I cross my arms over my chest and focus heavily on his stare, my eyes narrowing further and further by the second. “You’re lying.”
“What?” he snaps, my brows flying up. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“I don’t know about Grayson, but I believe that he was more than willing to throw me to the wolves, but not Carver. I see it in his eyes. He would have been the ringleader of the moronic Winter patrol. I don’t know about the dynamics between your little group, but it’s clear that Carver calls the shots. He’s the reason you guys were there last night, he’s the reason that I didn’t get my pound of flesh, and he’s the reason that you guys haven’t done anything about Sam yet.”
Cruz’s face hardens, clearly not liking my accusations. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not stupid,” I say, distantly noticing that he didn’t deny a damn thing. “You four have a certain … pull. You’re not scared of dickheads like Sam, like most of the other men around here, and I saw the way you guys fought last night. You’re all professionally trained in some sort of martial arts, and clearly have the money to back up whatever the fuck you want to do, so if you already knew what Sam and Knox were doing, why haven’t you done anything to stop them?”
Cruz’s lips press into a hard line as his feet drop from the coffee table. He stands before me, crowding me, but I don’t dare take a step back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells me. “This world … it’s not as clear cut as you think. We can’t just run in there and bust his operation wide open.”
Fury ripples through me and I press into him. “Why the hell not? You know the girls he’s stealing off the streets are girls just like me, girls who have nothing, have no one looking out for them, girls who won’t be missed by anyone. I’m lucky that I have the means to look after myself, but a lot of them don’t. If you can do something about it, then you should have already done it before it became a problem. How many girls have you four let slip through the cracks because you refused to do something about it?”
“It’s not like that,” he snaps back at me.
I shake my head, feeling the disappointment wash through me. “It sure as hell seems like it,” I tell him, turning around and walking up the three steps toward the massive entryway of the living room. Once I hit the top, I stop and look back at him. “You know, I’m disappointed,” I tell him. “For some stupid reason, I let myself believe that maybe you guys were the heroes around here, but turns out, you’re nothing but a bunch of villains playing God.”
With that, I walk out of the room and straight for the front door, slamming my hand down on the hallway table and scooping up the keys to my Ducati. I walk straight out the door and fly down the stairs, not sure why the thought of Carver and the boys being assholes bothers me so much. I guess I really did have higher hopes for them.
CHAPTER 11
Fuck Mondays. I hate Mondays. Mondays can kiss my sweet, sweet ass.
I peel myself out of my bed before reaching over and hitting the home button on my phone. 8:33 a.m. My eyes bug out of my head. “Oh, shit,” I screech into the quiet room before racing through my morning routine. This is exactly why I hate Mondays. There is always something that goes wrong. So, hopefully just being late to homeroom is as bad as it’s going to get today, though, we all know it won’t be, not after what I have planned for today.
There’s a certain someone who needs to make amends for his massive screw-up, and I won’t be letting him slip through the cracks.
I get myself dressed and ready, bypassing the whole shower thing because honestly, there’s no point. I have a feeling that I’m going to be needing another one later on anyway.
Six minutes later, I’m out the door while still tying my hair up. I hurry over to my bike and throw my leg over it before listening to the sweet, sweet rumble of the engine. My helmet is pulled over my head and within mere seconds, I’m flying down the street toward Ravenwood Heights Academy.
I do my best to focus on the road in front of me, but after spending those few hours at Cruz’s mansion yesterday, my head has been a mess. I haven’t been able to get him out of it, all four of them for that matter. I want to hate them so bad, but I’m finding it nearly impossible.