Scammed

by Kristen Simmons

  I step closer. “You know what I—”

  “Brynn?”

  We both turn sharply to find Grayson and Henry coming down the hallway that leads to the third floor where the boys sleep. Grayson, now wearing black jeans and a Vale Hall shirt marked with a raven, slows as he approaches. His eyes flick from Caleb to me.

  “You’ve met Caleb and Brynn,” says Henry anxiously, cutting around Grayson in order to herd him toward the steps. “Come on, I’ll show you downstairs. We have a pool, did I mention that?”

  “Can we talk?”

  Grayson’s words hang between us, tense and weighted. Caleb and Henry might as well not be here; with three words, Grayson’s cut them out of the conversation.

  Reality catches up with me in one hard lurch. I need to make him comfortable. He needs to feel safe here.

  I smile and step away from Caleb, putting another foot between us. “I was just looking for you,” I tell Grayson.

  Caleb’s arms cross over his chest, wrinkling the button-down shirt he wore to the test.

  “I was giving him the tour,” Henry jumps in.

  “I’ll finish it.” I reach for Grayson’s arm. Caleb gives a small cough, and the sound punches through me. I focus on the downward pull of his lips and remember every time I’ve kissed him. The first time at the river, and in the gardens, and last week, in a frenzied moment in the laundry room downstairs.

  What Caleb and I have is strong enough to weather some temporary storm.

  I lock him deep inside, and let the con take over.

  “The director wants to see you,” I toss over my shoulder as Grayson and I take the stairs down to the first floor.

  Dr. O may have set this assignment, but it’s time to get some answers of my own.

  * * *

  “HERE’S THE KITCHEN,” I say, motioning to the cooking show setup of marble and stainless steel as Grayson stumbles to keep up. A couple of underclassmen are milling about, but after a few waves and hi’s, they make themselves scarce, leaving only our silent housekeeper, Ms. Maddox, dusting in the dining room. She might not be able to speak, but she’s always listening, and I don’t chance talking freely until Grayson and I are out the back doors, beside the pool.

  That’s when I grab his elbow and drag him down the stone steps toward the lawn.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing.” He shakes free, raking his hands through his shaggy hair. “That guy, Min something…”

  “Belk.”

  “Yeah. He found me in Nashville.”

  “Tennessee?”

  Grayson nods. “Who is Odin? Is he a cop? Are you with the cops?”

  “Do I look like a cop?”

  His scowl draws my focus. I’ve forgotten how hard his expressions can be—the sharp lines of his jaw and nose, the intensity of his glare. I’ve prided myself on the ability to fit in, slip in and out of groups unnoticed. But Grayson is no chameleon. He wears his anger like a weapon.

  “I don’t know. Private security maybe? Did my dad set this up?”

  “No.”

  He exhales, pacing in a short arc in front of me. “If he finds out I’m here, I’m dead.”

  “I know.”

  “I won’t go to jail, he’ll kill me.”

  “Grayson, I know.”

  Dr. O thinks Matthew Sterling made that intern, Jimmy Balder, disappear, just as he did the truth about Susan. Grayson’s right to be afraid of him.

  This whole mission is a bad idea. I’ve met the senator—I still remember the look on his face when he told me Grayson was a troubled young man. If I remember him, then he might remember me. If he sees me on the job, he might think I had something to do with Grayson running away.

  Which I did.

  It doesn’t matter. This is my assignment.

  I reach for Grayson’s shoulder, a gentle squeeze to let him know I’m on his side. When his hand raises, I expect him to brush me off, but instead he grabs my fingers and holds them against his arm.

  I go still.

  Grayson does seem fond of you.

  “What am I doing here?” he asks.

  I close my eyes for the briefest second, then step closer. “Dr. O wants to help.”

  As I speak, his gaze darts to my mouth.

  “You told me he couldn’t help. You said he couldn’t protect me.”

  “I know I did, I…” I scrunch his shirt in my fist. I’m walking the edge of a blade. Grayson is my assignment, but he knows more truth than any mark.

  In some twisted way, he’s my friend.

  “I thought he couldn’t help you, but that changed.”

  “How?”

  I’m not certain how much I can say. Friend or not, Grayson’s part of Dr. O’s larger scheme, and saying too much may put his safety at risk.

  “What did Dr. O tell you?”

  Grayson releases my hand, but he doesn’t back away. We’re close enough to touch, too close for casual conversation.

  I need to play into this, to secure his belief that I understand.

  “He said he’s been looking for me since you and I split up,” Grayson tells me. “He wants to help.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  Grayson kicks at the ground, unearthing a plot of grass. “Nothing much.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “He knew Susan Griffin died in the … crash. The accident.” He tilts forward, like he might be sick. “I didn’t know they were related—that he’s her brother. He has that picture … that giant painting on his wall.” He shudders as Susan’s self-portrait fills my mind. “God, does he want to kill me?”

  “No,” I say, squeezing his arm before his panic takes hold. “He’s a school director. He looks out for kids in trouble. That’s all.”

  It’s not exactly all.

  And Grayson doesn’t exactly look comforted.

  “Does it look like we’re in danger here?” I motion to the mansion and give a small, encouraging smile. “What else did Dr. O say?”

  “He knows what my dad will do if he finds out I leaked what happened. Basically, he knows everything you told him.”

  I can’t tell if he’s angry or resigned to this reality. “Does he know I told you to run?”

  Grayson’s eyes turn to the ground. “He thinks I ditched you. I didn’t correct him.”

  He’s helped me without even realizing it, which makes how I’m going to play him even worse.

  “Thanks.”

  He kicks another clod of grass. “He says my dad’s going to answer for his crimes, and that I can go home if I testify against him.”

  His voice wobbles the faintest bit, and I can tell this hurts, even if it’s what’s best.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “It would be nice to go home.”

  Use his pain, I think, even while my chest clenches in genuine sympathy.

  I reach for his hand, and he takes it, weaving his fingers with mine. I can feel his fear in the heat of his palm. His loneliness in the clench of his grip. It hits me then: I may be the reason he’s in this position, but I’m also the only anchor he has.

  “Grayson, does the name Jimmy Balder mean anything to you?”

  His head jerks toward mine, wariness flashing in his blue eyes.

  “No. Who is that?”

  “A guy who might have worked for your dad. An intern.”

  “I don’t know any of the interns. They do the grunt work. Open his mail and plan his events and stuff. Why are you asking?” Worry tightens his tone, but there’s no recognition in his voice.

  “I think he might be missing.”

  Grayson’s head falls forward. “Great.”

  Just because he doesn’t know Jimmy’s name, doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of him. I make a mental note to revisit this once I know more.

  “So what’s in Tennessee?” I ask.

  He groans. “Cowboy hats and terrible music.”

&n
bsp; I angle toward the gardens, and soon we’re walking down the path, away from the main house. He doesn’t let go of my hand, and I’m aware of how stiffly I hold his, and the unevenness of our gaits.

  “Have you been there this whole time?” I ask.

  “The last three weeks.”

  Another pang behind my ribs. I had no idea Grayson was in Nashville. I’ve checked my phone excessively since he left, hoping to get some sort of message, but none ever came.

  “Doing what?” I ask.

  “Laying low,” he says. “Watching standard cable. I stayed in a motel outside the city.”

  I think of him in his blue suit, sitting in a dingy room, but the image isn’t quite as clear as before. Things have changed since the last time I saw him. Then, I was the poor girl from Devon Park pretending to be rich like him. Now, Vale Hall is my home, and he’s the one scraping to get by.

  We reach the entrance to the gardens, where Barry Buddha sits, but I hesitate before going in. That’s my place with Caleb; even if I’m supposed to make Grayson comfortable, it feels strange being here with another guy.

  I glance back at the house, wondering what Dr. O’s telling Caleb right now. Surely he’ll mention our relationship. Caleb knows better than to challenge him.

  “You’ve been gone three months,” I say. “Where were you before that?”

  “Louisville for a while. But they found me there,” Grayson says quietly, gaze fixed somewhere in the distance.

  A chill prickles over my arms.

  “Who found you?”

  “My dad’s guys. I went to get something to eat and when I came back there were two men in my hotel room.”

  “Maybe they were just trying to bring you home.”

  “They had guns. Why would they need guns to bring me home?”

  He’s got a point. Maybe Matthew Sterling hasn’t killed anyone himself, but there’s a reason Dr. O’s sending me in to look for a missing intern. Grayson’s already admitted his father will do anything to keep the secret of Susan’s death from affecting his political career.

  I need to tell Dr. O this information—if men with guns are hunting Grayson, they could come here.

  He clears his throat. “After that I went to some hick town in Indiana. I sold my car for cash, but I’ve been running low.”

  “How’d you get around without the Porsche?”

  “I rode the bus.”

  I almost laugh.

  “What?” He snorts. “I can ride a bus.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, I hired a car for most of it. People piss on busses. Like, right on the seat.”

  “There he is. Welcome back, Prince Grayson. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  Grayson’s tone lacks all teasing, but he can’t be serious. The last few months must have added a layer onto his sarcasm. You don’t miss someone who lies to you the way I lied to him.

  “I mean, not at first.” He digs his hands into his back pockets. “At first I hated you. But after a while, I don’t know. You did something I couldn’t.”

  I glance over at him, but his face is hard to read.

  “What’s that?”

  “You going to make me spell it out?”

  I raise my brows expectantly.

  “You got me away from him,” he says quietly, and again, an image of his oil-slick dad flashes through my mind.

  The sarcasm is definitely thicker, because right now it almost sounds as if he’s grateful. In all the time I’ve spent thinking of him, my worry has been laced with guilt. I faked who I was to force a secret from him that he didn’t want to share. I offered protection in exchange, and then, when I couldn’t deliver, I sent him away.

  I figured he wanted me dead.

  And because I have no idea what to do with his forgiveness—if that’s what it is—I say, “That almost sounds like a thank you.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  I wait.

  He glances back at the house, the scowl cutting deep lines between his thick brows.

  “I didn’t think anyone would believe me—my dad said no one would buy it was an accident, that’s why I couldn’t tell the cops. But you believe me, right?”

  His tone is stripped clean, raw and vulnerable, and I feel like something inside me has cracked open, spilling hot liquid through my chest. I don’t know what to do. This pain is real, but is it deserved? It wouldn’t exist if he hadn’t run someone off the road.

  But I’ve done stupid things, too, when I’ve been angry, and worse, I’ve deliberately tricked people knowing they might be hurt.

  One moment of recklessness ruined Grayson’s entire life. That doesn’t make him a murderer.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I believe you.”

  His steel-blue gaze locks steady on mine, and in that moment, I get him, in a way I haven’t before.

  All my life, I’ve been defined by my zip code. It didn’t matter if I was smart, or dedicated. It mattered if I was pretty like my mom, because when you’re a poor girl, that’s the only way to get ahead.

  No one believed I was more than that until Caleb. Until Dr. O. Until this place became my home. Now I’m never looking back.

  But Grayson doesn’t get that luxury. Once word of this accident gets out, he will forever be defined by that night. It won’t matter who he is or what he does in the future because people will only see the boy who killed Susan Griffin.

  He’s more than that, just like I’m more than Devon Park, and he deserves a shot at something better, like I got.

  “I’m going to help you and Dr. O put your dad in jail,” I say. “Soon, this will all be over.” Matthew Sterling covered up Susan Griffin’s death, and threatened his own son to save his career. If he had something to do with that intern’s disappearance, I intend to find out.

  Grayson’s jaw twitches. His gaze roams over my face, as if searching for truth.

  Slowly, he nods.

  CHAPTER 4

  By the time I make it to the girls’ wing, the sky is black, and my fingertips are numb from the bite of the autumn air. It’s Saturday, which means half the student body is out on assignment or in the pit playing video games—even the radio that normally thumps from Paz’s room is silent. As much as I want to find Caleb and my friends and tell them what’s going on, I need a few minutes alone to adjust to my new reality.

  Also known as Grayson Sterling.

  But Geri’s door is cracked as I pass, and with a jolt I realize we need to talk. Grayson was her mark last year, and when she failed to get the truth from him, he was reassigned.

  To me.

  Geri and Grayson have a history, and it’s going to look suspicious when he learns that both of us go to the same school. We need to get on the same page before that happens.

  I stick my head in her room, but the lights are off, and when I call her name, no one answers.

  It’s strange—Geri never leaves her door open. I flick on the lights, but the room is empty. Kind of a mess, too. Geri’s normally meticulous about keeping things orderly, but there are shoes left in the middle of the floor and half an outfit on the bed, as if she left in a hurry.

  I wonder if that had something to do with Grayson’s surprise arrival.

  A silver spray-painted piggy bank sits on a luxurious dog bed in the corner. She won the famed porcelain pig last quarter in our conning class competition, much to Charlotte’s dismay. I give Petal a wary look, but she’s not talking.

  I make my way down the brightly lit hallway to my room, and am inside with the door shut before I register the figure stalking toward me from the bed.

  With a yelp, I brace for a fight, but drop my arms as the redhead stops an arm’s length away, fists planted on her hips.

  “What took you so long?” she demands.

  “Charlotte,” I groan. “Why are you hiding in the dark?”

  “I’m being covert.” She points a finger in my face. “Don’t change the subject.”


  Reaching behind me, I flick on the light, and she blinks like some kind of cave dweller who’s never seen the light.

  “I’ve been outside. With Grayson.” Judging by the way she’s jumped me in my room, I take it she’s already heard he’s here. I rub my hands together, trying to warm up.

  “Yes, I know that. I’ve been watching out your window.”

  The window beside my bed has a full view of the pool, the lawn, and the gardens that stretch to the brick wall on the back of the property. Walking toward it, I can see the place on the path, beneath the red oak trees just before the garden entrance, where Grayson and I spent the last few hours.

  “Congrats,” I say. “Your status has just been upgraded to full creeper.”

  “The Ginger Princess does not approve of your sarcasm,” she tells me. “Sam said Belk gave him the room next to Henry’s. I told them to lock their doors before they go to sleep tonight.”

  “Take it down a notch, Ginger Princess. Grayson’s not a serial killer.”

  “That you know of. Where is he anyway?”

  I sigh, sitting on the edge of my bed. Charlotte, a bundle of energy, stands before me, arms crossed over her chest. She’s wearing her pajamas—a big pink sleep shirt over fleece pants. Her neon-green toenails peek out from beneath.

  “Moore came outside to get him. I think they were going over the rules and everything.”

  Her fingers tap against her biceps. “So this is real. He’s actually living here.”

  “For a while.” I wiggle my toes inside my worn Chuck Taylor’s—it feels like they’re being jabbed with pins and needles. “Were you sleeping? It’s six o’clock.”

  “Belk took everyone who wasn’t working to a movie. I only got out of it because I said I was sick. My performance was so convincing Ms. Maddox came in special to make me soup.”

  My stomach grumbles. Dinner’s on your own on the weekends, but our housekeeper always leaves something to heat up in the fridge. I bypassed the kitchen after coming in, too distracted by the current situation.

  “Did Caleb go?”

  “Belk basically dragged him out the door.”

  I gnaw the corner of my lip and kick off my shoes. I wish I knew what Dr. O said to Caleb after Grayson and I went outside—if it was the same decree that we keep a friendly distance or something more.