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Chapter Three

Jolie

The air thumps with music, my heart racing as the beat pulsates through my body. I wake fully alert. After years in the system, and many dodgy foster placements, I have come to rely on my senses to alert me to danger. Admittedly, the sound of Cardi B’s voice is not the worst way I’ve woken up, but my spidey-senses and the hairs on my arms standing on end warn me that someone is in my room. My eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness.

“Hello, Jolie,” a deep masculine voice says. I spot his shape standing near the door just as he flicks on the light.

“Boston?” I guess.

He nods with an impassive look on his face.

I cannot help but notice the other guys in my peripheral vision. I don’t acknowledge them yet, not until I know if they’re a threat. This isn’t the first time a foster brother has been standing in my room when I have woken up. So much for being safe here, it’s just a few more months and this place shits all over my other placements. I’m just glad I no longer need a social worker, even if Brennan was the best one I have ever had and genuinely seems to care.

His large steps close the gap between us; I rush to sit up, keeping the covers pulled over me.

“Imagine my surprise when I got home and found out someone had been in my room. I don’t take well to people touching my things.” A simple look in his friends’ direction has them closing in on me. I barely have time to react before four guys are on the bed, pinning me down.

“Seriously, what is your problem, you cum stain? Shit, it’s just a damn shirt and sweats.”

His friends laugh as I thrash my legs and arms, trying with all my strength to break free from their hold.

“My problem is you think you can touch my shit. Now you need to learn a lesson about what will happen if you ever step foot in my room again.”

His large body moves towards me, a wicked smirk gracing his face. He’s the opposite of his brother. Brennan is fair, with ash blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thin frame. This brother has dark hair, skin covered in ink, and a shorter-built frame, the eyes the only indication the brothers are related.

“Remove the clothes,” he orders.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Kicking my legs out harder, I throw my body around. “I will kill you all.” Bile rises in my throat as I suppress the tears threatening to spill out.

“Promise to make it painful and messy?” the one holding down my right arm asks.

I look over at him and spit right in his stupid tattooed face. What sort of parent lets their teenager get tattoos on their face?

“Fuck you.”

No matter how much I fight and curse, I’m no match for the four grown men holding me down. Before I know it, his clothes are ripped from my body, leaving me naked before them. Boston’s eyes clinically trail the length of my body. His friends’ hands pin me down and it’s useless trying to fight them off.

“Can I keep her as a pet?”

My eyes go to the heavily tattooed guy holding down my left leg. His gaze cuts to mine—nothing good can come of the sinister look on his face. It sends a chill running down my spine. He has no irises. Well, he does, but the contacts he wears give the illusion that he doesn’t.

I try to catch them off guard and kick my legs out again, but it doesn’t work.

“You can do whatever you like with her,” Boston replies, looking bored.

“So what, you plan to rape me?” I ask the black-eyed boy.

He smiles, sinfully biting his bottom lip.

Boston takes his place, holding down my leg, and I watch as the freak gets up and walks around to the base of the bed. My chest wants to cave in and my throat goes dry, my mind taking me to the place I have created for times like these—my happy place.

“Baby, no one is going to rape you. One look at my cock and you will beg me for it.”

My eyes clamp as tight as possible as his breath touches my skin.

I can feel him hovering over the top of me, pinning me down and taking my options away. There will be payback for them all; they will never see it coming. It may not be today or even tomorrow, but before I leave, every single one of them will wish they never met me.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” he demands. “The sooner they open, the quicker this will be over.”

“Fuck you. I won’t look at you.” Seething, I refuse to open my eyes. I can’t. Whatever he’s going to do, I don’t want to see. I don’t need more snapshots to be added to the “shitty things that happen to Jolie” reel.

His fingers pry at my right eye, his hand ice cold. I snort; is this where I start to think he’s a vampire?

“Good girl. Now repeat after me. I will never go into Boston’s room again. If I do, Laughn can have his way with me.” He can’t be serious.

“Go suck a dick!” I yell, despite having no desire to enter Boston’s room again after this.

“Let’s not talk about sucking dicks. Now repeat. I will never go into Boston’s room again?—”

I cut him off, done with this craziness. “I will never go into Boston’s room again. If I do, the freak can have his way with me.”

The asshole laughs. “Baby, freak doesn’t even begin to describe me.”

His tongue leaves his mouth, and my jaw falls open. It’s split... like a snake. He wiggles it at me.

My body has resigned itself to the fact that these guys are not here to hurt me, at least not this time. One thing they will learn about me is payback is a bitch. Laughn is first on my shit list. I will bide my time, find out what he loves the most in this world, and then fuck it up. It’s not my fault these guys think they can do whatever they want. I feel it is my civic duty to show them otherwise.

“Hmmm,” Laughn mumbles. “I can smell your arousal, baby. I think someone is a bit of a freak like me.” His nose goes straight towards my pussy, stopping mere centimetres from my core. “Fuck, your cunt smells good.”

I won’t lie, I like it rough. Sweet, vanilla sex is not for me. I can’t explain the chaos in my head.

“Enough!” Boston roars. “Let’s make sure Brennan is done with his charity case before we destroy her. Let’s go. Jolie, stay out of our way or you may find yourself in my room. Then I will let Laughn have his way with you.”

Laughn licks the side of my leg and jumps from the bed, followed by the others. The tallest of the guys pauses at the door and looks back at me. A frown takes over his beautiful face. He has hazel eyes a girl could get lost in, and blonde hair long enough he has it tucked behind his ears. He doesn’t speak, just peels his shirt up over his head and throws it my way with a wink, closing the door behind him.

I scramble to the shirt that slid off the end of my bed and pull it over my body. The smell of sandalwood attacks my senses.

What in the actual fuck just happened?

The bedside table vibrates. After a few buzzes, I realise I have a phone now and that it is ringing. Brennan’s name lights up the screen.

“So, I’m a pity project, huh?” I don’t bother with pleasantries.

“I take it you met Boston?” His voice sounds tight.

“Yep,” I say, popping the P. “And a few of his mates.”

“How did that go?”

How much do I tell him? I don’t want to get kicked out. This place is a lot nicer than anywhere else I have been—a few months here wouldn’t be a chore.

“I went into Boston’s room.” I laugh, trying to make a joke out of it.

“Jolie, you didn’t,” he chastises.

“Hey, I was alone in a strange house and needed something to sleep in. I only took a shirt and pants, but apparently he is even territorial about his clothes. They practically ripped them from my body, but never mind—I think I may be someone’s pet now.”

“Please tell me Laughn wasn’t there.” I hear him curse a few times.

“He was, and he’s one of a kind.” I honestly have no other way to explain Laughn, with his black contacts and his bright tattoos that covered most of the skin I could see. Plus his tongue—just damn weird.

“Shit, Jolie! How many times have we had this talk about boundaries? I know you love to push them, but when you’re in a new placement, you shouldn’t snoop through people’s belongings.” I roll my eyes. It isn’t like I went through their expensive jewellery or prized possessions. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Brennan, all those lectures will give you wrinkles. Stop worrying, I think we all bonded. You have nothing to stress about.”

He huffs, and I wait for him to comment on my smartass attitude, but it doesn’t come. A muffled voice on his end distracts him.

“I have to go, but I will be back soon. Make sure you take my car and go shopping.” He ends the call abruptly.

I guess I do need to go shopping; more than one pair of underwear would be nice. I have no idea what happened to the bag I had with me when I was kidnapped. A chill runs down my spine just thinking about it. Why me? What was the point? If they wanted to, they could have caught me. I’m sure of it. Was Trace involved in any of this, or do they have him? I plan to figure this out. Brennan isn’t off my suspect list just yet. He has to be connected to Trace somehow. I have no proof, just a gut feeling.

Shopping—I should get it over with. Looking down, I figure this will do. The underwear I washed last night are still slightly damp but wearable, so I slide them on under the shirt, but remain sans bra. My reflection shows I have superficial scratches on my face and neck from the tree branches, and my lip is slightly swollen.

Music still thumps loudly throughout the house. I hope I can slip out undetected.

After pulling on my chucks, I make my way downstairs, but to my disappointment, the house is bustling with people.

I slip through mostly unnoticed as I make my way towards the kitchen, or the direction I hope is the kitchen.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Boston snarls from behind me.

All the hairs on my neck stand on end and goosebumps cover my skin at his proximity. Before I can answer, his large hand wraps around the back of my neck, forcing me forward into what looks to be a sitting room.

Fighting against him, I trip, landing on my knees in front of one of the guys from earlier. He has a punk look about him, wearing black skinny jeans with holes over the knees, his defined six pack peeking from under his leather jacket. He’s smaller in frame than Boston with a mean glare that could cut through glass. I should tell him 90s grunge bands called and want their outfit back. And I hold to my stance on why anyone would get a face tattoo—his says “Checkmate” right down the side of his jaw.

“While you’re down there,” he states, lowering his fly.

I scowl up at him from my hands and knees. “If you put it anywhere near my mouth, I will bite it off.”

He doesn’t react to my statement, but he also keeps his dick in his pants.

“Baby, you were made for me. I love it dirty and rough.” Laughn reaches from behind me and picks me up in one swoop, taking me back to his seat and depositing me on his lap. His long tattooed arms wrap around my waist, and I push against him, but he has a tight hold on me.

“Let me go or I will bite you,” I snap.

“Don’t make promises you’re not willing to keep.” He laughs but loosens his grip, allowing me to stand from his lap.

There is a girl sitting on the floor beside Laughn and I look down at her. I begin to say something but close my mouth straight away. Not my damn business. There are so many people here dancing and chatting, and I don’t want to draw any more attention when I need to leave.

“As nice as this is,” I gesture around the room, my tone laced with sarcasm, “Brennan wants me to go shopping for clothes.”

This doesn’t seem like a normal party. This room seems to only be for those close to the guys or the ones they allow to get close. There doesn’t seem to be anything fun happening. A few girls are dancing, but almost everyone else is getting high or drunk.

“No,” Boston snaps, the veins in his neck pulsating.

“Excuse me, but you have no say in what I do or where I go,” I snap right back at him.

Laughn leans over and slaps my ass with a laugh. “Give him hell, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” I seethe, stomping towards Boston.

He gives me a look that tells me he’s bored and fed up with my presence, but I can’t let him dictate what I can and cannot do. He certainly isn’t the boss of me.

“You”—I stab my finger into his chest, his gaze following—“have no right to tell me what to do.”

That was not the wisest idea. One second my finger is stabbing into his rock-hard pecs and the next Boston has my arm twisted behind my back, face planted against the wall.

“That is where you’re wrong. I do what the fuck I want, when I want, and no one will do a damn thing about it.”

Bucking my ass backwards into his pelvis, trying to free myself, has him grinding into me harder. My attempt to push him away has just turned him on. “If you want it, all you have to do is ask.”

“In your fucking dreams,” I growl out against the wall through smooshed lips.

His hand wanders under his friend’s shirt, skimming along my panty line.

A whimper leaves my mouth, my traitorous body turned-on as hell. This is the reason I’m fucked in the head. Nice guys like Brennan would be a decent choice, yet a guy like Boston has my body ready with one touch.

A single finger slides under the edge of my old, tattered underwear, running down my slit before entering me. I should fight him off, but the cloud of arousal takes over.

“You want me to fuck you right here in front of everyone?”

My lust disperses at his words. Coming back to earth, I push him away. This time he steps back, allowing me to turn around, his finger sliding between his lips.

I don’t even bother with words, turning to walk away.

“Jolie.”

“What, Boston?” I sigh, tired of the games already.

It’s been a long couple of days, and I need to get myself away from these guys and clear my mind for a bit. Any normal girl would be scared shitless after what I have been through, and yet strangely, I’m not. They fascinate me and I want to know more about them. Though I still plan to pay them back for the way they treated me—a girl has to get even.

“I was serious. You will not leave this house looking like that.” He scans the room until he finds what he’s looking for. “You,” he shouts, and the poor girl freezes. “Get undressed now.”

Eyes widened and mouth slack, she goes to say something, but her friend elbows her. Tears pooling in her eyes, she strips down to a plain cotton bra and panties. What the hell is a girl like that doing here? Her gaze answers my question when she looks towards one of the guys, but he’s too busy smoking a joint.

I feel like I should stand up for her, but it’s hard to feel pity for her when she has to know they are not good people. Just looking around the room, it’s clear everyone here wants something. The girls wear skimpy clothes and lots of makeup, grinding on each other and hoping one of the guys will notice. The guys in the room want to be at the top of the food chain and are willing to join in on the bullshit games.

Not my circus, not my damn clowns.

My focus returns to the singled-out chick, and the look in her eyes is pure. Damn it, it won’t hurt to help a girl out.

Swaying my hips provocatively as I cross the room, the weight of Boston’s glare follows me, while Laughn swears and compliments my ass. Seductively, I straddle the boy that the girl was looking at and push his sunglasses up to the top of his head, stealing the joint from his mouth. He grins at me, though I’m surprised—I spat in his face the last time we were in the same room.

Pushing my pelvis into his hardened cock, I pull in a lungful of smoke, then lean forward until my lips touch his, delicately blowing the smoke into his mouth. His green eyes smile up at me, and I have accomplished what I wanted. I jump from his lap, give the joint back, and turn to face the girl with a smile. Her tears tell me she won’t ever be back here again. Mission accomplished.

The girl’s friend ushers her from the room.

Boston throws her clothes at me. “Get dressed.”

Reaching out, I catch the clothes before they hit the floor. I want to fight him and tell him to shove it up his ass, but we have gathered a crowd. No one makes a sound, but I know they are all watching us.

“Whatever,” I say through gritted teeth.

The oversized shirt is lifting past my head when someone yells out, “You want to put on a show, baby, I’m watching.”

Flipping him off, the shirt drops to the floor. I pull the girl’s high-waisted shorts over my hips, standing shirtless as I look up to see five sets of eyes watching me.

“What? Half the girls here before were topless.” I shrug, knowing damn well what I’m doing. I have no issues being naked in front of people.

“Those girls are whores. They do not live in the Myers house, and they do not represent the family name. You do now. The way you present yourself comes back on us,” Boston says.

“Well excuse me, mister high and mighty. I’m sure a party with half-naked girls and snorting blow off their tits would portray a nice image of your family, but my tits are not good enough?” I slip the black top over my breasts, flip Boston off, and storm from the room.