Continuing, she said, “That’s Brent Vaughn. I’m only half surprised you don’t know him. Considering you didn’t come out of your hole last year, it makes sense.”

“Let me guess... he has a reputation of sorts.”

“Yup. Total jerk. Pretty ruthless one, too. Once at a party, he was confronted for sleeping with someone’s girlfriend–which he does often–and he pummeled the shit out of him for being confrontational. He’s the star of the baseball team–the dark star, that is.”

“Huh,” I said, picking up the last of the bags. “Some guys just love to be chaotic.”

I couldn’t help but look back at him on the porch, crossing my arms. He was laughing along with the fight with his friends. A deep and carefree laugh at the violence that made me wonder exactly how much chaos this guy liked. He flicked ash from his cigarette, pulling off ‘I’m a cool guy’ confidence.

He had barely any hair, exposing the tattoos that came up the side of his head and neck. It reminded me of a military boot camp buzz cut. Tattoos peeked out from everywhere, telling me this man was inked up to the max. I couldn’t tell how tall he was from here, but most people were taller than me standing at five foot six.

Kelly sighed, opening the door. “So sad that those good looks are wasted on the assholes.”

Before I stepped into the house, I turned to get one last look. Call me intrigued.

Brent’s gaze flicked over to me, locking eyes with mine and holding me in place. He brought the cigarette back to his lips to take a long drag, daring me to look away as his mouth leaked smoke and developed just enough of a smirk to let me know he caught me continuing to look at him. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, silently asking me what I was looking at.

I broke first and couldn’t tell if I was intrigued or terrified after a staring contest with him. Forcing myself to move quickly, I all but jumped into the house to slam the door.

Last one, I thought, peeking quickly before closing the door. He chucked his cigarette to the ground and pulled off his jacket, revealing a plethora of tattoos covering his entire upper body. He pulled that smirk back up and looked over to me, letting me know he was well aware of what I was doing.

“Want to start getting ready?” Kelly asked from deep in the house.

“Uh, yeah.”

​Chapter 3

Brent

“Put this on,” Reaper muttered, throwing a balaclava at me.

I grunted and slipped it over my head. His obsession with masks is ridiculous.

The Dictator–my grandfather–had me sequestered to covert jobs recently. He hated the so-called “stunts” I pulled, which weren’t anything but basic fights–that were agreed to.

Maybe.

Okay, not maybe.