Fuck, that makes me sound like a bitch, but I can’t find it in me to feel bad about it.

  “Ummmm, question,” Addison says, scanning her sharp gaze over Erica. “How are we supposed to get her in the car?”

  “Hmm,” I mutter, clearly not having thought this part through either. I walk around the back of her and yank the chair toward me, tipping it back. “You think we could carry her?”

  Addison shrugs and moves into position, her hands curling around the legs of the chair. “Remember,” she smirks. “Lift with your knees.”

  I bark out a laugh and just as we’re about to lift, the sound of a roaring motorbike cuts through the house, loud enough to hear over Erica’s ridiculous music. My back stiffens and I meet Addison’s stare. “Oh shit.”

  “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Tanner’s booming tone rattles my fucking eardrums, and I glance over my shoulder to where he hovers in the doorway, his hands balled into fists, freshly showered after football training.

  Busted.

  Addison releases the chair and straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest and fixing Tanner with a nasty stare. “I think the better question is what the fuck are you doing? And how the hell did you know where to find us?”

  “Yeah,” I agree, pushing the chair back up and fixing him with a stare. “We didn’t breathe a word to anyone about where we were going. How did you—OH HELL NO,” I blurt. “You put a tracker on our phones.”

  A guilty expression crosses his stupid, lovable face, and I want to strangle him. “Can you blame me? Every time I turn my back, one of you ends up in the hospital.”

  My mouth drops, gaping at him in horror. “So you put a fucking tracker on us? Not cool, Tanner. That’s such an asshole move.”

  He shrugs, the guilt quickly slipping away and morphing into indifference. “Yeah, well, considering you’re halfway through kidnapping that bitch, I’d say it was time well spent. Now, back to my original question. What the fuck are you two doing? Do you have any idea how messed up this looks?”

  “It’s not how it looks,” Addison says, shrugging it off.

  “Oh really? You didn’t break in, then bind and gag the bitch who had a part in your attack?”

  Addison grins. “Okay, well maybe it is how it looks, but for the record, we didn’t gag her, just taped her mouth shut. But in our defense, she’s a mouthy bitch and had a little too much to say. We were just problem solving.”

  “Look,” I say. “We can stand here and argue about this, or you can shut the fuck up and help us carry this bitch out of here. We need to move on to stage two of this plan, and if you’re going to stand around looking pretty, you might as well be helpful.”

  Tanner groans before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine,” he finally says. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. You stole my Mustang, and I can guarantee you listened to your bullshit chick songs in it. She’s a beast. She only plays my shit.”

  I roll my eyes and fix him with a hard stare. “You can take it out on me tonight with a thorough fucking,” I tell him. “As for now, be a good little criminal and grab the hostage.”

  Ten minutes later, Erica is laid across the backseat of the Mustang, chair and all, her face only a few inches from the ceiling. “Yeah, we really didn’t think this through,” I laugh as Addison climbs in the passenger seat.

  Tanner walks around the front of the Mustang, straddling his bike and pulling his helmet over his head, though he makes sure to give me a pointed stare, narrowing his gaze on me. He starts the bike and takes off down the streets of Hope Falls. I follow after him, the momentum making Erica’s chair rock back. I try to overcompensate by hitting the brakes, but instead of straightening her out, she rocks forward, her face slamming into the back of my chair and getting stuck dangling over the leg space of the back seat.

  “Whoops,” I say with a cringe as Addison slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling a booming laugh.

  We drive like that, letting her dangle for the next few minutes and before I know it, we’re pulling up at the deserted basketball courts. I cut the engine beside Tanner’s bike. He climbs off and walks to the back door, pulling it open and pausing as he catches sight of Erica.

  “The fuck?” he mutters to himself as Erica tries to scream through the tape.

  Reaching in, he grabs her and drags her out of the car before adjusting the chair in his arms. Still shaking his head, he walks across the courts and sits her down right below the spotlight, knowing that the moment the sun goes down and the automatic lights turn on, she’ll be the center of attention for everyone to see … and read.

  We follow Tanner onto the court while Addison flips Erica’s phone between her fingers. “Now what?” Tanner questions, glancing back at his sister, wanting her to get the justice she deems acceptable despite not agreeing with our tactics.

  “Ummmm … just one more thing,” she says before unlocking the phone and bringing up the camera. She stands in front of Erica before turning the camera on herself. “Hi,” she says to the screen. “My name is Addison Morgan, and over the summer, I was drugged and raped by Colby Jacobs. My body went into shock and for six long weeks, I lay comatose in Bradford Private hospital. Upon waking from my coma, the flashbacks destroyed me, and I remembered how this bitch behind me had a hand in my attack. She encouraged Colby to fuck with me, laughed as they both pumped me full of drugs, and when I was dragged away to be raped, she stood back and didn’t do a damn thing about it.” Addison pauses, trying to regain control of her voice as it starts to break. “A few weeks ago, Colby was cleared of rape in front of a judge due to a dirty lawyer tampering with evidence, and barely a week later,” she says, pulling the neckline of her shirt down enough to show her scar, “he attempted to rape me again, only this time instead of mental scars, I escaped with a physical one. He stabbed me, punctured my lung, and put me in hospital for the second time. That night, Colby also stabbed two of my closest friends and they nearly lost their lives. If it weren’t for my brother … I wouldn’t be here. Colby is gone now, and while that wasn’t the justice I deserved, at least I know he can never hurt anyone again.”

  Addison takes a breath, adjusting the camera to see Erica more clearly in the background, the words written on her skin clear as day. “A few days ago, I was informed the police had also dropped the charges against Erica Sawyer, and again, I lost my chance for justice. So I say fuck it. I’m taking justice into my own hands, and I am well aware the police will be knocking on my door for this, but I don’t care. I’ll accept it because I know Erica will finally be exposed for the monster she is. The world will know what she did that night. So this here is a call out to the authorities to do better. To the judicial system—do better. The police, lawyers, the principals in our schools—do better. Because girls like me are suffering. We’re terrified and carrying scars you couldn’t even dream of while monsters like Colby and Erica are freely walking the streets, looking for their next victim. And that is on you.”

  With that, she wraps up the video and sends it to herself and then everyone else in her fucking address book. Both mine and Tanner’s phones beep with incoming texts, and as we pull them out, Addison instructs us to send it to everyone we know.

  Once the video posts to all of Addison’s socials, we get back into the Mustang, leaving Erica alone on the court. The video is already spreading around the globe, her call for justice trending worldwide.

  Chapter 25

  TANNER

  “Hope you’re ready for me, @Bad_GirlZoe18,” Jax says, slipping his hand into Riley’s bag and scooping out his phone as Riley speaks with Coach Wyld about his college options for next year. “Hope you’re ready for me because I’m about to fuck your fucking world.”

  I shake my head, but I can’t lie, the idea of messaging this chick for Riley has been playing in the back of my mind since the moment we learned about her. I don’t know what it is about her, but she’s already got my best friend by the balls, despite the fact he’s too chicken-shit to even talk to her.

  It’s cute really … nah, fuck that. It’s lame as shit. The dickhead needs to grow a pair of balls, but if he won’t do it, then we’ll happily step in for him. The only issue we’ve had is that since finding out we were planning to make this happen, Riley has been gatekeeping his phone like it was his only lifeline. But honestly, the fucker should have a little more faith in us. Well, me at least. Hudson, Logan, and Jax have had their own girl issues. Not me though. I know exactly how to satisfy my woman and keep her coming back for more.

  Logan comes barreling through the locker room. “If we’re doing this, it’s gotta be now,” he tells us. “Wyld had him close the door and sit down.”

  I cringe. When Coach asks you to close the door behind you, that means you’re in for the long run. Though it’s game night, so it can’t be any longer than twenty minutes. After that, we need to get ready and get our heads in the game, no ifs or buts about it. That stands for Coach too.

  Jax sits on the bench as Hudson hovers over his shoulder, watching with a close eye. After all, if anyone is going to fuck this up for Riley, it’d be Jax. That idiot couldn’t even shave his balls without busting a nut.

  “Umm, okay,” Jax says with the kind of confidence that has me groaning. He holds the phone up, reading it out as he types. “Hey little Baddie, you caught my eye. But just between you and me, the only reason I’d kick you out of bed is to fuck you on the floor.”

  “Aww, fuck no,” I say, snatching the phone out of his hands before he can hit send. “The hell is wrong with you? You send her that shit and you’ll get blocked in seconds.”

  “What the fuck would you know?” Jax questions. “You have no fucking game. I’m the one reeling in all the bitches. How many chicks have you fucked in the past few weeks? Oh what’s that? Fucking crickets. You have one. Me? I could score with every chick in town. Hell, I already have.”

  Logan smacks his brother up the back of his head. “Bullshit. All you’ve fucked is your hand since the lake. Besides, I don’t think Riley just wants to fuck her. He wants to date her and then fuck her.”

  “Bullshit,” Jax says. “Riley doesn’t date. He fucks and then bails. Trust me, let me work my magic and I’ll have Riley slipping one in by the end of the night.”

  Hudson holds his hand out for the phone. “Sorry, man, you would have struck out with that shit,” he says. “Give it to me.”

  I shake my head as I hand it over, knowing damn well Hudson won’t be able to pull anything worthwhile out of his ass. He hits the backspace, holding it down until the screen is clear. “Alright,” he says with a moronic grin. “You guys ready to see the master at work?”

  Jax scoffs, getting salty that his efforts were disregarded faster than the chicks he usually fucks. Hudson gets on with it, reading out his message and typing just like Jax had. “Hey girl, I couldn’t help but notice your ass in that red bikini. I’m not gonna lie, you’ve had me rocking a semi for days,” he says, making me gag. “What do you say we do something about it? Your place or mine?”

  Pride settles across Hudson’s face as he turns the phone around for us to read over the screen and I can’t help but notice the multiple spelling errors. “You’re fucking kidding, right?” I question, letting out a heavy sigh before taking the phone back. I glance toward Logan. “Do you want a chance to embarrass yourself, or should I just take it from here?”

  “What?” Hudson grunts, so sure he’d gotten it right. “What was wrong with that? It was forward, let her know he’s down to fuck, and asked to meet up.”

  “Your game is just as pathetic as Jax’s.”

  Hudson’s eyes widen with hurt. “What? What do you mean? My game is spot on. It got your sister, didn’t it?”

  “My sister clearly doesn’t know what’s good for her,” I mutter. “But you didn’t pick up Addie by hitting on her with bullshit lines and suggesting you’d whip your dick out for anything. You treated her like a fucking human, just like this chick wants to be treated. Do we even know if she’s available? She might have a boyfriend, and if she does, she’ll fuck Riley off so fast, he won’t even get a chance to say hello.”

  “Okay, genius,” Jax mutters as I delete Hudson’s bullshit lines. “If you think you’re the fucking pussy whisperer, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I give Jax a blank stare before writing out the message, not bothering to read it out loud like the boys had done. “Hey, what’s up?” I flip the phone around and show them the simple message. “That’s how it’s done,” I tell them. “It’s simple, she’s not being treated like a fucking pussy factory, and she’s not going to block him for being a fucking creep. She’ll be able to figure it out all on her own.”

  Jax scoffs and rolls his eyes. “BOOOOORING!”

  I shrug and hit send before any of them get the chance to fuck this up then toss the phone into Logan’s hands, assuming he’s the only responsible one right now. “Just wait and see. She’ll hit him back the second she gets online.”

  Logan shakes his head, certain that I’ve fucked it up. “Bullshit,” he mutters to himself, before turning around and slipping Riley’s phone onto the top shelf of his open locker, but I’ve never been so confident. Had I been messaging some random chick for myself, I probably would have ended up sending some bullshit pick-up line thinking I was all that, but since being with Bri, there’s a lot of shit I’ve had to learn. I mean, sure, there would be a handful of chicks who are down for the dirty pick-up lines, and some might even find it endearing or adorable, but majority of women just want to be treated like a fucking human.

  Standing in front of my open locker, I peel off my shirt and get ready for tonight’s game. I shove my phone, wallet, and keys on the top shelf before rifling through my bag for all my safety gear. I’m just about ready when my phone buzzes on the shelf. The vibration against the metal locker draws my attention immediately.

  We’re only ten minutes out from our pre-game rituals, and though I consider ignoring it, I know it’s probably a text from Mom or Bri wishing me luck for the game. Usually, if it’s Bri, it’ll come with a dirty picture attached, and I simply can’t resist.

  Scooping my phone off the shelf, I unlock the screen and pause, seeing a new email from my lawyer. “Ahhhh, fuck,” I mutter to myself, my stomach dropping right out my fucking ass. There’s only one reason he’d be e-mailing me on a Friday night, and I don’t fucking like it.

  I’ve been actively doing everything I can to avoid this. I haven’t chased him down to get results quicker, and I sure as fuck haven’t been waiting on the edge of my seat. I already know the test was a waste of time, but I can’t avoid it any longer. Besides, it’s in the best interest of the team to get this out of the way. I’ve played like shit since the second Rachael showed up on my doorstep claiming her son was mine, and now I can finally put this shit to rest, and the second the game is over, I’d be more than happy to rub it in her face. Besides, it’s nothing but a ploy to extort money out of me and my family. Though one thing is for sure. Despite how supportive Bri has been, I know it’s been on her mind, and the quicker we can get back to normal, the better.

  Knowing damn well what I’ll find inside this email, I quickly open it and scroll past my lawyer’s message to go straight for the attached results, certain I’d be able to understand the technical terminology. I can respond to it properly after the game, but for now, there’s only one thing I’m interested in.

  My cell service is shit in the locker room and it takes a moment for the multipage document to load, but when it finally does, I don’t hesitate to scroll through the many pages of information explaining what I’m about to see.

  I get to the third page titled “DNA Test Report” and there’s a table filled with numbers I can’t even begin to understand, but I keep scrolling to the bottom until I find the words Probability of Paternity: 99.98%

  My whole fucking world stops, everyone fading out of reality around me as I become locked in the moment, staring at the too bright screen.

  99.98%

  Fuck.

  I shake my head, barely breathing.

  How could I be the father? I used a condom, and fuck, I don’t even remember finishing. She was a dud lay, and I was bored after three minutes. This can’t be right. I can’t be her child’s father, but this test is saying I am, and who the fuck am I to question it?

  I’m eighteen, not even having finished high school, and I’ve got a one-year-old son. A son whose first year I’ve been absent for.

  FUCK. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Colby was my child’s uncle, his flesh and blood, and I’m the man responsible for murdering him. I killed my own son’s uncle, my child’s family. What kind of monster am I?

  My stomach twists and I heave, needing to throw up, but I hold it down and grip my phone tighter before racing out of the locker room. “Yo, Tanner. Where the hell are you going?” I hear Hudson calling after me. “We’ve got a fucking game.”

  Running through the school, I race toward the field, my gaze snapping from side to side, trying to find that one person through the thick crowd climbing the grandstand. I search desperately, my heart racing faster than ever before as panic takes over. My knees fall to the grass, and I barely catch myself, the screen of my phone still staring up at me with the haunting DNA results.

  “Tanner?” I hear in the distance. “TANNER!”

  A set of soft hands grip my arms, pulling me to my feet. I can’t find the words, but her hands move to my face, forcing my stare away from the phone, her bright blue eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?” Bri rushes out, swaying as people shoulder past us to fill the grandstands, desperate to find seats before one of the biggest games of the season.

  I take her waist, pulling her in closer, unable to look away from her frightened eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating the thought of breaking her heart, but I can’t keep this from her. I have to tell her. It’s me and Brielle against the fucking world. Who am I if I don’t have her in my corner? “I never thought … I didn’t—”