The Risk: Kings of Linwood Academy #3 Page 13

  “If I do what you say,” I force out, my voice unrecognizable.

  “Yes.”

  “And what about you?” A hot wave of anger rises up in me, making me stupid and reckless. My voice is still a quiet whisper, but it’s taking everything in me not to let it become a shout. “You slept with a fucking teenager and then killed her because you got her pregnant, and you just get to keep living your life with no consequences?”

  There’s a flicker of… something in Judge Hollowell’s eyes. For a half-second, I think it’s remorse, but it’s not. It’s almost like surprise. Then he clears his features, banishing the micro-expression.

  “Yes.”

  Dozens of emotions bash around in my chest, colliding with each other and making my pulse race.

  Five years. Could I let my mom go to prison for five years? Let a murderer walk free to make sure she gets a light sentence? Do I even dare trust that Hollowell will keep his word? Would he come after us again as soon as she’s out?

  I open my mouth, not even sure what I’m going to say, when a voice draws my attention.

  “Harlow?”

  Dax and Chase round the corner, followed almost immediately by Lincoln and River. They all freeze when they see me and Hollowell standing close together in conversation. Then Dax’s face splits in a shockingly believable smile.

  “Oh, hey, Low. We were just about to come upstairs and see how you were doing. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah,” I force out. “A bit. I just came downstairs to grab a snack.”

  I hold up the little sandwiches I’m still clutching in my hands, although I’ve basically wadded them up so tight they’re one regular-sized sandwich by now.

  Hollowell’s gaze shifts to the boys, regarding them for a second before he returns his focus to me, his voice still pleasant and even.

  “Think about what I said, Harlow. I really would like to help you and your mom.” He tugs his cell phone from his suit pocket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I stepped away from dinner to return a phone call, and I really should get to it.”

  He gives a polite nod to the guys, then turns and heads toward the door, stepping outside as he taps the screen of his phone and brings it to his ear.

  As soon as the door shuts behind him, the four boys’ demeanor changes instantly.

  “Jesus. Fuck, Harlow, are you okay?” Chase steps closer to me, his voice low and a wild look in his eyes. “We all saw him get up to make a phone call, but I didn’t know you were down here. When he didn’t come back after a few minutes, we went to make sure, but—fuck, we should’ve followed him from the first second.”

  “What did he say?” River’s face is serious and still.

  “He knows,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “He figured out I know it’s him.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  I glance toward the front door, wondering if Hollowell is really on the phone at all, or if he’s standing on the other side with his ear pressed to the wood, listening to everything we say.

  Dax must have the same thought, because he jerks his chin toward a small anteroom off the foyer. We all pile into it, and as soon as he closes the door, I set the sandwiches on a little table by the door and look up at the boys.

  “He knows I called Dunagan. He might know we were poking around asking Summer questions too. I’m not sure if it was one thing or a combination of things. He trapped me in the hall, and it felt like he was sort of… feeling me out. Dropping stronger and stronger hints of his suspicions, waiting to see how I’d respond. Maybe he didn’t know for certain until that exact moment, but he definitely knows now.”

  “Fuck.” Lincoln’s single word contains a mountain of meaning. His amber eyes blaze as he steps forward, the muscles of his shoulders seeming to grow even broader as his hands clench into fists. “Did he threaten you?”

  I shake my head, licking my lips. “No. Yes. He… offered me a deal.”

  “What deal?” River asks.

  “He said he’ll pull strings to get my mom a plea bargain and make sure she gets a reduced sentence if I stop looking into this. If I don’t talk to Detective Dunagan. If I let my mom take the fall for him.”

  No one speaks for a long moment. I can tell the same thoughts I had are running through each of the guys’ minds. Weighing what this really means and wondering if we can trust Judge Hollowell to keep his word on anything.

  “The bigger question is,” River says slowly, fiddling with the cufflink on his suit jacket, “what will he do if you don’t play along? If you go ahead and meet with Dunagan on Monday?”

  Cold fear rushes through me like a blast of icy wind, and I lock my legs to keep from sinking down to the floor.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how safe I am here, or at school, or anywhere—but my mom’s a sitting duck. She’s locked in a fucking prison cell with nowhere to hide. And we don’t know who Hollowell’s got in his pocket. He could have someone go after her and then cover it up—”

  I break off, refusing to even finish that sentence. I can’t bear to think about it.

  Lincoln tugs me into an embrace, wrapping his arms around me. His grip is so tight it almost hurts, but I don’t want him to stop. The feeling is grounding somehow, as if being physically held this tightly stops me from feeling the metaphorical noose tightening around my neck.

  This is it. The moment I’ve been anticipating and dreading since this whole thing began. The moment when we’re out of options. When my mom’s fate becomes set in stone.

  Unless…

  I cling to Linc, my fingers digging into his back as I bury my face against his chest. The others are all surrounding us, so close I can feel the heat seeping from their bodies into mine. We stay like that for several long beats as a thought bounces around in my mind like a single stray ping pong ball.

  Judge Hollowell looked surprised.

  When I accused him of killing Iris because he’d gotten her pregnant, there was the briefest moment of hesitation, a look of surprise, before he agreed.

  Why?

  He has to know she was pregnant; that news couldn’t have caught him off-guard. Everyone knows she was pregnant. The kids at Linwood all know, which means their parents must know.

  But he still seemed taken aback by my accusation, as if some part of it was untrue.

  She was definitely pregnant.

  And he definitely killed her.

  But maybe… maybe that wasn’t the reason he killed her.

  “There’s something else,” I say quietly, pulling out of Linc’s embrace so I can look at the kings. “Something we missed, something we haven’t thought about.”

  “What do you mean?” River shakes his head in confusion.

  I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, replaying that moment in our hushed conversation over and over in my mind. I’m certain of it. Judge Hollowell was lying.

  “I don’t think he killed Iris because she was pregnant,” I whisper. “Or at least, not just because of that. There’s something else.”

  Chase’s eyes widen. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” I curl my fingers into fists, wanting to press the heels of my hands against my eyes, to block out the entire world and all of this insanity. “I don’t know. But the way he acted, the way he so readily admitted to it… It was like he wanted me to think that’s why he killed Iris. Like he wanted me to stop looking there, to leave it at that.”

  “And you think there’s more to it,” Dax says slowly, his brows lowering as he considers this.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “So what do we do?” Chase’s gaze bounces around our small circle before landing on me. “If we think there’s another explanation out there, what do we do?”

  My stomach tightens.

  God, I hope I’m not making the biggest fucking mistake of my life.

  “We keep looking.”

  15

  Silence falls in the little room, heavy and stifling.

  I lick my lip
s. I said “we”, but the honest truth is, this fucked up situation is reaching the point where I can’t ask these boys to keep wading in deeper with me. It only puts more of us in danger, and I hate the thought of that.

  But before I can say anything else, Lincoln dips his head once. “Okay.”

  The others are already nodding in agreement as he speaks, and a surge of overwhelming emotion chokes off my breath.

  It’s too much.

  The fear. The gratitude. The relief at not being alone. My heart can’t handle the overload of feelings across such a huge spectrum.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  River lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles, his expression serious and determined. “Always.”

  “Fuck. We better get back to dinner.” Dax glances toward the door. “We’ll take you upstairs first, and if that fucker Hollowell leaves our sight again for a second, we’ll follow him.”

  “Be careful. Please.”

  I feel like a broken record saying that, praying for safety when none exists. It doesn’t matter how careful we all are, we’re playing a dangerous game that could have deadly consequences.

  But Dax nods, and then the four boys escort me back to my room. I hear the front door open and close behind us as we reach the landing on the second floor, but I don’t look back.

  When we reach the guest bedroom, Chase hands me my slightly squished sandwiches, which he snagged off the table in the little room. “Lock the door, okay?”

  I nod.

  And then they’re gone.

  I flip the switch on the knob to lock myself inside, keeping my gaze on the door even as I move toward the window seat. When I settle onto it, I draw my knees up to my chest, making my body as small and compact as possible. As if that will make me less vulnerable.

  The dinner party seems to go on for hours, and as the festivities continue downstairs, thoughts and ideas spiral around in my head.

  The guys all come back up again when the evening devolves into the men smoking cigars and talking in the den and the wives drinking cocktails in the dining room. Hollowell never left their sight again all evening, and he’s apparently been putting on a good show. I can see why he wants to get into politics. He’s a great fucking liar.

  We talk in hushed voices, as if afraid someone will overhear us even all the way up here, and I tell the kings my new plan.

  It’s insane.

  It’s a horrible risk.

  But instead of pointing out either of those obvious facts, they all agree, nodding their heads one after the other.

  We don’t have too much time to flesh out the details before Lincoln and River have to leave with their parents. I wonder briefly what Mr. Bettencourt thought when he saw me downstairs at the beginning of the evening. I noticed him toss a disdainful look my way, and I imagine he must think Dax and Chase’s parents are fools for letting me stay here. Or maybe he’s embarrassed about being the man who booted the charity case out of his home. Whichever it is, he definitely still hates me.

  My room is at the east end of the house, and if I put my face close to the window, I can just make out part of the driveway. Massive relief fills me as I watch the red taillights of cars pulling down the long drive.

  They’re gone.

  He’s gone.

  It’s over. For tonight anyway.

  It’s close to eleven p.m. by now. These rich people really know how to suck every last dreg out of “dinner”. I’m wired and exhausted at the same time, desperate to escape into sleep for a little while, but at the same time, afraid to close my eyes for fear of what I’ll see in my dreams.

  So I take a hot shower, letting the steam swirl around me as the pounding rush of water soothes my tight muscles. Then I wrap a fluffy towel around myself and pad back into the bedroom.

  I’m rooting through the dresser for clothes to sleep in when a knock comes at the door. My gaze snaps up, fear instantly filling me—even though there’s no logic to it. Hollowell’s gone. I know he is.

  “Who is it?” I call out softly.

  “Chase.”

  The sound of his voice, full of an energy he can never quite disguise, even in his most somber moments, is like a balm. I hurry to the door and fling it open, taking in the sight of his bright sea-blue eyes and chiseled features before glancing down the hallway.

  “Are you looking for Dax?” His brows pull together as he tilts his head.

  “Oh. Uh…”

  I was, actually. The past several times they’ve come to my room, to collect me before school or whatever, they’ve arrived as a pair. I know them so well by now that I’d never mistake one twin for the other, but I have gotten used to the two of them together. A pair.

  Scrunching my nose up, I squint at him. “No?”

  He chuckles, his smile easy and amused. “Yeah, you were. It’s okay. Everybody does it, even our parents. Even River and Linc. We ask for it, with how much time we spend together. But we’re identical twins, not conjoined ones.”

  A laugh bursts out of me, the first genuine moment of levity I’ve had in days. “Right.”

  I step back a little and open the door wider, gesturing him inside. The pajamas I was going to change into are still sitting on top of the dresser. I got distracted before I could put them on, and I forgot until this exact moment that all I’m wearing is a towel.

  But when Chase’s gaze flickers down and then back up, and I see him draw in a deep breath, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of how little I’m wearing.

  My heart thuds a little harder in my chest as I close the door, looking over my shoulder at Chase, who stopped several feet away in the middle of the room.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer for a moment.

  He just gazes at me with an intent expression on his face, like he’s trying to see all of me, to take in every bit of me at once. My skin heats under the close scrutiny, and I lean against the door, my hands unconsciously going to the top edge of the towel that’s wrapped around me.

  Still not speaking, he crosses back to me and rests his hands on the heavy wood on either side of my head, bracing himself against it and caging me between his arms.

  We’re so close that I can see the little flecks of green in his blue eyes and feel the warmth coming off his golden skin. His pupils dilate and contract as his gaze tracks over my face, as if his eyes are cameras, and he’s preserving this image in his mind.

  As if he’ll remember me, in this moment, forever.

  “Chase,” I whisper, just to break the silence, to break the spell his blue eyes are casting on me.

  Maybe my voice breaks the spell on him too, because he blinks, shaking his head a little like he’s coming out of a daze.

  “I don’t think you know what you do to us, Low,” he murmurs.

  Another laugh bubbles up my chest. “What I do to you?”

  Jesus. If he could feel my heart slamming against my ribs, the energy zapping through me, making every one of my nerve endings come alive, he’d understand what they do to me. All of these boys.

  He grins, like maybe he does have some idea after all, and his hands leave the wall to trail down my arms as he takes a small step closer.

  “I don’t mean like that. Well…” He clears his throat and glances down at where a visible erection is growing in his sweats. “I guess I do mean like that. But not just that.”

  His fingertips are made of fire, burning little trails up and down my skin. I struggle to keep my eyelids from drooping as arousal spreads through me like a drug.

  “I’ve been close with Dax since the day I was born, and we’ve been friends with River and Linc for years,” he murmurs. “But when you came to Fox Hill, you changed everything. You gave us… purpose.”

  “What purpose?”

  I reach for him as I ask, unable to stop myself, pulling him closer so I can run my hands over his back and lean waist, feeling the muscles through his soft t-shirt.

  Chase’s hands glide up my arms, up my n
eck, until he’s cradling my head, his fingers threading through my hair at the scalp as he tilts my face up a little.

  “You. Protecting you. Making you happy.” He lets out a soft laugh. “Maybe one day, if we all come out of this alive, taking you on a proper fucking date.”

  His words send a ripple of hope and fear through me, and I tighten my grip on him, shaking my head as the fear wins out. “Chase. You guys don’t have to—”

  “Yeah, we do, Low. We’re with you. Always.” He smiles softly. “Didn’t you just hear what I said? That’s our purpose.”

  I want to tell him that what they’re offering is too much, that we’re all too young to trust our feelings, to know they’re real and lasting. That relationships formed under intense circumstances never work out in the long run.

  But all of that is bullshit.

  Because this?

  This is real.

  These boys are offering to walk through fire for me, and that’s about as goddamn real as anything in this world gets.

  So I don’t tell him he’s wrong.

  I show him he’s right.

  My arms wrap tighter around him, pulling him toward me as I tilt my face up even more, rising onto my tiptoes to meet his lips. They’re warm and soft, and it feels like such a relief to have them pressed against mine that I sigh into his mouth.

  His hands are in my hair, holding my head as he kisses me—soft and slow at first, then deeper, more demanding.

  I give him everything he wants, opening my mouth as his tongue sweeps between my lips, running over my teeth and brushing against my tongue like he’s still trying to catalogue every inch of me.

  His hands go to the towel I’m wearing, and a second later, the soft fabric spills to the floor, letting a rush of air greet my suddenly naked body.

  Chase steps back then, his eyes hungry and playful as he takes the opportunity to look at me like this, his bright eyes still snapping mental photographs.

  I bite my lip, my toes curling into the floor and my clit throbbing as I feel his gaze everywhere. He’s dressed for sleep in loose-fitting sweats and a soft, worn tee that hugs the planes of his chest and shoulders, and he looks so fucking good like this. Casual and messy.