Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series
Page 62
Chase’s worried blue-green gaze catches mine, and it’s clear he was thinking the same thing. It’s also obvious we both came to the same conclusion at the same time.
No.
Trying to run will only get us hunted down.
River squeezes my hand, his grip tightening, and when I look over at him, his face is pale, his expression tight. There’s something stark and blank in his eyes, and when he notices me gazing at him, he shakes his head. He repeats the gesture a second later, his gaze darting up to the man in the driver’s seat. There’s a man behind us too, and I know his gun is still in his hand.
I wrinkle my brow, giving a little headshake of my own to let River know I’m not understanding whatever message he’s trying to send me.
This time, his gaze flicks to the man behind us. Then he angles his head just slightly so it’s tilted a little toward me, but the man in the back seat can’t see his face. His lips move, but no sound comes out.
He’s mouthing words.
What the hell is he saying?
My whole body aches with tension as I keep my head turned toward the front of the car too, straining so hard to see out of the corner of my eyes that it hurts.
River’s lips move again, repeating the phrase twice, and this time, I think I pick up a word in the middle.
Going.
Going where?
Going to what?
Jesus, if I were River, I would’ve figured out exactly what he’s saying already. Stifling my irritation and frustration with my lack of lip-reading ability, I shift my head just a fraction, giving myself a slightly clearer view of his mouth.
Something fierce and determined burns in his eyes, and he slows down his silent speech, forming each word slowly and carefully.
And finally, I get it. I piece it together, one word after the next, until the meaning of the entire thing becomes clear.
They’re not going to let us live.
23
They’re not going to let us live.
River’s unspoken words echo like a shout in my mind, and a weird sort of numbness floods me. It’s different than shock, different than the way I felt after Iris died, when it almost seemed like I was outside my own body.
This feels more like the anticipation of death, like my body is testing out what “nothingness” feels like, trying it on for size.
Preparing for the inevitable.
His gray eyes are still watching me, and I can see regret churning in his irises, like he’s wishing for a dozen different impossible things right now.
He mouths one more phrase, and maybe it’s because my lip-reading skills have improved, or maybe it’s just that my soul already knows what he’s going to say, but I get this one on the first try.
I love you.
An awful blend of happiness and acute pain make my chest cavity feel too small, and I give him the smallest of nods.
He loves me. This beautiful, exceptional, complicated boy loves me. So do his three best friends.
I wish I had more fucking time to appreciate that.
But the one thing we don’t have much of anymore is time. Judge Hollowell’s house is clear on the other side of Fox Hill from the dry cleaner storefront, but we reach it way too fast anyway. Niles’s people pull up to the curb several houses away from Hollowell’s, and the man in the front of our SUV turns around, gun leveled at us.
“Out.”
He and his compatriot watch us carefully as the two boys and I clamber out of the car. Behind us, Linc and Dax do the same, and I catch Lincoln’s eye. I wish I could tell him what River just told me. I wish we could talk for just a fucking second and figure out what to do, but we can’t talk in front of our captors without risking their retaliation.
Niles walks ahead of us, leading the way up Hollowell’s drive. These guys don’t bother with anything as low-level as sneaking in the bathroom window. Instead, he jerks his head to one of his men. All of them are now wearing gloves, including D’Amato himself.
“Alarm.”
The guy disappears around the side of the house as two of the remaining men keep their weapons trained on us, guns held close to their bodies. Not that anyone is likely to see them. The houses in this neighborhood are mostly all set back from the road, with high fences or walls around them.
As soon as the first man comes back, another one of Niles’s guys steps up to the door, pulling a small mechanism from his pocket. I’m not at the right angle to see what he does with it, but whatever it is, it works like a charm. A second later, the door swings open.
“We’ll just have a chat with our friend, Mr. Hollowell,” Niles says darkly, his gaze flicking around the space as the others usher us inside.
Hollowell isn’t home yet. The house is quiet, and although it’s bright enough thanks to the huge windows in the living room, no lights are on. It feels eerie, abandoned almost.
We’re herded into the living room, where the elk and the fox gaze at us impassively, as neutral about our current situation as about anything else. Two guns stay trained on us, but I know all the men are armed. Niles D’Amato lifts his weapon and screws a silencer onto the barrel.
“This is the kind of thing we can’t have, you see.” His voice has a lecturing tone, as if he’s trying to teach us something. “You think you know someone. You trust them. And then you find out that the very basis of your relationship—of your mutually beneficial relationship—was a lie. It’s…” He drags in a breath and lets it out on a sigh. “Disappointing.”
“We don’t know anything about it.” My voice is raspy from fear and disuse, and the boys alongside me all tense as I speak.
Niles sighs again. The men surrounding us all shift on their feet slightly, their posture becoming more tense and alert, and a desperate fear fills me. Is he planning to use us to send a message to Hollowell? Five dead bodies in his living room when he gets home would definitely put the fucking fear of God in him.
“We just found the receipt. That’s all we know about whatever the two of you did together. We don’t know anything else,” I insist.
I stare up at the tall, terrifying man, holding his gaze even though it makes my eyes water. It feels like staring at the sun, at a force too powerful to be taken in with human eyes.
Niles cocks his head, his eyebrows twitching slightly. “Unfortunately, it’s not about how little you know. It’s about the fact that you know anything at all. Wild cards have to be eliminated—something Alexander Hollowell never seemed quite able to grasp.” He lifts a hand reassuring. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach him.”
Fuck.
If I had thought I might elicit an ounce of pity from this man, I’ve been playing the wrong tactic. And from the way he’s talking, he wouldn’t be swayed if he knew who the guys’ parents are either, knew how connected they are. In his mind, it’ll be easier to deal with the fallout from our murder than with letting us escape this house unharmed.
My mind churns, feeling sluggish and too fucking slow as I try to come up with something to say, something that can appeal to this man’s twisted business sense. Because this isn’t personal. He might be angry at Hollowell, but he’s not doing this to punish us or out of some personal vendetta against us. Niles D’Amato has simply decided he can’t allow us to live.
So how the fuck do I convince him otherwise?
I can’t think of a single damn thing—besides begging, which I’d do in a heartbeat if I thought it would stand a chance of working.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter. Because we run out of time.
Before I can open my mouth again, the sound of a car’s engine filters softly in from outside, and I see Judge Hollowell’s beige car rolling up the drive. If he looked through the large living room windows right now, he’d see five people sitting on his couch and another five gathered around them. But he doesn’t, and a second later, his car glides out of sight, headed toward the attached garage on the other side of the house.
“Watch them. Mitch, with me.”
My heart thuds hard and heavy against my ribs as I watch the smaller door at the far end of the dining room. The open floor plan of the house means I can see almost the entire dining room and part of the room beyond.
My gaze stays rooted to it.
Waiting.
Waiting.
There’s the soft thud of another door closing somewhere else in the house, and I think I forgot to breathe somewhere in the middle of this because my chest is tight and I feel lightheaded as I keep staring at that single spot.
And then Hollowell appears.
He doesn’t realize anything is amiss at first, doesn’t know we’re there. He walks with the casual, confident stride of someone who thinks he’s alone. But halfway across the dining room, he looks up and freezes.
A dozen different emotions flash over his face at hyper speed, and then he pivots on his heel to run. But Niles and Mitch are already on him, emerging from their places framing the dining room entry and grabbing him so fast he barely makes it a full step. The one named Mitch is big and burly, even bigger and rougher looking than Niles, and he grabs Hollowell by the neck, spinning him back around and shoving him to his knees. The judge lands with a sharp crack against the hardwood floor.
Niles and Mitch both level their guns at him, and Hollowell looks up, breathing hard.
I got my wish.
This man who always looks so calm and collected, so unruffled, doesn’t seem quite so put together now. His suit jacket is twisted, higher on one shoulder than the other from Mitch’s rough handling, and there’s a glint in his eye I’ve never seen before. I recognize the emotions behind it though.
Fear.
And desperation.
I wanted to see Hollowell come undone. I wanted to see him afraid of something for once in his goddamn life.
But I can’t enjoy it. Not when the boys I love are sitting next to me with guns aimed at their heads.
“You know, I thought after all we’d been through together, you would’ve had a little fucking loyalty,” Niles tells the man kneeling in front of him, his voice hard with anger.
“I do. Of course I do.” Hollowell shakes his head, and he’s already mastering his emotions, the mask of casual control returning.
“Do you? Because these goddamn kids came to my place of business today with a very interesting story. Do you know what that was?”
Hollowell’s gaze flashes to the five of us, lingering the longest on me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but his expression seems to tighten somehow. Then he shifts his attention back to Niles, charm radiating from every pore. And although I hate the motherfucker, I have to admit he knows how to be charming—how to disarm people with his voice, his words, and his pleasant smile.
“No, I don’t know. But that girl is the one whose mother was arrested for Iris’s death. So I presume she’d make up any story about me she could think of to try to turn you against me.”
“Is that what you’d presume?” Niles tilts his head, taking a step closer to Hollowell. “You’ve handled this whole thing pretty fucking poorly, Alex. Iris seeing us together was bad enough, but now you’ve got five more teenagers who know about us? I didn’t tell you to get rid of her just so you could replace her with five more potential leaks. Especially ones you never told me about.”
“I was handling it,” Hollowell says smoothly, although when his gaze darts to me again, I can see a wild look in his eyes. “I was taking care of everything. Just like I took care of Iris.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that girl!”
Niles’s voice booms out so suddenly and so loudly that it makes me jump. Chase presses closer to me, as if he’s trying to lend me strength and keep me still all at once. All three of the men surrounding us tense, their muscles bunching slightly.
Hollowell shrinks a little as he looks up at Niles, who seems to have grown in his anger, towering over the other man.
“I give a fuck about the fact that after relying on us for years while you built yourself up in this town, you thought it would be wise to run for office on a campaign promise of wiping me off the face of the earth,” Niles continues. His voice was like a gunshot before, but now it’s as quiet and deadly as the purr of a lion.
Hollowell freezes. Then he shakes his head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. “That’s not true. I would never do that.”
“Are you sure?” Niles purses his lips. “It would be quite a coup for a new Senator. The kind of feather in the cap of your career I know you’ve been craving.”
Judge Hollowell licks his lips. The calm is cracking again, his charming half-smile gone. He’s on his knees before the two men, and now he clasps both hands together, making it look so much like he’s praying that it sends a shiver up my spine.
I’d be fucking praying too.
He opens his mouth once and then closes it, then tries again, smiling disbelievingly like he can’t believe they’re even discussing this.
“I…” He shrugs helplessly. “I might’ve mentioned it to a few private donors. In the context of a broader need to be tough on crime. But no promises were made. That’s just how politics go. You tell people what they want to hear in the moment, but no one keeps their word on every campaign promise.”
Niles shakes his head, taking a step back from the man on the floor. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me about people breaking promises.”
He lifts his hand, the one holding the dark gun with the silencer on the end, and I see the moment Hollowell registers it, see him open his mouth, see his body lurch forward with desperation.
But then a small metallic noise sounds as the gun fires, and Hollowell jerks back.
24
My body jerks right along with Hollowell’s, shock and adrenaline pouring through me so quickly it’s like getting punched in the heart.
His head and shoulders hit the ground with an awful sounding smack, his arms not even moving to brace his fall. His legs bend awkwardly underneath him because of the angle of his fall, and thick red blood begins to spread across his chest, staining his suit-jacket and crisp white shirt.
Fuck.
Holy fuck.
Bile races up my throat, filling my mouth with a metallic taste, and I swallow several times to force it back down. Everything inside my body wants out, as though if I won’t flee, my internal organs are planning to make a break for it on their own.
Hollowell’s dead. Or if he’s not dead yet, he will be soon.
It happened so fucking fast. Between one half-second and the next, a bullet carved its way through his body. Between one heartbeat and the next, he went down.
I wasn’t ready.
He wasn’t ready.
I could see it on his face. Right up until the moment Niles D’Amato squeezed the trigger, Hollowell still thought he could talk his way out of this. That all the bluffing and the mind games and manipulation he was so good at could turn this around, could buy him one more free pass out of facing the consequences of his actions.
But his free passes have run out.
There’s a sharp wheezing sound in my ears that I only vaguely realize is the sounds of me trying to suck air into lungs that are closing up, tightening painfully.
Niles nudges Hollowell with his shoe, looking down at the angled body with disgust. “Goddamn you.”
Then, as if that’s all the benediction the man deserves, the tall man lifts his head, his demeanor changing entirely, as if his anger at Hollowell evaporated in the same moment the bullet pierced his chest.
“This was not how I planned on spending my fucking day,” he tells Mitch, shaking his head as he squats down next to Hollowell’s still form. He tucks his gun away and ho
lds out his hand. “Gimme your piece.”
Mitch pulls his weapon out from where he tucked it in the waistband of his pants and hands it over.
Niles wipes the dark metal of the gun with a small cloth he pulls from his pocket, then grabs Hollowell’s limp right hand and wraps it around the grip, pressing each finger lightly against the metal to leave a clear print.
He rises to his feet and returns the gun to Mitch, jerking his head in our direction. “Now them.”
I feel Chase stiffen beside me, and Linc makes a noise low in his throat. The three men in the living room with us all relaxed the second Hollowell went down, and now one of them steps forward, looking at Niles expectantly.
Their boss flicks his attention to us, and I see… nothing in his eyes. His gaze travels over me the same way it might move over the stuffed fox by the mantel—with mild interest but no compassion at all.
“Get ’em up. Spread ’em out. It needs to look like a home invasion gone wrong, not an execution.” He turns to Mitch, who holds the nine millimeter loosely in his hand. “Don’t make any of the shots too clean. Make it look like a scuffle broke out.”
“Yup.”
The burly man nods once, then steps into the foyer as the other three men haul us to our feet. I’m shoved roughly into a corner of the living room next to Linc, and he puts his body in front of mine as if he’s trying to shield me.
No. No. No.
My hand is shaking as I reach for him, but before my fingers can brush his arm, the man who dragged us here steps back, raising a hand to gesture Mitch over even as he addresses us.
“Spread out. More space between you.”
Linc growls again, and I think he’s about to launch himself at the man. But he can’t. He can’t. Death can come so fast and so decisively, but I’m not ready for it yet. Please, please, God, not yet.
Taking the decision out of Linc’s hands, I move two steps to my right, separating our bodies a bit. I can see Niles’s other men arranging the rest of the kings around the room, spacing them out so the cops won’t find us all on a line in the couch with bullet holes in our heads.