by Jacie Lennon
I shuffle the papers around, and one peeks out, a different print on it. I pull it close to me. It’s not part of the contract. It looks more like email correspondence with someone. I read over it, my eyes widening, and I realize that not only was my dad shady with his political allies, but he’s also double-crossing Soltorre with the help of Hastings. What an insanely stupid thing to do.
Am I living in an alternate reality? I don’t understand.
Apparently, after taking money from Bertrand for my dad’s debt and for Seth Sr.’s political campaign, they will then throw the Soltorre empire at the mercy of the government for a healthy reward. Sneaky and underhanded, and if they were to get caught by Bertrand, it would mean war.
Fuck. I don’t know what to do. My eyes skate over the words again.
Why in the world would Dad even print this off? He should have gotten rid of any evidence immediately. Who wants proof like this lying around, especially when you are deceiving a mob boss?
Dad and Seth’s dad both want out of the world of the Mafia, but maybe they should have thought about that before getting into bed with Bertrand and dragging their families into it as well.
I reach over to my desk before remembering that I don’t have a phone anymore. It got crushed under the heel of Connor.
Connor. Holy shit. Would he help me? Should I go to him with this?
I don’t have his number memorized, and I can’t leave the house.
How am I going to even talk to him?
I jump down from my bed and pace. Back and forth. Leo will know everything that I’m doing, but I can’t be sure whose side he’s on. He doesn’t seem friendly with either Seth or Connor, and he still hasn’t told me much about himself.
I’ve got to get to a phone—if only landlines weren’t a thing of the past—or a computer.
Shit. My parents took my laptop when I got put under house arrest, so the only way I would be able to get to one is in my dad’s study.
Looks like I’ve got to come up with some convincing lies. I run into the bathroom and stuff an entire toilet paper roll into the toilet, and then I flush repeatedly until it gets stuck. Water starts to pour over the edges, and I jump back, running into my room. I clear my throat and pause, composing myself so I don’t look so panicky. I stride to the door and open it, walking out into the hallway.
“I’m heading downstairs to the bathroom since my toilet is broken.”
“Again?” Leo asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Upset stomach,” I say, holding my belly as I turn and swiftly begin walking toward the staircase.
I can hear Leo’s footsteps behind me. I let out a few moans to convince him not to come near me, and after what seems like an eternity, I’m back in the hallway bathroom, and Leo is right outside the door.
I quickly open the door to the study and make sure Dad isn’t inside before sitting in front of the computer. I power it on and tap my fingers while waiting for it to boot up. It’s going slow, and I can feel my chest tighten.
The Welcome screen appears, and I click on the icon with Dad’s name, but then it prompts me for a password.
Shit.
Password. What would Dad use as a password? I try Mom’s name and then her birthday. Doubt he would use Linna’s or mine, so I don’t even try those. I try his own birthday, and then the computer alerts me that I have two more tries.
Think, Trixie. Think.
I almost laugh when I think of it—the code to the alarm system for the house. Like I said, Dad is lazy. He wouldn’t want much to remember. I type it in, and then I’m in. I quickly bring up my cloud and click on my Contacts, and I scroll down to Connor’s name. I tap on Messages and send one.
Trixie: Connor, I have to talk to you. Come to my house at seven tonight and tell my parents you are checking in for Seth. Do not tell them I sent you. Do not reply to this message. T
I hit Send and wait for it to say Delivered. Then, I delete the message, exit out of my cloud, and delete the browsing history for the last hour. I think that covers all of my tracks.
Now, I cross my fingers and hope that Connor shows.
33
Bodhi
“Boys, I’ve got it,” I yell as soon as I enter Brock’s room at our house.
Brock scowls at me from his bed.
“What?” Corbin asks.
I’m surprised both of them are in here instead of with Landry and Peyton, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.
“Wait, where is Rylie?” I ask about my niece.
Their little family is inseparable. Anytime I’ve come in here, they are all together.
“Peyton and Landry took her for a walk. Now, what do you have?” Brock asks.
I nod and then glance back down at my papers. “The reason. I’ve been racking my brain ever since Landry told me that Trixie’s being forced by her parents. Derek finally came through. Looks like Papa Northcutt has made some bad investments with money that wasn’t his to spend. He’s broke as a joke, and to avoid those pesky little people whose money he stole from finding out, he had to find someone to front him some money.” I pause for dramatic effect.
“Get on with it,” Brock growls.
“So, in comes Seth Hastings’s daddy, who is in league with the Soltorres. Bertrand Soltorre wants someone in office on the governmental level to keep him out of trouble, so he latches on to Daddy Hastings. But the Hastings, although they have money, don’t have prestige. Who has prestige and an inside track to politics?”
“Papa Northcutt?” Corbin asks.
“Bingo.” I point at him. “And who better to give you money for a crime than a criminal himself? Bertrand is funding Hastings for office and also Northcutt for his name and knowledge of the inner workings of the government. Trixie and Seth are caught in the middle of it. What greater endorsement is there for a family than marrying your kids together?”
“What the hell?” Brock shakes his head slowly. “It’s messed up, but it makes sense.”
“It more than makes sense. Derek was able to pull bank statements and wire transfers that prove the theory. The Northcutts endorse Hastings for office, Bertrand backs him and the Northcutts financially, and voilà, everyone’s happy.”
“Everyone, except Trixie and Seth,” Corbin says.
“Everyone, except Trixie and Seth,” I confirm.
“So, what do we do about it?” Brock stands, grabbing a T-shirt and slipping it over his torso.
I love that he’s ready to go and do what needs to be done.
“I think we need to meet with Connor and see what he knows.”
“Connor won’t be on our side, dipshit. It’s his dad and friend mixed up in all of this.” Brock narrows his eyes at me like I’m stupid.
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Silence.
“Okay, I’ll figure it out,” I say, staring down at the papers I’m holding with the incriminating evidence. I should take them directly to Trixie, but maybe she already knows and is doing this to help her family out. If that’s the case, does she even want me interfering?
“We will figure it out,” Brock says. “Now that I think about it, talking to Connor might not be such a bad idea. He did help you before. What are the chances that he disagrees with all of this and will talk to his dad?”
“Zero chance if we don’t have an alternative for him. If he even decides to meet with us, we have to have something enticing enough to put a stop to it. What is that something?” Corbin asks.
I sink into my desk chair. “Fuck. I was on a high after figuring out what was going on, and now, it seems we’ve hit another fucking wall.”
“We can’t expect him to keep giving us handouts,” Brock says.
“What he helped with before wasn’t a handout. His family wanted something and happened to help us get you back safely in the meantime,” I point out.
“Okay, and what is your point? His family wants something else now, and it isn’t aligning with us. We can sway that. We need to convinc
e him that we have a better fit for what they want,” Brock counters.
He’s right.
But do we have a better fit for what they want?
My phone rings, and I glance at it.
“Speak of the devil,” I say, seeing Connor’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
“Are you home?” he asks brusquely without even saying hi, and I make a face at the phone.
“What does he want?” Brock asks, and I shake my head with a shrug.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I say into the phone.
“Good. I’ll be there in twenty. We have plans to make.”
The call goes dead, and I pull the phone away.
What the fuck?
“He’s coming over,” I say, frowning at Corbin and Brock.
“Now?” Corbin asks.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. He said we needed to make plans for something.”
“This is weird. How did he know we needed to talk?”
“I have no fucking clue. But I’m not mad about it.”
“Okay, well, Pey just texted me that they are back, so I’m going to go get them set up in the nursery. Let’s talk to him out back, away from the girls,” Brock says, turning to leave.
I watch him walk out and then stare at Corbin. “What do you think he wants?”
“With Connor, you can never tell,” Corbin says. “It’s an odd friendship between us four, I think.”
“Do you think he’s bringing Seth?” I ask.
Corbin shakes his head. “No. No way, dude. He wouldn’t invite that kind of trouble.”
I nod my head and then stand to pace back and forth. Nervous energy is spilling out of me. This isn’t my personality. I’m not usually worried and frantic, but there are some high-stakes situations going on right now, and saying I’m overloaded is an understatement. The clock is ticking down to the marriage of Trixie and Seth, which means it’s is also ticking down on my window to get my girl back. Plus, I’m about to meet with Connor Stanson Soltorre, and the last time that happened, there was a shoot-out.
What are the chances of there being bloodshed this go-around?
Pretty fucking likely with the mob involved.
“Shit, what if they found out I was looking into their family? That’s why he wants to talk, isn’t it? He’s not bringing Seth. He’s bringing his dad, and they are going to kill me.”
“Stop panicking,” Corbin says, grabbing my arm as I pass by him, bringing me to a halt. “Stop. Connor isn’t coming to kill you. Do you think he would tell you he was coming if that were the case?”
“Maybe? To throw me off the scent,” I say, eyes wide. I’m spiraling.
“Come on. Let’s get out to the back deck,” Corbin says, hauling me along behind him.
I don’t remember much of what happens between then and now. But I’m standing beside the pool, ready to dive in at a moment’s notice to escape the spray of bullets I’m convinced is likely to be heading my way soon. I’m tense and silent as I watch Brock lead Connor out the kitchen doors, but I finally calm down when I see it’s him and he’s not aiming a weapon at me.
“Dude, you look like a ghost. What’s wrong?” Brock hisses at me as he reaches my side, and I shake my head, facing Connor.
“What’s up?” I ask, proud of how normal my voice sounds.
“We have a problem.”
“We, as in you and me? Like, there’s a problem that you have with me?”
Corbin elbows me in the side, and Connor frowns.
“No,” he says slowly like I’m dense. “We collectively have a problem. I met with Trixie—”
“Why?” I cut in, all my fear melting away. I find it odd that we were wanting to talk to him about this situation, and now, he’s brought it to us.
“Fuck, Bodhi, if you’d shut up, I could talk,” Connor growls, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you still love her? It’s been hard to tell lately with your actions, but I think they might have been born from the threats that Seth leveled at you against the car that night.” He’s staring at me, waiting for an answer.
“What is he talking about?” Brock asks.
I shake my head, feeling supremely stupid. “Seth threatened to harm Trixie if I got close to her again.”
“So, that’s the reason for all of your hateful, completely out-of-character actions toward her?” Corbin puts it together.
“Yeah,” I agree, and the guys all stare at me.
“You are a dick,” Brock says.
“Douche bag,” Corbin agrees.
“Fuck, guys, I know. But what would you do if someone wanted to harm the girl you loved and you didn’t have any control? All I could do was push her away. And in the end, Trixie is safe, so it’s worth hating myself for it.”
“God, I’m so glad I don’t have a girlfriend,” Connor says as he watches us talk this out. “As happy as I am that you got that off your chest, we have bigger problems. My dad is gone for the next week on business. He’s supposed to come home right before the wedding, but we’ve got a situation now. I haven’t talked to him yet, and I know he’ll want to have a hand in things, but he won’t be able to do anything about it until he’s back. If you value Trixie’s life, we’ve got no time to waste in getting this handled.”
“What?” I step forward, getting in Connor’s face. “Value her life? What is this shit?”
“Calm the fuck down,” Connor says with a sigh, pushing back on my shoulders. “I have a plan, but it will require you to make a big decision.”
He levels me with a look, and I chew on the inside of my cheek.
“Will that decision keep Trixie safe?”
“It will do more to keep her safe than what’s being done right now,” Connor says, shrugging.
I don’t like that he didn’t say yes, but I guess it’s better than nothing.
“Then, it’s not a decision at all. I’ll do it.”
“Great. I’ll get it set up. Next Saturday, you will marry Trixie Northcutt.”
I feel Corbin’s eyes snap to look at me as soon as Connor says it. I don’t react though. I can’t.
“Hold up, what?” Brock asks. “But that’s the day of her wedding to Seth.”
“Should be,” Connor says, correcting him but still looking at me. “I can’t go into specifics.”
What the fuck? Marriage? I love her, but marriage is a huge step.
“I’ll do it,” I say with a nod.
Brock’s mouth drops open, and I can tell he wants to say something, but I shake my head.
“I would do anything to keep her safe, and this is ultimately what I wanted for my future. But I’m not sure she will say yes.”
“She doesn’t have a choice.” Connor shrugs, as if he couldn’t care less what happens.
“Have you run this by her?”
“No. I’m not telling her anything. She still thinks she’s going to marry Seth on Saturday, and that’s what she needs to think. There can’t be any changes.”
“But you met with her. She knows something.”
“She knows what she told me. And she doesn’t need to know anything else. Neither do you. Be outside the church at four, and I’ll do the rest regarding the marriage license and officiant.”
I reach up to rub my temples. This is all happening so fast, but I’m starting to feel a flicker of something in my heart that is strangely like hope.
“I’ll have a package delivered here on Saturday morning. Bring all of it with you to the church. All of it,” Connor says, raising his eyebrows, and I nod. “Okay, good. And, Bodhi?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck,” he says before turning on his heel and striding back inside.
I watch him until he disappears from view through the kitchen windows, and then I turn to Brock and Corbin, who are silently staring at me.
“That was fucking weird,” Corbin finally says, and I nod my head.
“We still don’t know any more than we did before he got
here,” Brock points out, and I shove my hands in my sweatpants pockets.
“We know I’m about to fucking get married,” I say slowly, almost as if I can’t believe it.
“Yeah, who would have thought you’d be the first to tie the knot?” Corbin asks with a smirk, and I punch him in the shoulder.
“It’s like an arranged marriage, one your fiancée doesn’t even know about,” Brock says, and we all stare at each other for a few tense seconds.
“What the fuck kind of life do we live?” I ask.
Brock shakes his head. “I don’t know, but we’d better go tell the girls. You know they’ll be pissed if they don’t get to help make it special for Trixie.”
“Probably should tell Chester too,” Corbin points out, and I nod, taking it all in.
“I’ve got to get a ring,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what size to get.”
“I think you’ve got bigger problems to worry about,” Corbin says, and I raise one eyebrow. “Like not getting murdered by Seth Hastings on Saturday.”
“He has a point,” Brock says with a nod, and I sigh.
My life has gone from complicated and sad to gaining an unaware fiancée and planning my own nuptials.
What the hell?
34
Trixie
Wedding Day
“Hey, babe. Do you need any help?” Landry says, popping her head inside my dressing room.
I can see Peyton hovering behind her, and both of them look worried. I sigh and look back at myself in the mirror. It’s my wedding day, and I’m standing in my silk bridal pajamas with a monogram of my soon-to-be new initials over one breast pocket—BLH. Beatrice Lucinda Hastings. I don’t feel like a bride even though I look the part with my hair and makeup flawlessly done.
“Not yet.” I’m trying to drag this out for as long as I can.
My wedding dress is hanging on a fancy hanger by the window, and I’ve tried to avoid looking at it.
“Do you need anything at all?” Peyton asks, leaning over Landry’s shoulder.