The Risk: Kings of Linwood Academy #3 Page 18

  A horrible thought occurs to me, making my stomach drop like I’m on a rollercoaster: even if Mom gets out of prison early, she might no longer have a daughter waiting for her on the outside.

  Is this what she would’ve wanted? Or would she have told me to take Hollowell’s deal, to take the leap of faith and hope that he’d actually hold up his end of the bargain? To back off, letting her take the fall for his crime?

  That is, if I had told her about any of this.

  But I didn’t. I wanted to protect her, and now I’m in so far over my head that I can’t even see a hint of fucking daylight through the murky waters around me.

  “So, what?” Chase gestures up to the front, where River still holds the dry cleaning receipt. “We just sit on that? Pretend we don’t have it?”

  “Hollowell will notice it’s missing eventually,” Dax adds, resting his hand on my knee as he leans forward. The touch is warm and solid, an anchor in the chaos. “Maybe not today or tomorrow, but sometime. It probably depends on how soon he notices the window was tampered with.”

  “And when he realizes it’s missing, it’s an easy jump to figure out it was us,” I say softly.

  I feel like I’m sinking into quicksand, like I’ve been trapped in it ever since the night we saw Iris murdered. And every time I struggle, every time I try to escape, I just get sucked in deeper.

  We’re not getting out of this. We’re in too deep.

  “So what the fuck do we do?” Chase bangs his fist against the car door in frustration.

  “We bypass Dunagan.”

  It’s River who speaks, his voice quiet but firm as he gazes at each of us.

  “What do you mean?” Dax asks, shaking his head.

  “We… bypass Dunagan.” I repeat River’s words slowly, rolling them around in my mouth as if trying to taste them. “We don’t take this to the cops. We take it to the only people who might actually step up and stop Hollowell. The only person in Fox Hill more powerful than him.”

  River nods. “Niles D’Amato.”

  “What?” Chase’s eyebrows fly up to his hairline.

  My heart is tripping over itself, beating so fast it’s like a hummingbird in my chest. It’s hard to believe that somewhere across town at Linwood Academy, seventh period is starting up. Savannah’s probably fawning all over Trent in the halls. Kids are laughing and gossiping and talking about their weekend plans.

  And the five of us are crammed into Lincoln’s car, holding onto a piece of incriminating evidence and considering bringing it to a group of dangerous criminals.

  What the ever-loving fuck is my life?

  “Hollowell hasn’t been scared this whole time. He’s been confident he’s got everything in hand.” Linc nods once, rolling his shoulders. His hands are still planted on the steering wheel, their grip tight. “If we do this, we can get him running scared. It’ll take him off our backs while we figure out what to do about Harlow’s mom. He won’t be able to cover his ass on both fronts at once.”

  “So we just walk into a drug lord’s business front and tell him we know Hollowell’s planning on betraying him?” Chase asks. “Then step back and let the fallout happen?”

  He looks like he still thinks we’re all crazy. But he must be crazy too, because he used the word “we” when he spoke, and he actually sounds like he’s considering the pros and cons of this insane plan.

  “We shouldn’t all go,” I say, the words sticking in my throat. I hold out my hand to River. “Give it to me. I’ll do it.”

  River doesn’t even hesitate, pulling the paper back and out of my reach. Dax and Chase both stiffen beside me as Dax’s hand tightens almost painfully on my knee, and Lincoln growls.

  “Like. Fuck.”

  I lean forward from the middle seat, glaring at the dark-haired boy. “Like fuck, nothing! This is about protecting my mom. I’m the one who pushed us into this, who got us in this far. I didn’t mean for everything to get so messed up, for this to get so dangerous, but I don’t have to let you—”

  “Let us?” Linc’s amber eyes blaze with anger, and I can’t tell who he’s mad at—me or himself. “We forced you to come with us to a strip club where you saw Iris get killed. If you hadn’t been with us that night, Hollowell wouldn’t be blackmailing you now. We started this, Low. We’re gonna fucking finish it.” His lips press into a line. “Without you.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  My voice rises in pitch and volume, but no, he’s not kidding. Still leaving the engine running, he thrusts open his door and steps out, letting a blast of cool air fill the car. A second later, he wrenches open the back driver’s side door and reaches for me.

  “Sorry, Low.”

  Dax’s voice is quiet and subdued as he grabs me around the waist, lifting me as Chase unclips my seatbelt. The three boys move with the coordinated precision of a machine as they grapple me out of the car despite my struggles. Linc sets me on my feet outside, and I make a move for the still-open door, but he steps in front of me, blocking my way.

  I hit his chest instead, shoving against him with all my might. “Goddammit, you bastard. No. No!”

  “Yes, Harlow. I’m sorry.” He grabs my wrists, wrestling my hands behind my back as I continue to try to shove my way past him, through him, to get back into the car. The door is still open, and I can feel the others watching us.

  “No!” I shake my head vehemently. “You keep acting like this is something you guys caused, like you’re to blame. And I did blame you at first—I was so fucking pissed.” I push against him again, yanking at his hold on my wrists. “But you didn’t make this happen. And even if I hadn’t seen Iris die, Hollowell would still have framed my mom. He did it because it was convenient, because he knew where she’d been that night and it was easy to pin on her. This isn’t your fault, so you don’t get to go all noble and try to go off on your own and fix it!”

  My breath is coming in sharp gasps. I haven’t shed a single tear—I don’t think I have any left after this morning—but my heart feels like it’s broken into four jagged pieces.

  “Oh, but you do?” Linc growls, and this time, the anger in his eyes is directed at me. “A second ago, you were all ready to leave us behind and go charging off on your own, all alone, into a dangerous situation. And we were supposed to just be okay with that?”

  “Yes! You were!” I tear my hands free and shove against his chest again, opening up a few feet of space between us. “Because if something happened to any of you, it would fucking kill me! I love you assholes!”

  Lincoln freezes.

  I glare at him for several seconds, my chest heaving and my hands clenched into fists… until it dawns on me what I just said.

  Oh.

  Jesus fuck.

  Of all the times I’ve almost said it, have thought it and then pushed it back down, have convinced myself that it wasn’t the right time—this is really, truly the stupidest possible moment to make that declaration.

  It feels like my heart stops beating, hanging motionless in my chest, as Lincoln stares at me. The three boys in the car all match his stare, and even though River can’t see Lincoln’s side of the conversation because Linc’s back is to him, he had a perfect view of my lips as I blurted the truth I’ve been trying for too long to keep contained.

  I love them.

  It may be stupid, it may have been forged in fire, and it may be way too fast.

  But none of that really matters when held up against the simple fact that I love them. I couldn’t unlove them if I tried.

  “You what?”

  Linc’s face is still too still, his eyes slightly narrowed. He looks like a fucking panther, a predator who might lunge at any moment, who might eat me alive.

  “You heard me.” I glance away, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed. I’m not just gonna stand here and say it over and over again.

  Because I’m looking away, all I catch is a small flicker of movement before Linc’s body slams into mine, his arms wrapping aro
und me so tightly it’s like he’s trying to literally envelop me.

  His head drops, and he buries his face in my hair as my arms move instinctively to clasp him back.

  He’s… shaking.

  Linc’s entire body is shuddering as if from the cold, but I know it has nothing at all to do with the temperature. I can’t even feel the cold air right now, and I doubt he can either.

  All I feel is him.

  His firm chest pressed against mine. His breath stirring my hair. The coriander scent of him, sharpened by the winter air.

  “Fuck.” His voice is a whisper, and it sounds like it comes from the very root of his soul. “I love you too, Low.”

  Those words shift something monumental inside my heart, and I know it will never go back to the way it was before.

  “Yeah?” I whisper.

  “God, yes. And I’m not the only one.”

  He draws back, grasping my chin in one hand, his fingers splaying over my jaw and the arch of my cheekbone. I could swear real flames burn in his eyes as his gaze drops to my lips.

  Then he kisses me.

  It’s both harder and softer than any kiss we’ve shared before. Both sweeter and more desperate.

  There’s a relief in knowing that we have each other. That we all belong to each other. But it’s terrifying in a way too. As if finally speaking our feelings aloud has made us even more aware of what we could lose.

  My hands cling to Lincoln’s jacket, pulling him closer to me as I kiss him back. Then, finally, he draws away, his gaze still intent as he stares down at me.

  “I’m coming,” I murmur. “I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. And if you try to leave me behind, I’ll fucking hitchhike back to Chase’s car and drive there anyway. We’re in this together, Linc. The five of us.”

  His expression hardens, and for a second, I think we’re about to start this fight all over again—which, hey, fine by me; I’ll go another ten rounds if I have to—but then he lets out a sharp breath through his nose, closing his eyes like he’s warring with himself.

  “Fine. Together.”

  The knot of tension wrapped around my chest loosens, and it occurs to me that I was more scared of letting the guys go see Niles D’Amato without me than I am of the man himself. Maybe that’s stupid, and maybe it means I’m lacking some kind of basic survival instinct, but I can’t let the four boys I love do this alone.

  I nod, and Lincoln releases me, stepping back as his mouth settles into a hard line. We turn back toward the car, and he slaps my ass before I crawl back into the backseat. It’s an affectionate gesture, but it’s also hard enough to sting, and I think he actually means it to be a bit of a punishment. He might’ve agreed to let me come, but he still fucking hates this.

  Linc slides into the front seat as I crawl over Dax to resume my seat in the middle, and the second I’m settled between them, the twins both touch me. Dax’s warm palm finds my thigh again while Chase’s hand moves around my waist, their bodies crowding close to mine.

  They don’t speak, but it’s okay. I don’t need to hear them say any words right now. There are better times for this sort of thing, and I don’t want them to feel like they have to say it just because I did.

  I glance up toward the front of the car as Linc pulls away from the curb, and my gaze collides with stormy gray eyes. River is turned partway in his seat to face us, and the look on his face captivates me. His expression is so open it’s like I can read every emotion he’s feeling, as if his thoughts are a book written just for me.

  And what I see makes my heart skip a beat.

  We gaze at each other for a long moment, and I swear I can feel the connection between us like a physical thing. Like I could reach out and touch it, trace the line of it from me to him.

  Then Lincoln turns to him, drawing his attention as he asks for directions to the dry cleaner. River blinks and nods, holding up the receipt and punching the address into his phone.

  Right. We need to focus on what’s ahead.

  I reach for Dax and Chase, holding onto them as I draw upon every last bit of courage I’ve been holding in reserve.

  I’m gonna need it.

  Because I love these boys. And we’re about to step into the lion’s den.

  21

  The GPS calls out directions with the same neutral tone as always, the woman’s voice even and pleasant, as if she has no idea she’s leading us to our possible doom.

  It takes us almost twenty-five minutes to get there, and as Linc drives, I pull out my phone and scroll through my text messages until I find Hunter’s name. I feel bad. The last text I sent her was five days ago, way longer than we usually go without talking in some capacity.

  I feel like shit. When I left Bayard, we both worried that our friendship wouldn’t survive the test of distance, that our new lives and new friends would make us gradually grow apart. And we both swore we’d do whatever we could not to let that happen.

  At first, we kept up that promise. We might not have seen each other every day, but I still felt connected to her, in tune with what was going on in her life. Close.

  But ever since Iris’s death—ever since Mom’s arrest—I’ve been spiraling further and further away from my best friend back home. The same lies and secrets that kept a wall up between me and Mom put one up between me and Hunter too, although at least Hunter knows a bit about the four guys I’m with.

  I don’t know quite why it feels so important right now, but I want to talk to her. I want to make sure she knows I love her, and that I miss her so much it hurts.

  ME: Hey, dummy. I know you’re probably in class right now, but I just wanted to say sorry I’ve been so MIA. There’s been some… crazy shit going on, and it’s sort of taken over my life.

  We’re three hours ahead of Arizona, and it’s almost two p.m. here, so I’m sure she is in class. But a text from her pops up less than a minute later anyway.

  HUNTER: Girl, it’s okay. I’m sure your mom’s trial is all you can think about. Just so long as you know I’m thinking about you. Can I do anything? You need anything?

  A lump forms in my throat, and Dax squeezes my knee. I don’t think he’s reading her text, but we’re sitting so close that he can probably feel my reaction to it.

  ME: No, I’m okay. It’s not just Mom’s trial though. I’ll explain everything when I can. But I just wanted to tell you I love you.

  HUNTER: What? What’s going on? Who do I need to hurt?

  I bite back a half-smile at my protective, bloodthirsty friend. I wish I could tell her everything, but this response is exactly why I can’t. If I’d told her from the start about the man in the black mask, or about how we discovered it was Hollowell, she probably would’ve hopped a plane out here and tried to take him on herself.

  It’s hard to sit by and do nothing when people you love are in danger. I’ve learned that the hard way.

  ME: No one. Thanks though. But can you do me a favor? If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, can you call the Fox Hill Police Department and have them swing by this address? But *only* if you don’t hear from me.

  I lean forward a little to get River’s attention, and he looks up from the phone where the route is mapped out.

  “What’s the address?” I ask.

  He recites it back to me, and I type it into the phone, reiterating once again that Hunter should only call the police if she doesn’t hear back from me in a while. Dirty cops in this town or not, it feels monumentally stupid to walk into a potentially dangerous situation without at least a little backup.

  HUNTER: What the hell is going on, Low? You’re scaring the fuck out of me.

  ME: I’m sorry. I don’t want to. I love you, dummy.

  There’s a long pause, and I can tell she’s probably debating whether to threaten or cajole me to try to get more answers. But she knows me well enough to know it won’t work.

  HUNTER: I love you too. Even though I hate you a little bit right now.

  A small laugh h
uffs out of me, and I shake my head as I type one last message.

  ME: No you don’t. You just love me.

  HUNTER: Damn you.

  I want to keep texting her, to keep clinging to this last shred of normalcy in my life, a connection to a time when my life was about poker and homework and hanging out with friends on the weekends. Normal fucking teenager stuff.

  But as Lincoln rounds a corner, River murmurs, “We’re close,” and my head snaps up.

  Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I lean forward to peer out the window. I don’t recognize this part of town at all, but that’s not surprising. I don’t know Fox Hill all that well yet, especially the out-of-the-way neighborhoods.

  And this is definitely out-of-the-way.

  Less than a minute later, Lincoln rolls to a stop in front of our destination. It’s a dry cleaning business, surrounded on either side by a worn-down convenience store and a fast-food restaurant. There are blinds on the windows, and they’re down, but the slats are open, allowing me to see inside.

  A man sits on a stool behind the counter, looking bored as hell, and from what I can see from here, everything around him looks like it belongs to a legit dry cleaning business. Racks of clothes in garment bags hang behind him, and there’s a small monitor and keyboard set up on the counter next to a credit card machine.

  If we didn’t have a receipt with numbers so big it made my heart stop, I’d almost believe we’d made a mistake and that this storefront really is nothing more than a place to take dirty clothes.

  But the devil lurks in the blandest things.

  Judge Hollowell taught me that.

  “Okay.” Linc’s voice is taut as a wire. “Let’s go.”

  The guys all open their doors and step out, and I follow after Chase, who takes my hand to help me and doesn’t let go.

  The guy inside the dry cleaner looks up as we approach, but he doesn’t look alarmed at our presence, cementing my belief that this place actually does function as a legit business in addition to whatever other shit gets done under the table.

  “Picking up?” he asks in a bored voice, sliding off the stool as we approach the counter. He’s in his thirties, with hair shaved close on the sides and a little longer on top, and deep pockmarks on his cheeks.