Cruel Boys
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Cruel Boys copyright @ 2020 by Nora Cobb and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
BOOKS IN THE ELITES OF REDWOOD ACADEMY
CRUEL BOYS
BRUTAL BOYS
SAVAGE BOYS
VICIOUS BOYS
WICKED BOYS
The Elites of Redwood Academy series is the SEQUEL to the Montlake Prep Series, a 5-book series that takes place a couple of years before.
Though Elites of Redwood Academy can be read on its own, it’s more enjoyable to also read the Montlake Prep series before starting this series.
About Montlake Prep Series
Following the tragic and unexpected death of her parents, Natalie Page finds herself under the care of her billionaire uncle and enrolls in the prestigious Montlake Prep Academy to finish her senior year of high school.
But unbeknownst to Natalie, Montlake is unlike any school she’s ever been in. In order to survive, she must both learn the unspoken code of the student body, and navigate through Montlake’s halls ruled by three ruthless kings of campus.
Read the Montlake Prep Series Today
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CRUEL BOYS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
BOOKS IN THE ELITES OF REDWOOD ACADEMY SERIES
OTHER BOOKS BY NORA COBB
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CRUEL BOYS
Chapter One
“Look at that fucking view.”
“Vicki.”
Dad gives me the stink eye, big-time. I keep forgetting that he’s the adult in our new relationship. He looks a decade younger since he got rid of my mother, formerly known as his wife.
“Sorry, Daddy.” I smile, trying to look like the virgin I barely am.
He sighs. “I’m trying to give you some parental guidance.” He shakes his head. “And it’s fucking hard sometimes.”
We laugh, and I lean in for a hug as we stand on a trail in the Santa Monica Mountains near Malibu. I wouldn’t have guessed that wilderness so wild existed in SoCal. I thought it was all fast-moving freeways and thick, choking smog. I hang onto Dad, admiring the Pacific Ocean that stretches across the desert landscape, and a sky so blue it could rival the ocean below.
“Not as green as Jersey,” he comments, “like the state park.”
“No, but it’s still cool.”
He nods. “I’m glad we’re here, and thanks for coming with me.”
Dad pats my back, and I hug him harder.
He sighs, staring at the view. “Next time, we’ll rent horses.”
I lift my chin and smile at him. “That would be freaking amazing.”
He laughs, and we start walking again. “Vicki, I’m glad you decided to move out west with me.”
“I am, too.”
I can’t look at him, or I’ll start bawling. Dad will always be my favorite parent, and he didn’t let me down when things turned ugly with Mother for both of us. Their divorce was so bad, it went viral. My mother, Maya Saunders, is not a woman who loses gracefully, and I’m surprised Dad has a dollar left in his bank account after that hateful marriage. Maya hired the best divorce attorney in the tristate area and came into the ring swinging for a knockout. I glance over at Dad and smile when I see the satisfied grin on his face. She may have gotten a shitload of money, but he got his life back.
Dad looks at me quizzically. “What’s so funny, Vicki?”
“Nothing. Are we camping here tonight?”
“Nope,” he grins like his stock portfolio has tripled. “We’re headed for the Circle Y Ranch.”
“You know,” I reply, “it’s not really camping in a fully loaded RV. We should stay outside in a tent.”
He presses his lips together, then speaks. “Can you identify a rattlesnake or poison oak?”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I backpedal quickly. “A tent outside next to the RV, so we can see the stars.”
He rubs the back of my head the same way he used to rub my brother Troy’s until Troy was the same height as him.
Dad laughs. “Come on, pumpkin. We’ve got to keep moving before the sun sets.”
***
Before we hit the campsite, we stop on the highway for snacks. The convenience store is bright, stocked with junk, and packed with other campers. I wander over toward the soda machine and frown at the sugary selection in neon colors. That stuff’s not churning around in my stomach. I’m clean now. Thankfully, they stock unsweetened iced tea. I debate on getting the huge thirty-two-ounce cup. If I drink all of it, I’ll have to squat in the woods later, and at night that will suck. Dad made it clear that he isn’t going to be the only one emptying the tank for the toilet. Sighing, I grab the sixteen-ounce instead.
“They have bottled stuff in the corner,” says a voice beside me.
A cute guy with dirty blond hair is standing behind me, smiling. He’s tall and lean in a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and board shorts. He looks like the type of guy who works out because he’s into it. Lean muscle all over, with biceps that are popping.
I can’t remember my name, but I play it cool.
“Really?” I reply, glancing away. “Which direction?”
He grins, motions toward the back of the store, and I follow. His tight ass is magic in motion. But this isn’t the time. I won’t dump Dad to go party with some random hot boy. It took years for me to regain Dad’s trust after my stint in rehab. I can’t fuck up now.
“So, what’s your name?” he asks.
I play it aloof. “It’s Vicki. And yours?”
“Dominic, but my friends call me Dom.”
My gaze must linger when I hear his nickname because he smiles like he’s heard all the jokes. Damn, my cool is fading. This is stupid. I may have flunked math, but I aced blasé.
I tilt my hips as I grab a bottled tea out of the fridge. “So, should I call you Dominic or Dom?”
My gaze sweeps down his hard body and back up to his eyes. The wolfish grin on his face spreads a little wider. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, but he won’t. And I scowl like I’ll smack him if he tries. I’m sure he’s taking notes for later.
“I have a rule,” he speaks softly. “Pretty blondes always get to call me Dom.”
I slip under Dom’s arm and roll my eyes. “You toss out another line, I won’t call you anything.”
“Vicki?” Dad’s standing nearby in an aisle, watching us closely.
I did nothing wrong. “Do you want an iced tea, Daddy?”
Dad scowls at Dom. “Yes, baby, why don’t you get me an iced tea?”
Little do I know that we’re about to be shown how to play the game a different way.<
br />
“Sir,” Dom extends a hand toward Dad. “Dominic Vaughn. My folks live in Malibu. Are you visiting?”
Dad’s attitude slips off his face. Maybe he recognizes the name? “Greg Saunders,” he smiles and shakes Dom’s hand. “Renting and still looking. We’re camping this weekend.”
Dom laughs. “I am too. I’m making the snack run before I head back for the night.”
“Where are you camping?” asks Dad.
“Circle Y,” replies Dom. “Up the road.”
Dad laughs. “So are we.”
It’s not that much of a coincidence, but they act as if it is. I know Dad is being sincere, but I’m not sure about Dom. Typical of men; they start the BS, and I’m standing around, impatient and forgotten. I’m about to roll my eyes when Dom winks at me. He’s still checking me out while he talks to Dad. The drip never takes a back seat. I smirk, holding onto my dad’s arm.
“Thanks, Greg. I’ll hitch a ride with you. Let me tell my friend I’ve changed my plans.”
I watch Dom walk off, and then I stare at Dad like he has no concept of stranger danger. “We’re taking him along?” I whisper harshly.
“Why not?” he replies vaguely. “He seems decent.”
“Do you know who he is?”
Dad shrugs. “The name sounds familiar.”
Later, I’ll have a talk with Dad. But now, he looks happy, beaming at everything he sees as if life were new and improved. Dad keeps telling me that he’s glad that I’m with him. I feel the same way, but we have to talk about my future on my own. I’ve made other plans for senior year than we discussed. And it won’t be easy having a serious conversation with Dom hanging around.
“Ready?” asks Dad.
Dad takes the iced tea out of my hand. I grab a bag of chips and some dried mangoes as we walk to the register. Dom is outside talking to some guy who looks a lot older than my dad. It can’t be his dad because they don’t look alike. The other guy is on a motorcycle, and he waves once at Dom before he pulls out into traffic. Dom watches him ride away, and I watch Dom. He’s too good-looking for a guy. There are plenty of good-looking guys back home in New Jersey. My brother Troy is best friends with two gorgeous guys—Lucas and Jacob. But in SoCal, the beauty gene pool is overflowing.
Dom leans against a post and looks over his shoulder, right at me. In the sunlight, his gray eyes change into sparkling blue. I can’t look away, though my mind’s telling me this is not good. Camping is time to spend with Dad, not hook up with a random guy. I’ve learned that lesson. I sigh and watch Dad poke at the PIN pad. I lost a year of my life to drugs, so now I’m finishing up high school when I ought to be starting college.
Dad motions to the door. “Vicki, let’s go.”
Dom opens the door for us. He smiles at me but walks with Dad.
Rolling the tension out of my shoulders, I’m okay with playing the third wheel. I’ll get in less trouble by disappearing into the background. I pull my phone out of my cutoffs and film them, walking side by side. It’s sort of odd. They look like a father and son camping.
I wince. Not a good image to have. I put my phone away. It’s not like I’m going to make out with Dom later.
***
Dom steps inside and gazes around the RV. “Nice ride, Greg.”
Dad doesn’t ride cheap. The RV is high-end, with gray tweed seating lining one wall and a mini kitchen lining the other. Next to the kitchen is a small seating area, and in the back of the bus is a bedroom. We share it, which is fine because it has two twin beds. Sometimes I’m modest around Dad, but he sees me in T-shirts and shorts every day, so why sleep in another room?
Dom walks through the RV, into the back, and looks around the bedroom. “Do you know the way, Greg?” he shouts toward the front.
Dad starts the RV. “I’m good. We checked in this morning before we went hiking.”
“Wow, so you’ve been here all day?”
“Yeah.” Dad nods absentmindedly as he pulls out onto the road.
Dom sits down by the window near me. He looks out the window at the traffic then turns his attention on me. I feel him staring hard at my body, and I do my best to ignore him as I tug on my shirtsleeves. My breathing is shallow as I clench my fists. I’m just about to tell him off.
“Aren’t you hot?” he asks.
“Excuse me?”
He nods toward my waist. “The flannel shirt,” he replies. “Aren’t you hot in that thing?”
“It’s tied around my waist.” I hold a sleeve in my hand then toss it aside. “You know, in case it gets cold.”
He folds his arms. “It’s cooled down in here.”
Maybe I’m paranoid, and he’s not playing games. Or maybe he is. Either way, I’m not playing cat and mouse any longer. “So, what’s your deal, Dom? Who was that guy, your father?”
His expression hardens. “What guy?”
“The biker I saw you talking to.”
Dom laughs, almost as if he’s relieved. “No, that’s just a friend.”
“You holding?” I ask without shame.
“What do you know about holding, little girl?” An innocent would’ve looked baffled and asked me to explain holding. But Dom has no questions.
I clue him into me. “I know enough to recognize my own.”
Holding wasn’t my deal, literally, but I met the type in rehab, whoring to get the next fix from anyone they thought was dealing. Unfortunately, a few of the staff weren’t ethical. My body tenses up as Dom eases closer. User or not, this boy craves trouble. It’s obvious. Anxiously, I glance over to see if Dad has his eyes on the road.
Dom leans in. “Are you into partying, Vicki?”
I scowl, so my meaning is clear. “Not with my dad in the front seat.”
It doesn’t deter him. “But you used to. What did you like to do when you partied?”
I frown, feeling helpless, then fold my arms. “The kid stuff. You know—beer and shit.”
Dom laughs. “Let me know if you ever want to party again.”
I sigh, staring out the window blankly. If he only knew.
The horn blasts loud and long as Dad leans into it. “Watch it! You piece of dumbass shit.” Dad shouts, letting that familiar Jersey road rage come out. “Hey buddy! Learn to fucking drive!”
Brakes squeal as the RV lurches, then shakes. I jerk back and slide down the seat as Dom jerks forward and almost falls to the floor.
“Hey, kids!” Dad yells. “Are you okay back there?”
Dom sits back on the seat and reaches for me. I shove his hand away.
“We’re okay.” I stand up. “What happened?”
“Goddamn Subaru cut me off,” Dad explains. “Socially conscious drivers, my ass. I guess any asshole can buy those cars.” Dad’s gaze meets mine in the rear-view mirror. “Hey, why don’t you two come up here and sit? You can buckle up.”
“Okay,” I reply cheerfully, but I don’t move. I place my hand on Dom’s shoulder, and my gaze locks hard on him. “Look,” I whisper, “My dad’s been through shit, and somehow, he’s still a good guy. I don’t want to fuck with that.”
Dom grins. “Sure, I get it.”
“No,” I almost hiss. “You don’t, or you wouldn’t be smirking. Don’t mess with my dad.”
Dom’s expression shuts down, but he nods thoughtfully. “I got you, Vicki. Let’s go hang with your dad then.”
I eye him for a moment. “Thanks, Dom. I’ve got to talk to him alone, but it can wait. Why don’t you take the front seat?”
Maybe that wasn’t necessary. Maybe I should have said it a little friendlier, but sometimes, nice doesn’t work. Sometimes people hear nice and think they can still get over.
Up front, the RV has padded leather seats—two singles side by side for the driver and a passenger, and behind that, there’s a matching double seat that faces forward.
I slip into the background as Dom spends the rest of the ride talking to Dad. I feel a pinch of remorse that I may have gone too far playing the hea
vy. Dad doesn’t need a bodyguard, but I’m protective after watching Mother take advantage for so many years. The trouble isn’t that Dad can’t defend himself with a stranger. He couldn’t defend himself against someone he trusted and loved. And he loves me. We’re working on trust.
“Hey, Dom.” I wait until he turns around. “You want to join us for dinner?”
He smiles. “Okay, thanks, Vicki.”
I throw the olive branch out there, and he picks it up. I smile faintly, but his smile is open. He looks at me for a minute, turns away, and talks to Dad again. He thought I was a party girl, and probably, an easy lay. But now, he doesn’t know what I am, and he’s dialing it back.