Fallen Heirs : A Dark High School Bully Romance (Windsor Academy Book 3)

by Laura Lee

  I take a seat on the nearby stool. “And John doesn’t think going to the police will help?”

  “He thinks it’s better to leave them out of this, for now, considering the cover-up from your original attack.”

  “Right. Who could forget about that?” I mutter.

  Kingston stares at me thoughtfully. “Is that why you had a gun in your purse?”

  Shit.

  Wait... had a gun in my purse?

  I glare. “Why were you snooping through my purse?”

  “I wasn’t snooping through your purse,” he insists. “When I found it in that parking lot... I opened it to check the ID. To make sure it wasn’t someone else’s that looked like yours. Where the fuck did you get an unmarked gun anyway?” I see the moment it hits him. “Shawn. He gave it to you.”

  “No, he didn’t give me a gun. I bought it from a friend of his.”

  “Oh, that’s so much better.” Kingston gives me a wry look. “Why would you even want one?”

  “Why do you think, Kingston? I want to feel safe.”

  “And you think a gun will do that?”

  “It’s better than nothing.” I shrug.

  “Not if you don’t know how to shoot one,” he argues. “So... do you know how to shoot one?”

  “Not exactly.”

  He points an accusing finger at me. “And that’s exactly why it’s staying locked up in my safe.”

  “What?” I shout. “You can’t do that!”

  Kingston’s eyes flare with anger. “Watch me.”

  “It’s not your call, Kingston!”

  He exhales harshly. “Look. I’m all for the right to bear arms. If you really want a gun because it makes you feel safer, then I’m okay with that. But we’re going to do it the right way. You’re going to learn how to safely handle a gun, and you’re going to have one that’s registered.

  “I refuse to allow you to put yourself at risk by carrying around a loaded weapon that you have no idea what to do with. Especially an unmarked weapon. Christ, if a cop caught you with that thing, you’d be screwed. Do you have any idea how strict California gun laws are? Do you really think having a criminal record looks good when you’re trying to obtain custody? C’mon, Jazz. You’re smarter than this. I can’t believe that fucker let you go through with it.”

  “For your information, he didn’t like the idea either, but unlike you, he allowed me to make my own decision because he knows I’m a big girl.”

  “Jazz. You know I’m right. And you know I’m coming from a good place. I’m not saying you can’t have one. I’m just asking you to be smart about it. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t fucking lose you.”

  I groan, resting my head on the breakfast bar. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

  “Thank you.” He places a kiss on the back of my head. When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he pulls it out and says, “That’s John.”

  I sit up.

  “Yeah?” Kingston frowns at whatever the private investigator is saying. “When?” Now, he’s scrubbing a hand down his face. “Nothing on Gale yet?” His hazel eyes flicker to mine as he listens to John, becoming increasingly more agitated. I have a feeling whatever John came up with so far isn’t good. “Sounds good. Keep me posted.”

  “What’d he say?” I pepper him with questions as soon as he hangs up the phone. “Did he find Lucas?”

  Kingston shakes his head. “Not yet. But Christian Taylor was found dead in his dorm room this morning. They’re calling it a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

  I gasp. “What?!”

  “Yep. Police are saying it’s pretty cut and dry. Christian left a note.”

  “Does John know what the note said?”

  He gulps audibly. “Two words: I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry?” I repeat. “Sorry about what?”

  “For participating in your assault? Cheating on his calculus test? Letting Peyton suck his cock? Who knows?”

  “Holy shit.” When I glance up, Kingston has a bizarre look on his face. “What’s that look for? What are you thinking?”

  His lips thin. “I think Christian’s suicide may have been a setup.”

  “By who?”

  “Any one of the major players? But my top suspect is my father.”

  I frown. “What makes you think that?”

  Kingston grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and takes a sip before handing it to me. “The video of my dad with Peyton. He said if Peyton’s lapdog—which all signs point to Lucas being that lapdog—went after you again, he’d pay. Even though Christian didn’t directly assault you last night, he was an active participant in Lucas’ plan. Knowing my dad, he’d consider that action a personal slight and seek revenge on all parties involved.”

  “So... if that’s true... you think Lucas is next?”

  Kingston nods. “Exactly.”

  “But... isn’t your dad in Mexico for Christmas?”

  “He is. And he flew commercial, so I know he’s actually there because John verified it. But he could’ve easily sent one of his goons on his behalf.” Kingston nods his head toward the window. “He was in the middle of the Caribbean when my mom died, remember?”

  “I remember.” I sigh, looking out the window toward the pool area where his mom was found dead.

  “So, what now?”

  “John’s going to keep looking for Lucas, and we’ll go from there once we know more. He said he passed everything on to his FBI contact in case my dad is responsible.”

  “Basically, we wait. Again.” I grab the tie off my wrist and pull my hair back into a pony. “Do we continue to act normal like John suggested?”

  “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. It’s Christmas Eve. We’re not going to let them ruin that, or our trip. I say we go back to your place to get your bag like we planned, then come back here to have our mini celebration.”

  “Is Bentley still planning to drop by even though Reed and Ainsley are up in Oregon?”

  “He said he’d be here. We’ve been doing this thing since middle school. Ainsley and Carissa started the tradition and made a big deal out of it every year. Dinner, gift exchange, Christmas movies, cookies... the works. The guys and I were just indulging them at first, but we started to enjoy it somewhere along the way. After Rissa died... Ainsley insisted on keeping up with it. She needed that normalcy, and I think Bent did, too.”

  “It’s nice you guys have your own special way to celebrate.”

  He brackets my hips with his palms and leans down to kiss me. “We have our own special way to celebrate. You’re part of that now.”

  I link my fingers behind his neck and pull him into me for another kiss. “You wanna join me in the shower before we head out?”

  Kingston flashes a toothy smile. “I definitely want to join you in the shower.”

  ***

  “You’re sure this is everything?” Kingston holds up my overnight bag. “We’re going to be gone for two-and-a-half days.”

  “Um... yeah. That’s it. Why?”

  He shakes his head with a smile. “I’m just used to women packing a lot more shit. Ainsley always has at least one suitcase for her shoes alone. And she’s the lowest maintenance girl I know, behind you.”

  “Yeah, but Ainsley’s really into fashion. Which is good for me, I suppose, since I have no clue what to do when I need to dress up.”

  Kingston grabs the back of my head and pulls me into a kiss. “I think you’re selling yourself short. But if you ask me, you don’t need to dress up.”

  “Says the boy who’s always ready to attack me seconds after seeing me in a fancy dress.”

  “What can I say? I like the easy access.” He shrugs unapologetically.

  “I’m so sure.” I laugh. “Well, I guess we should g—”

  A blood-curdling scream pierces the air, interrupting my train of thought.

  “What the hell?” Kingston rips open my bedroom door and peeks down the hall where the noise came from.


  When I look over his shoulder, I see Peyton sitting against the wall across her open bedroom door. She’s crying hysterically with her knees pulled to her chest, rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself. “What happened?”

  Kingston takes a few steps in her direction. “Peyton. What’s going on?”

  Her watery eyes narrow on him when she snaps out of it. “Did you do this? Is this that payback you were talking about?”

  Ms. Williams appears at the top of the stairs, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. “Miss Peyton. Are you okay?”

  Peyton throws her hands out. “No, I’m not okay! Why would I be okay? What kind of sick joke is this? Kingston! Are you responsible for this?!”

  Ms. Williams steps forward when Peyton gestures to her bedroom and peeks inside. She goes white as a sheet and stumbles backward. “Oh, my. I think... someone call the police. Now.”

  Kingston closes the gap between my bedroom and Peyton’s and follows Ms. Williams’ line of sight. Once his eyes latch on to something, he, too, looks like he’s about to be sick. “Oh, fuck. Is that his.... Damn, that had to hurt.” He steps back and turns his head to the side as he cringes.

  “What had to hurt? What is that awful smell?”

  Kingston tries holding me back when I approach Peyton’s room, but I squirm past him and catch a glimpse. I cover my mouth, choking back bile at the horror show in front of me. In the middle of Peyton’s no-longer-pastel-pink canopy bed is Lucas Gale, naked as the day he was born, arms stretched wide, cuffed to each post. He’s lying in a puddle of blood, eyes frozen open in abject terror. I’m guessing that has something to do with the fact that his genitals are no longer attached to his body.

  Lucas’ bloody flaccid penis sticks out of his mouth like a Grizzly biting the head off a salmon, held in place by a strange leather gag that’s crusted over with dried vomit. I’m assuming those are his severed testicles placed on each of his upward turned palms, the surrounding sheets, and wall splattered with blood. If I had to guess, I’d say whoever did this slit Lucas’ throat after they mutilated his body. It looks like some kind of ritualistic sacrifice, but I know that’s not the case. This whole gruesome scene is perfectly staged for dramatic effect. It’s a message, plain and simple—a very bold, incredibly macabre warning to the owner of this bedroom.

  “I-I’m going to go call the police,” Ms. Williams stutters. “I-I’ll be right back.”

  “No,” Charles’ voice booms. “Nobody is going anywhere.”

  I turn to the right and see my father observing the situation in the same cold, calculating way he assesses everything. When did he get here? He calmly removes his cell from his suit jacket’s breast pocket and presses a button to call someone.

  A moment after he places the phone against his ear, he says, “We have a problem. I need a cleanup at my house ASAP.”

  Peyton’s and Ms. Williams’ heads swivel in my father’s direction. Cleanup? Like a dead body cleanup? What in the actual fuck? When my eyes travel over to Kingston, he doesn’t look surprised in the least.

  “Yes, the mansion, and at least two, possibly more.” Charles pauses for a moment. “Good. See you soon.” He closes Peyton’s door as he ends the call and levels each one of us with an icy glare. “None of you will breathe a word about this.”

  “Mr. Callahan... I know it’s not my place to—”

  “You’re right, Darlene. It’s not your place.” His jaw tics. “Are there any other staff members on the premises?”

  “No, sir. You gave them the day off to spend the holiday with their families. Remember?”

  Charles nods. “Call them immediately and tell them to take the entire week off with pay. It’s my holiday gift to them. Do not say a word about what you saw here, and do not speak to anyone else, especially the police. Go straight to my office and wait for further instruction when you’re done.”

  “Y-yes, sir.” Ms. Williams hangs her head and scurries down the stairs like her ass is on fire.

  He turns his angry gaze on Peyton. “What the hell happened?”

  “I don’t know!” Peyton cries. “I just got home and found him like that!”

  “You just got home?” Charles raises his bushy eyebrows, glancing at the face of his Rolex. “It’s almost two in the afternoon. Where were you?”

  She dabs her eyes and sniffles. “The girls and I had a slumber party at Whit’s house.”

  I snort. She sure as shit wasn’t with Whitney or Imogen the same night they found out she was screwing their boyfriends. And I have a sneaking suspicion she knows exactly who did that to Lucas.

  Peyton’s baby blues quickly flick to me, but then back to Charles. “Daddy, what are we going to do?”

  “You are not going to do anything. Let the men handle this. I don’t trust you not to fuck this up.”

  Her eyes widen. “But, Daddy.”

  “Not a word, Peyton!” he shouts. “If I hear a peep out of you about this, trust me when I say you will not like the consequences. Now, go to the guest bedroom and do not come out until I say so.”

  “But...” she tries again.

  He points his finger toward the guest room. “Go, Peyton!”

  She bursts into tears again and runs to do as he says.

  Once Peyton is behind closed doors, Charles turns his attention to Kingston. “I trust I can depend on you to handle this with discretion?”

  Kingston nods. “Yes, sir. Of course.” He turns to me. “Get your bag, Jazz.”

  “What?” I ask incredulously. “We can’t just—”

  “Shut your goddamn mouth and get your shit!” he yells. Kingston’s eyes widen, imploring me to read between the lines.

  I grit my teeth. “Fine.”

  I give him the meanest glare I can manage before stomping into my room to get my things. When I return to the hallway with my bag over my shoulder, Kingston and my father have their heads together, exchanging quiet words. They stop talking when they notice me and pull apart.

  My father straightens his tie. “Jasmine. I understand you’re going away with your sister for a few days. Have a good trip.”

  “Really?” I scoff, throwing my hand toward Peyton’s closed door. “We’re just going to pretend there’s not a dismembered corpse in there?”

  “Jazz,” Kingston growls. “Do I need to teach you another lesson in respect?”

  I nail him with a look that says, you keep it up, buddy, and fuckboy in there isn’t going to be the only one that got castrated.

  The asshole smirks in return.

  “Whatever,” I mumble. “My apologies for being such a disrespectful asshole. You can punish me later.”

  My father claps Kingston on the back. “I see you’ve finally been able to teach Jasmine how a woman should behave in this world. Good for you, my boy. Although it seems like her language still needs some work.” He raises his brows at me in a challenge, like he’s daring me to talk back.

  Kingston belts out a disgustingly haughty laugh. “I’m not a miracle worker, Charles. You’ve got to give me some time for that.”

  You’d think my boyfriend was doing standup based on how loudly my father is laughing.

  I think Kingston can sense I’m about to lose my shit because he grabs me by the elbow and steers me toward the stairway. “Let’s go. You have a lot to atone for before we leave in the morning.”

  Charles flat out guffaws at that.

  The second we’re in the car, I lay into him. “You’re lucky I can read you so damn well, or you would’ve gotten a swift kick to the balls for speaking to me like that!” I punch him in the arm. “Asshole!”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, rubbing the spot I just hit. “Calm the fuck down. You know exactly why I did that.”

  “You could’ve given me some kind of heads up.”

  Kingston pulls out of the driveway. “Really? When would I have done that? Before or after we made arrangements to cover up a murder?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m still pissed at you.”


  “Well, then I’ll just have to fuck that right out of you when we get back to my place.”

  “Whatever.”

  Kingston reaches over and squeezes my thigh. “Are you done pouting so we can actually talk about what happened back there? I’ve gotta say, you handled that whole thing freakishly well. I was waiting for you to start panicking at any moment.”

  I shove his hand off, still irritated with him. “Is it bad that I don’t feel upset about it? Like, at all? I mean, seeing him like that was disgusting.” I shudder. “But I was processing it with this odd sort of detachment. Like... I was watching a movie or something.”

  He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “I can see that. As soon as I got over the sympathy pains, I kind of felt the same way.”

  “What was Charles saying to you when I went to get my stuff?”

  “He’s taking Madeline and Peyton to their house in Vail until the new year, to give this some time to blow over. Then, he suggested I do the same with you, which is when I told him about our trip to Disney. He added some, don’t disappoint me, son garbage, then he wanted to know how I planned to keep your mouth shut if you were difficult.”

  “Oh, I’d love to hear how you responded to that.”

  Kingston shrugs. “I kept it vague, but I basically implied that I would punish you into submission if necessary.”

  I scoff. “I’d like to see you try.”

  He smirks. “Hard pass. I prefer my balls intact, thank you very much.”

  “Here’s my question. How did someone even get Lucas in Peyton’s room without being caught? He’s a big guy. And if Charles and Ms. Williams were in the house when that happened, how could they have not heard it? Lucas had to have been screaming bloody murder. Literally.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but my first choice would be some type of fast-acting benzo or paralytic. The O-ring gag would’ve helped with the noise, especially if they shoved something else in Lucas’ mouth before feeding him his own dick.”

  “Wow... it’s kind of scary how quickly you answered that question. And that you knew what type of gag they used.” I rub my temples, trying to figure out if I’m genuinely disturbed or turned on by Kingston’s deviant side. I think it’s a little of both. “I hate to say this, but I’m relieved he’s dead. I’m glad vengeance was served, Kingston. I feel sort of cheated that I didn’t get to witness his suffering. What the hell kind of person does that make me? I’m no better than the bad guys.”