by Cassie James
“Yes, I assumed as much,” he agrees, but he’s not derisive or disrespectful. Tired, maybe, but not rude or dismissive in the way I’ve come to expect powerful men to be to much younger girls. He crosses his arms over his chest as he considers me carefully, lips pursing as his eyes rove my face for a few quiet seconds. “There’s a secret society—“
I can’t help it. I fucking laugh. Okay, never mind, Grant Harrington is just as crazy as the rest of them. But there’s nothing about the serious tilt of his lips that suggests he’s trying to pull a gotcha moment on me. Instead, his lips pull into a thoughtful frown. “I realize how ridiculous that sounds, Miss Lexington, but I assure you I’m being very, very serious. It was your grandfather’s brain child, a way to keep some semblance of control in a town where everyone thought they should be in charge.”
My laughter stops short. He really isn’t joking. “Okay,” I answer carefully, “even if that’s true, I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”
“There’s a meeting Saturday afternoon, and I think it’s long past overdue that you take your rightful seat at the table. The head of the table.” I’m almost too afraid to ask who’s sitting there now, but he answers the unspoken question anyway. “It was never Ed Woods’ seat to take. No matter how much he might have tried to bully your aunt into giving the spot up.”
And it’s in that moment that an awful, wonderful thought starts to take root in the back of my mind. Pearl’s grooming wasn’t just about finding Hollis’ treasure. She was preparing me for whatever the hell this secret society of Hollis’ is—to lead it or burn it to the ground, I’m not quite sure. But leading it isn’t what I have in mind. Not when I’ve seen the way the monsters of this town have ruined their children.
“How? Where is it?” I ask after a quiet moment. The idea of ending this shit once and for all is heady, and I’m pissed enough at generations past to want it done now. Even if that means walking right into the lion’s den.
“You’ve been to the country club.” I nod even though it’s not really a question. This man sure as hell already has a lot of answers. “There’s a basement door in the hallway with the bathroom. The photo,” he indicates toward the painting he’d hung back in its place after flipping it around to prove to me he knew what the hell he was talking about, “was taken there. The blueprints to The Patience Club don’t show a basement, Miss Lexington. The book, the quote? That was Hollis’ code, his was of inviting us to that particular meeting spot.”
This newfound revelation leaves me breathless. The books weren’t meant to be used to blackmail people over their secrets. They were their keys, their invitations to take up the mantle of their legacy within this secret society that’s poisoned Patience. Jax and Ash’s dad—and me—we’d all been invited to take our places, even if Jax and I didn’t know what the hell the books meant. This whole time, the goddamn books were basically the keys to the city.
Way to really bury the lead, Hollis.
My voice shakes around my one-word question. “Jax?” We’re too close, we’ve been through too much together already, for him to have known anything about this at all. But why would Hollis give the book to a kid? Especially when Ed Woods was still around kicking up trouble?
“Pearl did everything she could to try to pass Woods’ spot on to Jax. He’s young, sure, but it would’ve been his eventually anyway. Ed Woods is power-hungry, he has to be in control. Nothing would’ve ever convinced him to give up his spot, not even becoming governor.”
My mind spins in a thousand different directions. What the hell kind of man is Ed Woods if the most powerful people in Patience were willing to see a kid take a place at their table instead of him? I open my mouth to ask that very question, but footsteps fill the foyer behind me, and I turn in time to see Jake walking our way with his eyebrows pinched together in confusion.
“Jake.” Mr. Harrington nods to him, greeting him by name even though I know for a fact that the two of them haven’t met. “Sorry to interrupt,” he tells the both of us, manners on full display now that someone else is watching. He strides to the front door, clearly ready to go now. He pauses just long enough to look back at me and say, “Think about what I said.”
Oh, I plan to do a hell of a lot more than just thinking about it.
Chapter Nineteen
I smooth my white blouse down as I walk into The Patience Club alone. The guys all offered to come with me, but this is something I knew I needed to do on my own. I’m dressed up in an all-white outfit that Sadie talked me into just for this occasion. “Dress like the white knight you’re about to be,” she’d said.
It helps, too, that the outfit is nice enough not to raise any eyebrows as I step into the front foyer and am greeted by several people at once. The club is slow this time of day. One of the hostesses waves the others off as she reaches me first.
“Good afternoon,” she greets me. “Where can I direct you today?”
“How’s the basement?” I ask, blurting the words out just to see what kind of reaction I get. I’m honestly curious if the people working here have any idea about the secret meetings happening under their country club. There’s a pause with a long silence that makes me shift my weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“We don’t have a basement,” the hostess then answers with genuine confusion on her face. Which is interesting, since there’s no reason Grant Harrington would need to lie about something like that. If the building didn’t have a basement, it wouldn’t take much for me to see that for myself.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I answer the confused woman who’s still looking at me like she’s not sure if she should escort me in or call for security. “I guess I was confused. I’ll just take a table.” I nod encouragingly at her, like I would to a toddler that needs encouragement, but it works. She breathes a small sigh of relief and gestures toward the dining room.
I follow along, letting her go through the pretense of seating me and telling me the day’s specials. I’m not here for overpriced salmon, but she doesn’t know that. The second she disappears again, I stand up—just as the waiter is showing up—with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, turns out I got stood up.” I shrug and offer what I hope is a convincing almost-crying face. The guy backs off immediately with a muttered apology before tucking tail to head to another table.
There’s nothing like a dose of emotional baggage to keep service workers at bay. I know from experience, unfortunately. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t fuck with someone at work like that, but right now I don’t really have a choice. Dodging employees feels like performing martial arts here.
I head in the direction of the bathroom, strolling casually so as not to draw attention to myself. As soon as I hit the back hall and see that I’m alone, I start trying doors. I hit several locked ones back-to-back, which doesn’t do me a hell of a lot of good. I can’t guarantee that what I’m looking for won’t be behind one of those locked doors. Just because no one else knows to look for a secret basement meeting doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not taking safety precautions anyway.
I walk the rest of the hall, but nothing stands out. I let out a frustrated groan as I drop my head back to stare at the ceiling. This is so fucking ridiculous. I finally feel ready to face my destiny here and I can’t even find the right freaking door.
I really should have asked for more details than the basement door in the hallway with the bathroom. Oh, hell, I think I know what the problem is. I backtrack toward the dining room, careful to make sure no one is paying any attention to me as I duck into the next hallway, the one that leads to the men’s bathroom. Of course, they’d put the access to this secret space in a hallway where no one would expect a woman to be. Those original assholes that started all of this expected it would only ever be men at the table, I’m sure.
This time, I don’t have to try a bunch of locked doors, because there are only three doors here. The bathroom, a management office, and one unmarked door at the end which is oh so helpfully unlocke
d.
I open it up and step inside a dimly lit storage room. For a second, I wonder if I’ve somehow gotten it wrong again, but then I realize the storage shelves make up a natural pathway to the back of the room. I follow along the rows until I find a metal staircase lining the back wall. “This is it,” I murmur to myself under my breath. “Just get it over with.” There’s not a part of me that’s looking forward to this as I descend down into the unknown.
I can hear the sound of my own breathing rattling in my ears as my hand shakes against the railing. Maybe this was a mistake. What the hell was I thinking coming here alone?
I hear their voices before I see them, some kind of argument going on and clearly being led by none other than Ed Woods himself. I’m not the least bit surprised by that. I turn a corner and get my first good look at the round table at the center of an otherwise empty room.
Ed Woods. Grant Harrington. Neema Dupont. Francis Van Doren.
And one open seat to the side, left empty in the wake of Pearl’s death. Because of the way they’re all sitting, Neema is the only one facing my way, which means she’s also the only one that catches sight of me. Her lips twitch at the corners as she seems to struggle to hold back a smile. It’s a good sign, one that sends a rush of relief spreading through me. It means that I’ve got two of the four people in this room on my side—and I’m still hoping that maybe Ace’s dad will take my side, too. The only one I really know for sure I’m going up against is Governor Woods.
He sits so smugly at the seat at the head of the table, arguing with Francis about what should be built in the newly emptied lot on the main strip. I thought I wasn’t looking forward to this, but as I prepare myself to knock this man on his ass, I realize this is something I’ve been waiting for since I first laid eyes on the man, and I’m actually going to enjoy not holding anything back very much.
I stride into the room, still managing to go unnoticed because of the commotion. That changes when I come to a stop next to the head of the table, eyes firmly where Ed Woods will have no choice but to meet my glare when he turns to see me.
“Excuse me,” I interrupt. “You’re in my seat.”
The room falls silent as Governor Woods’ head turns and his eyes nearly bulge right out of his skull. He chokes over whatever words he was about to say. His surprise turns quickly to fuming annoyance when he realizes I’ve just told him to get out of my seat. “Run along, little girl,” he says when he finally manages to collect himself. “The adults are talking, so fuck off.”
He tries to dismiss me that easily, but I laugh outright at him. “Thanks for keeping my seat warm, but that won’t be necessary any longer. In fact, I think pretty soon, it’s going to be a real surprise if you even want to show your face around here anymore.”
“Excuse you?” He shoves out of his chair. “Where the hell do you get off threatening me, you ghetto little house-rat?”
“You know, ever since I got here there’s been one thing that’s just left the worst taste in my mouth,” I announce to the whole room, looking from Ed—who’s positively heaving with enough anger that his whole body has turned bright red—to the others. “Just upstairs, there are middle-aged men hitting on teenage girls, day after day. Everyone seems to know and no one seems to stop it.” They all exchange guilty looks, Neema in particular sliding slightly further down in her seat.
“If you all don’t exist to help the most vulnerable people in this town—then what’s actually the point of this little club existing at all?” I take turns looking each of them in the eyes, wanting them to be forced to face the reality of what they’ve been doing at all these stupid fucking meetings. Each of them shift uncomfortably under my stare, the tension in the air thick as I call them the fuck out.
Ed’s nose is high up in the air as he says, “We have important things to deal with. Property issues. Politics. Real problems that affect everyone. Not some wayward girls more worried about getting their panties wet than making something of themselves.” Ed Woods is fucking despicable.
“Yeah, I’m sure you would say that. Considering how often you’ve been the one here fucking underage girls.” Grant Harrington takes a sharp breath. Looks like they really didn’t know about Ed’s little secret, which makes it all the sweeter that I’m the one getting to expose him now. I’m not done with the rest of them, either. “So you’re all down here wheeling deals about property and politics while your friends and neighbors are upstairs hitting on teenage girls—and you don’t have anything to say about that?”
“You little fucking bitch.” Ed takes one menacing step towards me but I don’t even flinch. I’m not afraid of him. He’s just a weak man that got lucky enough to be born with the right last name. The power that’s given him, though? I’m going to make sure Dr. Peterson’s book strips every little bit of it away. No one’s ever going to respect or fear this man again. They never should have in the first place.
Ed takes another step towards me, hands rising even as I remain unflinching as I stare at him, every bit as unimpressed now as I was the first time Jax told me what a joke his father was. Let him hit me if he really wants, it’ll just add more fuel to the fire later. He looks like he’s really considering it for a moment, too, a grown man hitting a young woman just for having the nerve to call him out.
Francis stands up, rising to his full height and showing off just where Ace gets it from. The sight is every bit as intimidating as I’m sure he knew it would be. Ed hesitates, and it’s that spot of weakness that officially does him in.
Neema shoots Governor Woods one last dismissive look before ignoring him completely. “I think you can show yourself the door, Ed. You’re clearly not welcome here.”
“This is my town,” he protests through gritted teeth.
Grant chuckles humorlessly. “No, it sure as hell isn’t. The Lexingtons and Harringtons built this town, Woods was still a new money name when I was a kid. I’d say you should consider yourself lucky that Hollis had such a soft spot for your kid because I’m certain it’s the only reason he kept an asshole like you around.” He smirks. “Or have you forgotten that it was really your bastard son securing your spot all along? Hollis was ready to kick you out of that chair by the time that kid could talk.”
All the air gets sucked out of the room as the words leave his mouth. Grant sees me staring. “Badly kept secret. Smith overheard a conversation he shouldn’t have as a kid, cemented those two’s friendship for life, though.” No wonder Smith’s always been so protective of Jax. There’s no telling what kind of bullshit he could have overheard coming from an asshole like Ed.
“This isn’t over,” Ed snarls as he takes several steps toward the exit.
I give him the most sarcastic finger wave I can muster. “No,” I agree, “it sure as hell isn’t.”
He glares back at me one last time. “I’ve made bigger problems than you disappear, kid. Might be time Lexington Estate got a fucking security system. Chances are you’ll get yours before I get mine.”
“I’d watch who you threaten, Woods. Especially when her lawyer’s present,” Mr. Harrington barks out. Ed waves him off like he’s not bothered, but there’s no missing the way his back tightens as he suddenly moves quicker to the stairs. To me, he says, “Don’t let him fool you. He’s going to be hard-pressed to find anyone that wants to do him any favors after word gets out about this little fall from grace. Especially favors that could get a guy a felony.”
He’s got quite the wake up call coming when he least expects it. And in the meantime… I’m pretty damn glad that Jake’s basically moved in, meaning I’m not in that big house all alone like a sitting duck. Peterson’s book is still going to take a bit of time. At least if I get murdered, all that shit will still come out since I’ve already given Peterson copies of everything he needs.
The room is quiet for a minute until the sound of Francis taking his seat again breaks the silence. Grant takes a deep breath before complimenting me, “That was quite the impressive display�
�going head-to-head with a state governor. You’ve got balls, kid.” I might like Grant for the most part, but I don’t appreciate the exact choice of words.
“I’ve got something better than balls. I’ve got morals, something I think you all might have forgotten about while you were sitting pretty in your ivory… basement.” Ivory basement really doesn’t have the same ring to it as ivory tower, but I roll with it anyway now that I can’t take the words back. “Times have changed since Hollis started this whole secret society thing. I think it’s long past overdue that this changes, too.”
Grant raises his eyebrows and looks expectantly at me. “It’s your call, Juliet. What do you want to do?” I don’t have to think before I answer. Just like Hollis said, a Lexington always knows.
“A Lexington started this whole secret society bullshit, so I think it’s only fair that a Lexington be the one to end it.”
There’s another patch of silence as the three remaining members of the table wait for me to clarify my statement. Since, at this point, there’s no way it’s a secret in this freaking town, I decide to with the whole truth. “Even if we kept this whole thing alive, you’d all just be handing over the reigns to me and your three sons. All of whom I’m dating. Can you really imagine us wanting to sit around once a month fighting over things as inconsequential as whether we want to a stop a new tax company from buying a plot of land in our town?” I ask candidly. “Because personally, I prefer to keep the fighting a minimum in my relationships.”
None of them look too scandalized by me bringing up my romantic life, so that’s gotta be a good sign I figure. One by one, I’m surprised to find each of them giving me a stoic nod.
They look from me to each other. Neema is the first to say, “I’ll second Juliet’s Lexington proposal. Her one and only.” She shoots me a soft smile.
