Just Call Havoc

Mister Right

Rachel:

The next morning, Vera and seven of her bitches, appear in a 9 seater Chevrolet Suburban. Literally every single person in Havoc is obsessed with cars and for once I fit right in. After admiring the gigantic elegance in front of me, I'm dragged into it and whisked off to Wesley's. Apparently they have already figured out I'm addiction to the food there.

Ever since they stumped out the GMP and Charter Crew, Wesley's has been Havoc cynosure. I spend my breakfast at a table there, surrounded by a bunch of unhealthy fast food and being grilled to death by Vera's bitches. I finally put the names and faces straight. Jessica, Hayley, Ester, Myth, Christene, Aria and Bethany. My stunt with the sniper has somewhat made me a hot topic. So they grill me non-stop. I give them no more than necessary.

"You are one tight lipped bitch you know that?", Myth smirks.

"It's a quality necessary for survival" I state matter-of-fact ly. "Life's a game of poker. Just one rule. Never show your cards before time."

"You don't trust us.", Jessica states flatly.

I cock my head at her.
"Do any of you trust me?", I ask mildly.

The table is eerily quiet for a while.

"If you're a part of the crew now then you're one of us", Aria quips. "We kinda don't have a choice. If we don't trust each other then we'll have to do something to build it."

"Trust building excercise, huh?", I ask her with a smirk.

"It's not a bad idea", Vera says rausing a brow at me.

I shrug. "Tell me what to do. And just so you bitches know, I do trust you. I just don't trust the people you report to."

"You don't trust Havoc?", Ester asked looking sceptical.

"You king doesn't like me much. If Victor Channing finds a way to manipulate me and kick me out of Prescott then that's what he'll do. And I have no intention of leaving."

"He really can't stand you", Vera says chuckling. "Anyways... let's get going gals. Need to show this bitch our hidey holes."

†††††††††††††

Let's just say Havoc has a lot of dark places across the town. Abandoned houses and shops owned by crew members. There are secret roads, gathering places and a whole bunch of motherfucking bullshit.

Right. Sorry. No lying to myself. I'm damn impressed by how vigorous they are in this front. Stability, symbolism, loyalty. That's what the hidey holes of Havoc are made of.

The bitches are almost....fun. We drive around in the Suburban for the whole day, checking out the spots and secrets and gossiping like nobody's business. I mostly listen. Not too good with conversations. It's almost dark when Christene pulls up in front of a garage in the middle of nowhere.

The place is massive. One part is workshop with some pretty horrendous looking junk cars. There are a few guys working around with them. Hael Harbin is the ringleader of this place. But these guys seem pretty skilled.

The rear end of the garage has a row of finished vehicles. Mustang, Rolls Royce, McLaren, Chevrolet. They aren't the original shit seeing as they were made from junk by a bunch of barely adult dudes, but fuck if they don't make me drool.

"Fuck. This is some crazy ass shit", I murmur checking out the Mustang GT.

"Like the car?"
I turn around to face the guy. He's tall...like really motherfucking tall. I've been driven off of guys a long time back but I can still acknowledge when they are pretty. This guy is lean and tan with raven black hair and stunning green eyes.