by Lindsey Iler
“You need to act natural. No one will believe this if you act like it’s the first time you’re seeing her. Anyone with a pulse and half a brain knows your relationship. Although she’s a raging bitch now, she was your protector, even when you weren’t aware of it. So play it cool, as if nothing’s out of the norm.”
Breaker opens his door and steps out, handing his keys to the valet. I meet him at the front of the Escalade, and he takes my hand.
“And what’s Marek going to do?” I ask, slowing my footsteps to delay what’s waiting for me inside.
“He’ll do what Marek does,” Breaker says honestly. There’s no reason to sugar coat what’s going down tonight. “But I’ll be there the whole time, at your side, no matter what.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask the moment Breaker’s hand lands on the doorknob.
“Because even though this is a show for Henry and his puppet masters, no one deserves to feel alone.” He leans forward and kisses my cheek, tucking me into his side. “I got you, Palmer. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”
My chest floods with pressure. If there is one thing I’ve learned in knowing him, it’s that his word means something. When he says I can trust him, I know that to be the truth. I smile at him before he opens the front door.
The massive house is packed full of bodies. Music and lights meant to hypnotize those dancing on the main floor are hard not to pay attention. Some of the faces I recognize, but mostly it’s a room full of strangers.
“It seems Johnson has outdone himself with this one!” Breaker shouts over the music.
“This is Dillon’s party?” I question. “But how do you know Henry will be here?”
“He won’t, but whoever works for him, whoever is stirring the pot on campus, will be, and they’ll report everything to Henry.”
“Do you think he’s capable of this?”
“Powerful men are capable of anything as long as they have the opportunity given to them.”
“Why though?”
“You saw the shit go down at the charity gala. The only thing more compelling than money to these bottom dwellers is sex.”
“Underage girls.” My stomach coils at the thought. What these girls have endured out of fear and manipulation, makes me want to paint this campus red.
“The worst of the worst. There’s a special place in hell for men like these, and those boys who Henry is grooming for the next generation.” Breaker glances at me, nodding his chin forward for me to follow him.
“Dillon,” I assume.
“And then Dillon will pass the torch.”
“So, what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to burn the whole mother fucker down, given the chance.” He grabs my hand and leads me through the living room into the kitchen.
Quinn is standing in front of Dillon, his arms draped lazily over her shoulders. They look like the power couple they are. Rich and unharmed by the world. I’d be jealous if they were worth the dirt under a poor man’s fingernails.
As I watch discreetly, her eyes find mine. A sly, angered smile slips into place on Quinn’s face. I duck behind Breaker’s shoulder, holding tight to his arm.
“Maybe you aren’t so different than your sister, after all,” Quinn sneers.
I walk around Breaker, preparing to fight her, but stop when shock spreads over her face. She smacks Dillon on the stomach to gain his attention.
The music cuts out, and loud silence takes over the house. Not a single body moves.
“And please explain how that’s a bad thing, Quinn?”
Now I understand everyone’s reaction.
Breaker moves me to the side, and my sister walks into the room, Marek flanking her side.
“You, you, you’re . . .” Quinn stutters through one simple word. Her face says she’s seeing a ghost.
Reed stalks around the kitchen island, pinning Quinn with her stare. “Very much alive, doll face.”
“How?” Dillon’s eyes dart to each of the boys, confusion and fear morphing his features. If that isn’t proof of his involvement, I don’t know what is. “Your dorm . . .”
No one can complete a single thought. This is the plan, and it’s working perfectly. A quick inspection of the room finds plenty of phones out, recording my sister’s resurrection.
“You should know better than anyone, Dillon.” She runs her hands through his hair. “Things aren’t always what they seem. You see, earlier today, I walked into the police station and revealed who I am. The dead girl is no longer so dead.” He tries to shift out of her grasp, but she doesn’t allow it. “Did you miss me?”
Quinn shoves her way between Reed and Dillon. Reed’s laughter rings through the house, cunning and amused, at the girl’s boldness.
“Oh, sweetie, if I wanted your man, I could have him.” Reed leans forward, pinning Quinn between Dillon and her, dancing her lips close to his. He doesn’t evade her moves, proving my sister right. She’s a viper, attacking quick, with little effort. A natural control is engrained in her bones and spirit.
As soon as my sister gives her breathing room, Quinn scurries over to me like I’m an easier target. If she can’t cut Reed down, I’m the second-best thing.
Girls like Quinn will always believe they are better, smarter, prettier, but the lucky ones see the truth. Smart people dodge her type, avoiding them no matter the cost. Others are sucked into their vortex, allowing them a control they don’t deserve. It will be a cold day in hell before Quinn overpowers me.
“What are you going to do now that your sister, the prized queen, is here to take her rightful place on their throne?” Quinn’s eyes shift behind me, but I don’t dare look. I already feel the animosity seeping from Marek.
“She’s nothing. Always has been nothing but a place holder,” Marek says.
The venom in his words wraps around my spine, rendering me stunned.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Of course, I do. I glance behind me and find Marek’s arm wrapped around my sister’s shoulders. They look like a force to be reckoned with. If it wasn’t for the hint of regret in Marek’s eyes, I’d believe his words. They sting my true insecurities.
“Oh, sweetie, are you going to cry?” Quinn reaches up to brush my cheek. I slap her hand away. “Kitty has claws, I see. Why don’t you go roll over in whatever ditch these boys dragged you out of, huh?”
The crowd laughs at her cruelty. This is no surprise. Every person we’ve grown up with is incapable of compassion. Kindness is weakness in these rich woods. One thing we never publicly show anyone is empathy.
An arm wraps around my shoulders, and the strength of a chest presses against my back. Breaker.
“Take a walk, Palmer. Don’t let them see you rattled,” he whispers in my ear.
Breaker guides me up the stairs to a balcony overlooking the majority of the bottom floor.
“What he said . . .” With his arms resting on the railing, he inspects me.
“Felt like the truth, if I’m going to be honest.” I stare through the endless, glass windows.
“It’s not, though. Keep reminding yourself that.”
“Why are you being so kind to me? Why you, out of all of them? Why?”
“You remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
“My mom.” He spins, inching closer to me. “She was resilient and unrelentingly loving.”
“Was?”
“She’s the reason why I know anything unbreakable can develop cracks along the way.”
“Breaker?”
“No, I’m not telling you this for sympathy, but for you to understand me.” He shakes his head. “I don’t give much of myself over, but I expect others to hand themselves over freely. I don’t want to be that way.”
“Delaney.”
“I’m trying, Palmer, but it’s not easy. That’s why Reed was so easy. She didn’t ask for anything.”
“Delaney won’t fully give herself to you until you give a litt
le bit of yourself.” I smile at the thought of my best friend being adored by someone like Breaker Davenport. “Smart girl.”
“Hence why I’m telling you this.”
“Am I your trial run, Breaker?” I laugh, smacking him across the chest.
“You let me be vulnerable without demands. That’s hard to come by these days.” He forces a smile. “Now, let’s go make them wish they never stomped on Palmer Weston’s toes.” Breaker holds out his arm to usher me downstairs to the lion’s den. “No matter what I do, play along.”
Coming down the stairs is like being in a fishbowl. From where I am on the inside, everything is distorted and muffled. I see faces watching me, but none I can make out through the blur in my eyes.
“Let’s give them a show.” Breaker winks at me, dragging me to the middle of the dance floor.
His arms wrap around my waist, dragging me closer to him, and I clasp my hands behind his neck. As if the world is working in our favor, the high tempo song ends, and something mellow and hypnotic begins. Our bodies move to the changing beat.
“Is he watching?” Breaker murmurs, combing his fingers up my neck and into my loose hair.
My eyes slyly search the area. Marek’s ice-filled irises pierce me with a mixture of hatred and lust. He enjoys the way my body moves, while hating the body that moves along with mine. If I look away, he’ll feel like he’s won, and I refuse to let him believe he has. Instead, I press my lips against Breaker’s ear.
“You’re an evil genius,” I whisper, sticking my tongue out just enough to run it along his earlobe.
“You trying to get me killed?” he whispers, twirling our bodies around, giving him a full view of the fury in Marek’s eyes. “Well, there’s my answer. Say kind things about me at my funeral.”
Chapter Thirteen
Marek
“He’s looking to get killed.” I lean against the brick wall lining the furthest part of the backyard. A pool sits directly behind the house, with chairs for guests circling a large firepit.
“What do you think’s happening there?” Dixon points between Breaker and Palmer.
His arm is around Palmer’s waist with his hand low on her hip. He may as well reach through my skin, grab my spine, and twist that mother fucker. It would hurt less than seeing them together.
“They’re trying to piss me off,” I groan, turning away, unable to look at them any longer. Dixon laughs hysterically, giving me no choice but to grab his shirt and tug him forward. “What’s so fucking funny?”
His eyes dip to my fingers, and one by one, he pries them off. His smile grows as he brushes out the wrinkles. “They aren’t trying to do anything. You’re already there.”
Dixon leaves, pulling up a seat around the firepit. He chats with a few guys I don’t recognize. From where I am, I have a full view of the backyard. With no desire for small talk, I sit by myself, watching the crowd mill about.
Quinn flashes one of her I’m-going-to-get-what-I-want smiles. I cut my stare in time to catch Reed guiding Dillon inside. My eyes follow them through the windows. They disappear at the stairs. From where I am, I can’t tell if they went up or down.
Reed hasn’t given us anymore information about her disappearance. We know the basics, trusting her with the details as if the words she speaks are gospel. She’s always been loyal to us. When she’s ready, she’ll spill everything.
My feet move of their own accord, as if they have their own agenda. I’m stuck between what we want to believe is true, and our fear of what may be. When Reed appeared out of thin air, my immediate reaction was one of disbelief. She claims she went into hiding to protect herself, only to sacrifice Palmer. Pieces of this puzzle are missing, and I won’t stop until I get to the bottom of this twisted tale.
Whispered words of seduction twist and tug my body as I make my way through the crowd of dancers in the living room. I spot the top of Reed’s head over the balcony above me.
Not wanting to be seen, I slow down and wait. The main landing is empty. The doors along the long hallway are shut tight. Thankful for the carpet runner, I’m able to maneuver without making a single noise. I open one door to a girl face down on the mattress with a guy pumping in and out of her.
“Sorry, man.” I reach for the handle and shut the door.
The next two rooms are empty. It isn’t until I reach the end of the hall that I find a door cracked enough to give me a front row seat.
“What kind of game are you playing?” Dillon barks at someone out of my sight.
Reed saunters into view. “Watch your tone, asshole.”
“Or what, Reed? You going to kill me?” He grins, not out of false confidence, but amusement.
“And you’d enjoy every second of my hands ripping into your body, wouldn’t you?”
“I prefer to do the killing.” His hand flexes forward, wrapping around her neck.
If it were anyone else, I’d barge into the room, but Reed knows how to handle herself. Besides, I’m eager to see what she does to Dillon for putting his hands on her.
Dillon tugs her body close to his, and as I wait for the slap he deserves, Reed’s tongue pokes out, grazing softly over his bottom lip. Like a gun shot, his lips collide with hers. The hand on her neck tightens.
What the fuck?!
Reed hates Dillon. Always has.
“Don’t think too much into this, got me?” She reaches under her skirt, yanking her pink panties down and stepping out of them.
Dillon releases her throat and makes fast work of his belt. “Want me to make you forget about your baby sister and the love of your life being together?”
“Shut up”— she spins, bending over the small desk— “and please.”
For a few minutes, I watch Dillon toying with Reed, running his hand up and down her body, pinching her nipples through her shirt. It isn’t until I see him do something I’ve done countless times, that I hold my breath. Dillon grips the nape of her hair and winds it tight around his fist, forcing her to bend under the pressure.
“Yes!” Reed screams in pleasure.
She’s handed herself over to this asshat. What I feel isn’t jealousy. Seeing Reed being railed by a different guy isn’t anything new to me. Byron and I have shared her plenty. She never asked permission to invite someone else in, and I never required it. Whatever she wanted, I gave her.
“What are you looking at?” The voice startles me.
I spin and press my hand over Palmer’s mouth, walking her backwards across the hall. I open the door and lead her inside a dark room.
“What the fuck, Palmer?” I whisper, pinching the bridge of my nose while I pace.
“What were you looking at?” she asks again.
“Reed and Dillon.”
“Eww!” Palmer squeals, shaking her hands in disgust. “Why?”
“They looked comfortable.” I eliminate the space between us, pressing my chest to hers. “Kind of like you and Breaker.”
“Are you jealous?” There’s no hiding the grin on her face as she asks the question she’s dying to know the answer to.
“Does that make you happy?” I place my arm above her, pinning her against the door.
“It can’t quite compare to what I feel, seeing you and my sister together.” She turns her head away, refusing to look at me. Is she afraid I’ll see the true hurt in her eyes? There’s no hiding it. I see it every time Reed and I are together in a room with her.
“Is that what this is about? You want to make me feel bad?” I relieve a little bit of the tension in my arms, dropping closer to her.
“No, I want to make it hurt.” She ducks under my arm and circles my body.
“Don’t test me, baby.” I rest my forehead on the door, frustrated with her and completely turned on at the same time. “Trust me, it hurts.”
“Don’t you get it, Marek? This is our foreplay.”
“That’s a little fucked up." I spin to face her, catching the ease of her smile.
She walks away like the
vixen she is, inviting me with no words. “You letting your conscience into this relationship now?”
“Oh, so this is a relationship, then?” I come up behind her, loving the feel of her bare back under my fingers. The lace body suit doesn't leave anything to the imagination, while her jeans hug her ass like a second skin.
I’d do about anything to peel them off her.
“Tell me, Palmer." I scoop her up in my arms and sit on the small couch in the corner of the room. Her legs wrap around my waist. "Go ahead, Palmer. Say the thing we're both afraid to say.”
“You first.” She leans away, her eyes full of desperation to hear me say it.
“They’re just words, Palmer.” My fingers tuck into the neckline of her shirt, slowly lowering the fabric to expose her. She doesn’t try to cover herself, watching as I cherish every inch of her skin.
“Words hold power, Marek.” Her fingers comb through my hair in the way she’s always done. Girls have never bothered to admire me. That’s not what they’re looking for from me. Not Palmer, though. She treats me different while knowing what I need.
I stand, bringing Palmer with me, and lay her down on the bed. She wriggles, propping up on her elbows as I go to lock the door.
“You are the power,” I say. “You have the power.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
“You feel helpless.” I stalk forward. “But you aren’t. Some of the time, I’m certain you’re the only reason why I’m still here, grounded in place.”
“Say it, Marek,” she begs.
What she needs, I’ve never been capable of doing. Love. When she looks at me, this immense urge to protect her takes over every cell I’m made of. Is that what love is? Is love when I can’t imagine not seeing her every day, and if I don’t, my entire day is thrown off kilter?
“What’s love, anyway?” I ask, crawling on top of her. She slides onto the mattress, allowing me to get comfortable between her legs.
“If I were to guess, and I’m not an expert, Marek, this is awfully close.” Her hand rests on my cheek, and I willingly lean into her touch.
“If this is love?” I tuck my face into the crook of her neck, kissing along the soft skin. Slow and with reason. “I promise to protect it.”
