Oscar is beside me in a heartbeat, mopping my tears with a tissue. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t be,” I whisper back. “You can’t interfere. They’ll kill you or take it out on your family.” I’ve eavesdropped on enough conversations to know my father and his associates are not above kidnapping, torture, murder, and rape.
“Drew needs to do more to protect you,” he whispers.
“How?” I shrug. “His hands are just as tied.”
Oscar shakes his head. “Drew is the future leader of Manning Motors, and your father has groomed him his whole life to assume his rightful place in the elite. He could make demands, and your father would agree to them.”
I very much doubt that, but I’m not in the mood to argue. I just want to erase the last few minutes from my mind and forget it ever happened. “I can’t tell Drew what just happened because he’ll tell Trent, and he’ll go ballistic.”
Or maybe I’m more afraid that he won’t.
That he fully expects to share me with his father once we’re married and living in the Montgomery house. Trent’s mother isn’t an alcoholic basket case recluse for no reason.
His childhood hasn’t been any easier than ours, and I know a lot of that is because his mother fell apart when she lost her two best friends in quick succession. Mrs. Anderson took her own life, and then my mother died in a car accident a few months later, leaving Sylvia without her closest friends. Elizabeth Barron, Charlie’s mom, was an out-of-towner, and she never shared the same bond as the other three women who had grown up together.
My brain hurts, and I can’t think about this any longer. I need to clear my head, and there are only two things that work for me—dancing and running. I choose the latter, pushing up to my feet. “I need to run,” I tell Oscar, sliding the heavy diamond off my ring finger and stashing it in the drawer of my bedside table where it’ll remain until I’m forced to put it back on.
Already, I feel lighter.
“I’ll get the car while you change.”
“Thank you.”
He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, and tears prick my eyes. He’s shown me more love and compassion than my own father, and I wonder what it’d be like to grow up in a loving environment. To have a father who protects you instead of continuously throwing you to the wolves.
I run the length of the secluded beach, pushing my limbs faster and faster, as I expunge my fear and cling to my anger.
Fuck Christian Montgomery.
Fuck his son.
And fuck my father.
They won’t get the better of me.
They won’t control me for life.
I will get out of here.
And they won’t stop me.
I’m sweating profusely as I finally flop to the ground, lying down on the grassy dunes as I attempt to recalibrate my breathing. After a couple minutes, I sit up, retrieve my water bottle from my backpack, and greedily drink from it even if the water is warm at this stage. I rip my running top off, using it to mop my brow and the line of sweat coasting between my breasts, before pouring the last of the water over my head, enjoying the trickles of liquid trailing down my face, over my sports bra, and onto my overheated torso.
I lie back down again, closing my eyes, my face warm from the dying embers of the evening sun.
The sea has always beckoned me. Maybe it’s because being at the beach is one of the few remaining memories I have of my mother.
I can still see her in my mind’s eye, her long wavy brunette locks bouncing everywhere as she raced me toward the sea. Her gleeful laughter as Drew and I buried her in the sand. Her warm hands on my skin as she applied sunscreen. The safety of her arms as she toweled me dry.
Mom loved the beach, and we spent large portions of the summer here. I think that’s why it’s my favorite place to run. Why I gravitate here whenever I feel sad. Because it reminds me of her. Because I feel closer to her here.
“Penny for them, beautiful,” a deep voice says, and my eyes jerk open at the sound of approaching footsteps.
I sit up, eyes narrowing as Jackson Lauder jogs toward me. He’s topless, wearing black running shorts that hug his toned hips, and his tight abs flex as he runs.
“You look like you have the worries of the world on your shoulders,” he says, dropping beside me.
“I was just thinking about my mom,” I truthfully admit.
His eyes probe mine. For what, I’m not sure. “I’m sorry.”
He knows. Of course. Hunt clearly did more than basic research.
“She died a long time ago.” I shrug, like that makes it any easier to live with. It’s true it gets easier with time, but I never stop missing her. There isn’t a day goes by where I don’t think of her. Where I don’t wonder what our lives would be like if she was still here. If she’d succeeded in escaping with us.
But dreaming is destructive.
“No measure of time ever completely dulls the pain,” he quietly says.
It doesn’t. I glance at him, trying not to ogle his gorgeous body or succumb to the lure of his twinkling blue eyes. “Who did you lose?”
A muscle clenches in his jaw. “My sister. She was murdered four years ago.”
We have that in common too. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry.”
He removes a lighter and roll up from the pocket of his pants, instantly lighting it up. He takes a long drag before offering it to me. Given his propensity for blunts, I’m guessing it’s a joint. I’ve never smoked one or taken any drug. It’s not permitted, and the elite are my perpetual shadows at any parties we attend, ensuring I don’t indulge.
But no one’s here now. Oscar is waiting in the car, and even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t stop me. I don’t overthink it, taking the joint from Jackson, ignoring the tingles shooting up my arm when our fingers brush. I inhale deeply, smoke filling my lungs, before spluttering and coughing with tears pooling in my eyes.
Jackson chuckles, taking the joint back. “Of course, it’s your first time.” He takes a deep pull before passing it back to me. “Living in a golden cage must get boring.”
I take another drag, spluttering, but not as bad as last time. “You’ve no idea,” I mutter, handing it back to him. Yanking my hair tie out, I run my hands through my hair. I know it’s not smart to open up to any of them, but I’m feeling rebellious today after what happened. Trent’s dad told me to stay away from the new guys, and this is my way of sticking it to him.
Jackson looks funny at me but says nothing, and we pass the joint back and forth in comfortable silence. It doesn’t take long for a pleasant, hazy fog to cloud my mind, dulling my senses and loosening my limbs. I flop back down on the ground, grinning at nothing in particular. I move my arms and legs, in and out, like a starfish, giggling to myself.
“I think someone’s stoned,” Jackson teases, leaning over me and smiling.
“I feel great!” I continue moving my legs, in and out, like I used to as a little kid when Drew and I played this game for hours on the sand, sighing contentedly. “I should smoke weed more often.” Jackson snorts, pulling another drag as he keeps his eyes locked on me. “Who does that anyway?” I ask. “Goes for a run and then smokes a joint?” I jump up, swaying my body to an imaginary beat, humming under my breath as I practice some of my ballet moves.
“I do whatever it takes to numb reality,” he supplies. “Running, smoking, fucking, racing.” He smirks as I lose my footing in the sand, taking a tumble.
I brush my tangled hair back off my face, giggling as I wriggle in the sand, wondering why weed is still considered an illegal substance for those under twenty-one in this state. Anything that makes you feel this good should be freely available.
“You should laugh more,” Jackson says, looming dangerously close as he sweeps my knotty hair behind my ears. “You look even more beautiful when you smile.” He runs his thumb along my lower lip, and my breath hitches in my throat. My giggling stops, and a more intense emotion takes over as we star
e at one another, electricity humming in the air. My chest heaves, and a swarm of butterflies invades my tummy as I feel his touch in every part of me. His eyes lower to my mouth as he pushes his thumb between my lips.
I’m blaming the weed for what I do next.
My tongue darts out, tasting his thumb, flicking against his skin in soft strokes. He groans, low at the base of his throat, before his lips crash down on mine, and, in the blink of an eye, we’re kissing as if we’ve never kissed anyone else before.
His lips are challenging, demanding, and hungry as he feasts on my mouth, and I’m giving as good as I’m getting. He pulls me into his hot body, grabbing hold of my ass and yanking my hips against his, pressing his hard length into me, making me moan against his mouth. My hands move of their own volition, exploring the toned planes of his naked chest and his back as our mouths feverishly devour one another. Stars explode behind my closed eyelids when his tongue plunders my mouth, licking and sucking while grinding his hips against me in a way that has my core throbbing with need.
“Ms. Abigail.”
I scream, ripping my mouth from Jackson’s as Oscar’s harsh tone brings me crashing back down to Earth with a bang. I scramble away from Jackson and his cheeky, knowing expression, flirtatious eyes, and swollen lips, as the reality of what I’ve just done slaps me in the face.
“Shit.” I climb to my feet while Oscar retrieves my backpack and discarded running top, glaring at Jackson with thinly veiled disgust.
“See you at school on Monday, beautiful,” Jackson says, winking as he rises. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Okay what has you freaking out so bad?” Jane asks when I materialize in her bedroom the next day. I didn’t say much on the phone because I know for a fact my regular cell is bugged, but my bestie can read my moods perfectly, so she already knows something’s up.
“I’ve done something supremely stupid.” I pace the length of her room, wearing a line in the plush carpet.
“What?” Jane lands in front of me, taking my hands and leading me over to the couch. Riverdale is paused on the screen, and I roll my eyes, not unsurprised. She’s addicted to that show, but all her attempts to coerce me into watching have failed.
“I made out with Jackson Lauder,” I blurt. She blinks excessively, staring at me in shock, her eyes wide, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. “Say something,” I plead.
The corners of her mouth lift. “Was he a good kisser?”
I groan. “The best.” My fingers trek across my lips, and my body tingles all over as I remember the feel of his lips and his hands on me. “But focus!” I nudge her in the shoulder. “What am I going to do? They have warned me to stay away from them. My job is to keep them in line not kiss them!”
“Maybe kissing them will help keep them in line.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “Who are you, and what have you done with my bestie?” She giggles. “I can’t keep kissing Jackson,” I protest. “It was a huge fuckup, and Trent will lose his shit if he finds out. But how do I get Jackson to keep quiet without owing him something?” I bury my head in my hands. “I am never smoking weed again.”
“You smoked a joint?” Jane shrieks.
I nod. “It was an epic clusterfuck of a day.” I tell her everything that went down with Trent’s dad and how I ended up bumping into Jackson on the beach.
“Oh my God, Abby. You should’ve come here straightaway! I can’t believe Trent’s dad did that and your father let him!”
“This is the kind of shit they pull.” I level her with a serious look. “This is the world you’re marrying into.” I tossed and turned all night long, unable to sleep, because I’ll be leaving her behind to face this shit alone, and she’ll need her wits about her if she’s to survive marriage to an elite.
“You need to tell Drew. He’ll know what to do.”
I shake my head. “No. You can’t tell Drew, and I need you to promise me.”
Her nose scrunches up. “You know I don’t enjoy keeping secrets from your brother, Abby, but you’re my bestie, so if you really don’t want him to know, I won’t tell him.”
“Thanks.” I take her hands in mine. “I know you love my brother and you want to marry him, but this world is corrupt and evil, and you need to prepare yourself for it.”
“Now you’re scaring me.”
“Good.” I squeeze her hands. “They’re not good people, Jay. What Christian Montgomery did in my room doesn’t even register because that’s child play compared to their usual shit. They aren’t some of the wealthiest, most powerful, most influential men in the country by chance. They have bribed, manipulated, abused, and bullied their way to the top, and they have no moral compass. No conscience. Except for Charlie’s dad. I don’t think he’s all bad, but he’s not good either. He does nothing to stop it.”
“I’m not completely clueless, Abby. I know they’re not angels.”
“They’re the devil incarnate, Jane. Never forget that.”
I pull up at Jane’s house bright and early Monday morning, and she clambers into the chauffeur-driven car, plonking down beside me. “You ready for this?”
“No. But I’ve decided I’m going to pretend like it never happened. Deny is my new favorite word. If Jackson mentions anything, I’ll deny, deny, deny till I’m blue in the face.”
Oscar is the only other witness, and he won’t betray my confidence, so denial seems like my only choice, because I will not ask Jackson to keep quiet and end up beholden to him. That’s probably what he wants and what he’s expecting. And in case this doesn’t work, I already have Xavier on the case, searching into their backgrounds to see what skeletons he uncovers.
In our world, exploiting weakness is a key survival tool. It’s why I’m already paying Xavier a small fortune to find something I can use against my father and the elite. Why I’m paying him another chunk of cash to find dirt on the new guys. I’ve paid for a rush job because I need intel now. I need something in my armory to help me survive this next month.
“With any luck, he’ll be too busy welcoming the latecomer to focus on you.”
“Hopefully, Camden Marshall acts as a suitable distraction, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
“I wonder what he’s like?” she muses, staring idly out the window.
“I spent most of last night Googling him, but it’s so weird, there isn’t a single photo of him or his family online.”
“Drew said they are notoriously reclusive.”
“Apparently so, according to the gossip sites. Camden’s father has Techxet—Sawyer’s father’s company—on retainer, and a team of technical specialists is dedicated twenty-four-seven to finding and removing all photographic content and any unsavory online content. I could barely find out anything about him other than his father is Wesley Marshall, owner of a pharmaceutical company called Femerst, and a much-respected philanthropist, and he met Sawyer and Hunt when they all enrolled at a private New York school a couple of years ago.”
“I bet he’s hot,” Jane speculates as our driver pulls into the entrance to Rydeville High.
“Of course, he’s hot. I don’t need a picture to confirm that. Hot, rich assholes always stick together. We should know.”
I spot Oscar fighting a smile through the front mirror.
“Just don’t go kissing this one,” Jane whispers, her expression half serious, half mischievous.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be going nowhere near Camden Marshall. Trust me on that score.”
“He’s definitely hot,” Jane says as we enter the cafeteria at lunchtime. Wentworth is on door duty with Henry this time and they nod at us as we pass through. “Mr. Fleming had to reprimand Rochelle and her divas several times during English lit because they kept swooning over him. Apparently, Shelton is in his world history class, and she said he’s sex on a stick.”
“Figures.”
Chad summons me to our usual table with a wave. “I got lunch for you ladies,�
�� he says, pulling out a chair for me and then one for Jane.
“Thank you, Chad. That’s sweet and thoughtful.”
“Suck up,” someone recklessly mumbles from farther down the table.
“I think you enjoy being waited on hand and foot,” an all-too-familiar voice says close to my ear, and I suck in a sharp breath as Jackson’s hands land on the table, one on each side of me, caging me in from behind. He presses his warm body against my back, heating me upon contact.
This shit can’t happen, so I ram my elbow back into his gut with force, hitting him a sharp jab to the edge of his rib cage, knowing it will wind him. He loses his balance, stumbling backward, as a loud oomph emits from his mouth. I stand, turning around in time to see Hunt grab Jackson’s elbow, steadying him before he hits the ground.
“Not very ladylike, beautiful,” Jackson rasps, his breathing a little erratic.
“You deserved it.” I drill him with a look. One that says, “act smart and shut your mouth.”
“You’ve got serious anger management issues,” Hunt says, pinning me with that intense gaze of his.
“Don’t pretend you know me when you don’t.”
“I think I—”
I step toward Jackson, cautioning him with my eyes, and he stops mid-speech. “Shut your mouth,” I hiss in his face.
“About what?” a deep, rich voice asks from behind me. His seductive tone reaches deep inside me, pulling the memories to the forefront of my mind. My skin prickles, and my belly does a weird flip-flop motion.
No fucking way.
I’m afraid to turn around.
Afraid to confront the truth.
Because I’d know that voice anywhere.
Even though we didn’t talk much, every aspect of that night is imprinted on my brain.
This can’t be happening.
My heart rate spikes, my breathing becomes labored, and butterflies scatter in my chest.
I turn around in slow motion, trying to prepare myself for the inevitable, but nothing could shield me from the vision in front of me.
Cruel Intentions Page 6
