Cruel Intentions

by Davis, Siobhan

  Cam and Jackson pluck guys off Wentworth, tossing them aside and warning them to stay back.

  Wentworth groans, spitting blood and a couple of loose teeth out onto the floor. “You stupid cunt,” he hisses, sitting up on the floor and glaring at me. Blood spurts from his nose and trickles from multiple cuts on his lips. Both eyes are already closing, and his shirt is torn and bloodstained.

  “I warned you, but you were always an arrogant idiot.” He attempts to climb to his feet. “Surely, you didn’t target your friends’ mothers, record yourself fucking them, and expect to get away with it?”

  He sways on his feet, clutching onto the back of a chair to keep himself upright. “Hacking into someone’s computer is illegal, and I’ll go after you for it.”

  I move one step closer, raking my gaze over him in a derogatory manner. “You need to learn to keep your stupid mouth shut because all it does is dig you in a deeper hole.” I cross my arms and smile at him. “I have sent a copy of that recording to your parents along with a copy to every one of those women’s husbands. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an angry mob waiting for you outside.”

  The smile drops off my face, and I lean in to his ear, not wanting to divulge this to the masses, but only because I’m protecting his sister. “I found the file with the recordings of your sister. You’re a sick bastard, and you’re going down for what you did to her.”

  His face pales behind all the blood. “What did you do?” he stutters.

  “I sent those to your parents too, along with a copy to the police chief.”

  A loud roar rips from his mouth, and he wraps his hands around my throat before I can stop him. He squeezes hard, his bloodshot eyes bulging out of his head, as he tries to strangle me. He’s yanked off me almost straightaway, and I stagger back, drawing deep breaths as I watch Cam punch Wentworth repeatedly until he slumps unconscious to the ground.

  “You okay?” Sawyer places a hand on my lower back as Chad reappears in the cafeteria. Cam stares at my neck, and I detect a fleeting flash of guilt in his eyes before it disappears.

  “What happened?” Chad asks, his eyes darting from me to Wentworth’s bloody, beaten body on the ground.

  “He tried to strangle her,” Sawyer says, and Chad’s eyes pop wide.

  “I’m fine.” I hold up a palm. “Cam pulled him away before he could do any damage.”

  A commotion at the door claims our attention, and we watch as a team of police pushes their way through the crowd, making a beeline for us.

  I smooth a hand down over my uniform, holding my shoulders upright, projecting confidence, as Cam moves to the other side of me and the five of us line up to face the authorities.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Things return to normal at school after the showdown, and we have restored order. The new elite continue to sit at their existing table, but they are alone as everyone else has returned to the old arrangements. Classes are no longer disrupted, and the principal even overlooked the confrontation in the cafeteria, backing up our version of events with the police and declining to call my father.

  Rochelle has left town with her family, and Wentworth is behind bars awaiting trial.

  Life is—temporarily—good.

  “You did well, little sis,” Drew says on the phone Friday night while I’m preparing to sneak out to meet the guys. “I’m proud of you.”

  I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “That’s not something you should be proud of me for.”

  “Sure, it is. You removed an illegal sex operation from business, stopped Rochelle’s father before he bankrupted more people, and put a rapist in jail. That’s what I’m proud of. Not the fact you regained control in school; although I’m grateful as we’ve enough on our plate without having to deal with that upon our return.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, shimmying my leather pants up my legs.

  “It’s not something I can discuss.”

  I snort. “Right. Shady Parkhurst shit. Got it.”

  “How’s Jane?” he asks, deliberately changing the subject.

  “She’s good. Happy now I got the recording off the new elite and they’re no longer threatening to expose her.” It surprised me when Cam handed it over Monday night, but Sawyer assured me it was a show of good faith and that it didn’t bode well to start a working relationship by using threats and coercion.

  “Thank fuck, but I will still beat their asses for it. And I don’t like you pretending to form an alliance with them. It’s risky if they discover you’re double-crossing them.”

  “They won’t,” I say, trying to dampen down my guilt.

  Drew thinks I’ve made an agreement with the elite whereby they are exempt from following the rules once they don’t interfere with our control. He thinks I’m putting on a front in school to keep them in line until they return and squash them. If he knew it’s all part of the plan, he’d be so disappointed in me.

  Drew chose his side a long time ago, and while I hate we’re on opposing teams, I can’t lose sight of my long-term goals.

  Thoughts of leaving here, leaving Drew behind, always bring tears to my eyes, but we want different things from life, and I can’t find any way to reconcile our issues. I only hope that, in time, once Drew has assumed full control of Manning Motors and our father no longer has the same power, we can rectify things and rebuild our relationship.

  And he has Jane.

  It’s not like I’m leaving him all alone. I trust my friend to take care of my brother after I flee.

  “I’ve got to go.” I hear voices in the background. “I love you, and tell Jane I love her too. I can’t wait to see you both next week.”

  “I love you too,” I croak over the messy ball of emotion wedged in my throat.

  I’m the last one to arrive at the guys’ place, and Cam snaps, “You’re late,” when I stroll into the sitting room.

  “And you’re still acting like you’ve got a giant stick up your ass,” I retort.

  “Issues?” Sawyer asks.

  “I had to create a diversion so my bodyguard wouldn’t see me sneaking out,” I admit, dropping my helmet and leather jacket on the arm of the couch.

  Louis is grating on my nerves these nights. He barely spends any time standing guard in the hallway outside my room, preferring to smuggle his latest fuck buddy onto the grounds for sexy time. The problem is, he’s been bringing her to one of the unused outdoor buildings on the edge of the garden, and it’s way too close to where I enter the forest from the tunnel. I stumbled upon them earlier in the week and almost got caught, so, tonight I sent a virus to the camera system, timed to impact just before I planned to leave, knowing he’d be called to assist and I could leave without fear of discovery.

  “Hey.” Xavier pulls me into a hug, kissing the top of my head. “Don’t mind Grumpy McGrumpy. I only just got here.”

  “Looking sexy as fuck, beautiful,” Jackson says, removing a blunt from his pocket as he trails his gaze over my tight black lacy tank top, skintight black leather pants, and black wedge boots.

  Sawyer snatches the blunt off him. “I need you alert with all brain cells functioning. And stop hitting on her to wind Marshall up. I’m sick of refereeing.”

  I smirk, perching on the arm of the couch. “Aw, are you two still fighting over me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Cam drawls, flopping into the recliner chair. “You’re just another pussy. Nothing special. And it’s not the first time Lauder and I have hit on the same woman.”

  “Try telling that to someone who believes it, dickwad,” Xavier says, sitting down beside me and sending daggers in Cam’s direction.

  “And this is exactly what I’m talking about.” Sawyer sighs, throwing his arms out in exasperation. “We’ll make no progress with everyone throwing shade, so just quit it and focus.”

  “Have you had any luck finding an expert who can advise us how best to open the safe?” Cam asks Xavier, immediately getting down to business.

&n
bsp; “I’ve contacted one guy, but I’m still checking his credentials.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Cam replies. “They’re back next week.”

  “They won’t be back until late Friday,” I confirm. “So that gives us a full week.”

  “Why don’t we just have a stab at the safe ourselves?” Jackson suggests.

  “Because Xavier and I have already tried it. Attempting to work out the code, even using high-tech software, still gives us a list of combinations that’s too long to test. And it’s composed of certain materials which mean it’s virtually impenetrable. Besides trying to cut into it would be messy, make too much noise, and the security team would catch us. Or my father would know someone compromised the safe.”

  “We need the element of surprise with the evidence,” Sawyer agrees. “Hearst can’t know we’ve been in his safe and copied the contents.”

  “This seems like a dead-end idea.” Jackson taps his leg impatiently off the hardwood floor. “I don’t see how we’ll ever get into that safe.”

  “Career criminals have tools that will enable us to crack the code on the safe but it’s not like we can just find their number listed in the Yellow Pages,” Xavier replies. “And I need to vet any guys I find online because Hearst, Montgomery, and Barron are in cahoots with a lot of these people. The last thing we want is to make arrangements with one of their contacts, compromise our plans, and lose the element of surprise.”

  “Which is why I think we’ll struggle to pull this off in the next week,” Cam says. “We need more time to plan. Rushing risks mistakes.”

  “Look.” I place my elbows on my knees and cup my chin in my hands. “It will be easier to pull this off while my father and the elite are away, but if we have to do it after they return, so be it. I’ll think of some way of getting them out of the house so you guys can work without risk of discovery.”

  “And we’ll still have the security detail to handle anyway,” Xavier adds.

  “I can manage that. I have Oscar under my thumb, and I’ll use him to create some diversion which will pull the others away. We’ll manipulate the camera feed, overlaying a blank image of the hallway to mask our comings and goings.”

  And if all else fails, I can get them out using the tunnel infrastructure, but I’m not mentioning that as it’s only a last resort. I still don’t trust these guys as far as I’d throw them.

  I spend the next day at the library, digging through more of the records. This time, I pull up every news article I can find on Emma Anderson’s suicide. I asked Cam why my father would kill his aunt, and he gave me one of his usual shouty non-answers, but I sense he knows more than he’s letting on.

  God, would it kill the jerk to throw me a bone?

  I remember Mrs. Anderson with fondness even though I was only about four or five the last time I saw her. Before she had a falling out with my mother, they were best friends and we spent a lot of time with her and the Anderson boys.

  I had a little crush on Maverick Anderson, but he barely knew I existed. He was four years older than me, and he enjoyed tormenting me and making me cry.

  I remember this one time he chased me around the pool when we were over at their house and I fell on the stone patio and cut my knee. Mrs. Anderson sent him to his room and took me into the kitchen to clean me up while Mom watched the rest of the hooligans jumping in and out of the pool. She gave me vanilla ice cream with strawberries and strawberry syrup, and I remember thinking it was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. Mom was strict with treats, only allowing us to have candy on Saturdays, and Mrs. Anderson made me promise to keep it a secret.

  I never told.

  Not even Drew, and we told each other everything back then. But he was best buddies with Kaiden Anderson, and I was afraid he’d blab to him. I didn’t want it getting back to his mom because I didn’t want to displease her.

  That ended up being one of the last times we all hung out together. Then the moms stopped talking, and a few years later, Emma was found dead after overdosing on pills. Her youngest two sons were only one and two respectively at the time of her death, and I remember the baby crying incessantly at the funeral and how the entire congregation was in floods of tears.

  Mom was inconsolable.

  Then six months later, she was dead too.

  I read every article I can lay my hands on, and they all say the same.

  She committed suicide.

  No foul play suspected.

  Case closed.

  Atticus Anderson fell apart after that if the reports are reliable. He lost his business and his home and moved the family out of Rydeville.

  I wonder if they moved to be with Cam and his family? If the older brother Cam mentioned by accident is one of his cousins? I suppose it’d make sense. If Atticus Anderson had lost everything, wouldn’t he’d turn to his family for help?

  I want to bring it up with Cam, but he’s so closed off and he’s not likely to volunteer any information. Plus, if he finds out I’ve been digging into old records, he’ll probably be pissed and shut me down. So, I’ve got to time it right. To look for an opportunity to bring it casually into the conversation and see if I can uncover more.

  After the library, I drop by Jane’s for a while, eating dinner with her family, before I return home. I spend an hour dancing in my home studio, working up a sweat as I glide around the polished floor to a mix of tunes on my cell. I do some of my best thinking when I’m dancing, and while ballet is my favorite, I love contemporary too.

  Cam’s question about what I want to do with my life has been playing on repeat in my mind all week. I’ve been so focused on plotting my escape, and making it happen, that I’ve given little thought to what I’ll do when I’m free to make my own choices.

  I want to dance. Maybe on Broadway or the West End in London.

  And I want to travel. To explore different continents and cultures. To expand my horizons.

  Or maybe teach, because I’m academically minded and I’m one of those weird kids who enjoy school. That could be because it got me out of the house and away from my father every day, but I like to think it’s more than that.

  I definitely want to attend college. And I’ve already researched Juilliard. Getting to go there would be a dream come true.

  But all it can be is a dream. For now.

  Because I can’t get my hopes up.

  Not until I know I’m free to make my own life decisions.

  And everything is still hanging in the balance.

  Jane and I spend Sunday at the beach topping up our tans. Although it’s late September, this weekend has been unseasonably warm, and it’ll probably be the last opportunity we get to do this for a while. We swim, chat, listen to music, and share the picnic Mrs. Jenkins prepared for us, only leaving when the beach is almost empty, and our tummies are rumbling for more food. I pull my thigh-skimming strapless gold beach dress up over my black and gold bikini and slip my feet into my Gucci flip flops before we make our way through the thick sand.

  We’re walking toward the grassy path when I spy a forlorn figure, hunched over a sketchpad drawing, sitting on top of one dune.

  Cam has his head half down, and a look of fierce concentration is etched upon his face. His hand flies across the page, his wrist skillfully angling, his fingers smudging the drawing. His entire body appears relaxed in a way I rarely see, and I instantly know sketching is for him what dancing is to me.

  Memories of the sketches I looked at in his room surge to the forefront of my memory, and a little niggle tickles the back of my mind. Jane notices my attention has wavered, and she angles her head in the same direction. “Isn’t that…”

  Cam’s head whips up as if some invisible force has called to him. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he drinks me in. He’s got a ball cap on backward, and he’s bare chested, only wearing khaki shorts and sneakers on his feet, with his sketchpad balanced on his bent knees.

  We stare at one another as Jane and I walk b
y, but he doesn’t move to acknowledge me, and I do the same. Electricity swirls around me, igniting the air between us, heightening my senses. All the tiny hairs lift on the back of my neck, and butterflies are running amok in my chest. Honestly, this freaky attraction between us is getting out of hand.

  “Holy hawt chemistry,” Jane jokes once we’ve moved out of earshot, fanning her hands in front of her face. “You can stay with him if you like. I’m cool to make my way home.”

  “I’m not ditching you.” I loop my arm through hers. “Especially not for a Grade-A jerk like Camden Marshall.”

  “How’s that denial thing working for you these days?” she quips.

  “I’m hanging on by a thread,” I admit.

  “You sure you don’t want to take advantage before Trent returns and breathes down your neck again?”

  “Ugh.” I chew on the inside of my mouth. “Please don’t remind me. These past few weeks without him and Father have been bliss. And Trent will be hopping mad when he returns because I’ve refused to send him any naughty pics and I hang up every time he initiates phone sex.”

  “All the more reason you should climb the hottie like a tree while you can.”

  I slam to a halt. “Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”

  She smiles softly. “I just want you to grab happiness where you can. I hate that you’re forced to be with someone you don’t love.”

  “Forget love. I don’t even like Trent,” I remind her.

  “Exactly why you should get with Cam while you can.”

  “But I don’t like him either.” I send her a knowing look. “And you shouldn’t too, not after what they did to you.”

  “I hate the thought they’ve seen me like that, but there’s nothing I can do about it.” She shrugs. “It’s survival of the fittest, and it’s not like our guys haven’t pulled shit over the years.”

  “True, but it’s never been at our expense.”

  “If you’re trying to switch the subject, it won’t work.” I flip her the bird, and she smirks. “You don’t have to like him to make out with him, and it’s obvious you two are hot for one another, which,” she adds, threading her arm in mine and pulling me forward toward the parking lot, “is something you must work on. If Trent sees the way you two stare at one another in the cafeteria when you think no one’s looking, there’ll be hell to pay.”