by Laura Lee
Mr. Davenport’s boisterous laughter is so loud, Reed has to turn down the volume. “First of all, technically, Peyton has no blood relation to him. Secondly, my daughter isn’t an opportunistic whore like yours is. Charles wouldn’t have a chance in hell.”
Madeline’s face is so red, you’d think she just ran a marathon. “And what about Jasmine?”
“What about her?”
“Peyton said you’re obsessed with that piece of trash.” Madeline rolls her eyes so far back, I swear she should’ve tipped over. “Just like you and Charles were obsessed with her worthless mother.”
“Gold-digging bitch,” I mumble. “Talk about my mom like that again, and I’ll show you how trashy I can be.”
Kingston puts his hands on my shoulders.
“The only thing I’m obsessed with is getting that ten billion dollars. Hell, at this point, if I have to marry Peyton and put a kid in her myself, I will. My latest divorce will be finalized soon enough.”
“You most certainly will not!” Madeline shouts. “The executor of Pierre’s estate would never believe Peyton would marry you for love. You’re old enough to be her grandfather.”
Preston tilts his head to the side. “And? Remind me again what the age gap was between you and Peyton’s father? Oh, that’s right. Almost fifty years.”
Madeline scoffs. “Nobody believed I married Pierre for love, least of all him. He just liked the way I sucked his limp, shriveled, old dick. Thank God for Viagra, or I might have never gotten pregnant.”
I gag. “Well, there’s a visual I never needed.”
“Guess he didn’t like it that much, since he didn’t leave you a dime,” Preston deadpans.
Madeline reaches forward and smacks Kingston’s dad straight across the face. Before I can even blink, he’s dragging her across the mahogany surface by her neck, slamming her down. Preston’s other hand wraps around Madeline’s throat and squeezes. Her eyes are bugging out of her head as she’s clawing at his fingers, trying to pry them away.
I slam a hand over my mouth. “Oh, fuck.”
Kingston starts pulling on the ends of his hair, while Reed sits there in shock. I think we might actually be witnessing a murder right now.
“Listen to me, you stupid cunt.” Spittle flies out of Preston’s mouth as he continues choking the life out of her. Madeline’s eyes are fluttering shut. I think she’s close to losing consciousness. “If you ever try something like that again, or do anything to get in my way, I will destroy you. Are we clear? Because if not, then I’ll just end this right now.”
Madeline gives the faintest of nods. She wheezes and gulps for air as Preston releases her.
“Oh, well, now look what you did,” Preston chides, stroking his erection through his pants.
I quickly turn around. “I can’t watch this.”
A tearing sound rips through the speakers right before I hear Preston chuckle. “I knew you’d get off on that, you little slut.”
“What’s he doing?” I ask.
Kingston clears his throat over the wet, sucking noises. “You can probably guess. She’s definitely enjoying it, though.”
Madeline cries out, but her voice is weak and scratchy. A moment later, there’s no question of what’s occurring on that video. There’s no mistaking those skin-on-skin slapping sounds or their corresponding grunts and groans. Kingston and Reed both turn away, obviously no longer able to stand watching, but none of us make a move to hit the pause button.
“You’re such a greedy little whore. A real sick bitch, you know that? I could’ve just killed you, and your pussy is dripping.” More grunting. “I bet you’d get off on watching the new girls go through seasoning. When they’re screaming and crying and begging for mercy. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Now there’s feminine moaning. “Yeah, I thought so. Maybe I’ll pop in next week for an inspection and bring you along. Would you like that? Would you like to visit the warehouse, watch those girls get taken against their will over and over and over again? Watch them be beaten and starved and drugged every time they fight back?” Her moans are even louder now. “Would you?”
“Yes!” she rasps. “Yes! I want to see it all! I want us to fuck as we watch them get hurt!”
Preston chuckles. “Ah, Madeline, it’s too bad you’re a lying, cheating slut. I think we might be soulmates.”
“This is fucking gold,” Kingston murmurs over the grunting and moaning. “He’s incriminating himself left and right. Rafe is going to have a field day with this.”
“Sick motherfuckers.” I wipe the tears away from my eyes, but they won’t stop coming. “They’re getting off to the thought of torturing helpless, innocent girls.”
Reed reaches back and hits the stop button. “I think we’ve heard enough.”
“Agreed.” Kingston pulls out his phone and opens a text window. “Reed, what’s the timestamp on that?”
“Today. 2:24 p.m.”
“Got it.” Kingston nods. “I just sent the info to John so he can forward it to the FBI.”
“Now, what?”
Reed raises his hand. “I vote for heading over to Bent’s and getting fucked up enough to bleach our brains.”
Kingston flings his arm out toward the laptop. “After that, I think it’s a perfect way to ring in the new year.”
Agreed.
***
“Five... four... three... two... one... Happy New Year!”
As the ball drops on Bentley’s 85” TV, Kingston palms the back of my head and draws me into a kiss.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “Happy New Year.”
I smile. “Happy New Year.”
The five of us decided to keep it low-key for NYE, considering everything that’s been going on. Well, four out of the five of us, I should say, considering Ainsley doesn’t know the real reason behind our desire to hermit. She thought the boys were joking when they first said they wanted to chill tonight because, according to Ainsley, several Windsor kids throw huge bashes every year, but she didn’t fight ‘em on it. She simply shrugged and moved on to another topic. I’m guessing it’s because everyone we’d want to see is already in this room. Well, besides Reed’s sister or mine, that is.
“Let’s hope this year is significantly less fucked up.”
“Yes, that would be good.” I laugh, linking my hands behind his neck. “Although it hasn’t been all bad.”
His large hands frame my face. “Move in with me. For-reals.”
I search his eyes. “Kingston, we’ve been through this. I thought w—”
“I found a house,” he interrupts. “In Malibu. It’s fucking perfect, Jazz. I know you’ll love it. I don’t want to miss the chance to buy it.”
“King—”
“Happy New Year, baby girl.” Bentley hooks his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “You too, bro.”
Kingston nods. “Same.”
Bentley looks between us. “Did I interrupt something?”
“I was just telling Jazz I found a house.” Kingston is looking at me, but he’s addressing the whole room. “You guys wanna go check it out in the morning?”
“Hell, yeah, I want to check it out.” Bentley holds his fist out for a bump-slash-bro-shake.
“Me too,” Ainsley and Reed say in unison.
“It’s such a great place.” Ainsley clinks her champagne flute against mine. “I can’t wait to see it in person.”
I raise my brows. “You knew Kingston was looking for a house?”
“Of course, I knew he was looking.” Ainsley taps her temple. “Twin mind meld, remember?”
“Or, you know, I forwarded the listing to you,” Kingston adds.
Ains laughs. “That, too.”
I hold my palm out in a gimme motion. “Well? Let’s see this supposedly perfect house.”
Kingston fiddles with his phone for a sec before placing it in my hand.
My jaw drops. “Oh, wow. You didn’t say it was right on the beach!”<
br />
If this house is even half as beautiful as it looks from the pictures, I can see why Kingston wants it so bad. The interior is spacious, bright, and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a huge deck overlooking the ocean. The front end has a charming little courtyard with mosaic stepping stones bearing pictures of dolphins, turtles, and other sea creatures. There’s even a large pergola covered in gold bougainvillea, which adds the perfect pop of color.
Nothing about this place is cold and sterile, like my father’s McMansion. It’s homey and beachy and not nearly as big as I was expecting. The listing says it’s just over three thousand square feet, but that only makes it more perfect. It proves my boyfriend had me in mind when house hunting. He knew I’d never be comfortable in an over-the-top mansion.
Kingston smiles. “Told you. Perfect. And there are four bedrooms. Plenty of room for us, Belle, and Ains, for however long she wants it.”
“Whoa, that’s pretty sweet,” Bentley remarks over my shoulder. “Nice, Davenport.”
“So?” Kingston lifts his brows. “You wanna go see it in the morning?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “I really do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
KINGSTON
“Did you hear Christian Taylor shot himself over winter break?” Ainsley asks. “I mean, can you believe that? And Lucas Gale just up and disappeared. Rumor has it, Lucas dumped Peyton and ran off with an heiress. Peyton was supposedly so distraught, she begged her parents to send her to boarding school. Personally, I think it’s because Peyton’s former besties wrote her off, and she knew she’d be a social pariah. Whitney and Imogen were flouncing around, acting like queen bees, making sure everyone knows what a backstabbing cum bucket Peyton is. It’s all anyone’s been talking about at school. What a crazy first day back.”
Reed laughs. “Whoa there, Ains. Take a breath.”
Ainsley flips him off before turning her attention to Jazz. “Do you know why Peyton suddenly went to boarding school? Like, did the ‘rents say anything to you?”
Jazz shrugs. “Uh... I know that she’s somewhere in France. I don’t know why, though. I’ve been staying here, so I haven’t seen Charles or Madeline since before Christmas. But I think your theory is a good one.”
Fuck. I need to have a talk with Ainsley soon. I know Jazz and Reed are having a hard time hiding things from her. Plus, I need to prepare my sister for when the FBI makes their move. I’ve been keeping it from her because she can’t lie to save her life, but I don’t want her to be completely blindsided. Maybe I’ll tell her once we get into the new place, and there’s no chance of her running into our dad.
Jazz has been staying with me every night since the Lucas incident. She didn’t even argue when I suggested—okay, maybe demanded—it. We went back once to retrieve her things, and haven’t returned since.
“When’s move-in day, dawg?” Bentley takes a giant bite from his slice of pizza.
“Just over three weeks from now.”
Bentley’s brows draw together. “Why sho long? I fwought you were able to get cash out of your trush fund.”
“Jesus, dude. Is it that hard to wait until you’ve finished chewing?”
He chews a couple of more times before swallowing. “Fine. Why so long? Is that better?”
I shrug. “The people I bought it from needed time to pack up, so I agreed to rent it out to them for a month.”
Ainsley bumps Jazz’s shoulder to get her attention. “Are you excited, Jazz?”
Jazz smiles when her mocha eyes find mine. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this feeling. When she looks at me like that, like she’s truly happy—that I’m responsible for that—I feel like the luckiest bastard on earth.
She nods. “Belle is too. She thinks it’s super cool she gets her own room, even though she doesn’t live with us. Hopefully, that will change one day in the near future. Kingston’s going to order this beautiful princess bed and surprise her with it.”
Whoever thought I’d be buying frilly little girl shit? I’m glad Jazz is finally loosening up on allowing me to spend money on her. Granted, she won’t let me go overboard like I want to, but she is getting better at accepting gifts. Especially when they involve her sister. Leave it to me to fall for the one woman who has no interest in my fortune. Go figure.
I pull my stubborn girl into my side and kiss her temple.
Ainsley places an open palm against her chest. “Aw, that’s so sweet. Look at you two—all domesticated and shacking up. I can’t wait to be roomies!”
I give her the stink eye. “It’s not much different than it is now. Jazz is with me every day already, and you’re in here at least twice as much as the main house.”
“True.” She points a stern finger at us. “But I’d like to set a rule for no sex on the couch. Or anywhere out in the open. I don’t need to accidentally walk in on you two getting freaky.”
“On second thought, maybe you should get your own place,” I deadpan.
“Haha, funny guy.” My sister yawns. “So, when are you going to order my pretty princess bed?”
I scoff. “If you want a princess bed, knock yourself out. You have plenty of money to buy your own shit.”
“Yeah, but it’s much more fun when someone else buys me shit.” Ainsley stands up and extends her hand to Reed. “And on that note, I’m out. Madame Rochelle was brutal tonight. I’m beat. You coming, Reed?”
“If you’re cool with that,” Reed answers.
Ainsley rolls her eyes. “Duh.”
Reed raises a hand as they’re walking out the door. “Later, guys.”
“Later,” Jazz, Bentley, and I say in unison.
“I guess that’s my cue to take off, too.” Bentley rises from the couch and heads for the door. “I’ll let you two kiddos get to the wholesome part of your evening. Have fun! Don’t do anything I would do.”
Jazz laughs. “Night, Bent.”
“Night, baby girl.” He winks before blowing me a kiss. “Sweet dreams, sugar lips.”
I flip him off in reply.
When it’s finally just the two of us, I wrap my arms around Jazz’s back and pull her into me. “You feel like getting started on those wholesome activities? I’ve got chess, or Sudoku, or Monopoly, or—”
“Shut up and kiss me, you jackass.”
I give her an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose we can do that too. If I have to.”
“Oh, yeah. You definitely have to.” She cracks her imaginary whip. “Get to work, buddy.”
Without any warning, I crouch down and flip her over my shoulder. With a solid smack to her ass, I say, “You’re going to pay for that, sweetheart.”
Jazz reaches between my legs from her upside-down position and rubs my junk. “Counting on it.”
This girl.
***
“You’re never going to believe the luck we’ve run into.” I can practically see John’s shit-eating grin.
“Even better than the video of my father with Madeline?”
“We may have footage to bring Callahan in.” He clears his throat. “And another informant who’s willing to testify in exchange for immunity. The FBI is getting close to making a move.”
“Holy shit.” I grab a drink from the fridge and take a seat on the couch. “What footage, and who’s the informant?”
“Oh, nothing big. Just Charles Callahan killing one of his employees. As for the informant, that would be none other than Mrs. Callahan.”
Water sprays everywhere as I choke on the sip I was taking. “Explain. Start with the employee.”
“On Christmas Eve, shortly after Lucas Gale’s body was found, Callahan is caught on camera injecting a needle into Darlene Williams’ body. Williams was sitting in front of Callahan’s desk when he came up from behind and jabbed the needle into her neck. She slumped down in the chair, unconscious almost immediately.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “How do you know she’s actually dead?”
“Because a while later, Callahan r
eturns with two henchmen. Charles placed a finger on her wrist and said the words, ‘No pulse.’ Then, the mystery men rolled her up using a large piece of plastic and duct tape—which they conveniently had at the ready—and hauled her off.”
“Holy fuck. What’d they do with her body?”
“No clue,” John says.
“How has she been missing for two weeks, and nobody’s asked about her whereabouts?”
“She lived at the Callahan house and had no next of kin. Who would bother?”
“Another employee at the mansion?”
“Callahan could’ve easily told them she quit or got fired.”
“She worked for him for as long as I can remember, and the woman rarely took a day off. So much for loyalty, huh?”
“I guess Charles wasn’t willing to take the risk when covering up a homicide.”
“What’s the deal with Madeline?”
“Mrs. Callahan attends the same hot yoga class three times per week. After the feds viewed the footage we sent them, they knew it was the perfect time to approach her, so they did so after her most recent class. Once Mrs. Callahan heard the FBI planned to charge her as an accomplice if she didn’t cooperate, the woman couldn’t spill their secrets fast enough. Madeline fell right into their hands, playing the victim card. She told them she’d do whatever she could to escape those tyrannical monsters.”
I scoff. “Right. That woman wouldn’t know innocence if it smacked her in the face.”
“Agreed, and her handler is well aware. But Madeline gave them intel we’ve been trying to gather for years, including the location of the warehouse your father was referring to. If it all checks out, the feds will have what they need to move forward.”
“What’d she tell them?”
“She validated what we knew about your father’s high-class prostitution ring and the fact that Charles is blackmailing officials, though she claims not to know any details about the latter. Most importantly, though, she did confirm both patriarchs are trafficking young women, mainly from Mexico and the Caribbean. That’s where the big money comes from, especially since they’ve joined forces with a cartel. Their operation has become such a well-oiled machine, Callahan and your father have taken a more passive role in the day-to-day.”
