by Erin Watt
His eyes darken, which, combined with his untucked dress shirt and unbuttoned blue blazer, gives him a bad-boy vibe. I was never drawn to the bad-boy type before I met Reed, but in him I find it kind of irresistible.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he mutters.
“Then why is the lawyer so worried about it?”
Reed shrugs. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”
“I can’t not worry.” I hesitate, not wanting to bring up this idea again because I know it makes him mad, but I can’t help myself. “We still have time to run,” I plead, then look around to make sure nobody is lurking near us. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to sit here and wait for you to be locked up.”
His eyes lose that hard glint. “Baby. It’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know that?” A helpless feeling washes over me. “I’ve already lost the only other person who meant something to me. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
Sighing, Reed pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead. “You’re not going to lose me.”
His mouth travels lower and finds mine, and he slips his tongue between my lips, taking my breath away, making my knees a little weak. I grab onto his biceps so I don’t fall over.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers against my lips. “So be strong for me, okay? We’re not running. We’re going to stay and fight.”
Before I can respond, a car engine snags my attention. I turn around in time to see a police cruiser pulling into the huge drive in front of the main building.
Both Reed and I stiffen.
“Are they here for you?” I ask anxiously.
His dark expression is back, blue eyes fixed on the cruiser. “I don’t know.” His face only gets cloudier when a stocky man with a bald head gets out of the driver’s side. “Shit.”
“You know him?” I hiss.
Reed nods. “Detective Cousins. He’s one of the cops who interviewed me.”
Oh God. This can’t be good.
Sure enough, Cousins marches over the second he spots us on the steps. “Mr. Royal,” he says coolly.
“Detective,” Reed answers, equally cool.
There’s a tense moment of silence before the detective turns his sharp gaze on me.
“Ella O’Halloran, I presume?”
“Harper,” I bite out.
He actually rolls his eyes, which I find a bit rude. “Well, Ms. Harper. You’re actually the first person on my list this morning.”
I scowl at him. “Your list of what?”
“Witnesses.” Cousins looks kind of smug as he smiles at me. “The headmaster is allowing me to conduct interviews in his office this morning. If you’d follow me, please…”
I stay put. Callum already warned me something like this could happen, so I’m prepared for it. “Sorry, but that’s not happening. My guardian needs to be present for any and all interviews.” I smile back, also smug. “So does my lawyer.”
The detective narrows his eyes. “I see. So that’s how we’re going to play it.” He nods curtly. “Then I guess I’ll be in touch with your guardian.”
With that, he brushes past us and disappears through the front doors.
Once he’s gone, my confident façade drops and I instantly look at Reed. “He’s interviewing people today? Who?”
“I don’t know,” he says grimly.
“Oh my God, Reed, this is bad. This is really bad.”
“It’ll be fine.” But his tone lacks its usual confidence. “Come on. We should get to class. Text me if you have any problems today, okay?”
“Why would I have any problems?” I ask warily.
His answer is cryptic. “Natives are restless.”
This entire conversation—and Detective Cousins just showing up out of the blue—didn’t do a thing to ease my worries, and I think Reed knows it, but he still puts on a smile and walks me to class as if everything is A-OK. After a quick kiss, he takes off in the other direction. I can’t shake my concern. It falls over me like a heavy blanket, and by the time I walk into my chemistry class and settle in my usual seat next to Easton, despair is leaking out of every pore of my body.
“What’s wrong?” Easton asks immediately.
I lean in to hiss in his ear. “The cops are here to interview people about Reed.”
Easton is unfazed. “Nobody around here even knew about Reed and Brooke,” he whispers back. “The interviews will turn up nothing.”
I peek around to make sure nobody is listening. “But everyone in school knows about his fights.” Another thought occurs to me. “And Savannah knows about the Dinah thing.”
He frowns. “That has nothing to do with Brooke.”
“No, but they might be able to twist it around.” I wring my hands together as my anxiety returns, even worse than before. “If they find out that Dinah was blackmailing Reed’s brother, they might come up with some crazy theory that Reed went to the penthouse looking for Dinah and killed Brooke instead.”
It’s a ridiculous thought, but it’s just plausible enough that Easton actually looks worried. “Shit.”
“If they talk to Savannah, do you think she’d say anything?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I…don’t think so?”
That’s not good enough for me. Not in the slightest. “We have English with her next period. I’ll talk to her.”
“And what? Threaten to break her legs if she squeals?” His smile is weak and forced.
“No, but I’ll make sure she knows how important it is not to bring up the Gideon and Dinah thing.”
“Sav hates the Royals,” he says in a tired voice. “I’m not sure anything you say to her is going to convince her to keep her mouth shut.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still going to try.”
* * *
After Chem, I race to the second floor to try to intercept Savannah Montgomery before she reaches our English classroom.
Gideon’s ex-girlfriend is the most contradictory person I’ve ever met. She was the one who gave me a tour of Astor Park Prep when I started here, and although she was kind of bitchy that day, she also offered a lot of unsolicited advice about how to survive this school. And even though she kept her distance and didn’t talk to me much in class, she still took the time to warn me about Daniel Delacorte, and then she helped me and Val get revenge on the creep.
So I guess she’s an ally?
Honestly, I don’t really know. She’s hard to read on a good day, and impossible to read every other day.
Today falls into the unreadable category. She frowns when she sees me loitering outside the door, but she does say “Hey” in a voice that lacks hostility.
“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask quietly.
Suspicion flickers in her eyes. “Why?”
I will up some patience. “Because we need to talk.”
“Class is starting.”
“Mr. Winston is ten minutes late every day and you know it. We have time.” I plead at her with my eyes. “Please?”
After a beat, she nods. “Fine. But make it fast.”
We walk silently down the hall toward a bank of lockers that’s squished into its own little corridor. Once we’re alone, I don’t waste any time.
“The police are here today interviewing some of Reed’s friends and classmates.”
She doesn’t look at all surprised. “Yeah, I know. I already got a summons to Beringer’s office. I’m talking to them at lunch.” She rolls her eyes. “They wanted to pull me out of class and I was, like, fuck that. I’m not falling behind just because some Royal killed his daddy’s girlfriend.”
I flinch as if she’s slapped me. “Reed didn’t kill anyone,” I say between clenched teeth.
Savannah shrugs. “Don’t care if he did. I never liked Brooke.”
I furrow my brow. Did Savannah even know Brooke? I’m confused for a second, until I realize that Sav did know her. She referred to Brooke as an “extra�
� the day she gave me the Astor Park tour, and she’d dated Gideon for a year, so she must have run into Brooke at the house on a bunch of occasions.
“That woman was garbage,” she adds. “Gold-digger with a capital G.”
“Either way, Reed didn’t kill her.”
She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Is that what you want me to tell the cops?”
I swallow my frustration. “You can tell them whatever you like, because he didn’t do it. I wanted to talk to you about the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
I shoot a glance at the main hall. It’s empty. “The Gideon and Dinah thing.”
According to Reed, Dinah broke into Gid’s phone and stole nude pictures that he and Savannah had exchanged. With that ammo, she’s holding a statutory rape charge over his head, because Savannah was only fifteen at the time, while Gideon was eighteen.
At the sound of Gideon’s name, Savannah’s wary expression transforms into one of pure malice. “You mean that thing where my boyfriend screwed a trashy cougar?” she snaps.
“Yeah, and that the trashy cougar is blackmailing him with pictures you sent him,” I snap back.
This time it’s her turn to flinch. “Are you saying it’s my fault Gid is in this mess? Because it’s not! He’s the cheater. He’s the one who hooked up with that awful woman, and it’s his fault she became obsessed with him and stole his phone. All I did was send pics to my boyfriend, Ella!”
I see myself losing control of the conversation, so I hastily put on a calm, non-threatening tone. “I’m not blaming you at all,” I promise. “All I’m saying is that you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not. Gideon could get in a lot of trouble if the cops find out about Dinah and the pictures.”
Savannah doesn’t answer.
“I know you hate him, but I also know you don’t want to see him go to jail. And telling the detectives about it will only make them try to somehow use that information against Reed.” I glare at her. “And Reed’s innocent.” Or at least I think he is.
She stays quiet for a long time. So long that I don’t think I’ve gotten through to her. But then she lets out a heavy breath and nods.
“Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
Relief swamps me, but Savannah doesn’t even give me the chance to thank her. She just walks away without another word.
9
Ella
I don’t see Savannah again for the rest of the day. Normally I wouldn’t think twice about that since we don’t have any afternoon classes together, but the paranoia is getting to me. She was supposed to speak to the detective at lunch. I was hoping she would track me down afterward and tell me about the interview, but she didn’t, and I don’t even catch a glimpse of her in the halls during the second half of the day.
At lunch, though, Val confessed that the detectives left a message with her parents this morning asking for permission to interview her. I guess her aunt and uncle are like Callum, because they insisted on being present for Val and Jordan’s interviews.
Yup, Jordan. Apparently she’s on Cousins’ list, too. Which is very, very disturbing, because I know Jordan’s only going to have terrible things to say about Reed.
I’m not sure who the cops even spoke to today, other than Savannah. I’m dreading my own interview, but hopefully Callum can delay it for as long as possible. Maybe until these detectives do their stupid job and find the real killer.
If there’s a real killer…
A silent scream forms in my throat, causing me to stop in the middle of the parking lot. I hate these thoughts that keep popping into my head. I hate that I’m still having doubts about Reed. He insists he didn’t kill Brooke. He swears he didn’t.
So why can’t I one-hundred-percent believe him?
“The parking lot is for cars, little sis, not people.”
I spin around to find Easton grinning at me. He gives me a little nudge forward, adding, “Poor Lauren’s been trying to pull out of that space for about, oh, two minutes?”
My gaze shifts to the red BMW with its engine running. Sure enough, Lauren Donovan is waving at me, a slightly apologetic look on her face, as if she’s the one inconveniencing me and not the other way around.
I wave in apology at the twins’ girlfriend and hurriedly step out of the way. “I spaced out,” I tell Easton.
“Still worried about the interviews?”
“Yeah. But I did speak to Savannah and she promised she wouldn’t say anything about the Gideon stuff.”
Easton nods. “That’s good, at least.”
“Yeah.”
“Ella,” Reed’s voice comes from behind us. “Ride home with me?”
I turn as he strides into the parking lot with Sebastian at his side. Again, my paranoia kicks in. “What happened? Don’t you have practice?”
He shakes his head. “East does, but I’m excused. Dad just texted and ordered me to come directly home.”
Fear pricks my spine. “Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Reed looks frustrated. “All he said was that it’s important. And he already cleared it with Coach.”
His face is hard, which means he’s worried. I’m learning that Reed gets mean when he feels backed into a corner, and this corner filled with police, investigators, and prison has to feel like the smallest, loneliest corner in the world.
“Does he want me there, too?” I ask warily.
“No. But I do.” Reed glances at his youngest brother. “Seb, you cool driving Ella’s car back?”
Sebastian nods. “No prob.”
I toss him the keys, then watch as he heads for my convertible while Easton jogs off to football practice. Reed and I climb into his Range Rover, but I’m not sure why he asked me to ride with him, because he doesn’t say a single word for the first five minutes of the drive.
I stare out the window, chewing on my thumbnail. Silent Reed is tough for me to deal with. It reminds me too much of when I first moved in with the Royals. All I received from Reed were glares and cutting remarks, which was a huge difference from what I was used to. Mom was slightly—okay, really—irresponsible, but she was always cheerful and never kept her emotions in check. I was the one who did that.
“Say it,” Reed suddenly barks.
I’m startled. “Say what?”
“Whatever it is you’re obsessing about. I can hear you thinking, and if you bite any harder on your finger, it’s gonna come off.”
Chagrined, I look down at the teeth marks on the side of my thumb. Rubbing the redness away, I say, “I didn’t think you noticed.”
He answers in a low, gruff tone. “I notice everything about you, baby.”
“I’m worried. You keep telling me not to be, but it’s only getting worse” I admit. “At school, it’s easy to see the enemy. To categorize people into helpful or unhelpful, for you or against you. This thing just seems so big.”
So scary, but I keep that to myself. Reed doesn’t need to hear my fears. He’d take them on his shoulders and try to carry them along with all the other baggage that’s weighing him down.
“It’s all going to get taken care of,” he says, his capable hands guiding the SUV down the long paved driveway toward the Royal house. “Because I didn’t do it.”
“Then who did?”
“Maybe the kid’s father? Brooke was probably shaking down as many marks as she could that night. I wasn’t the only idiot who—” He stops abruptly.
I’m glad he does, because I don’t like thinking of Reed having sex with anyone else, even if it was before me. God, it’d be so nice if he was a virgin.
“You should be a virgin,” I inform him.
He lets out a surprised laugh. “That’s what’s got you all wound up?”
“No, but think about how many problems would be solved by that. You wouldn’t have this thing with Brooke. The girls at school wouldn’t be drooling all over you.”
“If I was a virgin, all those girls at school would
be trying to get in my pants so they could say they were the first to climb Mount Reed.” He grins as he pulls to a stop around the side of the house.
The Royals have an entire parking area in the courtyard with special brick pavers set into a spiral pattern that leads into a garage that stores all their vehicles. Except no one likes to use the garage. Usually the courtyard is filled with the black Rovers or Easton’s cherry-red pickup.
“Girls aren’t like that,” I say as I get out of the SUV and reach in for my backpack. “They wouldn’t compete to deflower you.”
Reed’s hand is there first. He pulls the bag out of my grip with a smirk. “Girls are exactly like that. Why do you think Jordan’s after you all the time? You’re competition, babe. Doesn’t matter what you’ve got downstairs, most people are competitive as shit. And the kids at Astor? They’re the worst of the lot. If I was a virgin, that’d be one more contest for someone to win.”
“If you say so.”
He comes around the front of the Rover and drapes an arm around my shoulder. Dipping low so that his mouth touches the upper curve of my ear, he whispers, “We can play I’m the virgin and you’re the experienced upperclassman after I pop your cherry.”
I hit him because he deserves it, but it only makes him laugh more. And even though he’s laughing at my expense, I’m glad because I like happy Reed over quiet, angry Reed.
His good mood doesn’t last, though. Callum greets us at the door with a stern look.
“Good to see you’re enjoying yourself,” he says flatly as we enter the kitchen.
When I notice Steve at the counter, I jump in surprise. I know it’s crazy, but I keep forgetting about him. It’s like my brain isn’t capable of handling more than one crisis at a time, and Reed possibly going to jail is the only thing I can focus on. Each time I see Steve, it’s almost like I’m hit with the news that he’s alive over and over again.
I don’t miss the way his blue eyes narrow as they land on Reed’s arm around my shoulders. Steve’s expression looks vaguely like parental disapproval, something I haven’t experienced before. Mom was as easygoing as they came.