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I was there to witness it and I still couldn’t believe how easily they wrestled control from the Bedlam Boys. This crowd had changed allegiances.
“Fuck the Bedlam Boys,” Jeremy roared.
“Yeah!”
That was the most telling evidence. About every fifteen minutes, Jeremy hopped on the speaker system rigged throughout the mansion and blared his feelings about my guys. All with enthusiastic support from the people who once dropped to their knees on Roan’s order over the radio.
I saw a lot of things I couldn’t unsee, but no water bottles in the coolers.
Tap water will have to do.
I turned to go back. Paris came up to me—dressed but dripping wet. “Some idiot threw me in the pool.”
Putting my arm around her, I kissed her wet cheek. She didn’t seem to be enjoying this party either. “We’ll steal a towel and dry clothes from upstairs,” I said. “First, I’ve got to get some water in your sloppy friends.”
Paris howled. “They’re your sloppy friends now too.”
“Dammit.”
The party was a fraction better now that Paris was melting by my side. We stopped off to get water, forced it on Elise and Zara, and then cut through the line of guys forming to get their blow job.
Yikes. I couldn’t imagine giving them in an assembly line, and I had five guys who may one day get me on my knees and demand it. The blow jobs Legend got out of me every night to “improve my technique” were a full-time job. He said I wasn’t good at them, but the grunts and filthy promises I extracted from him hardened my nipples and dampened my middle to the point a soft love tap with his paddle would set me off.
Upstairs, we burst into a random room. Paris went in search of a towel while I snooped to my heart’s content.
Jeremy’s room, I thought, picking up a photo of a young him and young Micah at the zoo. I knew it was his and not Micah’s because of the second picture, about four feet tall and nailed to the wall. I assumed Micah did not put a portrait of his half-naked, green-haired smirking brother over his bed.
Otherwise, it was a nice place that benefited from the taste of the person who provided the furnishing. The king-sized bed was covered in a soft, blue bedspread. It matched the chevron border around the wall and the heavy blue drapes.
Pushing them aside, I gazed out across the lights, spotting Legend’s house a few down.
“I don’t know why I came.” Paris came out of the bathroom with a towel slung on her shoulders. The tight, chiffon wrap dress was discarded in favor of a big T-shirt and sweatpants. “Elise went on and on, begging me to come and see the ‘real’ Crows. I think she’s really into this Jonah guy, and she’s convinced we’re all bound to love him too.”
“I don’t know about Jonah but—”
“Bedlam is ours!” Jeremy’s amplified shout cut in.
“—the Ellis brothers have ulterior motives and they’re not hiding them anymore.”
“They’re not going to split our town apart.”
Boos sounded from downstairs.
“Elise may be sex-high right now, but even... she supports— What is that?”
The booing was getting louder.
“Something is going on downstairs.”
We came out, rushing to the banister. What was going on became clear immediately. Roan came to get me, and he didn’t see the need to wait out on the curb.
The crowd parted for my red-haired devil imp. I called him that the day before when he sat in on my “yoga” time with Legend, and rooted for him to spank me harder, more, and with various whips and paddles he unearthed from their secret place in the closet. Roan found the nickname amusing.
“Booooo.” They were in his face—shouting, spitting, and waving their fists at him.
Roan walked amid the hate unfazed. Dressed in a blue tee, brown pants, and a jacket, he was as casual as the expression on his face. That one-sided grin shone from all the way upstairs. Tousled strands flipped from his eyes as he looked up, saw me, and gave me a nod.
The music cut off with a screech.
“What the fuck do we have here?” Jeremy crowed. “I don’t remember inviting the Bedwetter Boys.”
His audience laughed as Jeremy emerged from the other side of the ball pit, claiming center stage in front of the TV.
Roan stopped before him and the path that made way sealed behind him, closed by the partiers who realized what was going on and rushed to spectate. Roan wasn’t going anywhere.
“What are you doing here, Banks?” Gael, Bentley, and Jonah fell in beside him. “Have you come to admit defeat?”
“Yes.”
Yes? Did he just say—?
“Yes, I am,” Roan repeated louder. “Arsenio, Cairo, Jacques, and Legend aren’t going to do this, so it has to be me. It’s time for the war to end.”
My mouth fell open. What the hell was he saying? Roan had been strange the last few days. He refused to join in on the guys’ plans for vengeance, and when he thought no one was looking, I’d see him rubbing his bandage and glancing off into space.
