Forever Golden: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Prep Book 3)

by Rachel Jonas

  West says nothing, but slowly approaches the desk. He picks up the folder his grandfather placed there and stares at it.

  “I can walk you through it if you want,” Boone offers, prompting West to nod.

  Once he hands it over, Boone begins to thumb through the documents.

  “Well, your daddy wasn’t exactly Rockefeller when he started sniffing around your ma, but he wasn’t destitute either. He flashed enough cash around when they’d come down to visit that I had my investigator start there, following the money. I wanted to know how he made it and what he did with it,” Boone explains.

  “My guy found an old buddy of Vin’s up there in the city, one willing to share what he knew. Cost me a pretty penny, of course, but it was worth it. I mean, it didn’t stop your mom from selling her soul to the devil, but we can’t win ‘em all,” he adds with a laugh.

  “Anyway, the friend told the investigator he grew up on the same street as Vin up there in Cypress Pointe, and that as long as he’d known him, Vin had been well-to-do. The guy never saw Vin’s mother work a day in her life, though. So, it seemed to him that they lived off some sort of inheritance.”

  “Was it maybe something left for him by his grandparents?” West asks.

  Boone shakes his head. “That was my first thought, but his mother grew up in the foster care system and didn’t have any family that she knew of.”

  I’m so confused, and judging by the look on West’s face, he is too.

  “So, where’d it come from?” he asks.

  Boone breathes deep, then drops down into the armchair near the bay window overlooking the yard.

  “Vin ever tell you boys anything about his father?”

  “Only that he grew up not knowing who he was, and never got to meet him,” West explains.

  “Well, I suppose that’s true to an extent, but he definitely knows the man’s name,” Boone reveals. “It’s right here on his birth certificate.”

  He hands it over to West to scan and I fight the urge to peek.

  I study West’s face as he reads, growing even more intrigued when tension gathers in his brow.

  “This doesn’t… it doesn’t make any sense,” he stammers, seemingly at a loss for words.

  “Augustin was a married man when he had an affair with your paternal grandmother, Liza Golden. That affair resulted in the birth of your father,” Boone explains.

  West, keeping his gaze trained on the birth certificate, inches back toward the wall and leans against it.

  “Augustin wasn’t in Vin’s life, but he provided for him financially, which explains why Liza never worked. She wasn’t living in the lap of luxury by any means, but her basic needs were taken care of. She was what we used to call a ‘kept woman’,” Boone adds. “But from what the source revealed, Vin spent most of his life believing his father was deceased, which I’m guessing was an arrangement made between Augustin and Liza. Only, years down the road, on Liza’s deathbed, she apparently told Vin everything because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone in the world, without family.”

  “This doesn’t make sense,” West says, seeming to share his thoughts out loud.

  Waiting until he tells me on his own isn’t working. The suspense is killing me.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  I expect him to just share what he sees that’s so shocking, but he hands it over instead. I study the document and it only takes three seconds to understand why he’s speechless.

  “Holy shit.” I peer up at Boone. “Excuse my language, it’s just… this says Vin’s father was Augustin Ruiz? Is this legitimate?”

  “It’s as real as I’m standing in front of you,” he answers with a nod. “Why? That name mean something to you?”

  “It… yeah,” I stammer, eventually just zoning out on the document.

  Growing up, Ricky was practically his grandfather’s shadow. They went everywhere together. So much that I spent several of those early years thinking Gus Ruiz was his father, only to discover at around age nine that his actual father had passed away a little over four years prior. Not too long after Shane was born.

  Now, according to this birth certificate, it appears Vin is an illegitimate son of the Ruiz family patriarch.

  My mind is reeling right now, and I drop down into the chair across from Boone, thinking about all the signs we likely missed. But how could we have known? Before agreeing to this trip, I double-checked that the family he wanted to visit here in Louisiana had nothing to do with his dad, and West seemed so certain Vin had no inkling who his father was.

  Now, we both know that was a huge lie.

  “Vin got in good with Augustin at some point and the family took to him all right, I suppose, but word never got out about Augustin having an illegitimate son. Could’ve been out of respect for his wife who was still alive at the time, could’ve been about control. Who the hell knows? But what I do believe is that it suited Vin that this familial tie was an easy secret to keep. After all, the name Ruiz—from what I gather—is one of a few surnames synonymous with criminal activity up there in Cypress Pointe. Is that correct?”

  I nod to confirm. “It is.”

  “Just as I thought,” Boone says with a sigh. “Long as I’ve known Vin, he’s been two steps ahead. My guess is that he knew he’d want to practically own that damn city one day and couldn’t risk having his reputation associated with the likes of the Ruiz family. Now, don’t get me wrong, he gets in the dirt with them up to a point, gets entangled with some of their endeavors when it suits him—like when he’s got a business venture to fund. How do you think his career in commercial real estate got started? But he’s a proud son of a bitch, and a smart one. As much as I hate to admit it,” he adds with a laugh. “Vin’s always got an angle, though, and you can bet your ass whatever moves he makes, it’s what’s best for him and him alone.”

  “The campaign posters,” I say to West, but it’s Boone who’s staring.

  “What campaign posters?”

  “A… friend—at least, I guess you can call her that—she sent me a proof of a poster announcing Vin as a mayoral candidate in the upcoming election.”

  Boone’s expression tenses. “No one knows about it yet?”

  I shake my head. “No, my guess is the two months he gave me to end things with West marks the date he plans to go public with this. He doesn’t want West and I associated, we just haven’t completely worked out why.”

  Boone lets out a frustrated sigh. “It’s likely what West shared with me a couple days ago about your brother. There any connection between the two? Does Vin have any ties with that girl your brother was accused of murdering?”

  “If there’s a connection, we haven’t found it yet.” I hate that I don’t have a definitive answer, but that’s the truth of it.

  “West tells me you’re concerned about your sister’s safety, so focus on her. Let your detective friend handle things regarding your brother. That’s something you can’t control right now, sweetheart,” Boone adds thoughtfully. “And while I know the information in this box might not be the smoking gun you two hoped it would be, maybe the detective can use it to his advantage.”

  “You’ve done more than enough, Grandpa. Thank you,” West says with a gracious nod. “Half the battle’s been proving that my dad’s even got the means to make those girls disappear, so I imagine linking him directly to a known crime family does just that.”

  My stomach turns a little because, while the Ruizes can be reduced to ‘a known crime family’ to most people, Shane and Ricky are definitely more than that to me. With Scar’s safety on the line, there’s no question what my priority is, but I pray Ricky meant what he said about not being involved with this side of his uncle’s business. If he is, there’s a chance he could go down with the sinking ship.

  I race through every recent conversation I’ve had with him, searching for any indication that he hasn’t been honest, but then I remember who I’m dealing with. Ricky is a lot of things, but a li
ar isn’t one of them. If he says he’s not involved, he’s not involved.

  Suddenly, I’m anxious to get this particular bit of info into Roby’s hands. It at least establishes that I wasn’t crazy to think Vin had some sort of tie to whatever new operation Paul has going on.

  “I put in a call yesterday morning and officially brought my guy out of retirement,” Boone informs us. “He’s got about forty years of investigative experience under his belt and I don’t trust anyone else to finish the job he started two decades ago. If I pay him well enough—and I will—he’s willing to set up camp up there in Cypress Pointe and do some more digging. So, even though I won’t be there in the flesh, I’m on you kids’ side,” he assures us.

  Tearful and so, so confused, I take Boone’s hand when he offers it to me. “Thank you. For everything.”

  He nods with a warm smile. “Anything I can do to help family, I’ll do it. And as long as my grandson thinks the sun rises and sets on that pretty little head of yours, you’re family.”

  I stand and go toward where West is still leaning beside the bookcase, but I pause when Boone calls out to me.

  “The folder belongs to the two of you. I’ve got no use for it anymore. But if I could give you one more bit of advice…”

  West nods. “Of course.”

  Boone stands from his seat and comes close. “Your daddy may be a slippery son of a bitch, but one thing he’s never been is an idiot. Now, I’m all for you kids working together with that task force to bring Vin Golden to his knees, but in the meantime, march to the beat of his drum. Or, at the very least, give the appearance that you are. It’ll buy the authorities time to do their job and it’ll keep your sister safe,” he adds, shifting his gaze to me. “So, if he wants you two separated by the time his campaign announcement goes forth, then… you might want to consider how to go about doing that.”

  Those words rest heavy on my heart.

  “Keep this in mind, though,” Boone adds. “If push comes to shove, and either of you feel like you’ve got nowhere else to run, my door is always open. For any of you.”

  He makes his exit then, patting West’s shoulder on his way out. We’re left on our own to consider his suggestion—that we play along to keep the peace. In other words, he’s not suggesting that I actually break West’s heart, but rather that we make it look that way.

  “What’re you thinking?” I ask quietly, slipping my arms around him.

  He sighs and I feel the weight of what he’s holding in. “I’m thinking my grandfather’s right—both about Vin being smart, and about making him think he’s won. But whatever we do, we have to sell the shit out of it.”

  “Ok, so… how would we go about doing that?”

  When West falls quiet, I’m admittedly nervous what he’ll say next. Another deep breath leaves him, and his arms tighten around me.

  “Let’s just say I’m pretty sure I’m gonna fucking hate myself for what I’m thinking, but… it’s our best option.”

  I give a questioning look after that cryptic statement, and West’s frustration seems to grow by the second.

  “I don’t think I understand,” I admit.

  He peers up and his dark stare locks with mine, causing my breaths to quicken at the sight of it.

  “Vin wants it to look like we’re done, like there’s nothing left of us to repair, so that’s what we have to give him,” West reasons. “Once we’re back in the city, you have to do it, Southside. You have to break me.”

  Chapter 29

  BLUE

  “There. All done,” Scar says with a satisfied grin.

  After having struggled to close her overstuffed suitcase for the last five minutes, she’s finally gotten it.

  “And not a second to spare,” I tease, shaking my head as I slip a hoodie over my t-shirt. “Our ride to the airport will be here in a few.”

  She plops down onto the bed that’s been hers since we first dropped our bags here in Dupont Bayou. Even though she hasn’t said it, she’ll miss it here. I think we’re all feeling it actually. The original plan was to stick around for a few more days, but once West heard that Scar would miss Shane’s last days in Cypress Pointe, he changed our flight plans. I shudder to think how much that must’ve cost him, but he didn’t even bat an eye.

  If it’s important to Scar and me, it’s important to him.

  Which is exactly why I love him.

  Thinking of Shane brings a question to mind. Something I’ve been dying to ask my sister.

  “So… what’s up with you and Linden?”

  For some reason, I hold my breath after asking.

  Scar shrugs. “He seems okay. He talks a lot about their band, school, and his family.”

  “His family? Is there drama or something?”

  She gives another of her casual shrugs. “No, not really. Mostly it’s just stuff about his bio-dad’s side. They’re Choctaw.”

  I stop what I’m doing to listen. “His dad’s Native?”

  Scar nods. “Well, he was. He died before Linden was born. Seems like he’s pretty in touch with his roots, though. His grandmother keeps him active with the local Choctaw community. Which is pretty cool, I guess.”

  She guesses?

  Those hearts in her eyes say otherwise. They say she’s more than interested in anything and everything having to do with this guy.

  “Mmm hmm. Let’s go, kiddo.”

  Scar takes her time getting up to follow me downstairs, but she eventually does. We join the others outside on the porch just as the driver who dropped us off several days ago pulls up in the same bus as before. Seeing him, my heart aches a little.

  This trip is ending way, way too soon.

  Boone’s standing beside me, hands in his pockets as he gazes over at his grandsons. They’re obviously so important to him, I imagine parting ways is always tough. In fact, I can see it in his eyes even though he’s trying to hide it.

  “Thank you so much for having us. We had a great time,” I say to him.

  “Oh, sweetheart, the pleasure was all mine. The only thing I love more than seeing my grandsons is seeing my grandsons happy.”

  He smiles then, and I find myself wishing I had a grandfather like him. Someone warm and loving, patient. Well, if you don’t count the short fuse he has when it comes to the other five we met down here. Even then, it’s easy to see he doesn’t only tolerate that wild bunch. He loves them.

  “Give me a hug before you run off,” Boone says with a smile.

  I lean in to embrace him and he doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore. He feels like family.

  “I’ll be checking in with West to see how things are coming along. And I know the last thing the two of you want to do is let Vin think he’s winning, but some things are more important than pride,” he reasons. “If he needs to think he’s in control while things are being worked out, then so be it. In the end, he’ll know the two of you never faltered in your love. Even if it has to look like it for a bit.”

  I nod, hearing him loud and clear. “Yes, sir.”

  “None of this ‘sir’ business. Just call me Grandpa,” he corrects me, confirming my earlier thought—we’re like family now.

  Scar and Joss move in to hug Boone next, followed by the boys. Boone nearly squeezes the life out of them like before and I could watch him with them all day. They might’ve gotten a raw deal being Vin’s sons, but being Boone’s grandsons more than makes up for it.

  “You kids keep out of trouble,” he calls out with a smile as we descend the steps of the porch, but we never get the chance to board our ride. Before any of us steps foot inside the bus, an engine revs in the distance. Then, what do we see a few seconds later?

  A gray pickup barreling up the long driveway.

  “Dear God, help us today,” Boone groans to himself—his reaction to seeing his other grandsons rolling up in all their loud, rowdy glory.

  At least the triplets are happy to see them.

  And Scar.

  Boone’s righ
t. A little divine intervention would be great right now. I especially think so when the truck slams to a stop and Linden hops out the bed of it, coming straight for my sister like there’s no one else standing here.

  The wind picks up, moving through his hair, and it’s apparent that he’s too cool to notice it’s a little chilly today. Instead of wearing a hoodie or jacket like the rest of us, he’s rocking a white t-shirt and jeans.

  The other four go straight for West, Joss, and I, saying their goodbyes, but you’d think Scar’s the only one Linden sees.

  “Couldn’t let you leave without giving you this,” he says, stepping closer to her. She stares up at him like he’s some kind of deity, fallen from the sky to Earth.

  “What is it?”

  He shrugs and slips both hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Just a little something so you don’t forget me.”

  She shoots him a look that has me thinking she knows he’s full of shit—one of those guys who’s used to girls eating out the palm of his hand. Then again, there’s a small part of me that worries she’s falling for it.

  She takes the small bag when Linden offers it, and then pulls out a t-shirt.

  “I had our guy rush and make you a pink one. That’s our band,” he explains, pointing at the logo in the center of the shirt.

  “What? You thought I’d want pink because I’m a girl?” she asks with a smirk.

  “Well, I uh—”

  “Relax. I’m kidding. It’s sweet.” She peers up from the shirt and meets Linden’s gaze and… kill me now.

  That look I was terrified I’d one day see in her eyes? The one that contradicts the cold shoulder she’s been giving him? Yeah, I see it plain as day.

  “Thank you,” she eventually says, once she’s able to tear her eyes away from him.

  “No problem.”

  There’s a moment of awkward silence between them and I completely ignore every single conversation but theirs.

  “So, I was thinking. If you give me your number, we can keep in touch. You know, check in on each other every now and then?”