Read Online Chaos (Havoc Series Book Two) by Xavier Neal - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Xavier Neal
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Moves
predictable. Moves easily anticipated. Makes it that much easier
for me to cover his ass when needed. You know, I use to hate being
his fucking babysitter. Now? Wouldn't have it another way.
“Phone call,” I give Lordy the information
anyway.
He needs the security of knowing where his
brothers are at all times when we're out. Usually he's within a
head smack of Glove and I'm crashed out at the hotel by now, but I
can't sleep. With the facts that are fighting for rights to be a
priority, a drink with them seemed like a wise choice.
Once I've left the table, I step outside into
the cool D.C. air. Cold. Harsh. Almost like the warm and cold had a
divorce on who won the earth. No remains that heat ever existed.
It's so fucking cold my balls are trying to give themselves a new
home in my rib cage.
With the hit of a button, it connects me
Haven's phone, which goes straight to voice mail. Odd. I shake it
off and try again. Voice mail. Looking at the time I try to remain
calm. Its 10 back home. She shouldn't be in class. Stay calm Clint.
You know who to call.
“You do know that some of us are trying to
get some sleep before they have to pick up some jar head from the
airport right?”
“I know, dad,” my voice strains out.
“Sorry.”
“What do you need, son?”
“Is Haven home? Her phone...it uh...went
straight to voice mail.”
“She went to dinner and the movies with some
friends.”
“Got it.” Dinner and the movies with friends.
Well look at my girl. She's so...normal now. Never would've known
she used to be a prisoner. Then again you would never think I was
cold blooded killer. We've all got secrets. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. See you in the morning.”
“Night.” My fingers hit the end button.
Rubbing my nose in an attempt to warm it back
up, I hit her number again. I'll leave a voice mail. She'll call
back whenever she gets in. After a brief message about her not
being able to answer I sheepishly leave a message.
“Hey angel, I guess you're out doing
something more exciting that waiting for me by the phone”—probably
could've phrased that better— “whatever it is I hope you're having
fun”— I can't tell her I'm so fucking paranoid I called my dad to
see where you were— “and just call me when you get in. I love
you.”
I press the end button feeling like such a
pussy. When did I become that guy who had to call his girl just to
hear her voice? Who was devastated when she didn't answer? Was I
this way before she was almost ripped away from me or just after? I
give my face a scrub with my empty hand and try to shake it off. No
need to give Glove extra ammo to annoy me.
My return to the table presents me with a
sight that's not a surprise. There are four girls surrounding our
table, empty shot glasses on it. Looks like they've moved onto to
Phase 2 of the evening. Phase 1 Subtraction. Drinking to remove all
thoughts of the horrors we just faced and the possible destruction
it’s done to them. Phase 2 Addition. Add liquor and girls. Phase 3
Multiplication. No explanation needed there I'm sure.
The black haired one rocking a pair skin
tight jeans and a sweater that looks anything but warm is in my
chair. With a roll of the eyes, I sigh, “Do you mind? You're in my
chair.”
She whips her head around and a look of
arousal flashes across her face. Like she just hit some sort of
jackpot. Maybe she doesn't like the idea of competing against her
friends. Doesn't matter. If she wants to go home with someone she's
going to have to or relocate to another group of guys.
“You're in the Marines, too, huh?” Her lips
purse together, eyes on my tags.
“Hey, Snow White, ” Glove's voice invades
before I have a chance to answer. “In the words of our first lady
of hip-hop, he liked it so he put a ring on it.”
Bizarre. I'm not sure what frightens me more.
That Glove just cock blocked for me or his knowledge of
Beyoncé. Both honestly are leaving me with creepy chills down
predictable. Moves easily anticipated. Makes it that much easier
for me to cover his ass when needed. You know, I use to hate being
his fucking babysitter. Now? Wouldn't have it another way.
“Phone call,” I give Lordy the information
anyway.
He needs the security of knowing where his
brothers are at all times when we're out. Usually he's within a
head smack of Glove and I'm crashed out at the hotel by now, but I
can't sleep. With the facts that are fighting for rights to be a
priority, a drink with them seemed like a wise choice.
Once I've left the table, I step outside into
the cool D.C. air. Cold. Harsh. Almost like the warm and cold had a
divorce on who won the earth. No remains that heat ever existed.
It's so fucking cold my balls are trying to give themselves a new
home in my rib cage.
With the hit of a button, it connects me
Haven's phone, which goes straight to voice mail. Odd. I shake it
off and try again. Voice mail. Looking at the time I try to remain
calm. Its 10 back home. She shouldn't be in class. Stay calm Clint.
You know who to call.
“You do know that some of us are trying to
get some sleep before they have to pick up some jar head from the
airport right?”
“I know, dad,” my voice strains out.
“Sorry.”
“What do you need, son?”
“Is Haven home? Her phone...it uh...went
straight to voice mail.”
“She went to dinner and the movies with some
friends.”
“Got it.” Dinner and the movies with friends.
Well look at my girl. She's so...normal now. Never would've known
she used to be a prisoner. Then again you would never think I was
cold blooded killer. We've all got secrets. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. See you in the morning.”
“Night.” My fingers hit the end button.
Rubbing my nose in an attempt to warm it back
up, I hit her number again. I'll leave a voice mail. She'll call
back whenever she gets in. After a brief message about her not
being able to answer I sheepishly leave a message.
“Hey angel, I guess you're out doing
something more exciting that waiting for me by the phone”—probably
could've phrased that better— “whatever it is I hope you're having
fun”— I can't tell her I'm so fucking paranoid I called my dad to
see where you were— “and just call me when you get in. I love
you.”
I press the end button feeling like such a
pussy. When did I become that guy who had to call his girl just to
hear her voice? Who was devastated when she didn't answer? Was I
this way before she was almost ripped away from me or just after? I
give my face a scrub with my empty hand and try to shake it off. No
need to give Glove extra ammo to annoy me.
My return to the table presents me with a
sight that's not a surprise. There are four girls surrounding our
table, empty shot glasses on it. Looks like they've moved onto to
Phase 2 of the evening. Phase 1 Subtraction. Drinking to remove all
thoughts of the horrors we just faced and the possible destruction
it’s done to them. Phase 2 Addition. Add liquor and girls. Phase 3
Multiplication. No explanation needed there I'm sure.
The black haired one rocking a pair skin
tight jeans and a sweater that looks anything but warm is in my
chair. With a roll of the eyes, I sigh, “Do you mind? You're in my
chair.”
She whips her head around and a look of
arousal flashes across her face. Like she just hit some sort of
jackpot. Maybe she doesn't like the idea of competing against her
friends. Doesn't matter. If she wants to go home with someone she's
going to have to or relocate to another group of guys.
“You're in the Marines, too, huh?” Her lips
purse together, eyes on my tags.
“Hey, Snow White, ” Glove's voice invades
before I have a chance to answer. “In the words of our first lady
of hip-hop, he liked it so he put a ring on it.”
Bizarre. I'm not sure what frightens me more.
That Glove just cock blocked for me or his knowledge of
Beyoncé. Both honestly are leaving me with creepy chills down
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