The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

shut me up . . . is by murdering me.

  Hysteria bubbled up inside of me. Made sense—he obviously didn’t want

  to do it. That made sense, too—Pete was a nice guy. But that didn’t necessarily make him a good guy.

  A hand grab, and he wordlessly led me through the gloomy living room

  and out the front door, slipping on his coat. I followed him like a little lamb

  being led to slaughter. Stark night air washed over me, waking me from my

  reverie. The crunching of our feet over frozen pasture and the howling wind

  were the only sounds.

  “Pete, where are you takin’ me?” My voice seemed loud, sharply bouncing

  into nothingness as he took us off trail. I tripped along, looking at his grim

  face in the moonlight, puffing out steam as he pulled me along. He still looked

  absurdly hot, but somewhere close to the edge of madness. Panic started to

  creep in. My feet stalled.

  “Not here.” He tugged on my arm. “A little farther.” His tone was cold

  now, detached almost. I dug my heels in, and he countered with a yank.

  “Come on, Kate . . . now that I’ve decided to go through with it, I really just

  wanna get it over with as fast as possible.”

  Surely not. Right? Surely I was just letting my imagination run rampant.

  Pete stopped plowing me behind him to reach into his coat for a flask. Come

  to think of it, he hadn’t offered me his coat, or even asked me to get mine.

  Almost as if he knew—I wouldn’t need it. My blood ran cold.

  He took a serious swig from the flask then offered me some. But I declined,

  wanting to keep my wits about me. As I watched him take another fortifying

  swallow, a siren went off in my head. He was obviously drinking away his

  dread. Numbing himself. Bolstering his courage for what he was about to do.

  He stared me down in the dark, and I felt the intent manifest itself.

  There would be bloodshed tonight.

  I whimpered a little. Wanted to run, but my legs felt like two limp noodles

  attached to a wood block.

  “Come on, Kate,” he coaxed.

  “Daddy will be back any minute,” I threw out.

  He snorted out more steam. “No he won’t. He’s at Cannon with some

  old military buddies, bragging about his son’s bright future with the ‘world’s

  • 422 •

  most elite military academy.’ And, unfortunately, he has a flat tire to see about tonight.”

  Of course—car-rigging, his specialty. My heart studded to a halt along with my feet, suddenly stubborn as a mule’s.

  “Pete! You don’t have to do this!” I tried wrenching my hand away, but

  he used his other hand to redouble his grip on me.

  He sighed heavily, shook back his golden head. The combo of steamy air

  and steely eyes made him seem almost possessed. “I do, Kate. They’ve left

  me no choice.”

  I gulped, panic stealing the breath from me. This was it. He was losing his

  patience. Abruptly, my legs gave way. He swore, clamped the knife between

  his teeth, and bent down to scoop me up, carrying me like a child a few more

  yards to the old elm tree I had leaned against this summer to read romance

  novels. I wondered what different steps I could’ve taken to prevent the path I

  was on . . . the one leading to bloodshed.

  Pete set me down. I immediately dropped to my knees, a beggar. “You

  ready?” he asked. Words wouldn’t come, so I shook my head vehemently.

  “Here,” he handed me the flask, “it’ll help take the edge off.”

  Very sporting of him I thought, accepting the flask with palsied hands.

  I took a tentative sip, choking as the fiery liquid burned its way down my

  throat. I thought of my two little brothers, sleeping innocently in their beds.

  Tears streamed down my face. Now I was only grateful we were away, so they

  wouldn’t hear or see anything.

  He regarded me, and his face softened. Must be hard to kill someone who

  just proclaimed her love for you. He spoke encouragingly, “Trust me—this’ll be a lot harder on me than you.”

  Trust me: the two words that had brought me down in the first place.

  Instantly, I was more mad than scared. Maybe it was that, coupled with the

  alcohol fumes, but a fire just ignited inside my belly. Easy mark my ass! I knew Pete was a highly trained fighter, but I would try one last time to beat him at

  his own game. Even if I failed, at least I went down fighting. Mama would be

  proud. My brothers were safe. . . . That’s all that mattered.

  Nodding my head, I acted resigned to my fate. He took another glug

  from his flask, and after drawing in a deep breath, he poured most of the

  remaining liquid over the knife, presumably to sanitize it. For what purpose?

  Surely he couldn’t be worried about a little bit of bacteria? That would be

  inconsequential to a corpse. My whole body shivered like someone just

  stepped over my grave.

  • 423 •

  “Did you never care for me at all?” The same question niggled me to the very end.

  His face came undone. Warm palms cupped my tear-stained cheeks. He

  stared into my eyes like he could see all the way into my soul. “Of course I

  did! That’s what makes this so hard—the thought that I won’t see you again

  after tonight.”

  I stared into the black of his eyes and saw the truth: He did care for me.

  Fear slithered around my heart like a cold snake. What kind of organization

  had such power over its underlings that they’d be wil ing to kil —even someone

  innocent, someone they cared for—just because they got in the way?

  I couldn’t allow them to get their claws into Andrew. I would have to do

  the thing Pete was dreading. The unthinkable. Murder. Someone I had just

  professed my love to. Someone I’d almost just made love to. Someone standing

  in my way of saving my brother. Then I would run. Living off grid, hiding

  from the world, suddenly . . . it made a whole lot of sense to me.

  Pete closed one eye to peer down at me. I was pretty sure he was drunk as

  a skunk, which was the only advantage I had tonight. “It’s time, Katie-Kat,”

  he said softly, eyes hard.

  The near-empty flask was beside me. Sloppy of him. He must be even

  more out of it than I thought, which made me think I really had a shot now.

  Eyes trained on his, I felt around on the ground for the flask. “Are you sure

  this is the only way, Pete?”

  He nodded. “Believe me . . . I’ve tried to find another way.”

  My heart sank—I did believe him.

  “Now no more talking,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with.” Gripping

  the knife in his right hand, he pulled me up with his left. Gal ant to the very end. I offered him my own left hand, keeping my right one—with the fisted-flask—behind my back. As soon as he helped me up, he let me go to start

  unbuckling his belt.

  What the?!

  I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I used the opportunity to crack him over the

  head with the flask. Pete must’ve felt my violent intent, because at the very

  last second, his forearm instinctively deflected some of the blow so that only

  a portion of metal hit. But it was enough to send him reeling.

  He roared, falling onto one knee, a shocked hand feeling for the wound.

  “What the hell are you doing?!”

  I wasn’t gonna tell him; I was
gonna show him—my foot swung back to

  finish him off. But I was too slow, or untrained, because Pete dropped the

  knife to catch my obvious foot then threw me back in the dirt. I went down

  • 424 •

  hard, my tailbone splintering pain, air exploding from my lungs. I barely felt it before scrambling back up with a handful of icy dirt.

  “Kate! Goshdammit! What the hell’s wrong with you? I’m—”

  I hurled it in his face. He quickly spun, so that the majority of it rained

  on his back.

  “Alright, you little hellcat! You asked for . . .”

  I whipped around, running for the house like my back was on fire. But

  instead of a cold shower, I was running for the shotgun. I fervently prayed it

  was loaded. And that I could beat him to the house. I had a pretty good head

  start on him, and his head had to be ringing pretty good. And, inexplicably,

  I’d completely caught him off guard.

  Did he not know me at al ?

  Crushing steps and heaving breaths were coming after me now, a freight

  train of anger-fueled adrenaline and superior strength propelling him faster

  than my legs could go. Pete didn’t bother calling my name—he knew I

  wouldn’t stop. Smart. He shifted into high gear now, right on my tail. Then stumbled. Over something—a clump of grass, a frozen chicken, it didn’t

  matter.

  All that mattered was . . . I was home free now.

  • 425 •

  38

  RECKONING

  I don’t remember going up the steps, opening the door, reaching for the

  gun. Next thing I knew, I was pointing the barrel of Daddy’s prized

  Winchester. At the one I was in love with. How could I have been so

  wrong? I’d never been more wrong about anything in my life. I could never

  love someone who was willing to commit murder for a sinister cause. And just

  like that—BAM!—my heart crusted over like frozen tundra. I knew I could

  do the unthinkable. To save my family.

  Pete must’ve seen the stone cold look on my face, because he froze

  immediately. Not another step forward. Hands up, face pleading. “Kate!” he

  cried, “Youdon’twannadothis! I can explain—you’re making a big mistake!”

  I saw his head oozing red, his sun-kissed hair gingered by the blood. He

  staggered slightly, whether from blood loss, or loss of coordination caused

  by alcohol consumption (or acting), I couldn’t be sure. Nor did I care I told

  myself, even as a stab of remorse pierced my gut. My gut!—that betrayer. It had led me wrong this whole time.

  Mama was wrong—I didn’t have special intuition. My gut flip-flopped on

  me all the time. Even now, as I stood pointing a gun at my hot hitman, even

  after the obvious botched attempt at my murder, it was telling me: he wouldn’t

  hurt me. I’d blamed everything on his academy, wanting so badly to believe

  in him because I was falling in love. My heart must’ve been sending stronger

  signals than my gut this whole time. It had led me down this wayward path.

  I’d been a colossal fool— a fool for love. But no more. I wouldn’t listen to his mouth, dripping honeyed lies.

  I firmed up my resolve, and my hands on the shotgun. . . . Trying to help

  me, my rear. One eye closed, I cocked the hammer and aimed right over his

  heart.

  • 426 •

  Pete bent over. “God almighty! How many friggin’ times am I gonna be hit on the head because of you?” The porch’s naked lightbulb spotlighted his

  face. Now he looked murderous. I’d never seen this level of fury coming at me before, not even right before he was going to stab me. It was disconcerting

  to the core.

  He rounded on me with an incredulous look upon his face, like your

  favorite pet had suddenly turned rabid on you. “You aiming to give me the

  next concussion?”

  “I was thinkin’ of doin’ somethin’ a little more permanent than a knot

  on your head,” I replied.

  Pete’s face was a Greek tragedy mask, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to

  laugh or cry. He settled on laughing. Hysterically. “You’re the only girl I know

  who could go from professing her love one minute to pointing the barrel of a

  shotgun at you the next.”

  “You provoked me.”

  “Put the damn gun down, Kate. You know you’re not going to shoot me.”

  “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Cadet Davenport.”

  After focusing on my determined face for a moment, his mouth relaxed

  into something dangerously resembling a smile. “I know you wouldn’t shoot

  me in the back.” That said, he turned his back on me and marched down

  the steps.

  Well okay then, I’d take the bait. I didn’t want the boys waking up from

  a sound sleep by a gun going off. And then walk out to find their favorite

  cadet lying in a pool of his own blood. With me holding the smoking gun.

  I marched after him, my feet stumbling only after he whirled around

  with the paring knife in his hand. What? Is he gonna fling it at me tomahawk

  style? I flashed back to when he’d used it to slice lemons for our lemonade and how much fun we’d had that afternoon, doing chores of all things. My hands

  started shaking now, my trigger finger turning numb. This was serious. In the

  leg. I could get him in the leg.

  “I’m sure it goes without sayin’, but a gun trumps a knife in a duel.” I

  trembled my way through the bizarre live enactment of this old maxim.

  “Kate, Kate . . .” He said it so wearily, like a particularly disappointed

  parent does, after a wayward child has finally gone too far. “When are you

  ever going to learn to trust me?”

  “Says the elite cadet wielding a knife.”

  Pete took in a monster breath, blew it out in a hiss of steam. “I guess I

  should’ve explained myself first, but to tell you the truth . . . I’m a little out

  of sorts tonight. And couldn’t say anything in the house anyway.”

  • 427 •

  “The boys are sound asleep and Daddy’s not home. But you already knew that—which is why you chose now to come do your dirty deed.”

  Another sigh fogged the air. Then he said, “There are bugs in the house.”

  Huh? At first I was insulted, my mind conjuring up images of black-

  winged creatures and spindly green things with antennae. All sorts of creepy

  crawlies I loathed and successfully kept at bay with rigorous housekeeping.

  What’s he talking about? Why can’t we go in the house because—oh.

  I lowered my gun an inch. “Bugs?”

  He nodded his head. “I was taking you out of the house so I could finally

  tell you everything. You see, you might not trust me, but I do trust you. You may be the only person in the world I do trust . . . and you whack me upside

  the head the first chance you get! . . . When I came back to warn you.” He

  shook his head then winced, holding it in his hand. “I’m beginning to regret

  my decision to come here tonight—first you almost knock me out then you

  point a gun at my heart. Think part one of our reunion went a whole lot

  better,” he finished wryly.

  In no mood for his flirtatious humor, I narrowed my eyes. “Then explain

  to me why it is you felt the need for a knife before our little chat?”

  Pete looked me dead-on. “Because I need you to cut out the microchip I

  have
imbedded in the back of my neck.”

  My jaw dropped. The gun drooped a little more. Out of all the words in

  the world, that particular combination did not once cross my mind. “Now

  those aren’t words you hear every day,” I said.

  He snuffled out a humorless laugh. “Neither is ‘I love you’ from a girl

  you’re about to make hate you.”

  “You-you weren’t gonna kill me?” I edged around his other statement

  for now.

  “Do I strike you as the type of guy who would use a kitchen knife to stab

  an innocent girl to death? One whom I was just considering making love to

  two minutes before? Real y?” He hit me between the eyes.

  I stared at him, unblinking, afraid I might be falling for another trick.

  Tears blurred my vision.

  “Would I really be so careless as to leave my fingerprints all over the

  place?” he continued. “Not to mention the amount of blood a stab wound

  produces, and the amount of time it would take to cover up such a vicious

  crime. And my DNA is all over you from our brief . . . interlude.” He looked

  at me like he was mortally wounded. “Think back, Kate, to all the times we’ve

  spent together. Use your God-given intuition.” His serene voice went up a

  • 428 •

  pitchy octave. “Do I really appear to hate you or be capable of such malicious violence?”

  Pete was either really hurt, or else he was the best actor in the world. It did

  scare me, because he was so good at everything. My arms were shaking, being both cold and tired. The gun dropped to the point of about his kneecap now.

  I didn’t want to kill him—even if he was here to murder me.

  “If I were really going to kill you, I would’ve shot you up with an overdose

  of codeine, left the empty bottle of Vicodin on your bedside table, then typed

  up a suicide note. Everyone knows how crazy you’ve been over losing your

  brother to The Academy . . . how depressed you’ve been over me leaving.

  That’s the route I would’ve taken, had I really come here with the intent of killing you.” Pete leveled me with a look. “And you never would’ve seen me

  coming, nor would you have felt a thing.”

  I sank the gun all the way to the ground, crying. My gut was telling me

  he was telling the truth. My gut better be right.

  He swore and tore the hem from his shirt, holding it to the gash in his