Truth (Scandals of Banner-Hill Book 1)

by Cassie James

  One of the kitchen staff. That’s why we didn’t question it.

  The friendly guy. The one that always offers everyone extra dessert. That fucking asshole. He must have been the one to actually drug me. I barely remember making it back to my room last night, but the fact I didn’t lie awake for hours tells me that must have been when it happened.

  “I’ve provided for you and protected you. And now you repay me by stealing from me? I should never have sent you back here. You can pretend all you want that the show makes you look like a mess. The truth is, you are a mess.”

  Oh, great. My father is still ranting from his soapbox.

  “What the fuck have you been doing here, huh?” He comes back to hover over me again. I’m assuming he doesn’t actually expect an answer, all things considered.

  “Half my men have turned. How did you do it?”

  I didn’t.

  “I guess I don’t really need to ask, do I? We both know you’re good at opening your legs to get your way. It’s the only thing that keeps you interesting.”

  He throws something across the room.

  “Pathetic,” I manage to whisper the word though it’s barely louder than an exhale.

  “What was that?” he asks, leaning close enough that his words send spit flying across my cheek. I will my hand to wipe the moisture away, but I still don’t have control over my body.

  “I said—” I pause to clear my throat so when my words come out, they’re clear. “You’re pathetic.”

  His face darkens to a shade of red I’ve never seen before. Even though my words are still a whisper, he hears them loud and clear. The blinders are off. I know who this man is now.

  “You know who’s pathetic? The woman whose only claim to fame and fortune is what I built. You’re just like your mother, you know that? I swear the two of you exist solely to drain me dry.”

  My mind is sharpening again. Enough that I notice something troubling about the way he mentions my mother. Last I knew, he could barely stomach any mention of her. Now, though, he mentions her with fresh anger.

  Too fresh.

  I have a weird feeling I know what Murphy might have used to distract my father. My mother’s been MIA for years. All it would take would be the suggestion that my father might be able to track her down to send him off on a fruitless search.

  Damn Murphy for being that good. He used my father’s one weakness against him. Not my mother herself, but his desire to control every woman in his life.

  He did it to my mother. To me. To Anita, the girlfriend. Even to Maddie, the girlfriend’s daughter.

  The realization finally hits me. It won’t be enough to torture my father or even ruin him. I need to know that the problem is taken care of permanently. Maybe I should have taken Siobhan up on her offer after all.

  “Hey, Dad?” I whisper.

  “What?” he snaps. He moves a little closer, which is exactly what I wanted. Let him look me in the eyes while I lie, telling him the one thing I know will really set him off.

  “I actually like to think I’m most like my uncle.”

  He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me hard. I’ve got just enough feeling in my body now that it jars me, my neck snapping painfully back and forth. I remind myself to grit my teeth and bear it—this isn’t permanent.

  I can live through a lot. He taught me that.

  “You ungrateful little bitch!” he roars.

  That’s his fatal mistake. He has no idea the power he had four years ago is gone. It’s a lot harder to bulldoze someone when you don’t have the element of surprise on your side. Which is why it’s so very helpful that this time, the surprise is mine.

  My father drops me like a hot stone when the bedroom door is flung open. I lift my head just enough to watch Siobhan’s entrance.

  She’s dressed like a sexy ninja in tight black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt. Her long hair is pulled back, ponytail swinging behind her as she strolls right into the room.

  I glance over to see my father gaping at her.

  “How did you—”

  “Oh, your friend at the door just found out his wife had an accident. Isn’t that so sad?” Siobhan’s eyes are wide as she speaks in the worst valley girl accent I’ve ever heard.

  Even with all the coverage of Arlo Romas, all anyone ever got was a short glimpse of the infamous man’s daughter, which works to our benefit, too. My father sees Siobhan in her tight clothes, and I know he underestimates her.

  “My daughter isn’t feeling well. If you wouldn’t mind—”

  “Ugh,” Siobhan cuts him off with an exaggerated groan as she moves further into the room. I can see her taking quick stock of the situation. I move my fingers since that’s about as good as it’s getting at the moment. Her eyes follow the motion, and her lips flatten with the realization.

  “You know,” she says, dropping the valley girl act, “she probably wouldn’t be feeling so bad if you hadn’t drugged her.”

  My father takes a step in her direction, but Siobhan doesn’t look the least bit bothered.

  “I don’t think you want to do that,” a deep voice interjects.

  I look toward the door too fast, and snap my eyes closed to calm my spinning head. When I open them again, there’s a triangle of people standing before my bed. My father. Siobhan. And…

  Arlo Romas.

  He’s one of the most recognizable men in America. I’m pretty damn confused about how he walked in here without raising a few eyebrows. If I live through the day, I’ll make sure to ask Siobhan about it.

  Arlo is bigger-than-life in person. The news footage didn’t do him justice at all. It’s no wonder he’s been presumed dead so easily. He probably stands at least a foot taller than anyone else in any room he walks into.

  He has the same dark hair and features as his daughter. The family resemblance is insane. He almost looks like he could be her older brother.

  Apparently being a known sociopath is one way to avoid worry lines.

  Realizing the significance of this moment, my head turns back to my father. The red tint to his face is completely gone, replaced by a pale white that makes him look more like a corpse than a living person.

  A very inappropriate laugh bursts out of me.

  Arlo glances my way with a half-grin that tells me he’s not at all bothered by my nervous laughter. I imagine there isn’t much that does bother him.

  Siobhan leaves her father’s side to come to mine. She climbs carefully onto the bed next to me and takes my hand, squeezing it tight. When I don’t do anything back, she squeezes again, and I realize she’s trying to test my strength. I squeeze hers back, but I’m sure the pressure is laughable at best. At least my fingers are moving now.

  I’m vaguely aware that my father and Arlo are speaking in hushed voices, but my energy is drained. I can’t get my ears to focus on the sound. Siobhan whispers calming noises in my ears, drowning them out even more.

  Whatever my father had me drugged with, there must be more of it in my system than I realized. I blink a few times before my eyes fall completely shut.

  I shoot up in bed, heart leaping into my throat. I’m half expecting to see a bloodbath awaiting me.

  Siobhan reaches out from a chair by my bed to lay a steadying hand on my arm. Sadie is next to her with an especially grim expression. They look like they’re sitting by my deathbed.

  “What happened?” I ask, frantically looking over my body for signs of injury.

  The women exchange a quick look that ends with Sadie nodding for Siobhan to answer. That’s not a promising sign. I turn my body to face her more fully. My muscles groan in protest, but I need the confirmation that all my parts are capable of moving again.

  “My father took yours for… a little chat.” Siobhan’s eyes flicker between mine.

  “Is that code for him being dead?” I ask, my voice completely flat. I can’t bring myself to muster up any emotion about it. The man drugged his own daughter. Whatever death he might be a
fforded at the hands of a practiced killer would still be too merciful for what he deserves.

  “Actually, no.” Siobhan taps her fingers against her lips.

  Sadie sighs and then helps to fill in the gaps. “Arlo seemed to think your father was worth more alive than dead. His suggestion is to do something similar to what he did for himself. Fake body. Fake death. Keep your father in a safe spot until he’s sure he’s been drained dry.”

  “What about my uncle?” Murphy won’t like Arlo’s involvement.

  “My dad is good. Your uncle will never be the wiser.” There’s not a hint of uncertainty behind Siobhan’s words.

  I can’t make this decision half-assed. I’m juggling too many things. Protecting Nick—who I now feel a sense of responsibility for since I’ve roped him into my familial issues. Keeping Murphy at arm’s length. Finding a just punishment for my father without letting it become the easy way out.

  I groan, this whole situation too much to wrap my head around.

  “Nat,” Siobhan says my name quietly. “I know this is a lot to take in, but this way, you don’t have to make a choice right this second. You can take your time and really decide what to do about your dad without having to factor anything else in. He’s not going anywhere while my dad has him, and your uncle wouldn’t know to look for him even if there was a chance in hell of him being found.”

  “So it’s a win-win,” I murmur.

  “Pretty much.” Sadie nods encouragingly.

  It’s clear they’ve already discussed this and picked a favored option. There have been too many times someone else has made my decisions for me. This time I need to be the one that gets to decide. Maybe they are right, but I want to decide that for myself.

  “I need to think about it.” I rub at my throbbing head. “Could one of you find me some pain relievers?”

  I let myself fall back on the bed again, turning on my side to face away from them. I put my hands under my head to stop them from shaking. I thought this moment would feel like a success. Instead, I can only think about how much is left unresolved.

  I stare at the closed door and second-guess myself. This seemed like a good idea when I pulled myself out of bed, but now that I’m standing here I wonder if I’m just trading one nightmare for another.

  He deserves to know.

  I turn the handle quietly and open the door just enough to slip through the opening.

  Logan is sprawled across the bed, but he pushes up on his elbows as I take tentative steps into the room and close the door behind me. He raises an eyebrow, his usual hatred towards me diluted by surprise.

  “Feeling lonely?” He sneers.

  “Logan.” My voice cracks between the syllables of his name.

  He takes a long look at me standing there. I glance down, curious about what caught his attention, and my cheeks redden when I realized I’m in his shirt. He shakes his head at me but pulls back his cover in a silent invitation.

  I flick his overhead light off before I go to him. I don’t want to look him in the eyes when I tell him.

  There’s only moonlight left to guide me to him. I wasted all day in my bed, angry that when my moment to confront my father finally came, I was too drugged to do it properly. Nothing is going to feel resolved so long as I’m left feeling like someone else took care of what was mine to handle.

  I crawl into the bed with Logan, all too aware of the places where our bare skin touches. I’m in his t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Based on the amount of leg pressing against mine, he’s only in briefs.

  He surprises me by tugging me closer, tucking his arm behind my neck to cradle me closer to him. His body heat is almost too much, but I let myself be held tightly against him. This isn’t right. He holds me close like he’s comforting me, but his touch does the opposite. I catch myself stiffening, waiting for there to be a catch.

  “You don’t have to be nice to me,” I whisper. Especially considering what I know I have to tell him.

  He blows out a breath that ruffles the top of my hair. “It’s got to be pretty bad for you to be coming to me. I can fuck it better if you’d rather.” He laughs, but there’s no bite behind it.

  I wonder if he noticed my absence today. Surely something is up because he’s being about as close to nice as could be expected from a guy like him.

  “Relax.” Logan runs his hand down my arm, goosebumps breaking out in the wake of his touch. I can’t handle this side of him, so I say the one thing I know will ruin the moment.

  “Logan, my father killed Dash.”

  His hand stills. I turn my head against his chest to listen to the sound of his heart racing, needing the proof that he’s not unaffected.

  “We were playing that stupid game of hide and seek. I didn’t know—”

  “Stop,” he snaps. “Don’t give me details just to make yourself feel better. I only want to know one thing.” I nod against his chest.

  We don’t need a game of truth or dare this time. These truths are overdue.

  “Did you know?” he asks, squeezing me almost imperceptibly tighter against him. “Did you go home knowing your father was responsible?”

  “No.”

  A heavy silence descends over us. I’m sure Logan probably has a million questions, but I know he won’t ask any of them. He’s the big picture guy, always caring more about the ending than how we got to it.

  I always resented that. Now, I take a little bit of comfort in it.

  “Are you staying or going?” Logan asks, moving his head close enough to mine that I can see the whites of his eyes in the dark. His eyes don’t give away anything about what he means. Am I staying in his room? Or am I staying at Banner-Hill? He could really be asking me either. And either one could lead to him asking me to go.

  “Uh…” I’m not even sure I want to attempt to answer.

  “Natalie.” Logan lets out a pained groan and shoves his arm behind my back. My eyes go wide with surprise as he pulls me over him, settling me low on his abs so the position is only borderline obscene. “You’re not staying in my bed unless you kiss me. I’m not interested in living up to your fucked up sense of honor. Dash was gone long before your father had anything to do with it.”

  Ah, an ultimatum. Now that feels like we’re back on familiar ground.

  Even the sting of his words is more bearable than having him be kind to me. Still, the words resonate like I’m sure he knew they would.

  My father had nothing to do with Dash putting me on the poker table as collateral.

  That doesn’t lessen the guilt I feel every time I look at Logan or Killian for just a moment too long. It’s why I walked away four years ago. It’s why I know I will inevitably walk away again.

  That worry—though not gone—seems to ease in this dark bedroom. I can feel Logan’s abs tense beneath me as he waits to see my next move. He’ll let me fight him if I choose to, he might even enjoy it. But I know that’s not really what either of us needs tonight.

  I put my palms on his chest and lower myself slowly. Am I sure about this? Absolutely not. So I embrace the Natalie Adams, queen of reality TV chaos, and do it anyway.

  His teeth sink into my bottom lip straightaway. He kisses me with the kind of reckless demand that leaves me completely out of control. It doesn’t matter that I’m on top, Logan leads every step of the way.

  He kisses me like that for a long time. Teeth clashing and lips meeting with bruising force. It never slows. Never settles into something more gentle. This is Logan’s way and he uses my mouth like he knows this is his one chance to make sure neither of us ever forget again about the spark between us.

  I don’t think he understands that I never forgot. It’s the thing that kept me away.

  I never want another Dash—the kind of man who shares me freely and then punishes me for it. And I remember all too well the way Logan’s eyes watched me with Killian the same way Dash’s did. Logan and Killian like sharing, but I will never be shared again. Maybe Sadie’s friend can make it work,
but I won’t.

  But none of that matters tonight. For tonight, there’s only this kiss chasing away the nightmares of my grief.

  18

  I wake up confused for the second day in a row. At least this time it’s not because someone’s drugged me. I accidentally elbow Logan as I sit up in bed, the banging on his door stirring me out of the deepest sleep I’ve had in a long time.

  “Logan, someone’s knocking.” I nudge his shoulder.

  He growls unhappily as he slides out of the bed and stomps to the door. I feel bad for anyone stupid enough to bother him in the middle of the night.

  He flings the door open, and Jack nearly pisses himself on sight. He mutters something to Logan and thrusts his burner phone out to him. Logan reluctantly takes the phone and then stomps back over to me, flinging it at me.

  Asshole.

  And what the hell is Murphy doing calling for me in the middle of the night? Even Jack looks only half-awake, so this clearly wasn’t a planned ambush.

  “Hello?” I hope he can hear how pissy I sound.

  “Natalie? Where the fuck are you?” Murphy snaps. “I just got a call that your father’s body has been found. Do you have any idea how bad this could get if you were sloppy? I asked my contact to hold off on alerting the girlfriend until I made sure we’ve cleaned up whatever mess you’ve got over there.”

  Oh how little faith he has in me.

  “Calm down, Murph. It’s all been taken care of. No messes.” I’m still being short with him because he really should take the hint at some point.

  “The least you can do is use my guys so I know everything gets tied up in a neat little bow.” This time he manages to almost make it sound like a suggestion rather than a command. Still, I roll my eyes at the way he says guys. I wonder what my all-too-sexist uncle would think if he knew it was Siobhan, a woman, who’d masterminded the part of the plan where my father disappeared.