Sylvia used to be married to that bastard Christian Montgomery, and Trent was her son. I killed Trent during the shootout at the Parkhurst vote, so it’s fair to say I’m not on her list of favorite people. The last time we attended dinner here, she pulled me aside to tell me she has forgiven me, because she understands it was self-defense. It took a lot of balls to say that, and I respect her for it, but things are still strained, as I suspect they always will be.
Hunt is staring at me with concern, waiting for a reply.
“Hurts like a bitch,” I quietly admit, not wanting Barron to hear. Charlie punched me earlier when I made a rude comment to his new girlfriend, Demi. I deserved it, because I was way out of line, but I’m in a permanent bad mood these days, lashing out at everyone and everything.
It’s been three weeks since the disastrous party at the Rothwelds’, but it feels more like three years. Nessa is ghosting me, completely shutting me out of her life, and I’m a hot mess. She wouldn’t even come for dinner; persistently refusing Abby’s invitation when she discovered I’d be here, and she only hangs around with the others when I’m not involved.
She hates my guts now. Not that I can really blame her. I have treated her like shit, and now, I’m paying the ultimate price.
My emotions are out of whack, and I flip-flop between love and hatred in the blink of an eye. One part of me pines for the sweet girl I fell for over the summer, lamenting her loss, and missing the feel of her in my arms. The other part is still convinced she betrayed me, that she has earned my wrath, reminding me it’s better this way. The intensity of my erratic emotions has me ping-ponging all over the place, and I’m going to give myself a brain aneurysm if I can’t quiet the turmoil in my head. The purple shadows under my eyes attest to my many sleepless nights, and I’m seriously losing my mind over this girl.
“Serves you right,” Hunt adds. “You’ve turned into a raging asshole. You need to fix shit with Nessa before you drive us all insane with your crazy mood swings.”
I flip him the bird. “I apologized to Charlie and Demi, and I’ve been on my best behavior since.”
It’s been a strange-ass day. Xavier discovered evidence confirming Demi is cousins with Abby and Drew. Their grandmothers were sisters, apparently. It certainly helps explain the striking similarity between the two girls that had everyone freaking out.
At one time, I harbored notions of finding my own Abby clone. Now, Charlie has found one, but all I can think about is a certain blonde beauty who has messed with my internal wiring. I can’t get Nessa out of my head, and I’m driving myself loopy.
I secretly watch Charlie and Demi across the table, envying their obvious closeness.
Abby has been dogged in her determination to bring Charlie back into the fold, and it looks like she’s succeeding. He’s certainly easier to be around now that he has the lovely Demi by his side. He appears to be in a better place, looking more relaxed and content than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t begrudge the dude his happiness although I’m still wary of him.
A pang of longing bites me in the ass, and I wish Nessa were here. It would be seamless. My friends already like her, and she’d fit right into the gang with zero effort. But I think that ship has sailed. I’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again, let alone anything else. I purposely adjust my train of thought, refocusing on the discussion around the table, before I sink into depression again.
The topic of conversation has switched to the elite and the recent appointment of William Hamilton as the new president of the order has incited lively discussion. Drew, Charlie, Kai, and Rick are all expected to be initiated as full members soon because they are the descendants of founding elite fathers. It’s not something any of us are comfortable with because the organization is composed of leaders and members who are sick bastards with their hands in several cookie jars.
“What do we know about the new president?” Drew asks Xavier.
“William Hamilton is the eldest son of a founding father from Texas. Family comes from oil. He’s married with two daughters. He was one of the men swindled by Christian and one of the very few who publicly opposed Michael Hearst for president. He has spoken out about the archaic rules and asserted his desire to modernize the elite.”
“Sounds squeaky clean,” I cut in. “I’m not buying it.” While Hunt, Xavier and I don’t have anything official to do with the elite, we support our friends, so the latest developments are just as concerning to us. I also know whatever Christian has planned for Nessa is tied up in this, so I’ve more than a vested interest in what goes down.
“Neither did we,” Hunt says, putting his glass down. “So, we did some investigating on the darknet—”
“And this guy makes Michael Hearst look like the fairy fucking godmother,” Xavier finishes.
“Do you have to cut across me every time?” Hunt’s lips pull into a thin line as he glares at Xavier. I’ve still no idea what is happening with them. I haven’t asked, because my own messy love life is torturous enough, but I’ve spied Xavier sneaking in and out of the house on several occasions, so I know they’re still fucking.
“No need to get your panties in a bunch. We play for the same team, remember?” Xavier flashes him a cheeky grin.
“Just tell us what you discovered,” Abby says, exasperation lacing her tone. “And keep your foreplay confined to the bedroom.”
Hunt fixes Abby with a withering look, and Anderson, predictably, glares at him.
Charlie whispers something in Demi’s ear, and when she smiles, she looks so much like Abby it knocks the air out of my lungs again. Freaky as fuck, those two.
Xavier clears his throat. “It’s the usual elite bullshit. Professional businessman with legit businesses that are all a front for a host of illegal activities, but this guy is into everything.”
“And we mean everything.” Hunt cuts off his lover this time, but Xavier just smiles, further incensing him. Hunt clenches his jaw as he speaks, looking like he’s about to explode. “Drugs, guns, sex, and it’s a global operation worth billions.”
“This is like déjà vu,” Abby says, leaning back into Anderson’s chest.
“Round two is due to begin,” Drew agrees. “And we need to get battle ready.”
The conversation moves to the FBI investigation now winding down. Keven Kennedy believes the elite has some powerful authority figures on their payroll and that a few scapegoats paid the price in return for making it all blow over. It fucking sickens me that these people get away with kidnapping, rape, murder, and all the illegal activities they hide behind respectable fronts.
We met with Keven last week to discuss our belief that Dani may have been held on Gerald Allen Junior’s sex island, and he’s going to see what he can dig up and whether he can find any link between him and Montgomery.
The guy is a fucking diamond. One of the nicest guys I’ve met, and we owe him so much already. He’s also intelligent, with sharp instincts, so if there is dirt to be discovered, I’m confident Keven is the man to locate it.
Tension erupts when Abby suggests Charlie needs to bring Demi up to speed, because the world we mix in is a dangerous one, where family members and loved ones are used as pawns as commonly as sneezing.
The thought makes me uneasy. If Hunt and the others are correct, and Nessa isn’t in cahoots with her bio dad, then she is in grave danger. Especially with the elite ball scheduled for next month.
The new board and structure will be unveiled by Hamilton, and it’s going to be a huge deal with every elite member across the state in attendance. The fate of my friends will most likely be revealed then, so we’re all on edge waiting to find out what he has in store for them.
By now, Hamilton knows the full extent of what we did back in Wyoming—we almost succeeded in bringing the elite to their knees. There is no way he’ll let that go unpunished.
The guys and I clear up after dinner while the ladies talk in the living room. After a few photos are taken, Demi and Charlie say their
goodbyes. Olivia and Sylvia are next to go, leaving the usual gang.
We sip beers at the table while Anderson tries to get Rick on the phone. Rick is Anderson’s eldest brother. He lives in Boston, and he’s studying to be a doctor at Harvard. One of his best friends is Kyler Kennedy—Keven’s brother. Their friendship has proven rewarding in several ways. The Kennedys have gotten us out of more than one tight spot over the past year, and they’re great friends to have.
Rick was supposed to be here today, but he went to meet with a senior elite member who is on the reorganizing committee. Apparently, this guy is a decent dude—one of the few within the elite world—and we’re hoping he might be of some help.
“Sup, dude?” Anderson says, answering the phone when Rick returns his call. “I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Hi, Rick,” Shandra purrs, smiling flirtatiously even though Rick can’t see her. Drew scowls, but I’m guessing that’s the point.
“Hey, pretty lady,” Rick replies, knowing he’s winding Manning up.
I smirk while Anderson snorts, and Drew’s scowl deepens.
“How did your meeting go?” Abby asks, focusing the conversation before it turns into a bloodbath.
“Good, I think.”
“That sounds hopeful. Not,” Hunt drawls, earning a thump to the arm from Abby.
“Let the man speak, for God’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, and Anderson preens like a peacock. He loves when she gets all feisty and bossy.
“Robert Huss seems like a solid guy,” Rick starts explaining. “One of the few good ones, but it’s obvious he’s already frustrated at the direction the reorganizing committee is heading in. He shares our concerns. The most alarming thing to come out of the conversation was confirmation that Denton Mathers is a close confidante of William Hamilton. Hamilton, as we know, was defrauded by Montgomery.”
“And Mathers was tight with Montgomery,” Shandra butts in. “Which makes little sense.”
“That doesn’t matter to these assholes,” Drew says. “Loyalty is transient and negotiable for the right price. Hamilton is from Texas. Mathers is from Bama. They run in the same business and social circles, and I bet they share similar beliefs, posing as devout Catholics every Sunday while they conduct illegal shit and acts of depravity every other day of the week. It doesn’t matter if Mathers was or is close to Montgomery if Hamilton needs him.”
“Huss said the presidential vote was close and Hamilton did what was necessary to secure the votes needed,” Rick says, confirming Drew’s point.
“That’s reassuring,” I deadpan, cricking my neck from side to side.
“We’ve got to assume Mathers had something to bargain with,” Anderson says.
“Or he is playing both sides,” Abby suggests.
“That sounds just like him,” Xavier agrees.
“Huss thinks it’s definitely connected to Montgomery, in part,” Rick adds.
All the hairs on the back of my neck bristle, and I brace myself, because I know something’s coming that I won’t like.
“Hamilton must hate Montgomery after his company was overcharged by Christian’s,” Xavier surmises.
“Undoubtedly, but Montgomery is a founding father, and he carries clout,” Rick supplies.
“But he’s MIA and there’s an international warrant out for his arrest,” Hunt says. His troubled eyes meet mine, and I know he’s picking up the same vibes I am.
“Huss believes Montgomery has done some deal with Hamilton with Mathers as conduit. Montgomery has lost a lot of influence, but there are those who still owe him a few favors. Huss thinks he called in those favors to help Hamilton get elected.”
“What does Montgomery get in return?” I ask, gripping the edge of my chair tight.
“Huss thinks Montgomery wants Hamilton’s help in getting the warrant squashed so he can come back to the US.” Rick pauses for a couple beats.
“Just spit it out, Rick,” I hiss. My knee taps off the floor, and anxiety has corded the muscles in my shoulders into knots.
“They know about Vanessa,” Rick says in a quieter tone. Anderson has been filling him in, so he’s aware Nessa is in Rydeville. He knows what has gone down between us, and he understands the danger she’s in whether she’s a willing participant in this game or not.
“Christian has signed his elite rights over to her temporarily by proxy,” he adds, confirming something we’ve suspected. “Huss said he believes they are already grooming her for this world so she’ll do his bidding until he’s in a position to return. It’s a win-win for Montgomery and Hamilton. Hamilton has Mather’s and Montgomery’s other supporters on his side, plus he gets Montgomery’s vote for each of the initiatives he wants to bring in, and Montgomery is given a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
I jump up, and my chair falls to the floor with a loud thud. “Over my dead fucking body!” I yell.
I know they can make this happen. The scandal has blown over. They’ve handed over a few scapegoats, paving the way for that prick to return to the US.
Around the table, everyone trades concerned looks, but it’s telling that no one speaks. No one offers platitudes or words of encouragement because we all know there are no words that can instill confidence.
Christian is still one step ahead of us, and we all know it.
“Van is the key to this,” Hunt says, fixing my chair and pushing me back down into it. “I think we have to take our chances and ask her outright what she knows.”
“I’m with Hunt,” Anderson agrees.
“Me too,” Rick adds.
Abby clears her throat, claiming my undivided attention. “I know what you believe, Jackson.” She leans forward on her elbows so she’s looking me straight in the eye. “But I don’t think Nessa has any idea of what’s going on. I’ve briefly mentioned elite stuff, and all she seems to know is what’s in the public domain.”
“If she does,” Xavier adds, “she’s the best fucking actress on the planet.”
“What if you’re wrong?” I ask, eyeballing Abby. “You’ve dropped hints, tried to get her to talk about her family, and she clams up.”
“Because she doesn’t trust easily,” Abby replies.
“And your behavior hasn’t helped either,” Drew says.
Abby glares at him. “Not helpful, Drew, and I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we are all sick of the two of you bickering. Get over yourselves already.”
I bite back my retort, working hard to restrain my frustration. “If we’re wrong, and we ask her outright if she is helping Christian, then she’ll run straight back to him and tell him we know. Then Hamilton, Mathers, and whoever the fuck else they have in their corner will know we’re onto them. More than that, they will know we care about her, and it will only place her in worse danger.”
“But if we’re right,” Shandra says. “We can bring her up to speed. Let her know the exact kind of monster he is and keep her safe.”
“We know you don’t want her to get hurt,” Abby adds.
“He’s already hurt her,” Drew interjects, and I can’t hold back this time, lunging for him across the table. I grab a handful of his shirt before Hunt pulls me back.
I growl at Drew, flexing my fists, longing to punch him until that smug grin is wiped off his face.
“I don’t want her to get hurt,” I confirm in a gritted tone. “Even if she’s been lying, I don’t want her mixed up with those assholes.”
“I vote we ask her,” Shandra says.
“If we’re right, we can use this to our advantage,” Hunt adds. “Let her take Montgomery’s vote, but she can use it for good.”
“Only if she agrees,” Abby says. “No one at this table is manipulating her.”
“I’m not sure that’d work,” Rick says, and he’s been silent so long I forgot he was listening on the other end of the line. “If Christian wants her to vote a certain way, and she votes the opposite way, he’ll know we are on to him.”
“And that will only place her i
n more danger. Fuck.” Abby slumps in her seat.
We are going around in circles, and no matter which way we look at it, it all ends up with Nessa in a precarious position.
My resolve strengthens, and it’s a major breakthrough. I don’t care about the how or the why anymore. I just care about protecting her from those perverts. Even if there is no future for her and me, I want to keep her safe and out of their clutches.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Anderson says, pulling Abby into his arms and kissing the top of her head.
“It is,” Rick agrees. “And we’ve got to make our minds up soon, because Huss also confirmed something else.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“An invitation was issued to Vanessa. She will be at the elite ball next month.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Vanessa
I GLANCE OUT the window of the small private jet, peering into the dark night sky, wondering where the plane is taking me. My father has been very circumspect with the arrangements, and I could be flying to Timbuktu for all I know.
Nerves jangle in my stomach. I hope I’m doing the right thing. I haven’t told anyone where I’m going because Chris, my dad, said it was imperative this was kept between us. Apparently, he’s this hotshot businessman, and privacy is a luxury he’s rarely afforded. When he explained he wanted the opportunity to get to know me away from the intrusive lens of the world’s media, it made sense. Still, I had reservations, because it’s not exactly normal.
I remind myself that he’s my father. My mother confirmed it and the fact he has only recently discovered I exist.
Since then, Chris has looked after me. Setting me up in a gorgeous apartment, organizing it so I get to go to RU, lodging an obscene amount of money into a bank account for me, and establishing a trust fund. Between this and the money Mom gave me after that asshole Aaron Breen died, I will never again have any money worries. While I’m not materialistic like some of the girls I know, I am a survivalist, and it’s a relief not to have to worry about having enough money to pay my bills.
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