Page 120 of Filthy Elites

I shake my head and instead of responding, I start up the steps and catch the door as someone else pops out and leaves. Josh’s footsteps follow me into the front hall. “Answer me, Haley,” he demands.

Gritting my teeth with irritation, I stop and whirl around to face him. “Why?” I snap. “Because you think you deserve an answer? News fucking flash, dick, you don’t.”

A whoosh of air rushes by my face as Josh suddenly punches the wall behind my head. His body moves closer and my jaw drops in shock as he presses me back. “I’ve been nice,” he says, his voice practically vibrating with anger. “I’ve tried to treat you right, convince you the good way, and this is how you repay my kindness?” Shock rockets through me. “You won’t give me the time of day, but you’ll be a whore for Carter’s right hand bitch? Fine. Stay in the mud. Fuck your gutter man. I could’ve given you so fucking much, but it seems like you weren’t worth it after all.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand. Gutter man?

Josh laughs, but it’s anything but amused. “You don’t even know?” His chuckles grate against my ear. “How funny … you don’t even know who you’re fucking.” He gestures to me. “You think you can hide it under make-up, but I see the bruises on you. He do that?”

Rage pounds through my system. I shove against his chest, pushing him back. “Viks would never fucking hit me,” I hiss. “Stop spouting bullshit.”

Josh shakes his head, the strands of his hair falling into his eyes. He shoves them back. “Yourboss,” he starts, sneering at the word, “is nothing but a gutter rat that Nicholas Carter raised up. He’s nothing. He’s never been anything and he willneverbe anything. You might think you’ve caught yourself a bigger fish than me, Haley, but he’ll drag you down. He’s nothing but a hired killer.”

I don’t realize I’ve moved until my knuckles are already against his cheek. Josh’s head snaps to the side with the punch and this time, I let my anger take control. I reach for his shirt and snatch up the fabric, using it in my hands to shove him back against the opposite wall.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grit out. My hand throbs. “But don’t you ever fucking insult him like that again. You think I was trying to find someone richer than you?” I laugh. “Please. Your money means nothing—not to me and not to the real world. Mitchell Vikson is twice the man you’ll ever fucking be. I don’t care where he came from or what he does.” As I say the words, I realize they’re true.

When Viks gets all commanding and possessive, it scares me. It makes me want to run. But at the same time, I realize that he’s probably the safest place I could ever be. I hated him, but now, I trust him.

Wait.I pause.When the fuck did I ever start to think of my hatred towards him as past tense?

“You are fucking him.” Josh’s words draw me back to the present and I refocus on him, loosening my grip.

“Go away, Josh,” I say, taking a step back. “Stay out of my business and out of my life.” I turn my back on him and start walking.

“Haley, please…” Footsteps echo against the pavement at my back as he starts to follow me.

I stop and look back and he freezes, his hand outstretched towards me. It’s not just sad, it’s pathetic. “This is my final answer, Josh,” I say. “I don’t want you and I never have. So, please, do us both a favor and get lost. Stay away from me and if you know what’s good for you, stay away from Viks.”

FIFTEEN

Viks

Patrick Kennedy has a backer.It’s the only excuse, the only reason for why I haven’t yet caught the bastard. I scrub a hand down my face as Jackson’s fingers fly across his keyboard. Several small screens that reflect the recent security feed from Eastpoint University are set up across two of his monitors.

“I’ve run a facial recognition program across every single one of these cameras,” Jackson says. “He’s never been found. He shows up at the club, but never on campus.”

“Do you think the students could be getting it at the club and then taking it back to campus?” I ask.

“It’s possible,” Jackson says as he presses a button, and somewhere in the room, a printer whirs to life. He rolls across the floor towards it and pulls off the first sheet, handing it to me as he scoots back in front of the row of monitors on his desk. “However, the reports I’ve scanned from local medical facilities and the police department tell a different story.”

I scan the contents of the page and scowl. “It’s spreading,” I curse, “like a fucking disease.”

“Yup.” He pops the end of the word and shakes his head. “And that means he’s got partners—at least one on campus. We haven’t seen his face on the security feeds, but he’s the only one we know to look for. There’s a second dealer, and they’re probably working together.”

He’s right. Though some might believe all drug dealers are competition, that’s not always true. From what I know of my childhood, there were far too many dealers in my small shithole hometown to count. Dealers selling the same drugs often came from the same distributor. In some cases, this one especially, when a new drug hits the streets and expands in a fast spread—that means they’re trying to expedite the popularity of their product.

Haze is getting passed around like candy and its value is plummeting for now because it’s so readily available. I need to catch Kennedy, who I suspect is the distributor, before he cuts off the supply and watches the newly addicted rich kids from Eastpoint try to kill each other as they sell their souls for their next high.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and to my ears, it’s a damn death toll. I pull it out and answer it. “Vikson.”

“Where’s the dealer?” Carter’s voice is hard.

“I’ve got a name,” I inform him, stepping up next to Jackson and setting the report down. “He was at the club night before last.”

“And you didn’t catch him?”

“There were extenuating circumstances,” I say.

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