by Dean, Ali
I loved Hazel’s fire, her taste for vengeance on her own behalf, on mine, for unknown young women subjected to these shitheads’ games. Her spirit did things to me. Things I shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
I wasn’t surprised when Moody responded he already had infractions against all the guys who’d attacked me, from cheating on exams to sexual assault reports that had been swept under the rug. The Malones had protected these guys because they were on Neil and Keegan’s hockey team, and they participated in the sick games those guys enjoyed playing off the ice too. We could just report them for what they did to me, but the timing of it would tie me right to the assaults on the other three, and I didn’t want to be in the center of a media circus for another reason. Even if those guys didn’t report me, I didn’t want to relive the fighting. It was a sore spot, the entire episode not something I was particularly proud of, as satisfying as parts of it had been.
With Jeremy’s warning in mind, we still decided as a group that the hockey team deserved to go down, including Easton and Keegan. Neil was already in for RICO charges, but he’d end up being a part of this too.
“We need to talk about Louise Janik next,” Hazel said. We turned our attention back to her and she looked uncertain on this one, the earlier fire in her eyes gone.
“I don’t know if it’s because of what you said, Dad, about not going overboard with the power we have now, or if it’s because I’ve already gotten revenge against Sean and Branden and the hockey guys, and I’m about to get more,” she added with a little smirk. “But I don’t feel good about screwing Louise over.”
“What?” Bodhi practically shouted. “Hazel, she served you to Branden and Sean on a silver platter. She might not have understood exactly what she was doing, but she knew it was wrong. And dangerous.”
Emmett backed up his twin. “She knew enough. She was there at Patriot Taphouse the night we fought. Hell, she dated Branden Malone. She’s not stupid either.”
“But,” Hazel jumped to defend her ex-friend, “she regrets it, like big time feels guilty about it. Going to an Ivy League was everything to her and she ended up not applying to any of those schools, she felt so bad about what she’d done to try to get into one.”
“It’s true,” Moody confirmed. “I was checking things out to see if the Malones rewarded her or not, and she’s only applied to state schools.”
Spike bit out, “Probably only because the Malones found out she caved and gave us Hazel’s location and they punished her.”
“The Malones have too much going on to deal with her, don’t you think?” Hazel shot back.
I took Hazel’s hand, wanting to take her side but not entirely sure why she was so eager to forgive this girl.
“She picked up my uniform for me last week. I hadn’t even realized I’d forgotten to get it until the morning of the game yesterday. I’d been ignoring her texts but she had it there for me.”
I couldn’t help it, I had to ask. “You want to let her off the hook for what she did because she picked up your soccer uniform? Hazel, your coaches could have done that for you.”
Hazel took in my look of bewilderment. “I thought this was my decision,” she finally declared. “I’m not about to be friends with her again or trust her with any secrets. But I don’t want to hurt her. She feels really bad, and that’s enough for me.” Hazel bit her lip before adding, “For now.”
“Keep watching her, Moody,” I instructed, unwilling to let it go this easily. “If she does anything remotely sketchy, we need to rethink how to handle her.”
Moody nodded, but Hazel was leading this discussion. She had another bomb to drop.
“We need to talk about Kylie Cornwall. She’s in it solo now, but the girl is motivated. With the news about Braven Pharma and Malone activity,” Hazel said, her eyes darting to me before she continued, “and the truth about your mother’s death, Kylie said it’s not just her word anymore. There’s motivation. And she’s right.”
Chapter Seventeen
Hazel
I told them what happened in the locker room on Friday and then I sat back on the couch. We decided everything as a team, but this one was more in the guys’ court. Shifting so I was curled beside Cruz, he took my feet in his lap. Why not be cozy while we went about covering up the murder of Flynn Malone, right?
“What’s her last name again?” Dad asked. “That sounded familiar.”
“Cornwall,” Cruz answered. “Her dad works at Malone Asset Management.”
My toes clenched around his thigh but he ignored me. When did he make that connection, anyway?
“That’s the only lead though,” Moody said. “Didn’t see any red flags about the guy. He’s a finance manager, pretty high up, but not necessarily hanging with Ray.”
“Raymond Malone?”
“Yeah,” Cruz confirmed, “Keegan and Branden’s dad. Malone Asset Management is his domain.”
Dad ran his thumb back and forth across his bottom lip like he did when he was deep in thought. Then he came to some decision. “Maybe it’s not a coincidence, or maybe it is. Either way, this started before last Saturday. Ray Malone won’t be coming out of prison for a couple decades at the earliest. If he orchestrated this initially, there won’t be follow-through.”
“Not on his end,” Mitch said. “But this young lady seems awfully persistent from what Hazel says. And with the hitmen’s confessions about a bonus for finishing the hit in a bathtub,” Mitch continued, cringing at his own words, “well, there’s even more there now that will interest the law and media.”
“Sometimes,” Bodhi grumbled, “I wish we could shut people up Malone-style. It’d make things easier.” We knew he didn’t mean it, not really, even if we might have the same thought.
Dad opened his palms. “Worst case scenario, she goes to the police with this. We have a stacked defense, and the other two girls aren’t on board now anyway.”
I stared at my dad. Really? He was willing to risk that?
“He’s right,” Emmett said. “If we play into her hand, give her a spot on the team, or whatever else, we’re only admitting guilt. She can still hold it over our heads as long as she wants.”
Spike agreed too. “It’s not like we can talk to her and try to reason with her. We have to just keep ignoring it. If we give her any attention, of the good or bad kind, we’re encouraging her, validating that she’s getting to us.”
“So we’re just going to wait?” Cruz asked, not hiding his frustration.
“I’ll dig into her dad too and that connection, though I’m sure Moody already covered it,” Dad offered.
Cruz was tense, and I knew it wasn’t the risk in and of itself that had him wound up like this. He was good at waiting, all of the guys had been doing it for years while building the case. The meeting was coming to a close. There wasn’t much left for him to deal with. The security firm didn’t even have much going on to keep him busy, now that they’d gotten what they needed. They were thinking of shutting it down soon, even though it was doing well, simply to prevent a trail from coming back to them down the road.
Cruz was running out of distractions big enough to mask the trauma and tragedy that was his past, his life. He’d buried it deep, but it was rising to the surface. I slipped my feet under his thigh as I watched him sink into himself. I wouldn’t let him run from it.
“Hey,” I said, as the guys started getting up to stretch and grab more food.
He turned to me and I grabbed his hand. “Maybe I don’t need lessons as badly as I did before, but want to go to the shooting range with me this afternoon?”
“Yeah, Haze, I’m down for that.”
He softened just enough for me to push my next idea. “Maybe your dad can come over for Sunday dinner tonight? I know everyone would love to see him.” I made it sound like this was for my family, Pops, Mimi, Aunt Vanessa and Uncle Ian. That was partially true, but it was about Cruz and his dad too.
“Hazel, Dad doesn’t really go out anymore. I
know he was good on Thursday and Friday. But that’s not usually how he is. It’ll be hard for him.”
“For him?” I challenged. “Maybe it will be good for him, Cruz.” I knew Jake wasn’t my dad, and I wasn’t an expert in these things, but I also knew Cruz had pushed his dad into a far corner of his mind, his heart, and that it was eating at him.
“We’ll have to tell your grandparents, the twins’ parents, you know. I don’t know how Dad will feel about them knowing.”
I swallowed, considered pushing harder. Maybe Jake didn’t need to know we’d told them. Or maybe that wasn’t fair.
“We don’t have to tell them yet,” I offered.
Cruz’s eyes tore from mine but I didn’t miss the flash of pain there. He was as lost on how to handle this as I was. The guy could plot a murder to avenge his mother, but when it came to inviting his dad to dinner with my family, he was wide open, defenseless. “Let me just talk to Dad, okay? We’ll go to the range, then I’ll swing home. I mean, to Gramps’s house,” he corrected himself, forgetting he didn’t have a home. “If he’s up for it, I’ll bring him, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered, my throat growing thick. I was watching the light dim in Cruz’s eyes, the blankness sliding into place to cover the pain. Maybe I shouldn’t have suggested this.
“Hazel, you know he could say things about the Malones. He might forget that your grandparents don’t know.”
“Would that be so terrible? It’s all out now.”
“Not all of it,” Cruz corrected me.
“Yeah. Not all of it.” But how much of recent events did Jake know about?
Cruz wouldn’t look at me again; he stared into space. He was also unable to keep his expression blank as I watched his mind spinning. I could almost hear the thoughts pounding through his head. The what-ifs, the worries. I wanted to ask if he was still having headaches, but I wasn’t ready to change the subject just yet. There was something else on his mind. Something he hadn’t told me.
“Cruz, what’s going on?” The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. I sat up straighter, my feet falling to the ground as I did. What was it?
Cruz still didn’t turn to face me. But he did answer my question, and it was the last thing I expected. “My dad wants to talk to Seamus Malone.”
My eyebrows snapped together at this and I slid forward on the coach. “He… What?”
Cruz rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands together. His eyes darted over to me for an instant. “Dad wants to go see Seamus in prison.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know how to respond to this. I thought I had a sense of what was good for Cruz, and in turn what might be good for his dad, but now I felt entirely out of my league.
Mitch returned with a mug of coffee in hand and took a seat across from us. He took us in for a moment before asking, “What is it?”
Cruz flexed his palms over his thighs and stretched back in his seat. “You talked to Dad yesterday, right?”
“Yes, we spent the afternoon and evening together.”
“Did he say anything about the Malones? He seemed to know just about everything on Friday, said you told him.” Cruz wasn’t accusatory but his voice came out tight.
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and infuse comfort into his veins. But even though he was right beside me on the couch, he might as well have been a million miles away. He’d put up a brick wall, and I couldn’t get through right now.
“I did talk to him about it. He asked, and I gave him answers. I didn’t give all the details, not about the attacks on Hazel, for instance. He didn’t react how I might have thought, but he was processing it.”
“How did he react?”
“He was conflicted, I think. I don’t know if he recalled he’d put this entire thing in motion before he was diagnosed. He seemed especially sad about Seamus. Which I guess wasn’t entirely strange. They’d been friends back at Harvard.”
Cruz’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, he talked to me about that too. He said he wants to visit Seamus in prison.”
Mitch didn’t hide his surprise at this. “Did he? Well, that’s something.”
Part of me wanted to slip away, feeling like an intruder in this conversation. Another part of me wanted to climb into Cruz’s lap and force him to come back to me.
“It’s the first time he’s wanted to go anywhere in over a year, Gramps,” Cruz said. His hands clenched and unclenched and I watched in amazement as Cruz battled back his emotions. “He didn’t ask about my games, didn’t show any interest in coming to watch, and I was okay with it. I understood. But now, now it’s like he’s coming back to us, talking to me about all kinds of things, but it’s about the past.”
Mitch moved forward until he could reach a hand out to place on Cruz’s knee. “It’s the disease, Cruz. The older memories are easier for him. For now.”
Cruz shook his head like he regretted saying anything at all. “No, that’s not what I mean. I just wonder, is there more to it? Is there something about Seamus that’s important?”
“Are you asking if we should let him have this? Talk to Seamus?”
“No. I don’t think so,” Cruz responded quickly, but there was doubt in his voice. “He didn’t bring that up with you?”
Mitch shook his head. “No. Yesterday was a harder one.”
I could almost hear the air leaving Cruz’s lungs. He didn’t ask for clarification, and I guess he didn’t need it.
Mitch looked over at me then. “So, what are you kids up to the rest of the afternoon? You must have homework to catch up on.”
Homework. Right. It used to be at the forefront of my mind, right behind soccer. Sundays were for solo training, and then I would spend the rest of the day studying until family dinner. My life didn’t look a damn thing like it used to.
I started to open my mouth to tell Mitch we were going to the shooting range, but Cruz cut his eyes to me. My heart clenched at the look in his eye. That connection we’d had a few minutes ago? Gone. He was on another planet. And he didn’t want company.
“I do need to do some homework. I’ll let you know if I can make it to dinner tonight.”
And just like that, Cruz was pushing me away. A few minutes later, I was driving my truck back to my house. The same truck I’d slept in with Cruz last night. I’d been on top of the world. I’d thought we’d come to an understanding. What had just happened?
Chapter Eighteen
Cruz
It was like I’d gone years going from one adrenaline rush to the next, building up to this moment when we’d take control, get our revenge. And now that it had happened, now that all we had left was some clean-up, I was weaker than ever before. This wasn’t how it was meant to go down.
Instead of taking charge, I was reverting to a little boy, the one I’d never really had a chance to be when Mom died. When Dad told me his diagnosis.
Even Hazel scared me right now. Hell. She scared me the most. Every time our eyes connected, there was a threat. The threat that if I kept her, she’d rip me wide open. And I couldn’t handle what that would look like. I knew I had it together on the outside, but inside? Inside it was ugly.
“When do you get to ride your motorcycle again?” Moody asked. He’d picked me up at the Spot for school. I’d forgotten I even needed a ride until Moody had called this morning to tell me he’d be by in a few minutes.
“They said to give it a week before I should drive. But I feel fine. I think it was one of those arbitrary things they tell everyone they discharge with a TBI.”
I hadn’t specified motorcycle driving, but figured it was the same thing.
“Maybe. How is it, anyway?”
“What, my head?” I asked.
“Yeah your head. What else? They get you in the balls too? Didn’t see that on your medical report.”
Of course Moody would have read my medical report. “It’s fine, man. Some headaches and I need more sleep than usual, but otherwise I’m good. Maybe I’ll be out on the
field soon after all.”
“Don’t rush it, man, take the time to chill out. Spend time with your dad. Hazel. Whatever.”
My lungs burned uncomfortably at his words and I rolled down my window to get some fresh air. “Nah, I miss it. I’m losing it with only a week not playing.” Maybe that’s what had me all twisted up in this funk.
Moody looked over at me at a stoplight and didn’t hold back. “Dude, something’s up your ass. What’s up?”
Usually I appreciated the way Moody got right to the point, but when it was directed at me and I didn’t have an answer, it wasn’t so cool. I was all sarcasm when I shot back, “Uh, TBI means traumatic brain injury, so that’s probably what it is.”
Moody gave a half smile at my attitude, which we both knew only confirmed his position. I wasn’t usually a moody little shit like this. “Fine. TBIs can mess with emotions so I’ll give you that. For now.”
We pulled into the parking lot, and Moody reached into the center console for a box that he tossed my way.
“New cell.”
I opened it and found he’d uploaded all my old contacts already. “Thanks, dude.”
“Crowd’s not too bad today,” he muttered as he parked and scanned the sidewalk.
Moody didn’t do sarcasm much so I peered at him. “Moody, there’s like five hundred students staring at us.”
“Yeah, you got lucky on Friday showing up late for school. Everyone was already in class. We got the entire student population greeting us when I arrived with Spike and the twins.”
I scanned the lot and spotted Hazel’s truck a few rows down. Shit. She’d had to deal with the crowds without me.
They’d gotten some of their hero worship off their chests on Saturday night, which was partly the point of that party. No, I’d wanted to celebrate. Right. I needed to remember my life wasn’t all about strategy anymore. I had a real life now, one not dictated by the Malones. At least, not entirely.