Chloe (Made Men Book 3) (11 page)

C
hloe sat
in the back of her class, alone and scared.

Unfortunately, the last class of the day, Elle and Chloe were separated, just like it had been for them freshman year. Except, this time, Chloe was the one taking Health, and Elle was the one taking art. In fact, this last semester of senior year was taking a turn for the worst, and it was giving her déjà vu.

“Wait at your desk when the bell rings. I will be back to get you. I promise I will be the first one out in the hallway,” Elle told her when she dropped her off at Health class.

Impending doom set over her.

“Um, okay, I won’t move from my seat.”

“Good. I will see you in a little bit.”

“Be careful, Elle.”

She hated this. She knew Elle sounded strong and usually was just as strong, but she could see it this time—the glimmer of fear in her eyes as she walked away from her, in a hurry to get to her class. Chloe just hoped she would make it back to her unscathed.

Thinking back, Chloe could honestly say that freshman year had been the worst when it came to not only her life, but the bullying. Her scars had been the freshest then, and Cassandra had been trying anything to fit in to be at the top of the food chain. Yes, Elle had taken the brunt of it, and she didn’t think she could take it again if it got as serious as it had the first time.

Or even as cruel …

B
arely able to catch her
breath, Chloe sat behind the lockers, clutching the scissors in her hands. Having no clue how it had gotten this far or even how she had gotten in this position, she just wanted to disappear.

It had all happened so fast when Cassandra had placed the scissors in her hands. She didn’t even know why she had done it or what it had been for. Then, before she had known it, Cassandra had been fighting with some girl named Elle.

It all blacked out for her until she heard Cassandra’s voice, “Chloe, give them to me.”

Mustering up some courage, she concealed the scissors behind her back and planned to tell Cassandra that enough was enough. However, when she saw the scene before her, any courage she’d had quickly evaporated.

Elle was being held on the ground face down with Cassandra on top of her. With the help of her new friends, Stacy and Stephanie, holding her arms down, it wasn’t much of struggle to keep her in place.

A trickle of blood started coming down Elle’s face. By the looks of it, she had hit her head on the locker room bench on the way down.

Whatever she had been expecting from her best friend since kindergarten, it wasn’t this. In fact, this was the first time she had witnessed anything like this from her.

“Chloe, give them to me,” Cassandra repeated, sensing her reluctance.

Slowly, she revealed the scissors. Staring down at them, she was prepared to tell her no.

“You don’t want to be like her, do you?”

Stunned was the only way to put it when those words came out of her mouth. And looking into Cassandra’s eyes, Chloe believed her. Cassandra’s eyes showed her how committed she was to being the most popular girl in school. It was almost as if she were daring Chloe to get in her way.

Frightened at what her best friend had become, Chloe shook her head and held the scissors out before Cassandra harshly grabbed them from her. Instant regret filled her when the metal no longer touched her skin, and she began praying Cassandra was only going to use them to frighten her.

“Now, bitch, think again next time you turn your back on me.”

Chloe watched in shock as Cassandra took Elle’s ponytail in her other hand and started cutting it off. Hearing Elle cry as Cassandra snipped away, the tears started to brim her own eyes.

What have I done?
was the only thing that went through her mind.

“A girl like you doesn’t need long, pretty hair like this, anyway,” Cassandra told Elle as she waved Elle’s own ponytail in her face.

Sitting up once they’d released her, Elle began to cry into her legs, holding them tightly in front of her.

Chloe could barely hold it together when Elle looked up at her with a now butchered haircut and tears.

“Sorry,” she managed to get out quietly without breaking down with her.

Running out of the locker room to follow in her best friend’s footsteps and leaving Elle there on the floor bawling like that was the hardest thing she had ever done at that point in her life.

I’m so sorry, Elle …

L
ittle had Chloe known
, she was going to leave Elle in a much worse condition just a few short weeks later behind the school. She hated the part she had played that day, though, and she still apologized to her every time she noticed how long and pretty her strawberry blonde locks were getting. The length had been fully returned to her, and Chloe noticed how protective she had become over her hair, not even wanting a trim.

Cassandra was pure evil from that moment forward, along with her brother Sebastian, and after what had happened in the cafeteria, they were one word: F.U.C.K.E.D.

Brrring.

Watching the students swiftly leave the classroom to go home for the day, she waited anxiously for Elle to return safely.

However, she wasn’t expecting Mr. Evans to be the one to enter the classroom first.

Taking a seat at one of the desks in front of her, he seemed like he was almost careful about it.

Seeing him closer than she usually did, she could tell why almost every girl at the school was secretly in love with him. He certainly didn’t look like any other teacher here with his short, kempt, dirty blond hair and beard. His eyes matched perfectly, seeming almost golden. Not to mention, he was clearly built under his well-dressed clothes.

“You’re not running out the door to leave?” Mr. Evans asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“N-no, I-I-”

“Are you shaken up after what happened earlier?”

Oh, gosh.
Chloe shoved her hands to her face, not wanting to talk about this with him. The last thing she wanted to do was run her mouth about Cassandra.

See, Mr. Evans was new this year and had no clue how this school worked yet. The Ross’s practically owned this school, and the teachers all looked the other way when it came to them. As a result, talking about it with him was only going to bring more danger to her.

She needed to think of an out quickly.

Elle abruptly entered the room, concern apparent in her voice. “Chloe, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, El—” She looked up and her eyes grew as wide as her stomach. Elle had something stained all over her clothes. “Are you okay? What happened?” Standing up, she went over to her.

Elle glanced at Mr. Evans. “Um, I accidentally spilled paint on myself in Art. What are you all talking about?”

“I was just passing by and saw Chloe in here by herself, so I was making sure everything was okay. Usually, the kids are practically one foot out the door before the last bell even rings.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. She’s my ride, and I just told her we would meet up in here,” Elle told him as he walked up toward them.

“How come you met up here and not in your Art class? The Art class is all the way at the front of the school by the outside door,” he asked curiously, but by his facial expression, it seemed like he already knew.

“I guess we didn’t think about it like that. I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Evans. Come on, Chloe; I need to get ready for work.”

Feeling very uncomfortable with where this conversation was going, she gladly followed Elle out.

When Mr. Evans decided to give parting words, Elle stopped to look at him.

“Elle, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me. Try and be more careful in Art. Next time, it might not be paint that spills.”

A chill touched Chloe’s skin at his warning.

“Have a good night, Mr. Evans,” Elle told him as they left the classroom for good this time.

She waited until they’d reached the outside to talk. “So, who spilled the paint? And dang, all over your outfit. That one was my favorite on you.” It really was. The big white sweater and her light jeans really brought out her tan skin and big blue eyes.

Elle’s closet was not only limited in quantity, but also quality. She got the majority of her clothes at the local Goodwill, but you wouldn’t ever know. Only the students here did because the only thing that mattered to them was how expensive the clothes they wore were.

“One of Cassandra’s sidekicks.”

Immediately, she knew it was one of her carbon copies: Stephanie or Stacy. They had definitely replaced her as Cassandra’s BFF. She noticed Stephanie cozied up to no one other than Nero of course.

“Which one? Her?”

They could hear Stephanie and Nero speaking as they reached the school parking lot.

“Nero, would you mind giving me a ride home? I rode with Cassandra this morning,” Stephanie said overly sweetly as she leaned against his Cadillac.

Nero quickly looked her up and down, revealing what they expected to do. “No problem, babe. Leo, let’s go!”

A cute dark blond boy ran over to his car. He was clearly a freshman and obviously Nero’s little brother.

“Backseat, Leo,” Nero told him before they all got in.

Finally, Elle answered her, seeming distracted by what was going on between the two. “No, the other one.”

Stacy.

Unlocking the doors on the BMW her father had given her the moment she could drive, they started climbing in. The car was definitely more of a gift for her parents than her. They hated driving her anywhere and thought of her as a nuisance. The only reason it was a BMW was because her father was still mayor of the city, and he cared about his “image.” Her parents weren’t about to let their daughter drive around in a shitty car, despite the fact that they hated the sight of her.

“Elle, is something wrong? You’re acting weird today.” She was beginning to become concerned. They needed to keep their heads down, and Elle was doing the opposite.

“I’m fine, Chloe. I guess I’m just getting tired of this same shit every day.” She seemed to have gotten more of an attitude, as well.

“Listen, Elle, you don’t have to stay. You’re free to go. If your parents found out how you’re treated here, they wouldn’t let you come ba—”

“I am not leaving you, Chloe. I’ve told you this a thousand times.” She stared at Chloe dead in the eyes, letting her know she still wasn’t changing her mind.

Averting her gaze, she looked at the steering wheel. “Well, we have survived this long by not getting into it with them. I am not like you, Elle.”

“All right, Chloe. I won’t fight back. I promise.”

For some reason, even though Elle was a great liar, Chloe didn’t fully believe her words, so she tried to get her to understand.

“Fighting back doesn’t solve anything, Elle. You know that.” Turning on the car, she began pulling out.
It only makes Cassandra kill you faster.

There was going to be hell to pay tomorrow, and she and Elle were on the ticket.

I
n one quick motion
, he jammed the tip of the shovel into the freshly dug dirt hard enough so it stood straight up. Wiping the sweat off his brow with his bloodstained shirt, he was able to take a moment’s break before he climbed out, using the pile of dirt he had expertly removed and placed to get out of the eight-by-nine-foot hole. After he got out and looked down at his masterpiece, he thought it definitely looked much different up here than it did down there.

Going over to the form wrapped in a dark sheet, he kicked it until it rolled over, falling into what seemed like an abyss. You could always hear when it hit the bottom from the loud thud, and it never failed to bring a smile to his face.

Pulling out his cigarettes and lighter from his dirt-covered jeans, he took a seat on the ledge before he put a cigarette between his teeth. The zippo came to life with a flick of his wrist, and he lit the end, taking a long, deep drag.

He knew he shouldn’t take the time for a smoke break, but it was a graveyard, after all.

Halfway through his cigarette, his phone began vibrating, and even though he didn’t recognize the number, he had a pretty good guess of who it was.

A sexy female voice came over the line. “Is this Lucca?”

Smiling, he exhaled the smoke that filled his mouth. “Yes, darlin’, it is.”

“What are you doing?” She giggled.

Getting up, Lucca knew the hot blonde he had given his number to earlier in the night was going to be easy. “Smoking,” he answered, starting the easy climb down from his pile of dirt. “And wondering when you were going to decide to call me.”

She pretended to sound shocked by his answer. “I guess you’re not busy, then?”

At the bottom again, he could see the form he had tossed in earlier. The sheet had revealed a cold, bloody face that had a bullet right between his eyes. “Not at all.”

“Can I meet you in an hour, then?”

Lucca inhaled, making the cigarette illuminate his rugged appearance. “That depends on how hard you like to be fucked.”

The phone went dead silent before her voice came back, practically moaning, “As hard as you can give.”

“I’ll make you regret that, darlin’,” he warned her.

If she hadn’t been moaning before, she was definitely doing it now. “No, you won’t.”

“One hour,” he told her before killing the call. It was going to be a bit longer than an hour before he could get to her, but making her wait for him was half the fun. Giving her a warning that she was going to regret that statement was about the nicest thing he had done all day, and he was going to live up to his promise.

Flicking his bud on the dead body, he looked down at the man no one was ever going to see again. Any family or friends he left behind would never get closure.

“Fucker.”

Lucca couldn’t care less. The man had gotten what was coming. The only thing that upset him was the fact that he had let the man almost bite his hand off.

They had wanted to keep him alive to question him, but when Lucca had let go from the bite, his boss had shot him right between the eyes.

Getting back to the matter at hand, he picked the shovel back up and began transferring the pile of dirt back into its place. With each sling of dirt, more and more of the body was covered until the man no longer existed on this earth.

Lucca took pride in leveling out the dirt to make it flat once again. The hole was six feet deep exactly when he threw the shovel up and out of it. Though he no longer had his nice incline of dirt to help him get out, it wasn’t hard for him to take a running jump out of it with his six-foot-three stature.

Now looking down at it from up here, you wouldn’t even know he had disturbed the open grave or that there was already a man laid to rest.

By tomorrow, a Mary Johnson would be lowered in, according to the already placed grave marker, and the dirt would seal not only her, but the asshole beneath her.

“Mr. Johnson, you’ll meet Mrs. Johnson tomorrow.”

Picking up his stuff, he admired his work one final time. It was scary how good he had gotten at this now.

Good-bye, Mr. Johnson. I’ll bring you more friends soon.