The Risk: Kings of Linwood Academy #3

by Rose, Callie

  But now that the adrenaline is leaving my system, I feel so damn tired. Too tired to move. When I crawl back onto the bed, the guys don’t question it. They just crawl up after me and lie down on either side of me, holding me between them as my eyes drift closed.

  And I sleep.

  * * *

  I’m not sure how long I’m out, but when I open my eyes again, the light filtering in through the windows is dimming. The steady, even sound of breathing surrounds me, and I figure Linc and River must have fallen asleep too—until I look up and find a pair of gray eyes watching me.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head, his voice quiet too. Linc is asleep—I can tell by the way his breathing hasn’t changed.

  “So you just watched the two of us sleep?”

  River’s smile makes him look dazzling and boyish. “Does it make me sound like a weirdo if I say yes?”

  I grin back. “Nah.”

  “You doing okay?” He scoots a little closer to me on the bed, and I hook a leg over his as he rests a hand on my hip.

  “Yeah.” I draw in a deep breath, relishing the fact that I can, that my lungs will accept oxygen again. “It’s just—I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like everything that’s happening is… inevitable. As if from the second we saw Iris die, there was no way to stop any of this. It’s like that “sliding doors” thing, where each little decision you make sends your life careening off in a new direction. But I’ve never felt that so strongly as I do now. I can pinpoint the exact moment my life went from whatever it would’ve been… to this.”

  His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he considers my answer, his gaze serious. “Do you wish you could take it all back? Undo it?”

  I hesitate.

  Do I?

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I swallow, my throat suddenly going dry.

  It’s a simple question without a simple answer.

  “Yes. Some parts of it, I’d give a fucking limb to undo. I’d give anything. But other parts—”

  I break off and move even closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body and letting his rich scent infuse my senses. Resting my hand on his chest, I gaze into his deep gray eyes, their color as variable as his moods.

  “Other parts, it would kill me to give up.”

  “Me too,” he whispers, a tiny smile lifting his lips.

  I sigh. “I don’t know how so much bad came with so much good. I hate that they came hand-in-hand.”

  River’s smile slips away, and his expression grows serious. Determined. “Harlow, we won’t let the bad win. We’ll fix this.”

  He means it. I can see it in his eyes.

  I don’t answer. I just lean into him, finding his lips with mine.

  We breathe each other’s air as we slowly peel off our clothes for the second time today, unhurried and soft as Lincoln sleeps beside us. Then River rolls me onto my back and settles himself between my legs, and when he slides inside of me, our gazes lock.

  We move together like the tide cascading up and down a sandy beach.

  Perfect.

  Natural.

  Easy.

  When I come, I wrap my arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as I can.

  And because I know he can’t hear me, I whisper words I shouldn’t say.

  * * *

  We fall asleep again, and when we wake up, it’s almost eight o’clock. I feel groggy and a little disoriented—I’m not really much of a napper—but I feel better too.

  Something has shifted inside me, turning helplessness into determination.

  It’s not over yet.

  Lincoln leads the way downstairs with me and River right behind him. As we step off the west wing stairs and head toward the door to the motor court, Mr. Black rounds a corner, catching sight of Linc.

  “Lincoln, do you have a min—” He stops when he sees who’s with his son. “Oh, Harlow. How are you? How’s everything with your mom?”

  My blood seems to thin. Those are almost the same words Judge Hollowell spoke to me, and even though I know now that our suspicions about Lincoln’s dad being Iris’s killer were false, it’s hard for me to let go of that fear.

  With all the lies and betrayal, my circle has grown smaller and smaller. I trust the kings, and I trust my mom and Hunter, and that’s about it right now.

  “It’s okay,” I say, not offering any more information than that.

  “That’s good. I hope everything works out. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  As we’ve been talking, Lincoln has slowly positioned himself between me and his father, not cutting us off entirely, but making sure distance remains between us. I know he doesn’t suspect his dad of being a murderer anymore either, but the relationship between them is complicated, to say the least.

  When I glance back at Mr. Black, it strikes me how tired and worn out he looks. I guess fending off a conniving maid who deliberately got pregnant to try to screw him out of his money and marriage is wearing him down.

  It also sent him running into Judge Hollowell’s camp in an effort to improve his social standing.

  “Well, I won’t keep you,” Samuel says, putting on his usual air of joviality, although it’s easy to see it’s a lie. “But Lincoln, when you have a moment, could you come find me in my study? I’d like to have a word with you about something.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Linc’s dark brows pull together, wariness crossing his features before he inclines his head toward me and River. “But I’ve gotta drop them both off first.”

  “Of course. No rush.”

  His dad nods at us and heads back the way he came. I glance at Linc as we resume our course toward the motor court.

  “Any idea what that’s about?”

  “No.” His jaw works, and I can feel his internal tempo speed up with agitation. “But I’m sure it’s not good. Everything around here has been a shit show lately.”

  I slip my hand into his and squeeze, and he looks down at me, his expression softening for a second. But the agitation doesn’t leave him as we get into his car and pull down the driveway.

  He’s dealing with a lot right now, and I hate to add to his stress. But there’s something I’ve been thinking about ever since we woke up, and I need to say it.

  “We can’t wait any longer.” I speak up as we near Dax and Chase’s house, turning in my seat to let River see my face. “We need to find some connection between Iris and Hollowell. And if we can’t find this Waverly girl, then we need to look into our other options.”

  Linc shoots me a sidelong glance before his gaze moves back to the road. “No. Following Judge Hollowell, getting anywhere near him, is too dangerous.”

  I shrug, not backing down. “Maybe. But we’re reaching the point where playing it safe is just as dangerous. If we sit back and stay safe for much longer, he’ll win anyway. We need to do this.”

  Lincoln’s hand tighten on the wheel, and River speaks up from the back seat. “Low, if Hollowell sees you anywhere near his house, or even near his office, he’s gonna figure out that you know.”

  He’s right. I know that. I can’t stop picturing the way he looked at me when I stepped out of his hold at the courthouse—the slight tilt to his head, the assessing look in his eyes. He’s probably already suspicious.

  But we’re out of options.

  I glance from Lincoln’s hard profile to River’s concerned, intent expression, turning in the seat even more to face him.

  “We won’t let the bad win. You promised.”

  10

  River caves first. Then Lincoln.

  When I tell the twins the plan after I’m dropped off at the Lauders’ house, they’re both even more adamantly opposed to it than Linc and River were.

  But eventually, they agree too.

  It may be stupid and dangerous, but what I’m coming to realize is that w
e’ve just been dealt a really crappy hand—and there’s no changing that fact. We don’t get to swap cards or ask for a redeal. All we can do is play our hardest and bluff like hell.

  All five of us ditch school the next day. I’ve given up worrying if my grades suffer or I flunk out of school. I don’t want to stress mom out, but in the big picture, it’ll be worth it. I’d rather cause her short-term stress and get her out of prison than play the good little student and graduate from Linwood with straight A’s and a parent behind bars.

  Judge Hollowell is presiding over a case, and we were able to get the schedule of the trial by calling the county clerk’s office. The good news on that front is that we know exactly where he’ll be and when.

  We arrive at the courthouse in the late morning, when we’re sure Hollowell will still be in the building.

  Because we need to find his car.

  Based on the number of vehicles in the Black family’s motor court, it’s not unreasonable to think that Hollowell has more than one. And it seems unlikely that he’d drive the same car he murdered Iris with to work every day. But we have to start somewhere, and this is easier than our next steps will be.

  We find a small lot around the back of the building with designated parking for the courthouse staff, and my heart drops a little when Chase points to the little placard that reads Judge Hollowell.

  The car parked in front of it is a light metallic beige.

  It’s the right size and shape, but the wrong color.

  “It was shadowy on the road. There were hardly any streetlamps on that stretch.” Chase lifts his eyebrows, although even he looks unconvinced by his words. “Maybe the car just looked dark because everything around it was dark.”

  “No.” I shake my head, my heart in my throat. “It was dark. Black or blue or gray. I don’t know which, but not this.”

  It’d be a waste of time to try to convince ourselves this could be the one when it clearly isn’t. Which means we have to keep looking.

  The second, harder part of our search is a lot more risky. If Judge Hollowell were to see me at the courthouse, he probably wouldn’t think too much of it. But if he sees me hanging around outside his house, I’ll be lucky if the worst thing he does is call the cops.

  We all pile back into Lincoln’s car, and I give him Hollowell’s address. He starts to drive, but about halfway there, he veers off course.

  “Hey.” I look up from the GPS on his phone, which rests in my lap. “You turned the wrong way.”

  “No, I didn’t.” He keeps his eyes on the road, and I notice the interior of the car has gone very quiet. “You’re not coming with us.”

  “What? Yes, I am! I—”

  “No, Harlow.” Now he does look at me, his amber eyes blazing intently. “Camping out outside Hollowell’s house is stupid enough as it is. But if we get caught, I’m not having you with us. We’re teenage boys; we can say it was some senior prank or something. But you’re not coming with us. I’m dropping you back off at school.”

  “I—”

  “This isn’t up for negotiation. Either we go alone, or no one goes at all.”

  Fuck. My stomach clenches into a knot so hard and fast I feel like I ate a lump of cement.

  I get why they don’t want me there. I do. But it wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was the one who was supposed to be gambling with my safety as we pushed harder for answers, not them.

  But we need to know. Maybe the car that killed Iris is sitting in Hollowell’s garage right now.

  I turn to face the back seat, staring at each of the guys with a hard expression. “Fine. But be fucking careful. And keep texting me. If I don’t hear from you every twenty minutes, I’m coming to get you.”

  “Deal.” Dax nods, looking somber.

  When Linc pulls up outside of Linwood, the school looks quiet. During the early fall months, kids hung out on the front steps during their free periods, but it’s too fucking cold to do that now. Everyone’s inside the building.

  I turn back to the dark-haired boy in the driver’s seat. “Be safe. Please.”

  “Always.”

  He leans over and kisses me, and when I get out and watch the car drive away in the gray January light, it feels like it takes four pieces of my heart with it.

  They do what I asked, and the first text comes through as I’m in gym. I stuck my phone in my sports bra, and I tug it out when I feel it vibrate, slowing to a fast walk as I circle around the indoor track. Savannah clips my shoulder and glares at me as she brushes past, but I ignore her and swipe the screen of my phone.

  RIVER: Just got here. Ditched the car and found a place where we can see.

  I know he’s carefully avoiding using Hollowell’s name or giving too many details, just in case. I wish he could say more about how it’s going, but at least I know they’re still alive.

  Another update comes just under twenty minutes later, from Chase this time.

  CHASE: Nothing yet.

  I shower and change, then go to lunch, but I can’t do more than move my food around my plate. I think if I tried to take a bite, I’d throw up.

  Business and Economics is after lunch, and Mr. Arndt confiscates my phone after he catches me staring at it. My heart sits in my throat for the entire period, and when the bell finally rings and I launch myself toward the front of the classroom to reclaim it, he looks at me with concern.

  “Is everything okay, Harlow?”

  “Yeah.” I barely look up, too busy checking the messages from the guys. They’re still okay. Still waiting. “I’m just… waiting for news about my mom.”

  “Ah, right.” He looks like he has no idea what to say to that. I’m sure he doesn’t have a standard teacherly response for my particular situation. “Well, you’re not allowed to have your phone out in class, so just be careful. Ms. Watson will take it away until the end of the day if she catches you.”

  I can hear the unspoken warning in his voice, and I appreciate it. Mr. Arndt isn’t exactly a rebel—he was the one who brought me to the principal when Savannah fucked with my tests to make it seem like I’d cheated—but I think he’s trying to help me not get busted.

  In Calculus, I hide my phone in the pages of my textbook, flipping ahead every once in a while to check for new messages.

  Still waiting.

  Finally, in my last class of the day, I get a text message from Linc that’s longer than two words. Mr. Heller has his back to me as he writes on the board, so I snatch my phone up quickly and read the message.

  LINCOLN: It’s not here. There’s a red sports car and a silver Bentley, and that’s it. Whatever car he used, it either wasn’t his or he hid it somewhere. Or destroyed it.

  I stare at the screen for several long seconds, reading over his message again and again.

  “Miss Thomas!”

  Mr. Heller’s voice draws my attention, but when my head snaps up, the look on my face must be so distraught that he backs off immediately. He doesn’t demand my phone or threaten punishment, just clears his throat and tells me to pay attention.

  But I don’t.

  I put the phone away, but my mind keeps spinning around and around the words Lincoln sent me.

  It might not have even been his car. He might’ve destroyed it.

  Every time I try to catch a lead, it seems to slip through my fingers like fucking sand. I want to message Lincoln back and tell him he’s wrong, that there must be another car in Hollowell’s garage that they missed. But I’m sure there isn’t.

  As soon as the bell rings, I sling my backpack straps over my shoulders and march from the room. I head down to the first floor and stride quickly toward the bank of lockers Savannah and a few of her cheerleader minions use. She’s laughing at something one of the junior girls just said, but the sound turns into a yelp when I grab her backpack and pull.

  “What the fuck?!” She digs her heels in and yanks out of my grasp, turning to glare at me.

  “I need to talk to you. Now.”

 
“Fuck off, skank.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  She curls her lip disparagingly and turns back to her little posse. I turn right along with her, and before she can open her mouth, I address the wide-eyes gaggle of girls.

  “Hey, did you know your queen has—”

  Savannah makes a strangled sound, stiffening like someone shoved a steel rod up her butt. “Wait.”

  I break off, angling my head to look at her. She’s gone white, and I wish I could enjoy this a little bit, but the honest truth is, I’m not fucking with her. I’m not doing this to jerk her around, but I am done playing nice. I’ll spill every one of her most embarrassing secrets right now if she doesn’t give me what I want.

  “What do you want?” she hisses.

  “Outside.”

  I jerk my chin down the hall and wait for her to start moving before I follow. We join the throng of students heading for the exit, and when we slip through the front doors, I tug her around the side of the building. Her cheeks are flushed from either anger, cold, or embarrassment, and she looks like she’s thinking about stabbing me in the eye with a pen.

  Not giving her time to indulge whatever violent fantasies are floating around in her head, I step up to her, putting my face close to hers. “You need to tell me something else about that friend of Iris’s. Right. Now.”

  Her eyes widen. She looks torn between being scared and pissed off. “What the fuck is it with you? Why are you so obsessed with her?”

  “It doesn’t matter. If you help me find that Waverly girl, I’ll leave you the fuck alone, and I’m sure you want that, right? So help me. What else did Iris say about her?”

  “I told you, I don’t know!” Savannah shoves at my chest, making me stumble back half a step, but I recover my balance quickly and take a full step closer, bringing us nose to nose.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “But if you don’t tell me something, I’m gonna make sure everybody at Linwood finds out everything there is to know about you. So think hard.”

  She blanches, and I almost feel bad for her. I’m trapping her the same way I feel trapped, forcing her into a situation where doom lurks on the horizon and she has no way out.