See No Evil

It’s not that I’m dressed like a boring, tired-looking inspector, or even a prick with more money than sense. I mean, I didn’t go overboard with my get-up or anything. Only black slacks and a white shirt, nothing flashy.

When Easton said this Stone girl worked in a bar on the south side of town, I didn’t expect fancy, so I didn’t dress for it. But never did I once expect this shithole. Even if I came in here with just an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I would still stick out like a sore thumb. I look like a crisp dollar bill, while everyone else looks like they’re still scraping for change.

“Jesus. Take a seat, Fi

“Let’s just get this shit over with,” I groan, aggravated by some leather-wearing patrons over at the bar counter looking at me fu

Why couldn’t this boogeyman society have given this job to Easton instead? I mean, he fits right in. But me? I’m going to have a fucking hard time trying to get close to a girl who works in such a pigsty. No way am I spending my nights here just to fulfill some half-brained order from our blackmailers.

Fuck that!

“Relax, Fi

“Just tell me again what you got on this Stone girl,” I counter back, preferring to distract myself from my surroundings by getting down to business.

The sooner I get this over and done with, the faster I can go back to living my life. Not that it’s been a bunch of laughs lately, but anything is preferable to this putrid environment.

“Well, aside from working here most nights, my sources say she’s a local, too. Lived on the south side most of her life. But don’t let that fool you. She’s not like one of those skanks looking for their next sugar daddy. Your girl managed to crawl her way out of the sewer somehow. She even attends Richfield like us.”

“First things first—she’s not my girl, she’s a target,” I reprimand, making it clear to him that whatever happens—whatever I need to make happen—will be done strictly out of a cold heart and a calculating mind. No compassion. No mercy. Just like on the field, I play to win, and no one likes wi

“That she does. Top of most of her classes, from what I’ve heard. However, that tidbit wasn’t the first thing my buddies told me about her.”

“Oh yeah? So, what did your so-called buddies tell you?” I goad back, making childish bu

Aside from me, Lincoln, and Colt, Easton doesn’t have friends. He has a lot of assholes who owe him favors, but friends, not a single one. Hey, again, not judging. None of us exactly have sparkling personalities—I’m a dick, Easton is a conceited prick, and Colt is a moody fucker. The only one that something nice can be said about is Lincoln. But that’s just because he’s genuinely a good guy underneath it all. Sure, he might ruffle some feathers here or there, but he’s not nearly as much of a douche as the rest of us. Or at least up until last summer, he wasn’t.

Then everything changed.

Lincoln has to live with the blood on his hands, and I’m not sure if he’s equipped to deal with that shit without turning into someone who none of us will recognize. I sure as fuck didn’t think I could handle it. Yet here I am, doing my best to clean the fucked-up night away with more underhanded scheming. Guess we take after The Society more than they would have liked.

“So? What did they say?” I ask again after Easton takes forever to spill what he’s obviously dying to.

“They told me she hates us Northside fuckers, and that’s a direct quote, my friend.” He laughs into his fist, loving that my task is already doomed from the start.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” I roll my eyes, letting out a frustrated growl.

Isn’t that just the icing on the cake? I somehow have to get in this girl’s good graces, and she already hates me on mere principle alone. Just fucking great.

“So she has a chip on her shoulder. Nothing you can’t thaw out, right, Romeo?” He wiggles his brows sarcastically.

The asshole knows I suck with chicks. So much so, he’s always on my case because of it. So of course he’s loving the fact that I’m going to have to make nice with one, and by the looks of it, she’s going to give me a run for my money. I haven’t even laid eyes on the girl yet, and I already resent her.

“You got anything else?” I ask Easton, as his eyes scrounge through the bar instead of paying me any mind. I snap my fingers in front of his face, and he slaps my hand away. “I asked if you have anything else on this chick that I can use?”

“What? And do all your homework for you?” he challenges with a smirk.

“No one has ever done my homework, asshole, and you know it.”

I might be a jock, but I’m not a fucking moron. Actually, if I had it my way, football would be the last thing I would be doing with my time. But thanks to my father, the thing I want to do most will never be in my grasp. Not if I don’t want to lose my whole family just for following my dreams. My father would rip me in half if I told him what I really wanted to do with my life.

The thing is, I really couldn’t give two shits if he laid it out on me with his disappointment. I don’t even care that he’d take my inheritance away from me. Fuck the money. The only reason why I don’t confront him is that my father is a vindictive prick. He’d forbid my brothers—and worst of all, my momma—to ever set eyes on me again, just because I went against his football wishes and Super Bowl ring dreams.

It’s not like I didn’t see firsthand while growing up what happens when you defy my father. One of my older brothers foolishly tried once. Beau must have been drunk with bravery the day he told the old man he wanted to teach instead of playing football. My father kicked him out of our house so fast he never even saw the foot up his ass showing him the way out.

The only reason Beau was even allowed back in was that my momma came up with a compromise both Beau and my father could live with by getting him a job coaching ball at the local high school. This way Beau could still teach—in a ma

Shit, if he ever found out how I truly spent my summer in Florida, I would be shu

My father was of the same mindset too, but thank fuck my momma wasn’t. She put her foot down on that one. ‘Degree first, football second, Hank. And if you push the boy more on this one, expect to spend your nights sleeping in the guest room,’ she had warned. And even though my father is the man of the house and his word is law, he knows better than to piss off my momma when she’s made up her mind about something.