Aftereffect (The Order of Ravens and Wolves Book 1) Page 2

  “But Mommy –”

  “Don’t ‘but Mommy’ me, missy! Now apologize!”

  I had to hold back a smile when she frowned and huffed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Is that how we apologize, young lady?”

  I understood the frustration shining in her eyes. It came with being a kid, when adults wouldn’t listen to you.

  Riley sighed, wandered over, and hugged me. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I smiled and added in a whisper only she could hear, “dog killer.”

  She pushed me away and yelled, “I hate you!”

  “Riley –” Her mother started to scold her, but I held up my hand.

  “It’s okay,” I said, placing a sad expression on my face. “Some kids just aren’t that nice.”

  Riley reared back, her mouth open in shock.

  “Oh, you poor boy.” Her mother hugged me, then glanced over her shoulder at Riley. “You and I are going to have a talk with your father when he gets home.”

  Riley said nothing, just stared in disbelief. It was amazing how quickly an adult would side with a sad child. Like cheering them up would somehow make their pathetic existence better.

  “You know how your father and I feel about bullying.” her mother said, shaking her finger.

  “I only offered to help find her dog.” I gave Riley a smile while her mother’s back was turned, and mouthed ‘Dog killer’. “Then she started calling me names.”

  “You’re a whore!” Riley screamed, before she slapped me and took off.

  My fingers dug into my flesh as I cupped my stinging cheek. She hit me! She actually hit me!

  “Riley Marie Adams! Get your butt back here right now!” her mother called out.

  “No, I hate him!” she yelled, and ran across the playground.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” her mother apologized and rushed away.

  The Kings burst out laughing, stinging me more than the bite from her strike. I watched Riley run around, dodging her mother, and balled my fists. She thought she could make a fool out of me? I was Micha William Kessler, next in line to lead the Order of Ravens and Wolves. My family owned this town, and who was she? A nobody worth less than nothing.

  “Can I pick any girl I want?”

  “Yes.” My father nodded, still chuckling at my humiliation.

  I gritted my teeth and hissed, “I want her.”

  Chapter One

  Micha

  My lip curled at the scent of fish in the air. The docks in Ashen Springs was a shit neighborhood. Last week someone was shot a block away, and there was string of break ins a block down from that. But on this street, my street, I could hear water softly lapping off the docks. Two days. That’s all it took to clean this place up.

  Not many people dared to go against me. Compassion and mercy weren’t things I was known for. I killed my first man when I was ten, and eleven for a woman. Did I feel bad about it? No. Only the weak had a conscience. Guilt could drive a person mad – my mother taught me that.

  I walked up to the run down brown and white apartment building. It was the only structure on this street I gave a fuck about. On the third floor, in apartment 3c, was the pigtailed little brat that slapped me in the park, Riley Adams. My little mouse was a stubborn thing. For years I taunted her, humiliated her every chance I got, but she refused to back down. Even with tears sparkling in her sapphire eyes, she fought back. Maybe I would’ve lost interest if she broke?

  Despite all bravado, Riley was an easy target. The poor girl from the docks with an alcoholic mother. But it wasn’t her tears I wanted; it was her hatred. That rage burning deep in her eyes, that was my crack. I needed it. Craved the sting of her wrath almost as much as the satisfaction of her humiliation. Our roles were simple – predator and prey. A mouse for me to toy with when I was bored. But then things got . . . complicated.

  I entered the apartment and headed up the stairs as I thought about that night. I was on my way back to my Jeep after a late-night meeting with Jim Severson, when movement in the alley caught me eye. Jim had his uses, but he was constantly pissing me off with his better-than-you attitude. Fucker owned a chain of department stores, stores that we helped become successful. He wasn’t the goddamned president! Which was why I decided to sit back and watch the figure dressed in black rob his store.

  Except the figure didn’t grab a crowbar or lockpicks out of their backpack. They pulled out cans of spray paint. Ashen Springs had been struck by a string of graffiti recently. Personally, I thought what was considered vandalism, improved the place. The public school had a better mascot. City hall was decorated with a beachside mural, and the billboard downtown now actually looked like the geysers outside of town. When the vandal hit my father’s office, painting a regal king sitting on a throne of people, I couldn’t help but admire the fucker. It took balls to stand up to my father.

  My intrigue only grew when I realized it was a girl. When I saw her eyes, I smiled. I’d recognize the rage and anger twinkling in those deep pools of blue anywhere. My little mouse was Ashen Springs mystery vandal. This was too good to pass up. Squaring my shoulders, I prepared to march over there and make Riley regret her decisions. Then she lifted her arms, and I froze, my eyes pouring over the exposed curve of her waist. The more I looked, the more I saw. Toned legs, perky little tits, Which would fill my hands nicely, and her ass! Damn! That was the first time Riley Adams got my dick hard. Naturally, I turned her in.

  I’d never forget the look on Riley’s face. It was almost as good as Bryce’s. I thought he was going to pass out when he slapped cuffs on his boss’s daughter.

  I played the concerned citizen. Stepping out of the shadows and said, “Took you guys long enough.”

  Riley groaned and rolled her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

  “I hope you haven’t been drinking.” I tilted my head and gave her a small grin, “Isn’t the old saying, like mother like daughter?”

  I smirked and tapped the lopsided three hanging on her door, watching it swing back and forth on the one nail holding it in place. How pissed would Riley be if she knew my father owned this place? I made him buy it, which he wasn’t too happy about. The place was in shambles. Worn out carpets, broken elevator, and it smelled like fish – everything this close to the docks did. My guess was that he’d tear it down the second Riley moved. He already started handing out eviction notices.

  Logan’s house would be a big upgrade. Most girls would consider themselves lucky if their father married Paisley Hudson. Not Riley. She’d rather die, cold in a box on the street, than move into my neighborhood. But she didn’t have a choice. Her mother died three days ago in a car accident, probably drunk again. Riley was better off.

  Stepping around the boxes littering the floor, I made my way to the bedroom on the right. I tempted to throw the bottle of sleeping pills on her dresser into the trash. She’d been taking them since her mother died. I didn’t see what she was so broken up about? If anything, Riley was the parent that relationship. She took care of the house and made sure the bills were paid.

  Her father wasn’t much better. He should’ve taken her away years ago, and I never understood why he didn’t. The sheriff didn’t miss visits and attended school meetings. Yet, for some reason, he kept his daughter at distance. No wonder no one knew what she was up to in her spare time. Riley had absolutely no supervision. That was about to change. One more week, she’d be sixteen and mine.

  I cocked my head down at my sleeping mouse, sprawled across the mattress. Even on her tiny bed, she looked small. Leg haphazardly thrown over the blanket. She wasn’t going to like living by my rules, but she would, or face the consequences. My hand ran through her long black hair, twisting the silky strands around my fingers. And oh, how I was going to enjoy doling out those consequences.

  Her purple Minnie Mouse pajamas caused me to smirk. My tough girl had a thing for the cartoon character. Her smiling face was all over – stuffed animals, figuri
nes, and pictures. There were even images drawn in her sketchbook. The drawings I really liked were in the back of her diary. Minnie scantily clad in lace, kneeling at Mickey’s feet. Her diary also held another secret, one she definitely didn’t want me knowing.

  The bed creaked as I sat on the edge and lifted Riley’s foot. “My innocent little mouse,” I said, trailing my finger over her tiny toes. They were painted the same deep blue as her eyes. “You think your secret fantasies are dirty?” I sighed and smoothed my palm over the soft skin of her calf. “You have no idea what dirty is.”

  Riley mumbled out a groan and reached out to hug her Minnie Mouse pillow. I dropped her foot and gritted my teeth. I’d always been somewhat possessive of her. I liked picking on her, therefore, no one else could. But now stupid little things were pissing me off, like that pillow. I hated that fucking thing! Minnie smiling at me night after night from her spot nestled between Riley’s breasts. I wanted to tear it apart, and laugh manically as I ground the stuffing under the heel of my boot.

  Fuck you, you cartoon bitch!

  My jaw ticked. If she wanted to hug that thing, fine! I reached back and pulled my shirt over my head. The air conditioning brushing across my bare skin did nothing to cool my anger. After carefully prying Riley’s arms away, I tucked my shirt around Minnie’s face and stepped back. She nuzzled in and released a contented sigh, making me smile.

  That’s right, little mouse, soak it in.

  My eyes poured over her hair, to her closed eyes, and rosy cheeks. Fuck, she was beautiful. How did I not see it? I climbed on the bed and slid my hands up her smooth legs to grab handfuls of her firm butt.

  “How did I miss this ass?”

  Riley didn’t dress like other girls. I was pretty sure her entire wardrobe consisted of jeans and hoodies. Didn’t stop fuckers from noticing her, though. Just last week, Logan and I paid a visit to some asshole from the skatepark. He was getting a little too close for my comfort. If Riley started dressing like other chicks, I might kill a motherfucker.

  I crawled over Riley’s prone form, smirking at her sweaty forehead and heavy breaths. “Are you dreaming about me again, Mouse?” I whispered in her ear.

  Her diary was very descriptive. I knew every dirty little thought she had about me, and how much she hated herself for it.

  Riley grumbled and wriggled under me. I groaned and readjusted myself. It was getting harder to keep my hands off her. Seeing her like this made it, damn near impossible. One more week, that’s all I had to wait. She’d go to Mexico, bury her mother, and when she got back, Riley would be mine.

  “Who do you belong to?” I whispered in her ear.

  “You,” she whispered back.

  It took months of nightly visits and hushed coaxes to get her to respond properly. Getting her to say it when she was awake . . . now, that would be a harder task.

  “That’s right, Mouse.” I said, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Be a good girl in Mexico. Remember, I’ll be watching. I’m always watching.”

  With that, I stood, retrieved my shirt, and slipped out of the room. I almost made it to the door before my phone went off.

  “What,” I softly snarled, while checking to make sure Riley’s uncle, who was sleeping in the next room, hadn’t woken up.

  Logan’s voice rang out. “Where the fuck are you?”

  He just won a race and there was party at his house. I came to Riley’s not only to see my mouse, but to kill time. Logan’s parties were epic, but I didn’t feel like being surrounded by a bunch of drunken idiots.

  “Nowhere,” I growled, closing the apartment door and locking it.

  “Uh huh,” Logan sang with a chuckle. “How’s my little sis doing tonight?”

  My obsession was my friends latest source of amusement. Logan used the sister angle to tease me.

  “She’s not your sister,” I growled.

  “I beg to differ. Her dad is married to my mom,” he argued, “Ergo, she’s my sister.”

  I sighed and stepped out into the cool night air.

  “Don’t tell me he’s with that trash?” a voice called out in the background.

  Naomi. Of course, she was fucking there. Everywhere I looked, there she was with her fake fucking smile. “Naomi better watch her fucking mouth.”

  “Someone’s frustrated.” Logan snickered. “She still got that pillow?”

  “Fuck off.”

  He openly laughed. “It’s safe to come over. Everyone’s gone . . . well, expect for Naomi and some blonde chick your brother’s been eye-fucking all night.”

  “Better than fighting,” I grumbled.

  “Yeah, but she won’t give him the time of day.”

  I couldn’t help but snicker. Ashen Springs’ biggest heartbreaker couldn’t seal the deal?

  Naomi’s voice was louder this time. “Let’s see how great he thinks his little dockside whore is when she gets to Ashworth.”

  And there goes my good mood.

  I climbed into my Jeep and said, “Put me on speaker.”

  “Should’ve kept your mouth shut,” Logan tsk-ed, and did as I said.

  “Are you deaf or just fucking stupid?” I barked out. “Didn’t I tell you to stay the fuck away from her?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, making me arch my brow.

  I did not like being dismissed, especially not by a spoiled princess like Naomi.

  “Oh relax,” Naomi sang when I growled impatiently. “It’s not like I’m going to tell her something you don’t want her to know.”

  Did she just fucking threaten me?

  “I’m not in the mood for your shit, Naomi.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” she sang in that annoying tone I hated. “I’m sure her mother told her all about your conversation.”

  One night, I cornered Maria Adams at work and called her out on her bad parenting. I may have also reminded her that the contract her ex-husband signed was coming due. Two days later, she was dead. I’d done a lot of shit to Riley, but that . . . She’d never forgive me for, even if she was better off without her mother.

  “I’ll be there in ten,” I said, my finger hovering over my phone, “And, Logan, do me a favor? Make sure that bitch can’t say anything else fucking stupid.” I ended the call and pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter Two

  Riley

  Every town or city has four different types of social classed. On the bottom was the lower class, made up of people who worked tirelessly at thankless jobs – cleaning toilets and serving food – in hopes that they’d make enough to pay their bills. Sometimes the best they could hope for was a decent-sized box on a quiet street corner.

  Just above them, were the middle class. Made up of nurses, mechanics, and other skilled laborers. They had to save up for a family vacation, but they could still take a vacation. The upper class consisted of doctors, lawyers, and business owners. They had big houses, and a car for every member of their family.

  And finally, there were those people. The one’s who lived in fully staffed estates. The law didn’t apply to these people, and everyone was quick to bow down to their demands. Generally speaking, these people didn’t associate with the lower class. This wasn’t the case in Ashen Springs, though. If it were, my life would’ve been a lot easier.

  There were four families who controlled my hometown. My trouble came from the eldest son of the most prominent one. The Kesslers. I was six years old when I first met Micha Kessler, and I can honestly say that despite what people think, the last thing anyone wants is to be noticed by those people. Because when one of the elite decides to destroy you, no one will help.

  My own dad, who was the sheriff, said bullying wasn’t a police matter. And that was after Micha pushed me off the swings and I broke my arm. Mom offered some support when it came to my outcast status, that is, when she wasn’t drowning her sorrows in a bottle. But she was gone know. She decided that a bottle Vodka – that was her drink of choice – was more important and left me alone. W
hich made my current situation that much worse.

  “Don’t you have any pants without holes in them?”

  I scowled at the shiny sheriff’s badge proudly displayed on my dad’s chest. Who didn’t like being picked up in airport full of people by a cop?

  “I could’ve worn my Gucci dress, but thought it might clash with your uniform.”

  My dad’s brow rose. “Gucci?”

  What? I watched red carpet shows. Shelby made me; the one downside of having an uber girly best friend.

  “How old is that shirt?”

  “Who cares?” I shrugged. “It’s comfortable.”

  I was a bit surprised when he took his eyes off the road to scan my outfit. Driving lessons were a nightmare. God forbid I take my hands off ten and two!

  “Get rid of it,” he grumbled. “I can see your bra.”

  The blue might be a bit faded with age, but I could hardly see my bra. Maybe the outline?

  “Oh my God! Not my bra!” I gasped and threw my hand over my mouth. “Can you imagine the scandal!”

  “I’m serious, Riley. Teenage boys get enough ideas on their own. You don’t need to be giving them anymore.”

  “Trust me,” I muttered and slumped back, “I’m not giving anybody ideas.”

  I thought once that Lance Peterson was winking at me. Which was kind of flattering considering he was the quarterback, and the guy every girl in school wanted. It turned out he just had something in his eye. Can’t say I blame him. I was hardly the Barbie bimbo type guys went for. While I did get Mom’s thick black hair and shapely figure, my boobs barley filled out a B cup.

  Besides, the rumors Micha Kessler had started about me and Mr. Loggings, who owned the book store, weren’t doing me any favors. FYI, I only helped him take inventory when he broke his leg. I’d lost count of how many times some snooty bitch or jock prick asked me if I read any good books lately. Apparently originality was dead.

  “Did you get the flowers Bryce sent?”