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Prologue
Sweet Jesus… three of them.
Luke saw the bullying pervs waiting. Every muscle in his skinny lower body clenched. Sweat broke out on his thirteen-year-old face, and he swiped at the mess, soon becoming aware there were tears mixed in.
No way. Don’t let them suckers see you cry. They’ll call you a baby along with all the other crap they say to make you feel lower than dirt.
He clutched the thick chain he had hidden in his pocket. This time, he would fight back. On Friday, they had laid a beating on him that still gave him nightmares. It wasn’t so much the punching and kicking, he could take the physical abuse, hell he was used to that. It was the name calling… the badmouthing of his identity. All of a sudden, being poor had become something to be ashamed of… like he had any choice or could change his background.
He wanted to run so bad, he almost peed his pants. Glued in place by fear of his ranting stepfather, he couldn’t move. Either he man up or the drunken creep would lay another beating on him for allowing his schoolmates to use him for a punching bag… his promise from the last time he’d stumbled home bruised.
Stuck smack dab between a rock and a hard place, he waited with his heart in his throat. Not surprising. He’d been here so often, he sometimes wondered if he shouldn’t just jump in front of the next car and get it over with. Either way, he’d get a licking. Fucked no matter what he did.
The last time he’d come home covered in blood, his mom had almost stepped up to save him but one look from her husband, a waving warning finger, and she’d slinked off. She knew he’d get a worse shitkicking if she stood up for him. Both knew that ugly fat bastard would hurt her too.
What if I ran away? Never come back. But run to where?
Everything inside screamed at him to get his skinny ass out of the line of fire. Except he knew they’d love it. It’s what those creeps wanted. He could never outrun them, didn’t have the energy or the muscles. Lacking enough food in his system to grow strong, he always felt weak. Weak, sad, confused… and with a well of anger growing bigger every day.
Fuck! They were coming.
The three meanest assholes in the school, led by none other than Harv Branson. And they’d decided that year, he’d be their victim… their plaything. Once they were close enough, he garnered every ounce of spirit left in his shaking body and jumped out in front of them. By now, he’d brought out the chain and began waving it wildly in their direction, screaming hoarsely like he’d lost his marbles.
Spit flying from his mouth, tears held behind eyes filled with hate, he attacked. Whether it was the weapon he held or just the amount of vitriol spraying from his mouth, he never knew. Not right away.
Moments later, his arm hanging limply, he suddenly noticed what the others had seen. Their young history teacher, Miss Katrina Bolder, stood there with her arms crossed, daring the three to continue advancing. They’d glanced at her, and then shot hate-filled looks his way before they slunk off in the direction of the school.
Luke waited. Not that he could have moved even if he’d wanted to. Terror took time to ooze. So did the trembling in his body. And while he wavered there, certain she would punish him for what she’d seen, he lowered his head. Man, he couldn’t catch a break. Now he was in for it from one of the only people in the school he had any respect for.
“Lucifer Stone. Don’t you dare look so defeated. You standing up to those mean little horrors is the best thing I’ve seen since I started working at this place. It’s about time someone stood up to those monsters. I’m glad to see you were the one. Look, if they ever… and I mean ever come after you again, you tell me.”
She approached, and his knees finally buckled. If it weren’t for her hands reaching out to hold him up upright, he’d have fallen. Instead, he found arms softly cushioning him, a smell of flowers wafting around her long curls, and the softest green eyes holding his.
Once she knew he’d gained his strength, she’d left him with a final pat on his shoulder and words he’d never forgotten. “I’m so proud of you, Luke.”
Chapter One
(20 years later)
Honey Bolder heard the distinctive crunch.
Her pulse began to clammer.
Unfortunately, her reaction came too late. Nevertheless, she dropped her phone and tried to look innocent. She heard her mother’s voice. Dammit, Honey. Not again. You know better than to text and drive.
Slowly turning off the engine, feeling sheepish yet giggly, she headed to the front of the car. There she saw that she’d indeed hit the wooden fencing put there for the teachers to park in front of. Blasted hell. Not again. Second time this month she’d have to get a section replaced.
Bending over, pushing her mass of blonde curls to the back, she lifted the broken portion and shoved it back together with the piece still attached. It seemed to hold, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could get away with no one noticing.
Thankful that she’d decided to get to the school early this morning, she peeked around to see if she’d been spotted. The fleeting thought that maybe she could park somewhere else and not get blamed for the damage dissolved when she saw the other teachers arriving.
Shit.
Her bestie, Melanie, headed in her direction wearing a huge grin.
Honey held up her hand. “Don’t say it.”
“What? Say what? Oh, you mean the dangers of texting while driving. Me? Why would I bring that up?”
