“I didn’t mean you.”
“Tough shit. I’m at the top. You said ‘people like you.’ That means me, my crowd, my people.”
“I’m not going after you. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it does,” he retorted fiercely. “This is my school; you’re messing with my friends.”
“No—”
“Mine,” he bit out.
“Look,” I spoke a little calmer, “I’m tired of how Amber gets away with everything at this school.”
“So am I,” he stated.
“I know, but,” I faltered, “this isn’t about you. About you and me.”
“Oh no. You’re goddamn right about that one. This has no bearing on you and me.”
I stopped at his words. There was a possessive note in his voice and heat rushed through me. The ache to feel him against me started again, but I cleared my throat. My voice was hoarse when I spoke, “Look, I was just pissed. Amber and Mandy wanted to get out of class for some pep rally posters. I’m tired of how they can do whatever the hell they want. So I said something and then Amber brought my shit up. About the alarms last Monday, about how Pedlam got broken into.” My hands lifted to his shirt and I grasped onto his collar. He remained standing so close to me, his gaze bearing into me. Oh god. It was such an intimate look. My chest swelled and I ignored how my pulse picked up speed. I added, “She called you out too when she brought up the Pedlam thing.”
Tray sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
My lips were dry. God, he was freaking gorgeous. And those lips…his shoulders…
Tray gave me an exasperated look. “You got pissed and went after her. My friends aren’t saints. I’m not a saint.” His look switched to a pointed one. “Neither are you. You’ve got serious history with the biggest drug-runner in Pedlam. You used to date a guy that’s violent.” My eyes got big, but before I could argue, he said, “Maybe not towards you, but he’s known to be violent with others. Both Lansers aren’t good people.”
I sighed, turning away to rest my head against the wall. I didn’t know what to say. I’d opened a can of worms, but—hell—I wasn’t one to sit back and let stuff slide by. Not if I was pissed enough and could stop it. Or, to be more accurate, if I wanted to stop it. Tray was right, I let a lot of stuff by because I didn’t care about it, but this time, I cared. So I opened my mouth.
“How did you know about Jace?”
Tray snorted, rolling his eyes. “I know more than you think about that world.”
He knows people that I know. I remembered Jace’s warning. A shiver went through me, but I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back against the wall. Tray was becoming my only ally here. I didn’t want to lose him. “He’s not a drug lord.”
“No, he’s a drug dealer. That’s a lot more prestigious.”
I rolled my eyes, hearing his sarcasm. “Jace is—”
“Jace is someone you should stay away from. He might care about you, but he’s not going to change. One day he’s going to end up in prison or dead.”
That was enough. “And how do you know so much?” The guy was insufferable.
“I know. Trust me.”
“But how?”
“My dad,” he remarked. “He used to be the chief of police here, and my older brother’s with the DEA. I know both sides, trust me. My family is messed up, but I know where to step and where not to step.” Tray sat on a roll of wrestling mats against the wall. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he said further, “That’s how I know Lanser.”
“Jace said you knew people he knew.” This was important, whatever Tray was going to tell me might not be brought up again. I had this one shot. We were in a back room, tucked away from the world. Right now, it was only him and me. “What did he mean by that?”
Pain flashed in the depths of his eyes. The sight of it surprised me. There was more than pain, though. There was anger and grief too. He was haunted.
Then he said, “My dad was a dirty cop.”
“Oh.”
He laughed, and the sound sent chills down my spine. “Jace is a dealer for Sal Galverson, a drug lord from South America. They tried to recruit my dad to help with the distribution in Rawley.”
“Did he?”
He nodded. “Yeah, for the longest time. Bad stuff happened. My brother got involved. He came back home. We thought he was home to recuperate from an injury, but he was really undercover. My dad was so dumb. My brother told us he had been shot, and his leg was broken, so my dad didn’t think he could follow him.”