Cruel Intentions

by Davis, Siobhan

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I wet my dry lips, planting a nonplussed look on my face as I turn to face him. “I was halfway down the driveway when I needed to pee, so I turned around and came back inside to use the bathroom.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Do I look like an idiot?”

  Does he really want me to answer that? “What?” I flutter my eyelashes and bite down on my lip, flashing him an innocent smile. “You don’t believe me?”

  He bores a hole in my skull staring at me with his usual intensity plus an added layer of suspicion piled on top. I stare back at him, keeping a pleasant, non-guilty look on my face. “Let’s talk.” He points at the third locked bedroom. “In there.”

  I say nothing as I follow him into his room, stifling my grin as I drink in my surroundings when he flips on the light.

  It’s exactly how I thought it would be.

  Clinical and devoid of any personality.

  A dark navy comforter looks freshly laundered on his massive bed. Two wooden tables with lamps rest on either side of the bed. There’s a large closet, a desk with overhead shelves like in the two other rooms, and a leather recliner chair resides in front of a mammoth TV.

  But that’s it.

  There are no adornments and no personal belongings.

  No items out in plain sight on his desk.

  No framed photos or posters on the walls.

  No trophies or bloody clothing.

  It gives zero clue to the enigma that is Sawyer Hunt.

  “Is something amusing?” He quirks a brow, watching me survey his room.

  “Your room is exactly how I expected it to be.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Perfectly presented yet giving nothing away.” I hold his gaze. “A lot like its owner.”

  “And how would you describe Lauder and Marshall’s bedrooms?”

  I flutter my eyelashes, smiling. “I’d have to see them first to offer my opinion.”

  One corner of his mouth lifts as he sits down on the end of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come sit.”

  He removes his silk tie, folding it neatly and placing it on the bed, before rolling the sleeves of his blue button-down shirt up to the elbows as I sit right beside him, placing my bulging purse on the other side of me. His eyes land on my bag, and I’m expecting him to snatch it up to examine the contents, but he doesn’t.

  Placing his hands on top of his black slacks, he leans slightly forward, angling his body so he’s looking me directly in the eye. It’s his preferred method of communication, as if he’s always primed to interrogate, and I can imagine him working for the CIA or the FBI someday.

  “You’re not exactly dressed for a party,” I blurt, conscious our thighs are brushing together.

  “Likewise,” he instantly replies, his eyes dropping low on my body for a split second.

  “I didn’t know I was coming here, or I would’ve dressed appropriately, but you live here. Yet you still dressed like that.”

  “I had a meeting before this, and I haven’t had time or the inclination to change.”

  “Will you work in your father’s business after you leave school?” I inquire, wondering if that’s why he’s dressed like he’s just spent a day in the office.

  “After I graduate from Stanford, yes.”

  “Is that something you choose to do, or it’s expected?”

  “It’s both. I would never commit to something I didn’t want to do.”

  “You’re lucky you have a choice.”

  There’s a pregnant pause, and he stares at me. “There are always choices. Even if it doesn’t seem like that.”

  “Why does that sound like some kind of hidden message?” I ask, instinctively leaning closer to him. I might’ve been wrong in my assessment before. Sawyer was the least interesting to me previously, coming across as dull and boring, but I’m sensing that’s because he holds his cards close to his chest. He’s a lot like Charlie in that regard. And they share a pragmatic sense of obligation too.

  He moves his face closer to mine, and his hazel eyes are more green than brown today with little flecks of golden elevating them from ordinary to extraordinary. At this proximity, I can also make out the light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and I’m betting he was adorably cute as a little boy. His spicy cologne swirls around me, and I relax, which is dangerous because he’s no less of a predator than the other two jerks.

  “Because maybe it is.” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear while burrowing his gaze into mine.

  Butterflies scatter in my chest as his piercing gaze does funny things to me. When we’re this close, his intensity is less intimidating and more intimate somehow. “Is this some new angle? Because Camden’s humiliation tactics aren’t enough?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m being truthful, and Cam is doing what he thinks he must, but that’s not who he really is.”

  I snort. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “His reactions to you are deeply entrenched, but he’s conflicted.”

  “Conflicted how?”

  He trails the tip of his finger around my jawline, and I suck in a sharp breath as his electrifying touch heightens all my senses. “He’s conditioned to hate you,” he admits in a softer tone, his eyes fixating on my mouth. I’m not sure if that admission is deliberate or unplanned, and I’ve no clue if it’s genuine, but I don’t want to lose this connection or whatever the hell is happening between us right now. Not if it’ll give me the answers I need.

  Slowly, I raise my hand, running my fingers lightly through the silky strands of his dark brown hair. “Why?” I whisper. “Why does he hate me so much?”

  Sawyer rubs his thumb across my lower lip, and I’m scarcely breathing at this point. Indecision flickers in his eyes but I know not to push it. So, I wait, trailing my fingers through his hair as he continues to rub his thumb across my lip while staring at my mouth. “Have you ever considered that maybe we’re on the same side?”

  My heart thuds behind my rib cage, fear constricting my oxygen supply as I contemplate whether they’ve discovered my secret. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe we—”

  “What the fuck?” Cam roars, and I jump as the door to the bedroom slams viciously against the wall.

  He’s standing there like an unholy vision, oozing danger and aggression from every pore, and his commanding presence devours all the oxygen in the room. His jeans are hugging his slim hips, his shirt still undone, showcasing his beautiful body, and it’s impossible not to stare.

  The potency of our attraction is undeniable at this moment, and our eyes lock together as if drawn by some magnetic force.

  Sawyer slowly removes his thumb from my mouth, purposely adjusting himself in his pants as he stands, cocking a brow and smirking at his friend. “You’re interrupting,” he coolly says, his eyes darting to mine, breaking the standoff with Cam.

  Cam stalks into the room, nostrils flaring and eyes burning with rage. “What is she doing in your bedroom? I thought she fucking left!”

  He speaks as if I’m not in the room, eyeballing his friend and blatantly ignoring me, and it’s just another form of intimidation.

  Well, fuck this shit.

  I’ve had enough for one day.

  I snatch up my purse and stand. “I came back, asshole.” I prod my finger into his arm. “You might’ve noticed if you hadn’t been otherwise preoccupied,” I snarl.

  Visions of Rochelle blowing him resurrect in painful clarity in my mind, and I glare at him, pouring every ounce of hate in my heart into my expression.

  A cruel smile tugs up the corners of his mouth as understanding dawns, and I want to hurt him. To rake my nails across his flesh until I draw blood. Rip out his ball sack and feed it to sharks. Bite, slap, and punch him until he’s a messy, broken pulp at my feet.

  The craving to inflict pain is unlike anything I’ve felt before, and that’s saying a lot because I am engaged to Trent and I regularly want to be
at on his ass.

  But violence isn’t an option, so I do the next best thing.

  Stretching up, I fling my arms around Sawyer’s neck, catching him completely off guard as I plant one on him. It’s a hard, brutal kiss. One laced with every venomous emotion festering inside me. If he minds, he doesn’t act like it, kissing me back without hesitation.

  When I pull back, I run my hand along his chest, smiling at him as if my world starts and ends with him. “Thank you. For the talk and…” I let it hang in the air, delighted he doesn’t call my bluff, wondering if maybe we are on the same side.

  I shoot a scathing look at Cam, deliberately shoulder-checking him as I walk out of Sawyer’s bedroom, thrilled at the angry, frustrated expression contorting his beautiful face. I know he’ll punish me for it, but, for now, I’m claiming it as a win.

  “Girl, you’re playing with fire. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Jane asks the following morning as we stroll along the beach after breakfast.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.” I sigh, picking up a stone and skimming it across the surface of the water. A gentle breeze whips my hair around my shoulders as we resume walking.

  “What if they tell Trent? He’ll go apeshit on your ass.” She pins me with a worried expression. “And then he’ll wage an even bigger war on the new guys. Not that I’m opposed to that. I hate those assholes for what they did to me. What they’re continuing to do to you, but I don’t want you to suffer any more than you have.”

  “If they say anything to Trent, I’ll lie my way out. He knows they’re sniffing around me, so it won’t take much to convince him they’re winding him up. The only witness with Jackson was Oscar, and he’d never rat me out. I made out with Cam in my car in an empty parking lot, and I kissed Sawyer in his room. Even if Cam confirmed it, Trent would expect that and not find it believable.”

  “I still can’t believe you’ve kissed all three.”

  “It’s not like I planned it. And I hate them.” I fling another stone out to sea. “I really do.” Except maybe Sawyer. I glimpsed something last night, and I don’t think he’s as bad as the others.

  “But you’re attracted to them too.”

  I think about that for a few moments while we walk, smiling at an elderly couple out walking their dog as they pass by with their arms linked.

  I’m not really into Sawyer or Jackson. Sure, they’re hot guys, and it could be fun, but it’s nothing deep. Neither of them ignites an inferno in my body, throws my mind into complete chaos, or sends my heart into a wild tailspin like Cam does.

  I hate that I’m so attracted to him.

  That the chemistry between us is palpable.

  That I can’t stop thinking about him.

  And I’m worried what it says about me because he’s bullied me, groped me, and humiliated me in public.

  Yet I still crave his touch.

  Long to feel his body moving against, and inside, mine again.

  I loathe how badly I want him.

  And how much last night sickened and upset me.

  I’ve never once thought about Rochelle touching Trent, but I spent most of last night curled into my pillow with a piercing pain stabbing my chest as images of her with Cam tormented me for hours. I hate that she touched him intimately, and I tortured myself imagining what else happened after I left.

  Did he trade places with Jackson and fuck her too?

  Or fuck the other girl?

  Fuck both of them?

  I feel nauseous at the thought, and what kind of sick bitch does that make me?

  Perhaps there is more of my father in me than I like to believe because it’s the kind of fucked-up shit he’d get off on.

  “You look troubled,” Jane says, looping her arm through mine and squeezing.

  “Do you think I’m screwed up like my father?”

  “What?” She slams to a halt, forcing me to face her. “No! You are nothing like that monster.”

  “Then why do I want Camden Marshall so badly? How can I hate him for everything he’s done and still want his hands all over me?”

  I shake my head, hating this confusion. I wish I could tell her I lost my virginity to him, but I’m scared of giving her that knowledge. I know if I asked her to keep it from my brother she would, but it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask her to do that, and I worry it’d come back to bite her.

  When it comes out, and it will—hopefully, when I’m a million miles away from here—I don’t want her to know anything. When my father grills her, I want her to look him in the eye and say she didn’t know and for it to be the truth, so he takes nothing out on her.

  So, as much as I want to confide in my best friend, I say nothing.

  “You can’t help who you fall for. Just like you can’t force yourself to feel things for Trent.”

  I loop my arm in hers again, pulling her forward. “If only it were that simple.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I come bearing gifts,” I say, plonking into the chair beside Xavier, handing him a coffee and doughnut.

  “Thanks. I’m starving. Been at this for hours.”

  I kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “We still need stuff for two of the envelopes.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” I say, sipping on my coffee. “Put me to work.”

  “I have your workstation set up and ready to go.” He points to the screen directly in front of me. “But tell me about this other information you want me to investigate.”

  I show him the pics I took in the guys’ bedrooms last night asking if he can identify the other boys from the photo and find out exactly what happened to Jackson’s sister. “There’s one other thing too.” I drain my coffee, tossing the empty paper cup in the trashcan. “Camden let something slip. He mentioned he had an older brother, but you said he was an only child.”

  He nods. “It’s well documented. He is an only child.”

  “That makes no sense. Why would he say he had an older brother if he didn’t?”

  Xavier looks contemplative. “Maybe he had a cousin or a best friend who lived with them and he considered him a brother?”

  “Or maybe there was another child, and he died?” I suggest, because that’s where my mind wandered. “And why does the world think the guys only met two years ago at the academy when this picture shows they’ve known each other for longer?”

  He scrubs a hand over the scruff on his chin. “It’s puzzling, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. Leave it with me.” He purses his lips and frowns. “I’ll add it to the long list of things I have to do for you.”

  I nudge him in the ribs. “I pay you extremely well.”

  “You do.”

  “And I’m your favorite client.”

  “You’ll be my only client at this rate,” he murmurs, tapping away on his keyboard. “Senior year is kicking my butt already, and I won’t have much downtime coming up to exams.”

  Xavier isn’t from around here, and he only moved to Boston when he graduated high school three years ago. He attends Rydeville University on a full scholarship, thanks to his nerdy tech brain. “You should consider yourself privileged.”

  “With you, I already do.” I smack a kiss off his cheek again. “And I know you secretly love me,” I tease.

  “If I was into chicks, you’d be it for me.” He winks, and we both laugh.

  He shows me where he’s set everything up, and I scroll through files until I find a few clues and follow the trail, compiling evidence and printing it off before sealing it in the envelopes, carefully writing the names on the outside.

  Xavier has been busy finishing his presentation, and he hands me a USB key when I’m ready to leave. “Just plug it into your laptop and insert the password I’ll send to your cell. Then you’ll be good to go. Any issues, call me.”

  I hug him. “Thanks for this, and I will.”

  I move to ease out of his arms, but he keeps hold of me, peering at me with a troubled expression on his
face. The silver ring in his eyebrow glints as it catches the light. “You’d tell me if you were in danger, right?”

  I offer him an amused smile. “I’m in danger every day, Xavier. You know who my father is. What his associates are capable of. What lies in store for me if I go through with the wedding to Trent.” I cup one side of his face. “It’s why I made the deal with you. It’s why you’re trying to find something I can blackmail my father with so he’ll leave me alone once I leave Rydeville.”

  “You could leave now. I can make it happen. With my skills, and my contacts, I can hide you. I can keep you safe.”

  “I want to believe that so badly, but my mother tried to escape, and she paid for it with her life. I owe it to her to learn from her mistakes. The only way I can make this happen is to hold something over him. Something that would ruin him. Even then, he might still hunt me down, but it’s insurance, and it should at least buy me some time.” I kiss his forehead. “I love you for caring so much, but I can’t leave until we have something to blackmail him with.”

  “I’m worried we’re running out of time.”

  I exhale loudly, shucking out of his arms. “I know. I constantly feel like there’s a ticking time bomb strapped to my back.”

  “And I don’t like this new elite. I have a bad feeling they’ll make a shitty situation even shittier.”

  I clasp his face in my palms. “Which is why we’ll find something to use against them.” I drop my hands, pulling out my cell. “I almost forgot to tell you. I planted the chip on Sawyer’s cell last night. I’m texting you his number now.”

  “Fucking A!” He fist pumps the air. “I’ll load the surveillance feed right now.”

  I prop my butt on the edge of the long desk. “What exactly will it give us?”

  “Access to all his texts and messages, and we can listen to live calls. I should also be able to trace all activity on his cell, so whatever he’s browsing, apps he’s using, etcetera.”

  The biggest grin spreads over my mouth. “Let’s hope we get something fast. The situation at school is getting out of hand.”

  “This should help rectify that,” he says, gesturing at the five envelopes in my hand.