Page 14 of Pretty Vengeance

“I’m sure he is one.” I say it as if I’m some kind of expert. Which I’m not. At all. The boys at my prep school were no playboys. They were kind of clueless, actually, including the ones I dated.

Ash gives my shoulder a playful shove, before returning her hand to the gearshift. “You’resure? How are you sure?”

“Because he said he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Someone who looks like you guys do is never without a girlfriend or boyfriend except by choice.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “Things aren’t always as easy as people think. Plus, Jamie and I are different. Pretty sure he’s got game. I don’t. I’m actually kind of a misfit toy. Though, a decently pretty one, I guess, thanks to DNA.”

Decently pretty?Insane understatement.

She pulls up to the curb of a candy-pink Victorian with white trim that looks as though Historical Barbie should come with it.

Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes before tucking it back, Ash turns toward me. “I need to ask for a bullshit favor.”

“Go ahead.”

Ashling’s fall-festive rose gold nails with leaf decals catch my eye as she taps the gearshift. I really need to find a salon around here before Thanksgiving. Because of Briar Club, doing my own manicures doesn’t cut it anymore. And beyond that, my grandmother will notice immediately if my appearance isn’t up to snuff when I visit. She didn’t want them to adopt me, so she’s quick to point out my shortcomings in that grim “I told you so” tone.

A small pang hits me in the stomach. Holiday facials and manicures were something Mom and I always did together. Usually before the annual winter shopping trip. Purchasing a few new “Allendale appropriate” outfits and hand bags werenecessary. One could not show up to Thanksgiving in the big house looking like a slouchy student.

Ash bites the corner of her lip and finally admits, “I need to go in alone. You okay waiting out here?”

“Sure, no problem.” I reach for my phone in my pocket. “I’ve got an assignment due Monday that I’ve been meaning to submit. I’ll log in on my phone.” I gesture to the house. “Take your time.”

“Awesome. Be right back.” Ash hops out of the car and slams the door closed before running up onto the porch.

I turn in my Poli Sci assignment and jot some notes on a Philosophy paper I need to write but become distracted when two men, dressed completely in black and sporting buzzed hair and five-o’clock-shadows, pass in front of the car.

Something about them gives me pause. They aren’t young hoodlums. They’re more put together than that and are maybe in their thirties. It’s the swagger and the scowls. And how they’re walking toward the house like they mean business.Badbusiness.

Unsure if I’ve seen too many thrillers or if there’s real cause for concern, I lean across and honk the horn in warning.

The men slow and look back at me. My stomach drops. Oh yeah, I was right to be worried. No one’s eyes are that dark unless they’ve seen some stuff. And done bad things.

Holding their stares, I lock myself in, and then depress the horn again. Longer this time.

The front door opens and my anxiety is further justified when, after a glance at the men who are still distracted by my honking, Ash slams it shut.

The men jump into action, wrenching open the screened storm door and shoving themselves against the solid door behind it.

Holy shit.

Thankfully, Ash must’ve managed to secure it in time, and it holds.

A loud thud cuts through the air as one of them slams the sole of his boot against the door. I jerk, my phone bobbling from my hands and landing at my feet.

I grab for it just as the sound of wood splintering sends chills down my spine.

My fingers fumble over my phone’s screen, desperately trying to call 911.

But just as I manage to bring up the keypad, a bang against the driver’s side door causes me to jump and jerk my head up.

Ash.

She’s here and safe. She must have gone out the back door and raced around the house.

Because it’s a classic car without power locks, I dive across to pull the button up to unlock the driver’s door. She’s quick to get in, but by the time she puts the car in gear, the men have seen her and are running toward us.

Ash throws the car into reverse, backs up half a foot, slams the brakes, and then puts the car in drive. Careening down the street, it’s like a Nascar race.