The Game: Rebels of Ridgecrest High (Book 3)

Bones wasn’t joking about the gated community part. There are enormous iron gates at the end of the road, stopping me from going any farther.

“Mila, you know what you’re doing, right?” Walker asks.

“Yes,” I reply with as much confidence as I can because I have no idea what I’m doing.

I roll down my window to the security guard who walks out of his box outside the gates. Fuck, what house number is Amato’s? I can see a few expansive properties from here, but I don’t know which one is his. I hope they don’t ask for the number.

“Who are you here to see?”

I sit taller in my seat. There are a heap of cameras watching me, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “Alessandro Amato.” I reply in a confident manner. Like I have done this before.

“Your name?” he asks.

“Mila Hart.” He looks in the car at the other two, and I quickly add, “Walker and Asher. But I’m the one who’s here for Alessandro.”

He goes back to his box to make the call. It must be on loudspeaker because I can hear the person on the other end. There’s a long pause, and Asher fidgets next to me. I reach out and grab his knee, and he stops.

Looking out the window, I wait for my answer. Either way, I’m getting in there. I don’t give a shit how. I will jump the fence if I need to. This is something I need to do for Roman.

I’m glad I haven’t eaten. I feel so nervous and sick now. I’m so close. So close to making this all be over with. No more Carlos and Johnny. No more Roman fighting, no more looking over our shoulders all the time. It’s going to be taken care of today. I will end this thing today.

“I don’t know who that is. Send them away,” I hear a male voice on the other end of the call tell the guard. Fuck.

I yell out, “Well, I know who you are, and I’m coming in to talk to you.”

Walker makes a squeak sound behind me, and it’s messing with my head. I’m trying to be strong and confident, and that voice on the other end of the speaker already frightened me. I don’t need Walker freaking out on me now.

“No, you’re not,” the voice responds, and the guard just glares at me.

“Well…” Shit. What now? “I’m gonna climb your fence and come knock on your door.”

Asher’s the one to gasp now, and my heart’s racing a million miles a minute as the guard grabs for his holster. Ugh, crap. Well, there goes that plan. I don’t want to get shot. That won’t help anyone.

I hear a small chuckle down the line. “I’d like to see you try, princess.” The voice is smoother now. He doesn’t sound like how I thought he would. He sounds younger than his photos, but it might just be the speaker.

I lean out my window and look up at the cameras, hoping he can see me on one of them, and try my best at flirting over the camera with a middle-aged man. “I bet you would,” I purr.

The laugher down the line has me grinning. And he says, “Let them in.”

My heart races. I did it, I got us in. One step closer to my plan. Now I have to find the house and the man in question. Not freak out and run away like my mind keeps telling me to. Ask him to keep his thugs at bay. No more fighting for Roman, no more hitting me with their car. Give him ten grand and promise I can come up with the rest of the cash owed.

I want this to work so badly, I will ask my mom for money. If they agree to cash instead of the bets and fights, I will do it. I’ll make the call.

The gates open, and the guard tells us it’s the house at the very end. I slowly drive past all these big houses. Fancy cars in driveways. I almost stop when I see the house at the end.

“Holy shit,” Asher whispers, and that’s exactly what I’d been thinking. Holy shit.

It’s insane. At least three times the size of Walkers’ house, and so many windows. Huge, white columns were so elegant. It wasn’t what I expected, but then, I guess, what did I expect a mob house to look like? All black?

I drive up the long circular driveway, feeling out of place with my little old Honda, next to all these sleek black BMWs. I put the brake on and turn the engine off. My fingers tingle, and I clench my fists.

Walker’s car would have matched in here. But his is white. And a Mercedes Benz. But at least it wouldn’t have stuck out like a sore thumb that my car was.

We all get out of the car and, just as Asher closes his door, a man in a suit opens the front door. My hands shake. I’m about to meet Alessandro Amato. I have only seen photos of him. I’m going to do it. I’ve come this far, and now that it’s happening, I might be really freaking out. But I hold my bag in my hands and take the steps up to the front door, Walker and Asher behind me.

A man in a dark suit opens the door. He’s similar looking to the guard out at the front gate. He looks me once over, his expression unchanging.

“Mila Hart.” I nod. He takes my bag and looks inside, then pats me down. Oh, well, I guess that makes sense. He does the same to Walker and Asher.

“Follow me.” He grunts as he turns, and we follow him inside.

The interior is just as beautiful and big as its exterior. A set of dramatic marble staircases leads to the second story, and the floors are so shiny that I worry I will slip on my ass even with my sneakers on. I’m so underdressed to be in this house.

The man leads us down a hallway, past an enormous kitchen, and into a room full of white leather couches, a dark-haired guy is sitting back, eyeing me as we enter the room. He waves his hand, dismissing the security guard. I hear movement from the side, and another guy in a suit I didn’t even see opens a door and leaves.

“I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I have no idea who you are or why you’re here.” He leans forward, his arms on his knees, as he looks me up and down with dark, piercing eyes.

Who the fuck is this? This isn’t who I came here for. Am I at the wrong house? I said Alessandro Amato, right? I’m not dreaming I said that.

I look to where the guard from the front door left. I want to call out and tell him he took us to the wrong person. A middle-aged guy with black and silver hair is what I’m looking for. And what I have in front of me is not that. It’s the opposite to that. I have a young guy here… maybe eighteen with dark hair.

He’s dressed in a polo and black skinny leg jeans. He knows he’s attractive by the way he moves, I can tell he’s sure of himself. He is attractive, and you can feel the power radiating from him.

He’s got that big dick energy going on.

But I need to see the mob boss. Not this guy.

“Who are you?” I ask. The nerves creeping in more than I want.

“You came here for me, Mila Hart. So, you should know that.”

I realize he’s the guy on the other end of the call at the guard box. This isn’t Alessandro Amato middle aged mob boss. This is some guy, who’s probably still in high school and trying to play the big, bad boss while the boss isn’t here. His position is higher than the others around, I can tell that, but who is he?

“You’re not who I’m here for.” I’m confused. Is this a joke?

Asher moves closer to me, pressing his hand into my lower back, as Walker speaks up next. “Who the fuck are you?”

I reach out and grab Walker’s hand as he takes another step closer to the guy, he just raises his brow and chuckles at us. “Mila, your boyfriend has a little bite. I like that.”

He reclines on the white couch and drapes his arms on the top, making himself look bigger. More powerful.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes roam my body again.

“My boyfriends aren’t here. This is my stepbrother, Asher, and my friend Walker. Who are you?”

Hopefully, by introducing him to my escorts, he’ll give me his name, at least. I’m thinking Bones sent me on some kind of suicide mission. He gave me this location. He told me it was for the Amato family. But maybe it’s their rivals. But then the guard at the gate would have found that odd when I asked for Alessandro Amato. He wouldn’t have called this guy up if I was in the wrong place. Would he?

Asher places his hand on my back, and I take a deep breath. I need to calm down. This is okay. We’ll work it out.

“I’m Alessandro Amato. You were going to jump over a fence for me.” The corner of his lip raises.

The look on my face gives away my surprise. He laughs, and it’s deep and throaty.

“Yes, well, from that look, I’m assuming you were looking for my father and not me. He’s not here.”

Oh, my god. He has a son. I saw nothing about that while researching Alessandro. I guess I wasn’t looking for a son, so I had no idea he had one who shares the same name.

I let out a deep breath. “Fuck. Do you know when he will be back?”

Alessandro looks at Walker, then back to me. “He won’t see you, Mila,” he says, then stands and nods his head to Walker. “You’re QB1 for Lakeview?”

Walker grunts. “Yeah, I am.”

“Damn, we could have used your arm over at Royale.”

I look at Walker, and just like that, he starts chatting about football like this is some regular day. Then Asher pipes in, and I’m standing there, confused as all hell, while they make friends with the mobster’s son.

“Fuck this.” The room grows quiet and all eyes are on me.

I grab the ten grand out of my bag and push it against Alessandro’s chest. He holds it to his chest with a confused look. I take a step back letting go of it.

“Here. This is why I’m here. I want your father to leave my boyfriends and me alone. Roman Valentine won’t be fighting and losing football games anymore. I will pay off the debt that’s not even his. It’s his dead father’s.”

I poke Alessandro in his chest, and his eyes track my finger with a look that would normally send shivers down my spine, but I don’t care anymore. I’m not here to talk about football. I’m here to get this debt paid.

“If you give drugs to a junkie and expect to be paid after, that’s your own dumb business mistake. Not Roman’s. So, if you could call your father and ask how big the debt is, I will get the rest of the cash and call this the end and part ways. We won’t be seeing or receiving more texts from the assholes who hit me with their car and almost killed me.”

Asher gasps and Walker stands there, stunned. I’m even more stunned that I said it out loud, but fuck it, it’s out there now. Alessandro looks to the money and back to me, his brow furrowing a little, and that angers me more.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. My father doesn’t give drugs to junkies.”

I make a sound in the back of my throat. I’m going to fucking hit this prick. Yes, he did. At least his lackeys did.

“The Amato family gave Damon drugs, and when he couldn’t pay, they made his son, Roman—my boyfriend—take on the debt. They make him fight in an underground club called The Shed every week. They’ve made him lose his high school football games. Just so they could bet on them and make money to pay off the debt. Which, considering the drugs aren’t what killed Damon, they didn’t give him that much. So, ten grand should cover the drugs at least.”

I draw in a deep breath. I don’t care that Asher and Walker can hear everything. This needs to be done.

“Then, last night’s fight where he was supposed to lose and didn’t… I don’t know how much they lost on the bet, so if you can find that out for me, I will pay it off too.”

The room is quiet, and Asher reaches for my hand. I take it. I’m shaking. I don’t think hitting Alessandro will make this any better. I just needed to get it all off my chest.

I need him to know that it’s fucking bullshit, and I’m done with it all. Roman needs to be free. He needs to live his life again—all of us do—and this isn’t living, looking over our shoulders every five minutes. I’m done.

If they want to kill us.

Just do it already.