Hannaford Prep: The Complete Series Read online

  The Mounts Bay Saga

  Hannaford Prep #1-4

  J Bree

  Copyright © 2020 by J Bree

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For Raine Florence and River Frances

  Contents

  1. Pre-Hannaford

  LIPS

  Just Drop Out

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Ash

  Make Your Move

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  HARLEY

  Play The Game

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  BLAISE

  To The End

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  ILLI

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by J Bree

  Pre-Hannaford

  LIPS

  The meeting is being held at the strip club that the Jackal owns.

  It’s disgusting and I’m sure he’s doing it as some sort of game for me, some new set of hoops for me to jump through for his enjoyment, so I keep my face carefully blank.

  His eyes never leave me.

  It’s pretty obvious that he’s obsessed with me and every other member can see it clearly. The Crow is watching him as closely as he’s watching me. I had noticed it during the Game, this weird dynamic between the two of them.

  Great.

  Looks like I’m caught in the middle of some bullshit turf war I have no interest in.

  Luca helps me into a seat like I’m some dainty princess and I give him a glare. He shrugs back, his usual flirty grins gone thanks to the Jackal’s careful eye.

  I have to remind myself that all of this is the only way out.

  The Jackal may be watching me even closer now but he can’t actually touch me, not without risking the wrath of the rest of the Twelve. There are rules he has the abide by and one look at the Crow tells me he’s ready to throw down with the Jackal over fucking anything.

  If only he looked a little less terrifying, I might have gone to him for help.

  Nope, no thanks.

  I’ll figure it out on my own.

  The Coyote takes a seat next to me. He’s the closest to me in age, a few years younger than the Jackal. He smirks at me, making a show of looking me over but it doesn’t feel lecherous… more assessing.

  “Damn, girl. If I hadn’t seen you take Xav out myself I would believe a pint-size like you could do it.”

  I shrug.

  No one ever believes I could do it.

  “It is nice to get some fresh puss at the table.”

  I don’t even have to look up to know it’s the Vulture talking. He’s the worst of the worst, and all throughout the Game he’d made comments about me. I’m fourteen years out and yet he’s ready to ‘break me in’.

  Disgusting.

  The Crow seems to think so as well, the look he gives him is severe. “The Wolf is a member of the Twelve now. You’ll show her the same respect you do any other member.”

  The Jackal scoffs. “Which is fucking nothing. If you don’t keep your pimps out of my parties I will start sending you their body parts in trash bags, Vulture. If you fuck with my business, I’ll take yours out.”

  Right.

  It’s then I learn that the meetings are a whole lot of arguing about business and turf. Who owns what.

  The Lynx doesn’t seem to want another female in the Twelve, she spits little comments and jabs at me the whole meeting but I ignore it entirely. The Tiger and the Fox both ignore me. The Boar keeps glancing at me, like he’s unsure of me which I get.

  I’m a kid after all.

  I look like one at least.

  Once the meeting finally comes to an end, the Boar stands and approaches me. Fuck.

  “I heard you’re planning on doing hits. A
re you already trained for it?”

  That’s a fucking weird question. “Of course. Why, do you have a job?”

  He frowns but nods. “Yeah, kid. I’ve got someone I need gone.”

  And that’s how I get my very first diamond.

  Killing some rouge biker.

  Just Drop Out

  Prologue

  The forest at the edge of Mounts Bay, California, city limits are well known for being haunted.

  The kids at the local high school have spent generations whispering about the bodies buried in shallow graves, waiting for the wolves to scent them and dig them up for food. There’re even more legends about the souls that walk amongst the towering redwoods. It’s quiet, not silent, but compared to the ever-present sounds of traffic and humanity

  it’s eerie and adds to the haunted feel.

  While I don’t believe in ghosts, I can feel the souls that linger here.

  It’s probably just my guilty conscience giving me the heebie-jeebies as I look over the corpse of my opponent. His blood is still fresh on my hands, cold and congealed, and I wipe them uselessly down my jeans. My clothes are just as stained as my hands, even my face is spattered with the red stains of his life ending. I look like something out of a horror movie, which is about right considering I’ve just bashed a man’s skull in with a rock while a whole crowd of people looked on in sick fascination. There isn’t a person watching that dares to make a noise. The vise-like grip of the Club holds their tongues.

  I’m not afraid of being caught.

  I’m small for my age. Years of food insecurity have taken their toll, and I was the youngest contender in the Game this season. None of that matters though; I’ve won. I’ve beaten thirty men and teenage boys to take the victory and the spoils of this war.

  I stumble toward the men at the perimeter of the fighting ring. They’re all cloaked in black, hard looks on their faces and black ink etched over their cheeks. My hands tremble at the thought of wearing those same marks. The marks of the Twelve. But I’ve earned them. I’ve earned the right to stand with them and be one of them.

  To be free.

  “Congratulations, you’ve won the Game,” the Jackal speaks, and I shiver at the cold tone of his voice, so unlike the warmth he usually extends to me.

  I nod my head. I want this over with. I want a hot meal and an even hotter shower.

  “Welcome to the Twelve. You’re replacing the Hawk. Who do you choose to be?”

  Free. I guess a hawk is a good embodiment of freedom, but it feels strange to take a dead man's name, like climbing into his bed with the sheets still warm. I look around at the other men that make up the Twelve. Their names are what they’re known as on the streets, what their gangs cover themselves with as protection and a warning. I could have that too. I could make myself a queen of my own empire. I could rule the streets and never go hungry again.

  I could escape the cycle of poverty my mother has left me in.

  My eyes land back on the Jackal, and I lift my chin until I no longer feel like I’m looking up at him.

  “I am the Wolf.”

  Chapter One

  The boy on the stand is so gorgeous, it’s hard to look directly at his face.

  Instead, I look at his hands as they clench tightly where they rest on his lap. There are dozens of other teenagers in the room, but I can’t look away from him for long before I am drawn back to him, a moth to a stunning flame. He has broad shoulders and big arms, like he works out more than regularly. His hands are big and strong. I like the look of those hands. The more I look at them, the more I imagine what they would feel like on my skin. I imagine them stroking over my arms, my neck, cupping my face and pulling me in against his chest, tilting my head back. A flush settles over my skin. Who is this guy? How has the mere sight of him turned me into a babbling mess?

  I can look as far as his neck without breaking out in a sweat, and as the trial drags on, I manage to make out the script tattoo on his neck. The words ‘honor before blood’ are tucked under his chin, the black ink stark against his pale skin. He has to be a gangster, but that doesn’t suit his fair looks at all. He looks as though he has never done a hard day’s work in his life. His sandy hair is messed artfully, and his nose is straight and unmarred. The tattoo tucked under his jaw is the only suggestion that he’s not a pampered model. When the judge reads out his case, he says the guy is my age, and no boy of fifteen gets ink like that unless they're already out on the streets.

  When I spot the Rolex on his wrist, I realize he must be a drug dealer. It’s like a cold bucket of ice over my lustful body. Drug dealers are scum, and I do not want to admire him anymore. I am doing everything in my power to get away from drugs and the people that peddle them. It doesn’t matter how drawn I feel to this guy. I look away and resist the pull of his stunning looks.

  The courthouse we are trapped in is a converted historic building that had been built by convicts. The district of Mounts Bay is small enough that court proceedings are held twice a week. All children's cases are held here in the morning, and then the adults are brought through in the afternoon. My case was supposed to start half an hour ago, but the beautiful dealer is arguing belligerently with the judge and taking up more than his allocated time slot.

  What a dick.

  His rap sheet isn’t great, but it also isn’t violent, which makes me feel slightly better about ogling him.

  Car theft. Breaking and entering. Violating a work order.

  Clearly it isn’t his first time in this building. I glance up at him again, I can’t help myself, and I can see how bored and unaffected his eyes are, like this is all such an inconvenience to him and his time. I want to roll my eyes, but once again I’m transfixed.

  “You ready, kid?” My social worker interrupts my staring and I startle. She’s looking at me like I’m fragile again, and I don’t know how to tell her that I’m easily the strongest person in this room. You don’t survive what I have without becoming bulletproof. I have five pins holding one of my legs together to prove it.

  I’m the Wolf of Mounts Bay, and I can survive anything.

  The gangster kid steps down from the stand, and it’s my turn.

  As he walks down the stairs, we cross paths. I force myself to look up at him. His face is a mask of disinterest and apathy, but my breath catches in my throat when I see his eyes. The icy blue depths pull me in, and I feel like I’m drowning. He’s angry. He’s hiding it well, but he looks at me and I can see the burning pits of hell in his eyes. This guy is one step away from being a killer. I shiver. I should not find that attractive or exciting. But, fuck me, I do. It’s my curse for being a loyal supporter of the Jackal.

  He doesn’t seem to notice me the way I notice him, and it makes sense. I’m not stunning. I’m not the most gorgeous girl in the room. I’m just trying to get by, skate under the radar and make it through to adulthood. I take the stand.

  Unlike him, I’m not here to defend myself from my own mistakes.

  If I were, I'd probably be locked up. The things I’ve done to get here, to have a chance at freedom, they will follow me for the rest of my life. But that doesn't matter. Act by act, brick by brick, I’ve built my way here and now I’ll get what I’ve sacrificed so much for.

  I’m claiming my freedom.

  It’s time to put away the empty, cold shell I had to become to survive. I don’t know who the new version of myself will be, but I’m ready to find out.

  Two months later

  “This is your last chance to make any requests of the state before you are officially emancipated and on your own.”

  Heather has her eyebrow cocked at me like I'm being dense for not having anything to say, but honestly, I’m torn between being afraid of saying goodbye to her and wanting her to leave so I can start my new life.

  We're standing outside Hannaford Preparatory Academy, and the building looms over us like a ghoul. It looks more like a castle than a school, and there are honest-to-god turrets and an inc
omplete moat surrounding the building. There’s a bronzed statue of a light-horseman in the gardens. The school was built in the 1800s and boasts many presidents and political savants as alumni. The extracurricular roster includes an equestrian program and an Olympic-level swim team. It has a near perfect college acceptance rate from the students who have walked these halls, and the waiting list to get in is the stuff of legends. Looking at the building alone makes me feel so intimidated that I consider getting back in the car.