Payback Princess (Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer Book 2)

by C. M. Stunich

I rub at my face with both hands.

  “Just don’t date anyone else, okay?” I mutter, and I’m not sure if I’m talking to Maxx or Chasm or both of them.

  The latter lets out one of his raucous laughs, throwing his head back in dark glee.

  “Oh no, Little Sister,” he purrs as he drops his head down, slicing his gaze over me with a single flick of his eyes. “Definitely not.”

  “Pretty sure that you’ve carved a space in here,” X says, making, well, an X-shape over his chest with his finger. “No matter what happens between us, I’m going to need a shitload of time to process this.”

  I nod. It’s not a perfect solution. I don’t know that we’ve arrived at any solution at all. But at least for now, we’re okay. For now, we just focus on finding our friend.

  It’s been fifteen days.

  Parrish looks healthy enough now, but how long until Justin’s crazy moods flip and he decides to simply slit his throat? It’s goddamn time to find our friend.

  “After school tomorrow, I’ll tell Justin I’m going with the two of you.” I exhale. “He said to ask for what I wanted. So I will. I’ll tell him we’re going out. We’ll hit the cemeteries, the hotel, and the asylum.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Chas agrees, glancing toward the wall of windows and the glittering blue lake just beyond them. “I have to go, Little Sister.”

  I nod and rise to my feet and Maxx politely turns away to give us a second.

  My arms twine around Chas’ neck, and his lips find mine, working against me with fervent heat. Want. Desperation. Nothing about what happened with Maxx last night has changed the way he feels for me, the desire with which he craves me. Nothing.

  “Later, I kind of do need to know everything that happened with you guys,” Chasm says against my mouth. “I’m so jealous, I could fucking spit. I know how Parrish felt now, when he watched the two of us.”

  I bury my face against the side of his neck and breathe in his scent as he strokes his fingers through my hair, giving me a kiss on my temple before he finally, reluctantly pulls away.

  “Shit, if I had time, I’d fuck that memory of Maxx right out of you.”

  “Kwang-seon McKenna!” I hiss, but my entire body has just gone up in flames, and I’m damn dear dying to see him act that out. He laughs again, offers up a little wave, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

  Maxx turns back to me, cocking his head to the side and offering up one of his beautiful smiles. They’re like the opposite of Justin’s. Yes, they’re both confident. Both pretty. But X has a fierceness not for himself, but for those that he loves. It’s tempered with kindness and compassion, and it’s so beyond attractive that I feel a flutter in my lower belly.

  “Should we do some more research?” I ask on the tail end of a yawn.

  “No, Kota. You need a break. You’re not a machine. And we have a clear plan in place for Parrish. Let’s do something else.” He mulls ideas around for a minute. “Come lay on Parrish’s bed with me and we’ll watch a movie on my laptop—that sick fuck can watch us through the camera all he damn well pleases.”

  “A K-drama?” I ask excitedly, and Maxx gives me a look.

  “How about … Dirty Dancing? It’s my sister’s favorite movie. Have you seen it?”

  I shake my head. I’ve heard of it, but never watched it before. It’s from the eighties, right? Like a cult classic or something? Maxx lets that smile take over his full face, turning it into something cocky and glorious and irresistible.

  But I meant what I said.

  For now, he remains a forbidden fruit.

  “Oh, you’ll love it. The main character reminds me of you. Feminist, sexy, and the dancing is equal parts hilarious eighties stuff and like, super impressive shit.” He opens my bedroom door and holds out a hand to usher me into the hallway.

  We end up lying side by side with only our arms touching, the laptop propped on a pillow at the end of the bed. GG thumps around in his cage as we both take turns pretending to watch the movie while the other glances over and studies our partner.

  Did Maxx really think watching a movie as sensual as Dirty Dancing was going to help our situation?

  By the time it’s over, I’m practically panting, and my entire body aches with newfound need.

  “That was great actually. I didn’t expect to love it as much as I did, but … well, it’s a new favorite for me.”

  “I’m glad,” he replies, and then he leans over and cups my face with his left hand, pressing his forehead against mine. We both close our eyes, sitting there in silence for nearly five minutes before I finally find the courage to pull away. “Go take a nap, Kota.”

  “You do the same, X.”

  Our gazes linger on one another until his door is closed, and I’m slipping into my bedroom alone.

  If I weren’t exhausted to the point of collapse, I might have never fallen asleep. I might have stayed awake throughout the rest of the afternoon, the evening, and into the night, and I might’ve dreamed of three gorgeous boys until I was nothing but a melted puddle on the mattress.

  I’ve always loved idioms, so let’s hear it again: love … is a double-edged sword.

  Fuck you, love. Fuck you.

  I’ve never particularly thought of clothing as ominous before, not until I wake up the next morning and find myself staring at the Whitehall Prep uniforms in my closet. The thought of going back to that school makes me queasy. But how else am I going to get away from Tess, right? I’ll go to school, and sometime today, I’ll text Justin and let him know that I’ll be going with the boys after classes are over.

  It’s the best plan I’ve got for our little gumshoeing expedition.

  “Fuck.” I slide the hangers across the mostly empty rack. Slacks today? Or … or a skirt.

  My mind strays back to memories of me and Chas in the hedge maze. The skirt made things so much easier. But, maybe things shouldn’t be easy today. We have work to do. Although you still have to stay on campus for lunch anyway, so …

  No. Bad hormones. Down.

  I yank the pants off the hanger, pause, glance back at the pleated skirt, bite my lip.

  With a sigh, I resist the temptation and head for the bathroom to get ready.

  I’m cursing my hair out as I struggle with the brush, trying to get out a particularly awful snarl when Delphine knocks on my door, and I call out for her to come in.

  “Oh,” she says, blinking in surprise at my fully dressed form. “You got up all by yourself?” Her lips twitch, and I give her a look, gesturing at her with the brush. The boys’ suspicions toward her are not unfounded. I’ll admit, mine aren’t either. Like, think about those bloody sheets. How easy would it have been for her to put them back on my bed? Or what about the pink envelope with Tess’ birthday letter in it? That, and the skeleton key. I threw them out and they ended up right back in my room. Regardless, I won’t trust the girl with any secrets, but I really hope she isn’t in on this. I like her, and I could really use a female friend right about now.

  My heart aches for Maxine, but I resist the urge to fixate on that. The more quickly we find Parrish, the greater my chances are of figuring out a solution to my Justin problem. He has to die. The thought bubbles up unbidden, and I clamp down on it by forcing a smile. Practice makes perfect, right? And I’m an expert at fake smiles now.

  “Hey, I’m capable of getting up early when I absolutely have to. Like, say, for a zombie apocalypse.” I start to yank at my ass-long waves again when Delphine steps forward, offering out a hand.

  “May I?” she queries, and I give a loose shrug, passing the brush over to her. She starts by smoothing a soft, gentle hand down the length of my hair, and I shudder. Her touch reminds me of Maxine. Oh, Maxie. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. “I’m used to combing my grandmother’s hair out, and her scalp is extremely sensitive.”

  “Your grandmother?” I ask politely, staring at myself in the mirror as Delphine brushes my hair. We’re about the same height, but she tilt
s her head slightly to one side, enough so that I can see her slight smile in the mirror. Of course, I already know about the elderly woman she lives with, but I can’t very well admit that Maxx was spying on her, now can I?

  “Yep. I’m all she has, so … I take care of her.” Delphine carefully works the brush through my hair, undoing snags and rat’s nests that I was yanking on, snapping strands of hair to my own detriment. “She’s been sick for a while. I’m not sure if she has a lot of time left.” Her hand goes still and her eyes close. The brush stops for a moment, but then she opens her eyes and continues her work.

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” I tell her honestly, and she nods, like maybe the words of her response are sticky with emotion and caught in her throat.

  “Dakota, I’d like to tell you something,” Delphine starts, huffing out a breath and making her wavy bangs flutter around her forehead. “Last week, I put in my notice.”

  I meet her eyes in the mirror and lift both brows in question.

  “You’re quitting?” I ask, and she nods, continuing to brush my hair until her motions are nice and smooth, and I’m blessedly free of tangles.

  “French braid sound okay?” she asks, and I struggle with my emotions for a second. This moment, if you replaced Delphine with Maxine, it’d be like a million others we had together in our shared bathroom back home. We had a Jack and Jill bathroom, one of those ones with a door on either side that leads to two bedrooms.

  This won’t be the first time I have my hair braided by an older, sisterly figure.

  Ugh.

  “French braid is great,” I breathe, shaking my hands off like I’m shedding my emotions along with the movement. “You’re really quitting?”

  “My last day is next Tuesday,” she admits with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to quit. Honestly, you’ve been nicer to me than any of my other clients.” She gives another sigh and a shake of her head. “But I can’t stay here. With your brother still missing, and JJ still missing, it just doesn’t seem safe.”

  With cool, deft fingers, Delphine finishes up the braid and reaches out a hand. I snatch a hair tie off the counter and plop it in her palm. She has a point, I guess. Or what if she’s guilty? I mean, she could be, right? If I ask Justin about her, would he tell me? He doesn’t seem to mind sharing his secrets. Actually, he seems excited about the idea.

  The only thing he won’t tell me is where Parrish is.

  “My grandma needs me. If something happened to me, she’d be all alone.” Delphine drops her hands to her sides as I turn my head, admiring the precision with which she’s braided my unruly hair. It looks damn good.

  “Thank you,” I tell her honestly, turning around with a smile. My heart hurts a little at the idea of her leaving, but maybe it’s for the best? If she really is involved somehow, then fuck her. If she isn’t, she’s right. She isn’t safe here. I offer up a hug which she accepts. “Good luck on whatever it is you decide to do next.”

  “Luckily, I have a job lined up already,” she tells me proudly, giving a big smile as we step apart from one another. “Anyway, I’ll give you my number if you want, and we could hang out sometime?”

  I doubt I’ll have time for hanging out anytime soon, but I appreciate the offer anyway.

  “Absolutely.” I take my Tess phone off the counter, and we exchange numbers. As Delphine heaves a sigh and prepares herself to scrub the already clean shower, I head downstairs to find Maxx in the kitchen. He’s wearing an apron but no shirt.

  I almost die right there. Keel over on the spot.

  “Maxim, you are just as bad as Parrish,” Tess scolds automatically when she comes in behind me and sees him dressed the way he is. But then she falters, like literally falters, stumbling a bit and putting a hand out to catch herself on the edge of the counter. Her hand is shaking, but she stands up straight and lifts her chin, like she isn’t falling to pieces on the inside. “It’s unhygienic to cook without a shirt on.”

  Maxx hooks a half-smile at her and lifts up a spatula in apology.

  “I’m sorry, Tess. I’ll put a shirt on.”

  She nods briskly, heading over to her espresso machine for her daily dose of coffee. X slips around her, pausing beside me as he unhooks the apron from his neck, swiping the fabric over his face before letting it hang loose from his hips.

  I pretend like I don’t notice his nipples or his muscles or his thick, wavy hair or anything else about him at all.

  “Breakfast is on the table,” he tells me, pausing to whisper near my ear. “Have you spoken to Justin yet?”

  “Not yet,” I whisper back, shivering at the warmth of his breath against my hair. “But I will.”

  X takes off and I end up seated at the table with Kimber.

  She glares at me, using the grind of the espresso machine to be a bitch.

  “Are you enjoying being Chasm’s sidepiece?” she asks snarkily, smirking cruelly at me. I’ve sort of hated her from moment one, but some part of me had hoped that Parrish’s disappearance would bring us closer together somehow. Like, I know I’ve never been a big sister before, but Maxine has always been my rock. Anytime things got hard, I could throw myself into her arms and let her stroke my hair back while she murmured sisterly wisdom.

  Now that I’m forbidden on both sides from seeing my sister, now that I’ve slept with her ex and told her I hated her, I’m drifting. I could settle into a big sister role. Seriously. I could. I want to. If Kimber were to lean on me, I’d pet her hair back. I’d hold her. I’d comfort her.

  I choose to see this verbal assault as a cry for help, reaching out and putting my hand atop hers. She yanks her hand away so violently that her chair rocks and I glance back to see Tess studying us curiously.

  Kimber shakes out her hand as I start to pile food on my plate. Crepes, apparently, are on the menu today, with Nutella and strawberries and fresh whipped cream—Maxine’s favorite breakfast.

  I stop and stare at the food.

  X made me my sister’s favorite breakfast. He must’ve known. He must have.

  My eyes get watery, but I don’t let the tears fall, yanking a crepe onto my plate and then grabbing a knife to cover it in chocolate hazelnut spread. Damn you, X. Damn you to hell and back. Also, thank you.

  “I am not Chasm’s sidepiece,” I whisper back at her, as Tess presses the button that froths the milk, giving our conversation cover yet again. “We have a connection.”

  “I thought you were into our brother?” she says, sneering back at me. “Let me guess: you’re sleeping with Maxx, too? That’d be just like you. A whore.”

  I narrow my eyes on her, fighting the urge to flick whipped cream at her pretty face. She’s wearing far too much makeup today. It’s caked on like she’s getting ready to hit a Las Vegas stage. I’m not usually one to judge, but this strikes me as a cry for attention.

  “We don’t have to be enemies, you know? I’m your sister, whether you like it or not. And Parrish is missing, Kimber. He’s missing. We have every reason in the world to be friends right now. Why make an enemy out of me?”

  Kimber stares back at me, her hair like filtered summer sunlight as it froths around her face in thick waves. We have the same hair texture, me and her. The same eyes.

  “He’s dead,” she whispers, voice low, fingernails digging into the surface of the table. “He’s dead, and you don’t care. You’re too busy screwing Chasm to care.”

  Tess finishes making her coffee, and the room goes silent.

  “I’ll be upstairs in my office if you need me,” she says stiffly, pausing at the head of the table. Her smile, when she gives it, is disturbing, rife with icy rage. “Justin is going to use some pictures and videos of Parrish to run his Milk Carton program. Apparently, I need to e-sign some consent forms so that he can use the images in his marketing campaign.” Her voice becomes a dry hiss as she narrows her eyes. After a moment, she seems to pull herself together, shaking her head to clear it. “Dakota.” She turns to look at me, and I get a small th
rill out of her using my correct name. “I want you to know that as soon as I saw that TikTok video Parrish made, I asked him to apologize. I’m not sure if he ever did, but …” She sighs again. “At least we have all of those videos to use for the facial recognition program.”

  As much as Tess despises Justin, I can see in her eyes that he’s given her a small flicker of hope.

  How cruel is that? To offer her a chance at saving her son while all along, he’s the one who put Parrish in danger? It’s fucking sick.

  “At least there’s that,” I choke out before Tess forces a small, faux smile (she’s as good at them as I am, apparently) and then leaves the room, heels clacking down the hall.

  Kimber and I turn back to stare at each other.

  “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I’ll talk to you.”

  My little sister slams her palms down on the surface of the table and stands up.

  “You should check the Whitehall Prep social media circuit more often. You’re in big fucking trouble, and I’m not going to do a damn thing to save you.” Kimber shoves back and storms off as I frown, taking my Maxine-phone from one of my blazer pockets. I’ve got my other phone—the one that’s far less important—in the opposite pocket.

  I very quickly access Lumen’s TikTok and frown down at the video on the screen.

  “If your car was wrecked last week, you know who to blame.” She points a finger up, and a picture of me appears onscreen. Shit. “The little transfer student is on the warpath. And now that her daddy’s back in town, she thinks she’s above reproach.” Lumen offers up a chilling smile. “Watch for her in the halls today. Our parents drove her bastard daddy out of town for a reason.”

  The video ends as the blood drains from my face.

  “You okay?” X asks, and I jump, glancing up to see him staring down at me with unmasked concern. His eyes drift to the food on the table, and I rush to explain.

  “I am, I … it’s not this.” I gesture at the food and this time, when I smile, it’s a real one. He’s wearing a shirt now which is unfortunate for me, I guess. Or fortunate. It’s fortunate. Anyway, kind of pointless since the food was already done when he put it on. Thanks a lot, Tess. “Did you know this was Maxine’s favorite or was it just by chance?”