Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

Clubhouse…
“Fox Hill!” I shout to my brothers as I grab the dog tags and key around
hanging from the chain around my neck. We’ll try there first.
Clay takes out her phone, probably calling Krisjen. “Pick up, pick up…”
But after a moment, she grits out a Dammit and hangs up, dialing someone
else. “Milo, you asshole.” And then she hangs up again, Milo not answering,
either. “I’m calling the police,” she says. “I don’t care.”
But I push her phone down. “Don’t.”
She stares at me. “He’s going to hurt her.”
“They can hurt us.”
“Which is exactly what they want,” Dallas shouts from the front, eyeing
Clay in the rearview mirror. “You all live for this, don’t you? Are you that
bored? Need to slum to feel a little excitement once in a while? Huh?”
She narrows her eyes to slits, glaring back at him.
“You got this bitch messing around with Trace to make her boyfriend
jealous,” Dallas gripes, “and you’re doing the same thing, flashing your
fucking little ass around here and screwing with Liv’s head.”
I lock my jaw. Great. Thanks, Dallas.
But instead of yelling back at him, Clay jerks her head toward me. “I’m
not trying to make Callum jealous.”
“You came with him, didn’t you?” I look at her. “Tryst Six is just toys to
you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Shut up.”
I stare out the window, avoiding her eyes. I know I’m being unfair, but
Dallas is right. The shit is hitting the fan, and it’s all the Saints’ fault. If Iron
gets busted, we’re the ones who pay. Not Clay. She goes off to college in the
fall, her little dalliance in girl snatch a nice memory for her. What the hell am
I doing?
“You know,” she starts, her tone low and hard, “let’s stop pretending that
I am making you do anything you don’t want to do. If you were so angry with
me, you wouldn’t have come back to school. You wouldn’t have come back
to me.”
“I didn’t come back to you.”
She falls silent for a moment, and as we bounce over the tracks, I hear her
start to moan.
I turn toward her again.