“Bruce, back on the field,” the coach shouts from several feet away. He’s an older guy in his fifties with gray hair and a pot belly. I should probably know the guy’s name since he taught my history class last year, but I don’t. I failed that fucking class.
“We’re not done here, Coach,” I shout without taking my eyes off Clint. I know I’m on the verge of getting expelled, but I don’t really give a shit. Holly, Grady’s girlfriend, is trying to keep me in school for as long as she can. But word on the street is she’s got a temper on her, too. I don’t think she’d be too mad at me if she found out I got expelled because this little pussy thinks he can run his mouth whenever he wants.
“Son, what is that you’re wearing?” the coach asks. Grady gave me the rundown—no wearing the cut during school hours or on school property. But it’s after school, and Coach Whoeverthefuck can suck my right ball. Of course he would want to know what I’m wearing. Some pigs think this cut is a gang symbol. They have no idea.
“Jeremy,” Cheyenne says. Her voice is much stronger now. She seems frustrated and a little guilty all at the same time. “Let’s just go.”
I nod my head to keep from saying or doing anything that’s going to cause a scene. We turn away and walk side by side toward the parking lot. Diesel is bound to be waiting for her there, like he does every day. I don’t know the lowdown on everything that went down, but someone showed up on campus and scared the crap out of her, so Grady asked me to make sure she’s safe during school hours. Maybe I’ll earn some bonus points by keeping an eye on her after school.
“Enjoy my leftovers, bitch,” Clint shouts. Both Cheyenne and I turn around and glare at Clint as he turns and heads back toward the field where the coach has already returned.
“Do me a favor,” Cheyenne says as she places a hand on my back. I look down at her to find her lips have formed into a devious smile. A glint of vengeance shines in her eyes. It’s hot. Like, really fucking hot.
“Anything,” I say like the pussy-whipped asshole I am.
Her smile gets impossibly wider. “Make him suffer.”
I’m unable to hold back the laugh as I give her a wink and take off in a sprint. He doesn’t see me coming as I throw myself onto his back and shove his face in the mud. My left hand pinches at the back of his neck with all my strength. My knee digs viciously into the small of his back. I’ve seen men tortured and abused for far less—and for far less important people than Cheyenne. This bitch is lucky he’s getting off with a warning.
“I know where your dad works, and I know where you live. I know your sister and how good her pussy tastes,” I hiss into his ear as he struggles to breathe through the mud he’s inhaling. “I could have your mother, but that bitch is fucking nasty. Just remember this—I represent Forsaken. Cheyenne is Forsaken. You don’t want on Daddy’s bad side, and you sure don’t want to piss off any of us. As far as you’re concerned, she doesn’t exist. And if I hear any different, I’ll make sure her father knows every bit of this conversation.”
I shove his face farther into the mud, dig my knee harder into his back, and then stand. My boot slams into his side before I walk off. Every bit of what I told him is the truth, with the exception of the part about his sister. I’m not picky, but she’s as fucking gross as her mother is. No way I’d stick my dick in that.
Cheyenne is waiting for me at the edge of the field. When I reach her, she says nothing and just turns to walk toward the parking lot once more. We make it to the concrete before she speaks.
“You’re kind of dirty,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose.
“Word around the clubhouse is they call you Miss Priss because you’re kind of a pain in the ass,” I retort.
“I’m so not.” She doesn’t even sound like she believes her own lies. “But can I ask you something?”
“Depends.”
“Who is that guy who showed up at school?”
“What guy?” I know damn well who she’s talking about, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. It’s club business, which means it’s none of hers.
“I’m not an idiot. That creepy guy shows up at school, and now I have an escort everywhere I go? So who is he?”
“Your escort? It’s Diesel,” I say with a nod of my head across the lot to the motherfucker with the buzz cut who’s resting on his bike.
She shakes her head. “Nice try. I have questions, and I know you have answers.”
There’s absolutely nothing I can tell her that won’t cost me my top rocker. So I swipe some mud from the knee of my jeans and wipe it across her cheek.
She swats my hand away with a surprised laugh and steps back with a screech. “Ew, gross!”
“You’re so fucking high maintenance,” I say, keeping my tone sounding bored. Just as she looks offended, I swipe another dollop of mud from my jeans and go straight for her nose, but she swipes it off my finger and takes a step closer to me.
In a quiet voice, she says, “Are you trying to distract me?”
I clear my throat. “No, I’m trying to get you dirty, baby.”