

  “Water will wash away all the evidence—fingerprints and shit.”

  “Someone needs to pull the bullet from his head then.”

  Kace’s comment came with no emotion, and bile burned its way up my throat. I couldn’t even guess how he was feeling, or whether he felt anything at all. His nickname at Slateview High was Reaper, but I hadn’t known how accurate that name was until now.

  He’s not a killer though. That’s not all there is to him.

  No matter how much Kace might try to convince himself of that, no matter how much he might try to turn off his emotions and see the world through cold, emotionless eyes, I had seen another side of him. A part that cared deeply and loved fiercely.

  But maybe that was the part that had pushed him to squeeze the trigger.

  The boys went back and forth, talking in low, urgent voices, and I tried to get my own head together—tried to think of my own suggestions to make. I wanted desperately to be of some help since I had caused this problem to begin with. Kace had been the one to shoot Flint, but he’d only done it because the lecherous man had been threatening me.

  I had made a stupid, desperate decision that had almost cost me my own life.

  “We better do this now,” Bishop said, nodding decisively. “Come on; Kace, you come with me. Misael, stay here.”

  “No problem, Bish.”

  Something clicked as I registered movement in the shadowy room, as I focused on my surroundings and truly thought about what was going on around me. Bishop was moving. Kace was nearing the door. Misael was beside me.

  No. This isn’t right.

  I needed to do something.

  “Wait—” My voice cracked as I spoke. It was the first word I had truly uttered since the attack.

  All three of the boys paused, their broad shoulders bunched with tension. Kace’s light blond hair stood out in the dark room, and his eyes glittered as he turned back to me. Bishop’s face was set in a grim mask, and although he’d hesitated at the sound of my voice, I could see him practically vibrating with energy, with the urge to stride out the door and get moving.

  To take care of this.

  To fix this, like he always did.

  “I can help,” I said, the plea in my voice settling thick on my tongue. “I can help, or explain—it wasn’t your fault. You wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for me. If I hadn’t—”

  My muscles protested the movement as I surged to my feet, and Misael reached me in two long strides, wrapping his arms around me to keep me upright as my legs threatened to give out. He pressed a hand to the back of my head, smoothing down my wild blonde hair and turning us slightly to look toward the other two boys. Bishop’s gaze shifted from Misael’s face to mine, then he gave a nod.

  “We’ll be back soon, Coralee. Then we’ll talk.”

  It was Kace who lingered even as Bishop left. There was a stricken pull to his face—a regret so deeply embedded in his expression that it pained me. He said nothing as he turned away and followed Bish out the door.

  My heart, which had been thudding hard against my chest like a trapped bird, suddenly seemed to slow to a crawl, hesitating between each beat as if it was about to give out. I slumped against Misael, my head spinning and my chest aching.

  “I… I’m sorry…”

&
nbsp; “Hey.” Misael kept his arms around me, as much to comfort me as to ground me. His addictive, musky clove scent tickled my nostrils as his breath stirred my hair. “Hey. You don’t have to apologize for anything. You did nothing wrong—”

  “Yes, I did.” My voice was still raspy, but it gained strength as my self-recrimination sharpened my focus. “God, I was so stupid. I thought he might be able to help me, but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and now…”

  “And now, we’re making sure we take care of you,” he murmured, sitting back down on the rickety metal chair they had deposited me on when we’d first arrived in the room. He brought me with him, settling me onto his lap with his arms encasing me, making me feel small and protected.

  “We’re always going to do that,” he added. “Alright?”

  I wanted to cry. I felt the tears sting at the corners of my eyes. Even after my reckless stupidity had gotten the three boys into this mess, here Misael was, comforting me. It made my heart swell with emotions, gratitude and guilt warring inside me and making it hard to breathe.

  He held me, letting the warmth of his body bleed into mine, until I stopped shaking. I could feel his heart beating evenly in his chest, and the steady rhythm comforted me as much as his touch did.

  Finally, I pushed against his chest lightly, and he loosened his hold, gazing down at me with serious dark eyes.

  “Is there somewhere I can clean off?” I asked, my voice gravelly. “I… I think I just really want that right now.”

  He nodded and took my hand, helping me to my feet. This building, like the old warehouse that was the boys’ favorite haunt, was completely out of use. The electricity was off, but the plumbing still seemed to work just fine, as Misael brought me into a bathroom that had warm, clean running water.

  “We kinda just use this building as a place to lay low if we need it,” he explained as he wet some paper towels and knelt before me.

  He carefully brushed them over my scraped and crusting knees, making sure to be slow even with the sting. He cleaned dirt and grime—and blood—away from my pale skin. My leggings had torn in broad swaths, leaving large patches of my legs bare.

  I held onto the sink with one hand and his shoulder with the other, letting the softness of his touch warm my numb body.

  When he moved up toward my thighs, where the scrapes were intentional, he looked up to me.

  I nodded. “It’s okay.”

  As calmly and carefully as before, Misael cleaned where Flint’s nails had dug. I kept my breathing steady, focused on how much I preferred Misael’s familiar, careful, tender hands to Flint’s violent grip. The panic raging through me began to wane beneath his touch, more so when he stood and dabbed away the blood that had crusted at my nose with a fresh paper towel.

  He tossed the bloodied towels in the metal trash bin before threading the fingers of one hand through mine. Then he looked back at me, his gaze tracking over my body before moving up to my face.

  “There,” he said with a soft smile that didn’t quite hide the pain in his expression. “All better.”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then brought me to a lounge-like room that had plush chairs and a couch. It wasn’t high-end, but it was comfortable. He settled me on the couch and sat beside me, letting me lean on him as he stroked my hair.

  We sat close to each other in stillness, our breath slowly falling into sync, and with his comforting arm around me, I let my eyes drift closed.

  Part of me thought I would never sleep again, but with Misael’s warm body beside me and his protective embrace holding me close, blackness stole me away.

  Two

  My dreams were disjointed and vivid, flashes of sound and color that made terror choke my chest. It was as if the events of the night were a puzzle, the pieces scattered all over, and my mind was slowly putting them back together to create a complete picture.

  It wasn’t a picture I wanted to see though.

  Even in my dreams, I tried to change the outcome, tried to warn myself to run from Flint before it was too late. I tried to grab the gun from Kace’s hands.

  But the sharp sound of the gunshot split the night air over and over. No matter how hard I tried, I could never stop it.

  I jerked awake when I heard the comfortingly familiar voices of Kace and Bishop.

  “Cora? Misael? Hey, where you at?”

  “In here.”

  Misael’s voice rumbled in his chest, and I stirred in his hold, blinking away the last vestiges of my horrible dreams. I must have slept hard.

  “Bishop?” I muttered, my voice still thick with sleep.

  A hand fell on my shoulder as Misael and I sat up.

  “Yup. Kace and I are done.”

  He didn’t elaborate as he and Kace sat down in the seats across from the couch Misael and I occupied. A dozen questions hovered on the tip of my tongue as my gaze darted between the two of them.

  Did everything go as planned? Did anyone see them? What would they say to Nathaniel if this came up? What was going through their heads after disposing of the body of a man they had killed?

  I was tempted to let all of those thoughts pour out in a torrent, but I was calmer now, and with that calmness came a clarity. Those questions could wait. There were other things to worry about first.

  “I’m glad you guys are back safe,” I said quietly. “I… I was worried about you two.”

  “Yeah, well, we always know how to get ourselves out of trouble.” Bishop shrugged. His hazel eyes had been soft as he looked at me, but now they hardened like glass. “Which brings me to what the fuck you were doing with Flint in the first place, Cora. How’d you even get in touch with him?”

  I averted my gaze, unable to bear the weight of his heavy stare. My own guilt was sitting on my chest like a slab of cement already.

  “How did you find me?” I answered instead. “You showed up at just… the right time.”

  Just before I was raped and probably killed by the man I went to for help.

  Bishop was silent for several long moments, and when my gaze flicked back to meet his, he was staring at me with an unreadable expression. I almost expected him to not answer.

  Finally, his voice cut through the quiet, still air of the abandoned office. “We look out for what’s ours, Princess. Haven’t I made that clear enough?”

  “I know you do.” I swallowed. “But how—”

  Misael’s fingers slid gently over the bracelet the three boys had given me at the same time Bishop’s gaze shifted down toward the silver band on my wrist.

  I glanced down, my brows drawing together. What did my bracelet have to do with them knowing where I was?

  Then it hit me in a rush, I jerked my gaze back up to Bishop. With trembling fingers, I pulled the bracelet off. It was one of those kinds that had a hinge, letting you snap it shut to keep it safely on your wrist. The silver band was thick, and I held it up in the dim light, gazing hard at the smooth surface.

  “The GPS is inside,” Misael said in a low voice. “It’s not meant to come out.”

  My heart stuttered in my chest.

  A GPS. A tracker.

  The gift the boys had given me had been about so much more than just a simple piece of jewelry.

  I blinked up at Bishop, a dozen different emotions tearing through my chest. I didn’t know whether to be outraged or grateful—but the honest, unavoidable truth was, this gift had saved my life.

  “You were… spying on me?” I asked, stumbling over the word.

  “Why were you meeting Flint?” Bish repeated. “How did you manage to get in contact with him?”

  His voice was blunt. Not angry, but there was a tension there that I couldn’t place.

  I bit my lip, gathering my thoughts and my courage.

  Then I explained everything. From the happenstance of seeing Flint’s number on Bishop’s phone, to having the back and forth in my mind about whether or not I should meet with him. I explained how it all stemmed from overhearing a damn name and wanting
to follow a lead.

  The boys listened, never interrupting. I could tell all three of them wanted to say something, but they let me speak until I was finished. And when my words finally ran out, we sat in a prolonged silence.

  Eventually, Bishop spoke up.

  “Why didn’t you tell any of us about wanting to do this?”

  “Because I knew you would’ve tried to stop me if I had,” I said. “You would’ve said ‘no’ at the first hint that I wanted to—”

  “For a good reason, Cora.” His sharp voice cut me off. “Flint—fuck, he’s not, he wasn’t a good person.”

  “You worked with him.”

  Bishop’s expression hardened, his eyes glinting in the dim glow of the streetlights from outside. His lips pressed together, and he shook his head. “Yeah. Because we had to. Because he worked for Nathaniel and so do we. It’s totally fucking different, and you know it, Cora. You know what would’ve happened to you—”

  “Well, clearly nothing would have happened to me, since you were watching my every fucking move!” I snapped the bracelet back on my wrist, waving it in his face.

  Bishop frowned. “We weren’t watching your every move, Cora. We were taking care of you. We were making sure you wouldn’t end up in the exact situation you did with no fucking backup.”

  “Well, you should’ve told me about it! Not just put a tracker on me without my knowledge.”

  “Yeah? Like you should’ve told us about your plans to meet up with Flint?”

  Fuck.

  I sank back onto the couch, the hot flare of anger draining out of me. He was right. They’d kept something from me, just like I’d kept something from them. And although it hurt to think they hadn’t been honest with me—that their sweet gift had held an ulterior motive—they had done it to protect me. They had known, in a way I had refused to admit, how out of my depth I was here.