High Horse (Arcadia High Anarchists Book 0) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Blurb

  Reader Group

  Quote

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  GOOD GIRLS: Arcadia High Anarchists #1

  Also By Max

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  About the Author

  HIGH HORSE

  Arcadia High Anarchists #0

  Copyright © 2020 Max Henry

  Published by Max Henry

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Max Henry is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Our privilege comes with a price, and that price is the loss of freedom.

  When my father was led away in handcuffs, I thought nothing could be worse.

  But with the sins of the father comes penance. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t guilty. It didn’t matter that he did everything he could to right the wrongs.

  Without our wealth and the status that it brought, our life as we knew it is over.

  Little did I know, the worst is yet to come.

  HIGH HORSE is a 19,000 word prequel novella to the Arcadia High Anarchists series.

  ARCADIA HIGH ANARCHISTS

  Reading Order

  Good Girls

  Bad Boys

  Rich Riot

  Loyal Love

  Done Deal

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  Resilience

  re·sil·ience

  /rəˈzilyəns/

  noun

  1.

  the capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.

  “Hey, baby girl.”

  Well-rounded bass beats wrap around me, accented by the purr of Barrett’s classically red Ferrari. He idles down the avenue, unaffected by the traffic that steadily stacks up behind him as he trails me down the sidewalk.

  “Hey.” I clutch my rose-gold MacBook and folder a little tighter to my chest and slow my walk, hips rolling.

  “You need a ride?” His sharp jaw jerks casually toward the sky. “Looks like rain.” Mischief dances in his warm amber eyes. A smirk tugs his pouty lips higher on one side.

  I’ve waited close to a year for this. Two more months and I turn sixteen. Two more months before Dad will buy me my first car, and I wouldn’t have had a reason for this perfect moment to happen. Talk about a close call.

  I turn my head to eye the line of traffic behind Barrett, my pale blonde hair drifting in the breeze.

  He applies the brakes, bringing the Ferrari to a complete stop much to the disgust of the man behind him. “Come on, Lacey. Jump in before I start a riot.”

  I don’t live far enough away for this to work. I’ve dreamed of the day that the gorgeous Barret Reed would take me home from school. Played out my every move in my mind: which way I’ll sit to showcase the length of my legs, how I’ll rest my hair over my shoulder, the angle of my body so if he wanted to, he could peek over at the cut of my uniform blouse.

  Rich boys like honey, and I’m as sweet as they come.

  The detail I overlooked is that our residence is eight blocks from Riverbourne Prep. The journey might take me fifteen minutes on foot, but in Barrett’s car? Not enough time to work this to my full advantage. Damn, Lacey.

  I step off the sidewalk and reach for the handle of the 458 Italia anyway. Barrett straightens in his seat, one hand slung casually over the steering wheel as he appraises me from head to toe. I dress no differently than any other girl at Riverbourne Preparatory, yet I know my features set me apart. I’m a petite five-foot-four with hair naturally the shade of winter rays and a sweet face that gives me a distinctly innocent charm.

  My mother calls me her “blessed doll.”

  The thing is, looks can be deceiving.

  I tuck my legs demurely to the right and set my MacBook and folder beside my feet. Barrett eases the car up to speed, his gaze flicking my way as I smooth out my short, pleated skirt and then offer him a smile. “Thank you. It would have been terrible to get wet if I were caught out.”

  His smirk grows, eyes narrowing before he glances purposefully at my crisp white blouse. “I could think of worse things to happen.”

  I feign a shocked laugh—demure and submissive. Inside, I ache to know what it would have been like to have Barret’s hungry eyes on my wet blouse, taking in every curve and dip of my body. I may play this game for a greater reward, but nobody said I couldn’t enjoy the perks along the way.

  With a shock of dark brown hair that he styles into an upward wave, the sides shaved to showcase his defined jaw, Barrett Reed is one of the most sought-after boys in our school. Not to mention his father owns a chain of department stores that gross hundreds of millions every year. What girl wouldn’t want that kind of access at her disposal if she married into the name?

  If I’m stuck in a world where girls are judged by the ice that hangs from their wrist, then I may as well make the most of what that privilege offers.

  He wasn’t my first choice, but the best ones rarely ever are.

  My gaze falls to his full lips before I turn my head and stare out the windshield at the tree-lined avenue. We pass by the two-storey stone colonials that make up our neighbourhood; painted white and pale shades of grey. They’re as crisp and pristine as everything in this world. Unblemished. Pure.

  We’re new money, the Williams family, yet this lifestyle is all that I’ve known. My parents grew up middle-class, my mother on the upper end of the spectrum, my father firmly at the bottom. They talk of struggle, of sacrifice, and how I should be grateful for the privileges afforded to me.

  How can I be when I don’t know any different? I have nothing to compare this with—no fear of what else there is out in the big wide world.

  Probably why I risk it all with the silly games that I like to play. Where is the thrill if there’s no risk of consequence?

  “Will you be there tonight?” Barrett asks, his brow firm as he studies the road.

  “At Libby’s?” I give him my full attention—guys like that. Or should I say, their egos do.

  “Yeah.” He glances across, his eyes dipping to the hem of my skirt.

  I turn my body toward him a little so that it rises on my thighs. “I’ll be there. I’m meeting Greer at her place beforehand.” I’ve yet to snag a boyfriend since arriving at Riverbourne Prep. To say I feel a little starved and a whole lot desperate would be the understatement of the century.

  “Cool.” He m
akes a forced sounding cough. “Greer’s nice, huh?”

  I frown. “She is.” Does he say that because he likes her better than me? Or because he tries to make conversation?

  What is it with the guys at my school? Why the heck won’t they go after me? Am I off-limits without knowing so?

  I decide to test the idea. We slow for an intersection, pulling to a stop behind a white Range Rover. I lean back in the plush leather seat with a sigh and bring my left hand to my collarbone, selecting a lock of hair with my first two fingers and delicately twirling it around the tips. Back arched and hips down, I pop my chest and wait.

  Barrett releases a slow, deep sigh as we pull away again.

  Just like that. My mum may not have taught me much, but she did show me how to use my feminine charms to my advantage. I’m frustrated I had to wait this long for one of the targets to make a move. Four boys with their future pre-paid and planned for them. Four boys with more at their disposal than they know what to do with, which is why they need a headstrong girl by their side to help them manage it. A girl such as me.

  Also, one of the Chosen.

  “Are you going alone?” I set the lock of hair on my shoulder and turn toward Barrett once more.

  He glances down at where my hand rests between us, so close to touching him that surely, he can feel the heat of my hand against hip. “I’m meeting the others there.”

  “You could give us a ride then?”

  His eyes light up as he regards me with a smile. “Sure.” His large hand encases mine and sets it on his thigh.

  My chest is too tight to breathe. I’ve done it. I’ve played the game right, obeyed the rules, presented the perfect front for these boys, and now my future is close to guaranteed.

  I won. Take that, critics.

  “I haven’t decided what I’ll wear yet.” I drop the comment with a disinterested lilt to my words. I want him to think I’m not paying attention to what my little finger does as it creeps toward his groin.

  His hips roll beneath our hands as he readjusts his seat. “Something gold.” His hand shifts back to the steering wheel, leaving me free to remove mine should I wish. “You suit gold.”

  I only lift my palm to place it against his neck. My fingertips find his warm flesh, the rigidity to his muscles a dead giveaway that he’s affected by my intimacy. “I’ve only got one gold dress.” I pout, brushing my thumb down the length of his jaw. “It might be too short, though.”

  “Wear it and let me be the judge of that.”

  My breath catches in my throat. Barrett snags my hand in his, bringing my thumb to his mouth. Heat pools low in my belly as he wraps his lips around the tip and tickles the end with his tongue.

  I can only imagine what else that skilled muscle is capable of.

  “Your place is the next block, right?” Barrett frowns ahead, setting my hand back in my lap.

  I turn a little in my seat—ample air for my tight chest hard to come by—and survey the avenue. “Yeah…” My word drifts off on the breeze that cuts through the open window. I take stock of the police car parked outside our townhouse with a frown. What the hell?

  I lean forward as we near, perfect poise be damned. The cruiser is most definitely right outside our front door. A cold wave washes through my veins. What if somebody’s hurt? Dad was working from home today, but he could have gone out with Mum, or maybe my brother Colt was involved in an accident.

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Barrett pulls in two parks behind the police car, the rumble of his Ferrari softening to a quiet purr. “Why are the cops here, Lacey?”

  “I have no idea.” My words fall as a whisper, lost in the small confines of the car when I step out in a daze.

  I blindly wander toward our front steps, scouring the cruiser for any sign of someone inside.

  “Lacey!”

  I turn toward Barrett; my hair tangles in my face.

  “You forgot your things.” He climbs out of the car, my MacBook, and folder in his right hand.

  The door of the Ferrari shuts with a solid thud after he nudges his hip into it. I take a step forward, yet stall when I note Barrett’s furrowed brow, his gaze trained over my shoulder.

  This isn’t good. My gut plummets. I can’t move. I can’t do a damn thing but stand and swallow down the fear that surges from deep in my core.

  Barrett reaches out with his free hand, setting a firm palm to my shaking shoulder. “It’s okay, Lacey.” His stern gaze remains fixed behind me.

  I turn in his hold, allowing him to slide his hand to my waist in a gesture of support. Two officers make their way down our wide stone steps, but it’s the vision between them that has my heart clenching painfully.

  “Dad?” My feet carry me forward. “What’s happening?” I pick up speed, racing across the cold concrete that divides us after I notice the cuffs around my father’s wrists. “Why are you doing this?” I direct my anger toward the nearest cop.

  He releases Dad’s arm to restrain me by the shoulders. “Slow down, honey.”

  “Lacey,” Dad calls from behind him, making his way toward the cruiser. “It’s okay.”

  “Why are you in cuffs?” I cry. “Where’s Mum?”

  “She’s inside.” Dad glances toward the cop who still has him restrained, offering a silent plea to be let go.

  The policeman obliges, releasing Dad so he can take a step toward me. His usually bright eyes are dull, his dusty brown hair messed up as though he’s run his hands through it repeatedly. I reach out and straighten his suit jacket, setting his collar evenly over the lapels.

  He sighs out his nose, chin dropping. “Everything will be fine.”

  Why don’t his shaky words convince me of that, then? “What happened?”

  Just last night we were discussing this winter’s holiday in Sweden. I jokingly told Dad I’d stay home if he bought me my new car early. Everything was on the up. Everything was good.

  How could our lives change so fast?

  I sense Barrett behind me; Dad looks over my shoulder to acknowledge him. “Barrett.”

  “Mr Williams.”

  Dad’s gaze drops to the ground between us, seemingly a million miles away. He snaps back to me, nods, and then takes a step back to offer his arm to the policeman again. “Your mother will explain everything, Lace.” His chin lifts, the look of pride I’m accustomed to finally returning to his handsome face. “Everything will be fine. I love you, baby.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  My feet anchor me to the spot, not a single muscle in my legs willing to co-operate as the policemen load my father into the back of the cruiser. My brow twitches, my throat thick, yet I don’t shed a single tear. The car slowly moves out of sight, lost behind the lines of expensive vehicles parked down the sides of the avenue.

  This kind of thing doesn’t play out in our neighbourhood. The only time the police come here is to appease bickering neighbours. Crime doesn’t often happen in Riverbourne, and never in my house.

  “Lacey?” Barrett asks carefully. “Are you okay?” His hand rests on my upper arm, his body close behind mine.

  What do I say? What on earth do I tell him? How do I explain this when I don’t understand it myself?

  Mere minutes ago, I was on cloud nine, believing I’d achieved the impossible by attracting the attention of a boy whose family wealth could ensure our own survives the turmoils of a first generation. Now… Now I’m a stupid girl playing pretend when the reality of it all crashes over me like a bucket of ice.

  Nobody is immune to heartache and shame.

  I don’t know a damn thing about what happens behind closed doors in our family. The police don’t come and arrest a person with no reason, and they sure as hell don’t wake up one morning and think to themselves, “You know what? It must be James Williams’s turn today.”

  My knees buckle. Damn appearances. I bleed on the inside, and I don’t care who knows it.

  The cold concrete assails my bare legs, the chill a stark
reminder that I am most definitely alive and that I feel. “I don’t understand.” Leaves skitter across the empty avenue; no sign of my father remains.

  He left so quickly that I need to pinch myself and ask if this is real.

  I vaguely make out the metallic scratch of my MacBook as it touches the sidewalk. “Did you know he was in trouble?” Barrett crouches beside me, staring down the empty street as though searching for answers himself.

  “No.” I shake my head, hair catching my school blouse and resting across my face.

  Adrenalin rushes through my sluggish body, forcing languid limbs to shift and tremble uncontrollably. I’ve shown the world the perfect face for so long, and now that the real me inside broke free, I don’t know how to stop her.

  “Shit, Lacey.” Warm arms encase my shoulders. I topple off balance, crashing into Barrett’s hold. “Just breathe through it.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I force through a chattering jaw.

  I can’t look away from the damn street; the ostentatious trees piss me off. The perfectly shined cars feed my anger.

  “It’s shock.” He lets go, only to remove his school blazer and drape it around me. “It’ll pass.” His steady hand makes smooth sweeps of my hair, his fingertips caressing the lengths behind my ear. “It’ll be okay.”

  I cry—reluctant tears that leak silently from tired eyes. This isn’t how our moment was supposed to go. Snaring Barrett was supposed to be a memory I treasure forever, not a heartache I forever regret.

  I don’t want to be consoled. I want the truth, yet at the same time, I don’t. I want to know how serious this is, and yet I also want to stay ignorant to the details so I can continue to pretend that maybe, just maybe, this is all a giant misunderstanding.

  Tyres crunch over leaves in the gutter, the loud growl of an engine cutting out seconds before the slap of shoes on the road.

  “What the hell is this?” Colt.

  I tear away from Barret, his blazer falling to the ground when I gravitate toward my brother on instinct. I need something familiar. Something I know and something that makes me feel safe.

  I need my best friend.