Can’t help it.
I’d hate me for not showing up today, too. Also, I think I’m in shock. And traumatized. And scared. Yet, I’m not allowed to feel any of those things. Scratch that, I don’t have the luxury of feeling those things, not when Parrish is counting on me. His literal life is in my hands right now. If that means that I have to make Maxx Wright despise me, then so be it.
“Call your fucking mom,” Maxx grinds out, and nervousness overwhelms me. I feel fidgety under his stare, like I’m being put under a magnifying glass.
“You just said fuck three times in a row,” I blurt, and I swear, the way he stares at me, it cuts straight through my soul. “And I’m going to. I am. I—”
“You had time to get online and play games but not to call your mother? Not to attend the press conference to find a guy that you liked enough to lose your virginity to?” Maxx moves further into the room, but Chasm steps in front of him, cutting him off. The tension between the two of them is thick enough to cut with a knife.
“You have no idea the shit she’s going through right now,” Chasm growls—like almost quite literally growls. “Go fuck yourself, Maxx.” He looks about ready to fight X, but that’s not fair. None of this is fair. We’re all being manipulated by Parrish’s kidnapper, just puppets on strings.
Not for the first time, I think that he must really be Justin Prior, my sperm donor. Who else would stand to gain from tearing our lives apart like this? From tearing apart Tess’ life?
This shit is personal.
Maxx looks at me again, like really looks at me, delving into my depths with a single stare in a way I’m not sure any person has before. I feel naked, vulnerable, and also … there’s that sickening urge to tell him the truth. Don’t do it, Dakota. Like Justin said, ‘choose your pawns wisely’. Maxx is too self-righteous. It isn’t worth the risk.
“Chasm knows, doesn’t he?” he deduces, giving this sexy but frustratingly smug laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair. He shakes his head like he’s in disbelief. “Chasm knows.” He repeats the words, but in a murmur, like he’s talking to himself. He’s working his way through this, trying to find the truth that I so desperately want to keep from him. “Did the kidnapper contact you?” he asks, and I turn away, toward the wall of windows that faces the street.
“What are you doing in my house?” Chasm counters, a thread of exhaustion making its way into his voice. “Get out and go back to Oregon, Maxx. Don’t you have a girlfriend to get home to?”
There’s a long pause, but I know Maxx is still here; I can feel him watching me.
“Maxine knows that I’ll do anything to find Parrish. I’m staying until he comes back; I’ve already arranged to finish the rest of my classes online.” I glance back to see him sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans, honing that stare of his into a blade. If he wanted to, X could carve me up and see what’s underneath. All he has to do is keep pushing. I have to get rid of him. Now. “Maybe I’m right, maybe the kidnapper is making demands of you. You don’t have to tell me.” He smiles at me, and it’s a cruel, clever sort of expression. There’s nothing mirthful about it. “But I’m not leaving this spot until you call Tess. In fact, I’ll do you one better and give you a ride home.”
I exhale sharply and turn back around, holding my hand out for Chasm’s phone. He scowls at his friend but drops the phone into my palm anyway.
“I’ll call her,” I assure him, because I have to do it anyway. If it’ll get him to stop fucking looking at me like that, all the better. “But I’d like Chasm to take me home.”
That chiming sound echoes around the room again and Chas curses, moving over to the computer. You’d think the killer was here now based on the way his already blanched skin pales even further.
“Shit,” he whispers, and I notice his hands beginning to shake. “My dad is home. Shit, fuck, shit.” Chasm shoves back from the desk, tripping over one of the legs of the computer chair and scrambling up to his feet. He gives me a look that’s built of pure panic. “I’m sorry, Little Sister, but …” He pauses again and forces himself to calm down, letting out a long, slow exhale. “Maxx is going to have to take you home.”
He rushes into the bathroom and slams the door, leaving me alone with X. Fortunately, the change in circumstance seems to have mollified him slightly. He meets my eyes.
“If Seamus asks, you’re my girlfriend, okay? Chasm isn’t allowed to have girls in the house.” He pauses and glances over his shoulder, like he expects Chas’ dad—Shaymus, was it?—to make an appearance. Maxx turns back to me. “Or anyone else for that matter. Let’s pretend we just stopped by so the two of you could … work on a project.”
“How about we just tell him that we’re here because of Parrish?” I ask, but the way Maxx looks at me, I can see that won’t hold much weight with Seamus McKenna. How horrible is that? Chasm is as much a member of the Vanguard family as anyone else, but Parrish means so little to Seamus that he won’t accept that as an excuse for his son to have guests?
Before Maxx can even think to answer the question, the door opens and a redheaded man with pale skin and freckles appears. He’s frowning before he even sees us, but then his eyes find mine and he freezes like he’s seen a ghost. He blinks a few times and the expression disappears, but I won’t forget that I saw it anytime soon.
“Maxim,” he says carefully, pausing in the doorway and glancing at his son’s friend. His words hold the slightest hint of an accent. “Is my son home? I received a call from the school that he left class early today.”
Maxx nods his chin respectfully and points at the bathroom where, I assume, Chasm is busy applying topical filler to his piercings and spraying his hair with temporary dye.
“This is my girlfriend, Dakota Banks,” Maxx begins, pointing at me, and I feel this flush of shame at pretending again. First with Tess and now here. I know it’s for a greater good, but I can’t shake the sense that I’m betraying my sister, and I don’t like it. I would quite literally die for that girl. This isn’t right. I resolve to tell her the next time we talk, just so she’s aware of everything that’s going on. “She doesn’t drive, so I brought her over to work on a project. I don’t know anything about Kwang-seon missing class.”
“I see,” Seamus begins, but the way he flicks his eyes my way, I feel like there’s something more to it. Maybe he’s talked to Tess? Maybe he knows that I was missing from school, too? Tess seemed to know that I was with Chasm. I wouldn’t put it past her to call all of my friends’ parents looking for me. Maybe Danyella or Lumen offered up that information to help soften the blow for me? “I hate to be rude, but Kwang-seon and I have plans this evening.”
“Yes, sir,” X agrees politely, moving over to grab my hand. The warmth of his fingers curling around mine isn’t missed, but I do my best to shut those thoughts down. I hate, hate, hate that we have natural chemistry, but there’s no way for me to control that. Like I said, a person cannot control their thoughts, but they have complete and total control over their own actions.
I take Chas’ phone with me, surreptitiously dropping it on a random side table downstairs before we leave. In the car on the way home, I’ll message him on social media and let him know where I stashed it. He’ll get my message on his laptop or PlayStation or whatever else.
Maxx’s Jeep Gladiator is waiting in the driveway. As angry as he is with me, he keeps hold of my hand and escorts me to the passenger side, opening the door so that I can climb in. Swallowing a lump of nervousness, I hop into the passenger seat and sit with my head hanging down. I’m more than aware that I’m wearing Chasm’s clothes.
Not many great explanations for that, are there?
Tess is going to fucking kill me.
“Call her.” Maxx tosses his phone to me, and I catch a glimpse of a message from my sister.
Did you find her? X, I’m panicking. Have her call me.
“Maxine or Tess?” I ask, and he gives me a sharp look.
“Tess. I’
ll let Maxie know what’s going on. You scared the crap out of her today, you know that? Parrish is missing; you can’t go missing, too.” He crosses his arms over the steering wheel and rests his chin atop them, mimicking the pose he took that night at the party, the one where I inadvertently ended up ‘dating’ both Lumen and Parrish.
It was only three months ago, but it may as well have been years.
“For what it’s worth, X,” I start, trying and failing to keep my voice neutral, “I’m sorry.” The tears brim then, fat and hot, rolling down my cheeks like waterfalls of grief. They plop against the screen of the phone as I struggle to pull myself together.
He lifts his head up and our eyes meet; there’s a clear softening in his at least.
“You don’t owe me an apology, Kota,” he says gently, reaching out like he might touch me and then pulling back as if he’s thought better of it. “Maybe I owe you one instead?” He shakes his head and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. His handsome face is limned in light from the porchlights on Chasm’s house.
Chasm.
I owe that boy bigtime.
“Owe me one?” I query, realizing that I’m not just talking to Maxx because, well, I like talking to Maxx, but also because I’m avoiding calling my bio mom. “Why would you owe me one?”
He doesn’t open his eyes when he answers, giving me a chance to examine the straight, proud line of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the strong, masculine shape of his jaw. This is exactly the sort of guy that I want for my sister—and not just because he’s pretty. He’s kind, and he cares so much about others that he’s willing to fight dirty to keep them safe. We’re more similar than I realized, I guess, considering what I’m willing to do to save Parrish.
Besides, even if I like X, even if I’m physically attracted to him, it doesn’t matter. I have Parrish. I would never give him up. At least, that’s how I feel in that moment. And it’s not socially acceptable to date more than one guy anyway. I wet my lips and do my very best not to think about Kwang-seon McKenna.
“There’s a mean streak in me,” Maxx starts, and then sighs, like he’s so tired he can barely speak. That could very well be true, considering how much time he’s spent searching for our friend. “I’ve always had it. I do my best to push it back, but when someone I love is hurting, it just … sort of comes out. I have no right to judge you.” He swipes a hand over his face and then opens his eyes, giving me a sharp look. “Although I really would appreciate it if you called your mom.”
My … mom.
Mm. Tess is no more my mom than Saffron really. At least not yet. Part of me realizes that we’re both struggling with this situation, that we both wish we could love each other, but that an emotion as strong, as pure, as beautiful as that can’t be forced. It has to be cajoled and cared for, nurtured and left to grow; mostly, it has to be earned.
I swallow hard and look back down at the phone, pausing briefly when I see that the background image is one of Maxx on his bike—or at least I think it’s Maxx, hard to say with the helmet—midway through some sort of crazy jump.
When I click his contacts and scroll down to Tess’ name, I feel the very first vestiges of panic start to take over me. Not only was today monumentally bizarre and indescribably dangerous, but I’ve also set myself up as Tess’ least favorite person on the planet. Rightfully so, I might add.
I hit her number and hold the phone to my ear, eyes closed, waiting with bated breath for her to answer.
“Maxx, please tell me you found her.” It’s Tess’ voice, breathy and weak, so unlike her ice queen persona. Empathy crashes into me like a wave, and even though I’ve been willing the tears to stop, begging them to stop really, they increase and I find myself crying full-out. “Dakota, is that you?” she asks, her voice laced with panic. She gets my name right again which doesn’t help calm me any.
“I miss him, too,” I whisper, almost against my own will. It’s like the feelings are there, and they just won’t stop. I’m supposed to find and rescue Parrish from a serial killer who’s so notorious that he’s got his own nickname in the press? I’m a sixteen-year-old girl with a video game obsession. How the fuck am I supposed to pull this off? Parrish could very well die because of me, because I’m not clever enough or crafty enough to save him. “I want Parrish back just as much as anyone else.”
For a minute there, I actually wonder if Tess is still on the other end of the line. It’s gone completely silent.
“Okay,” she says, which is not at all what I expected. “Come home, Dakota. Just come home.”
I hand the phone over to Maxx because I’m not sure what else to say, or even if I’m capable of responding. Instead, I sink down in the seat, wrapped in Chasm’s hoodie, and I take comfort from the peppermint and dark chocolate smell of him. He’s been away from me for ten minutes, and I miss him already.
“I found her at Chasm’s place,” X explains, giving me a quick glance. I say nothing, wiping the tears from my eyes with the ends of the hoodie sleeves. “We’ll be there in five minutes or less. Not sure how long it’ll take to get through the reporters though.”
He hangs up and we turn around in the driveway, exiting through the gate and driving the five or so blocks back to Tess’ house. The crowd of reporters has turned into a veritable throng, like a swarm of bees surrounding a hive. No, no, scratch that—like a swarm of wasps. Bees at least pollinate things; wasps are awful, disgusting, biting assholes. That’s how I see the reporters, like something that needs to be caught in a trap.
It takes Maxx the better part of fifteen minutes to push his way through them, driving at about two miles per hour and basically shoving the paparazzi out of the way with his Jeep as I flip up the hood of the sweatshirt and try to hide my face from the cameras.
Once we’re inside, Maxx parks inside the garage and I climb out, hands shaking, dread filling my entire body. My feet are leaden as I trudge toward the door, opening it to find Tess waiting for me in the entryway.
Much to my surprise, she’s crying, too.
“Don’t make me believe I’ve lost you again,” she breathes, and then for some inexplicable reason, she’s hugging me. Tess Vanguard, queen of crime and thriller novels, bestselling author since freaking forever, is hugging me. It’s the first time she’s actually hugged me since we met back in New York.
It throws me for a loop, and I go completely still. But then, I must still be traumatized from seeing a dead girl and watching my sixth period teacher shoot a rapist in the face, so I end up hugging her back, too.
“I miss him, Tess. I miss him,” I whisper, and she sniffles and strokes my hair back, holding me so close that I might actually believe she loved me if I hadn’t read that page from her typewriter. Am I a tool to be used to further her career? Just a pawn? Does she actually care about me? As my grandfather used to say: ‘words are worth pennies; follow-through is worth billions’. When I asked him what he meant by that, he explained how easy it is to say you’re going to do the right thing, but how much it really costs to act on those promises.
I want Tess to show me through actions and not words that she cares. As a writer, I’m sure that’s hard for her. But it’d mean the world to me, it really would.
“I miss him, too,” she tells me, pulling back slightly and looking down at me. Her face hardens then, back into that bestselling author persona. For once, I’m actually relieved to see it. “We’re going to get him back, no matter what.” Tess looks up and over my shoulder at X, nodding her chin in thanks. “I appreciate you finding her, Maxx. You’re like a son to me, you know that?”
I can hear the sad smile in his voice when he replies.
“I appreciate that,” he tells her, moving up to stand beside me. I wish I didn’t notice his presence the way I do, cataloguing every movement he makes without even meaning to. It makes me feel like such a traitor when it comes to Maxine, but I push that feeling aside. Talk is cheap, act like a billionaire. I’m buying self-control like it’s going out of
style. “I’d like to stay in Parrish’s room again if that’s okay?”
Tess offers a small nod, and Maxx gives me a quick flick of the eyes before heading up the spiral staircase to the second floor. I start to move away, too, but Tess reaches out and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“I know you’re probably tired, but we need to talk before you go upstairs.”
I swallow hard, but nod my acquiescence, allowing Tess to escort me into the kitchen. She prepares a drink for herself and a hot tea for me. Somehow, without even knowing, she guesses that my favorite is peppermint with a dash of honey.
“I do listen sometimes, you know,” she says as she hands it over to me, and I give her a skeptical look in response. “You mentioned this was your favorite the first time we met …” Tess trails off a moment, and we end up staring at each other. It’s like, here we are facing the most horrible situation that anyone could imagine, and yet … we’re making progress? They say you get to know yourself and others best when under fire, so maybe that’s what this is? Growth through crisis. “Shall we sit outside?”
Without waiting for a response, Tess heads over to the balcony doors and pushes them open. With a single tap of a button, she lowers an automatic awning and then tugs an additional shade down on the side, blocking us from the view of the reporters without entirely obscuring the view of the lake.
She takes a seat as I step out hesitantly onto the balcony, realizing that in the three and a half or so months that I’ve been here, that I’ve never once sat on this balcony. Mostly, Paul just uses this spot to take phone calls during family meals.
I perch on the edge of a metal chair, holding my tea in two hands, like it’s a shield that might protect me from whatever it is that Tess wants to say.
Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2) Page 2
