The Elites Of Weis-Jameson Prep Academy: The Complete Series (A High School Enemies To Lovers Bully Romance Box Set)

by Rebel Hart

  “What the fuck,” I whisper, thumbing over the second figure in the photos. “Is this Emmett!?”

  “Yeah. That feels like ages ago,” he answers dismissively, shaking his head.

  “You and Emmett are friends? I never see you together at school,” I study the pictures more closely, taken aback by how happy and carefree Emmett looks. A side to him I have yet to see.

  “Used to be,” he replies with a tinge of sadness. “When we were younger, our parents didn’t care if we were friends or if we hung out. My family has money after all, and that’s all they care about. But his dad and my dad had a falling out. And then as we got older, it became less socially acceptable for us to be seen together as much.”

  “A falling out about what?” I ask, knowing it’s a reach, and am met with another quiet shake of his head.

  “Their businesses,” he grunts, brushing a finger to his nose. “That’s all you need to know.”

  “Asshole,” I grumble disdainfully, tossing the strip back into the glovebox and slamming it shut.

  “It’s not his fault,” Malcolm shoots back sharply.

  “What the fuck do you mean it’s not his fault!?” I shriek with more emotion than I mean to. “Don’t tell me you’re brainwashed by them too. Everyone’s so afraid of them they just go along with their bullshit and let them get away with whatever they want. Treating everyone like shit.”

  “I’m not saying the Elites aren’t capable of horrible things,” he defends. “You don’t have to tell me. I grew up with them. Vivian, Bernadette, Trey, Vincent…they’re no good. But Emmett’s always been a little different. That’s why we were buddies. He’s not like the others.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t,” I answer lowly in disdain, tugging at my shoulder. “But he had no problem writing you off when he got older. And some time after that, he became a monster just like the rest of them.”

  “He hurts you?” Malcolm asks, his face slightly twisted.

  “They all do.”

  He shakes his head, turning briefly to the driver’s side window with his lips pursed before refocusing on the road. “That’s not like him. I know it’s going to be hard to convince you…but anything he’s doing is just out of fear. He didn’t ask to be born into that fucked up family of his. He’s just as much of a pawn as the rest of us.”

  I stare at him as he drives, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. Doubt. Anything that tells me he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But he’s filled with resolve. Completely confident that Emmett is somehow different than his flock of abusers.

  My head flings back against my seat. I can’t handle this right now. The last thing I need is another gnawing voice in my ear trying to convince me that Emmett’s behavior is excusable.

  I’ve watched him dump trash on Lily’s head. He manhandled me in front of his asshole Elite friends. He’s verbally abused me. Humiliated me. Threatened me. Not to mention whatever he planned to do with me with that rope and gloves before we crashed his car. The list goes on and on.

  I clench my fists, needing the reminder of it all to dig into me as deep as my fingernails dig into my palm. I don’t care what Malcolm says, or what flash of pity I saw in him recently. He’s one of the bad guys. He’s hurt me. And my fucked up attraction to him is just that. Fucked up. It has to stop. I have to make it stop.

  “I promise you, Ophelia,” Malcolm continues, jolting my attention back to him. “Things are about to change. The days of the Elites’ reign are numbered. They’re on thin ice. And when their little hierarchy starts to shift…you’ll see the real Emmett.”

  Emmett’s angry snarling face flashes before my eyes. I have plenty of memories of him like that. Staring me down with pure rage and hatred. Saying terrible things to me. I can’t let myself believe that there’s anything more to him than that.

  “We’re almost there,” he announces, pointing a finger over the steering wheel to an ominous looking vacant lot in the distance.

  I gulp down a hard knot, unsure if I should be relieved or terrified. Either way, he claims this will be informative and good. So I try to hold on to that with any ounce of capability I have left to trust someone in Jameson.

  Chapter Sixteen

  BOOK 1

  Malcolm drives us to what looks like an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. The parking lot is dark, lit up by only one streetlamp that rests near the large garage door entry. He flips a switch, causing the metal door to clatter as it rolls up.

  I am certain I should be afraid of dying. This could be how I go. But Malcolm doesn’t seem threatening. His meager and slender build makes me think I could take him if it came down to it. But it doesn’t make him unattractive. He has creamy pale skin and long legs leading up to a well-chiseled narrow chest. His light sandy blonde hair is cut and styled into spikes, complimenting his pale blue eyes that seem kind.

  It’s a shame I can’t be attracted to him instead. He’s shown me more kindness than anyone else around here, aside from Lily.

  Or maybe my concept of kind has just shifted after enduring the torture of the Elites. In my book, he is still one of them by proxy after all, no matter what he says. Now it seems anyone who doesn’t instantly attack me seems nice in my book.

  The inside of the warehouse is even darker, with only the moonlight shining through a large opening in the back to give me any clue as to where to step. Malcom places his arm through mine, startling me as my eyes dart to his in suspicion.

  “I told you I’m not going to hurt you,” he assures me, nodding to his gentle, friendly touch.

  “Sorry. I know,” I groan, letting him lead me. “I’m not used to someone being nice to me. Trying to help.” My mind drifts to Lily. I wonder if he knows how risky it is to be doing anything but treating me like shit. “In fact, you may want to be careful. The Elites tend to make anyone that helps me regret it. They may turn on you.”

  “I’m not afraid of them. At least not in the way you think,” he huffs, guiding me toward a figure standing in front of a window so that all I can make out is the silhouette of what looks like an older man in a suit.

  His tall slender legs mimic Malcolm’s build, but he has a much bigger gut jutting out from his suit jacket. I can see a glare across his balding head as he wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.

  I look up to him nervously, hoping and praying I haven’t been duped yet again.

  “Ophelia,” the man calls out. “Thank you for coming. Sorry to have to drag you out of the house so inconspicuously, but as I’m sure you’ve gathered by now…there are some dangerous forces at play around here.”

  “Who are you?” I ask, squinting my eyes to try and make out his face.

  “This is my father,” Malcolm explains. “Meet Liam Henderson.”

  I have no idea what to think. What on earth could both Malcolm and his father want with me in this abandoned warehouse out in the middle of nowhere?

  “Your father could not be present, but he says hello,” Liam adds, firing the synapses in my brain.

  My father. Of course he wouldn’t bother actually showing his face, but at least he’s making some form of contact. It’s about damn time for how much trouble as he’s caused.

  “Well, that’s a first,” I jeer in bewilderment. “I’ve never even met him.”

  “I’m afraid this will have to be brief,” Liam continues, ignoring my bitterness. “We can only block the signal of the tracking device in your arm for so long.”

  My eyes widen and glance toward my shoulder. I’m amazed that they can do something like that…and that they even know it’s there in the first place.

  “How did you…”

  “I’ll get straight to it,” he carries on after clearing his throat, cutting me off. I still can’t see his face as he stands in front of the backlit window. “Maybe you’re aware that I write code and create software for a living. The programs I’ve designed have been used by many fortune 500 companies for many different purposes. I’ve been very succe
ssful.”

  “Yeah, Malcolm filled me in on some of that on the way over,” I nod, still confused as to what this has to do with me. Or my father.

  “Unfortunately, the Jameson Automobile Corporation has been using my software to run extortion rings of politicians,” he continues with a disappointed sigh. “It’s also been modified to create a black market for underage girls. I’m sure a smart girl like you can understand why that’s big trouble for me.”

  “Sex trafficking?” I blink, staring ahead blankly. I want to be as smart as he thinks, but I’m too taken aback to piece anything together on my own right now.

  “Since I’m the creator of the program and one of the top employees of the company, my reputation and career would be seriously harmed if this information came to light. Which is what brought us to the aid of your father, Theodore Nickelson.”

  His name hangs in the air like a plague. I hate the sound of it.

  “I can’t say I’m making that leap with you,” I confess. “What does any of that have to do with my father? Or better yet…me?”

  “How much do you know about him?” Liam asks, slightly stunned.

  “Nothing,” I shrug. “I told you. I’ve never even met him.”

  “Ah,” I see the shadow of his brow wrinkling in the light as his head drops. “As I said, we don’t have much time, but have a seat. I’ll explain what I can for now.” He motions to some nearby shipping crates and follows me over to take a seat. “Your father, Theodore Nickelson the Third is the only grandson of one of the Jameson Automobile Company’s founders.”

  I shake my head vehemently, excited to finally be getting some kind of real information. I’m so wrapped up in every word he’s saying, I can barely process the scope of it.

  My father. One of the Jameson Automobile bigwigs.

  “Therefore, he inherited a quarter of the company’s shares,” Liam continues. “But in the early 2000s, he mismanaged millions of the company’s funds. He had used the money to fund his own private gambling problem. So, the Elites cut him off. He tried to go public with Marissa Jameson’s affair with the gardener, which only got him blacklisted at every public establishment, sued for every penny he had, and his entire reputation was completely tarnished for good.”

  “Wow,” I marvel out loud, still hanging from his every word. “All of that for a gambling habit.”

  “He fled town with your mother, Lala,” Liam continues. “Theo trained as a private detective on the West Coast, but he could never let go of his hatred of the Elites. He built his fortune from the ground up through stocks, purely out of vengeance. And he vowed to come after the Elites in whatever way he could to make them pay for taking away all that he had.”

  “Seems ridiculous,” I blurt out dryly. “It was his own gambling problem that put him in that spot. And he ended up making it all back anyway, so…why not just let it go?”

  “Maybe you can ask him that yourself one day,” Liam replies dismissively. “But for now, you can see why we would want to work with him.”

  “You both hate the Elites?” I offer.

  “If this sex trafficking and pedophilia thing breaks, it could be a huge federal case,” he barks, growing impatient with my seeming lack of interest. “All of the Jameson founders could be found guilty and sentenced to life in federal prison. But we need a verbal confession to really tie the case together. The evidence now is compelling, but it could be overwhelming with such a confession. And according to Massachusetts recording laws, it’s illegal to record someone without their consent. This is the only reason there hasn’t been any movement forward. Thomas Jameson isn’t stupid enough to go to other states and say ‘Yes, I’m the one who has done these horrible things’.”

  “So that’s why the Elites are trying to get him to back off?” I think out loud. “They know he’s not going to stop until he puts them all behind bars.”

  “Precisely,” he nods, scratching his fingers across the five o’clock shadow on his chin.

  “Well, now the Elites are up my ass,” I commiserate, rubbing my bruised shin. “So you can tell my dad he has to respond to whatever ultimatum they gave him or else they’re going to make me pay.”

  “I’m sorry they’ve been so cruel to you,” he says softly, his face grimacing at the bruises shining in the moonlight. “They are ruthless. And will stop at nothing to protect their power and money. Which is why this situation is so perilous. I can’t be dragged down for their wrongdoings, but that is exactly what they will make sure happens if we don’t build a strong enough case against them.”

  I nod, believing all too well that the Elites will stop at nothing to protect their own asses. I would be scared too if I was in the Hendersons’ position.

  “Well, this has certainly been enlightening,” I grunt as I stand from the shipping crate. “But I still don’t see what any of this has to do with me. How am I supposed to help?”

  Liam grows quiet in deep thought for a moment, leaning forward and running his palm to the back of his neck with what looks like remorse. Regret. He’s sorry for something.

  “Your father is sorry he hasn’t been involved in your life,” he offers as he stands, pacing in front of me. “But he wanted you to understand what was going on. So that maybe…you wouldn’t feel so…helpless. He hoped the context would help.”

  His words suddenly sound more menacing. Something is about to happen, and the fear I was numb to before is creeping in full force. “Help with what?” I ask softly, taking a few steps back.

  He answers with a silent smirk, nodding to Malcolm. “You can take her home now.”

  I pull away from Malcolm at first, wondering if he really plans to take me home or if something terrible is about to happen. I don’t have a good feeling about any of this.

  “But wait!” I shout, jerking away. “I still don’t understand. What is it that I’m supposed to do!? If he doesn’t do what they want, the Elites are going to kill me. They said they’ve sent him messages, but I don’t know what they’ve said or what they’re trying to do.”

  “They’re likely telling him to back off,” Liam deduces, tucking his hands into his suit jacket.

  “Will he!?” My voice grows shrill with urgency. “Because like I said…they’re going to kill me if he doesn’t! Can you at least promise me that he’ll respond? I mean…can’t you all just work it out between yourselves without dragging me into it!?”

  “All you need to know is that your father has a plan,” he offers grimly, sparking more fear than reassurance. “Malcolm. That’s all for now.”

  He steps toward me again, but I pull my arms back. I can’t believe I’m getting shuffled off again without knowing what this all means for me.

  “Come on, Ophelia,” Malcolm says reassuringly. “I promise nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to take you back to your car.”

  My heart pounds as I follow along, convinced that at any step everything could change. He could turn on me. Someone could come after us. Liam was eluding to something. That much I’m certain of. But to go through all this trouble just to set me free again…something’s not right about it.

  My anxiety keeps me quiet on the ride home, my senses on hyper alert as I note every last turn the car takes. I’m ready to bolt the moment it goes any direction that is not toward the McDonald’s I parked at.

  But to my surprise, Malcolm keeps his word and drops me off at my car. Flashing me a sweet smile as I exit his vehicle.

  “So, what now?” I turn back to ask him from the sidewalk, rubbing my arms as I look around cautiously.

  “Go home,” Malcolm answers dryly, not looking away from his steering wheel. “Like my father said, your dad has a plan. You just have to wait.”

  “What if there’s no time for waiting!?” I shriek back. “What if the Elites kill me before he carries out his little plan?”

  Malcolm is unmoved. “Go home and get some rest, Ophelia.”

  Without another word, his tires squeal and he’s flying off down the
street. I stand and watch as the obnoxious buzz of his car engine drifts further and further away, eventually vanishing altogether.

  Not knowing what else to do, I turn to walk back to my car. It’s easy for him to say. Wait. Rest. I can’t do any of these things. Not with all of this hanging over my head.

  My dad has it out for the Elites, and not surprisingly they have plenty of skeletons in their closet for him to play with. I’ve seen the rage of their entitlement. No one questions them or fucks with them in any way.

  I’d be glad my dad is giving them a run for their money if it weren’t for me getting dragged down into it all. And the fact that his motives are no different than theirs. He messed up, and he’s mad at them for putting him in his place.

  I wrap my arms around my chest, shielding myself from the night air chill as I climb back into my car. Everything around me is quiet to the point of being unsettling.

  My car engine starts, and I drive back to my house as fast as I can. I’m in desperate need of some place that feels safe. With so many people watching me and keeping tabs on me, I’m not sure such a place exists anymore. But my room is the closest thing I have, so I’ll take it.

  All I want is to be curled up under my covers. Now I just have to hope that when I get there, dreams of Emmett don’t come back to haunt me.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BOOK 1

  My mind is on overdrive as I head home, but I’m relieved to finally understand what my father had to do with the Elites. And what all of it has to do with me now. But there is still a lingering fear that the Hendersons and my father aren’t through with me yet. I’m able to push that further and further away as I get closer to home. At least for now.

  I think about how badly I want to be able to ask my mom everything. I know my dad’s side to the story, but I can’t help but wonder what all of that must have been like for her. And I still have no clue what actually caused them to split up. Though I guess a gambling habit that ruined their lives would be reason enough.