Foul Play (Barlow Sisters Book 3)

by Jordan Ford

  The Ferris wheel lights appear down at the end of the country road and Chloe gasps. “Aw, it’s going to look amazing when the sun goes down.”

  Twilight kicks in around eight, so we’ve still got an hour to go before it’s fully dark. It’s kind of nice that we’re going to get the best of both worlds this evening.

  I pay the parking attendant a couple of bucks, then find a spot in the back corner of the parking lot. The fair’s already in full swing. Chloe gives me a nervous smile as I help her out of the car.

  “Wow, it’s busy.”

  “Yeah, it gets pretty crowded. You still want to go?”

  She hesitates, then bobs her head. “Yeah.”

  With my breath on hold, I take her hand as we walk for the entrance.

  She doesn’t let go or shy away from my touch.

  Chloe’s holding my hand!

  Shit, I feel like a fifth grader with a crush, but there it is. My insides are frickin’ sparkling right now and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  We line up behind a bunch of families and couples. Some are clumped together—groups of friends out for a fun night. Chloe squeezes my hand and smiles up at me. We don’t say anything as we wait, just stand there grinning at each other.

  “Would you lovebirds stop staring at each other and move it along?” The person behind me taps my shoulder and I instinctively tense.

  “Sorry about that. First date.” Chloe winks at the man and he laughs—all tension diffused in a microsecond.

  I hate that I’m so wired for combat. If she hadn’t been there, I would have turned around and glared the guy down. My hands would have been clenched into fists, my entire body ready to pounce if he came at me.

  Dammit. Why do I have to be that way?

  Chloe’s gentle tug pulls me forward and before I know it, she’s chatting with the guy behind us, asking about his family and talking to the little girl. I’m kind of in awe of her ability to interact with anyone.

  “Have a fun first date!” the little girl shouts at us as we walk away from the entry booth.

  The people around us chuckle and I find it in me to turn back and wink at the little girl. “Thank you.”

  Her toothy grin makes me warm on the inside. So this is what it’s like to be normal.

  “What do you want to do first?” Chloe bounces on her toes beside me. “I bet you’re kickass at those shooting games.”

  I frown. “Why do you think that?”

  “Because you noticed me, so you must have a really good eye.” She tips her head back, laughing at her own joke, and I can’t help but join her.

  I don’t laugh much, so it feels kind of weird, but also really good.

  I steer her toward the shooting games and have some fun competing with her. This fair is going to suck me dry, but I don’t want to deny Chloe anything. And so the day turns to night while I shell out my cash, buying her games, rides, and eventually a huge stick of cotton candy.

  Licking the pink sugar off my fingers, I grin down at her. “You having fun?”

  “I’m eating cotton candy at a fair!”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  She nods. “And I know you’re having fun too.”

  “And how do you know that?” I nudge her with my hip.

  “Because you’re smiling.”

  “Yeah, feels kind of weird,” I admit.

  “Looks kind of beautiful.”

  I stop and gaze down at her. Her blue eyes, her sweet words, they bowl me right over. Turning to face her, I skim my finger across her cheekbone and over her ear. I want to kiss her so badly right now.

  Running my fingers gently through her hair, I’m just thinking about leaning in when a voice makes me jerk back.

  “Vinnie. Hey, cuz. What are you doing here, man?”

  Shit!

  I turn my back on Chloe, hoping to block her from view as I face off with my cousins. “’Sup, Diego.” I raise my eyebrows at Rex and Carlo too. “Why you here?”

  “Was in the neighborhood.” He looks back at his cousins before peering over my shoulder. “Who’s the chick?”

  His dark eyes drill into her and I want to punch him in the face.

  But I know better.

  Stepping to the side, I block his view again and go for a casual shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “You come together?” His dark gaze drifts to me.

  I hold it and sell the lie as best I can. “Of course not.”

  I’m trying to sound disgusted by the idea, even though I feel the exact opposite.

  Shit! I’ve probably just killed the date. I don’t want Chloe thinking I’m ashamed to be seen with her or something.

  But Diego can’t know.

  I have to protect her, so I glance over my shoulder and mumble, “Later.”

  Her expression flickers with confusion, but I have to walk away.

  It’s a scummy thing to do.

  All I can hope is that she’ll let me explain when I find her again.

  13

  Things Are Not Always As They Seem

  CHLOE

  “Well, if you’re not going to play with her, I will.” Diego’s dark eyes drink me in like I’m some kind of ice cream he’s never tasted before.

  Vincent whips around, fear washing over his expression before shooting daggers at the guys. “Leave her alone. Let’s go.”

  “Aw, come on. Where’s your sense of fun, man?”

  Diego goes to move into my space, but Vincent grabs his jacket and yanks him back. “Don’t be a dick. Let’s just go.”

  Moving like lightning, Diego grabs Vincent’s collar and pulls him forward. “You want to mess with me?”

  “No,” Vincent seethes between gritted teeth.

  “If I want to talk to the girl, I’ll talk to the fucking girl!”

  A muscle in Vincent’s jaw works as he stares the guy down. The other two have moved in as well, and I get the distinct impression that it’ll be three on one if this turns into a fight.

  I can’t let that happen, but I’m not quite sure what to do. I don’t want to leave Vincent, but I don’t want him getting hurt trying to protect me either.

  “I’m gonna go find my family,” I murmur and rush away before anyone else can say anything.

  My heart is hammering as I scurry around the corner. I’m half expecting Diego and those other two guys to chase me down, but as I duck into the shadows behind the main tent and look behind me, the space is empty.

  I’m alone.

  Without Vincent.

  Wringing my hands, I stand there wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. I check my watch and decide to wait ten minutes for him to come find me. There’s no point walking around the fair looking for him if he’s now stuck with those people. Diego called Vincent “cuz.” I wonder if they’re related or something.

  My heart aches for him.

  I could tell the second that guy uttered the word “Vinnie” that he was an unwelcome guest to our party. The way Vincent turned and blocked me with his body. I wasn’t offended or surprised when he denied me being someone important.

  Yet again, Vincent the Protector was in action.

  Chewing my lip, I glance at my watch again.

  It’s been fifteen minutes and still Vincent hasn’t found me.

  He must be caught up with those jerks. Nibbling my thumbnail, I tentatively step out from hiding and work my way around the tent. I’m scanning for both Vincent and those assholes who broke up our date. I don’t see anyone I know, so I decide to head to Vincent’s car. It’s in the very back corner of the parking lot. If those guys are still lurking around when he walks to his car, I can hide behind another vehicle and wait it out. There’s no way Vincent will leave without me. I refuse to believe he would.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I scan the fair as I walk out of it. Nerves are attacking me from all sides. Walking through this dark parking lot alone is kind of terrifying, especially after what happened to me on Fort Street.

 
The darkness is no longer a protective cloak. Shadows are no longer innocent shapes, and walking alone isn’t as easy as it used to be.

  My breath hitches as I pick up my pace, sprinting for Vincent’s car and screaming when I round the back corner and find him waiting for me.

  “It’s me. It’s me.” He holds up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I sag against the car, breaths puffing out of me as I recover from my panicked run.

  “I am so sorry.” Vincent’s voice quakes. “I couldn’t let them think we were connected. And then when you took off, I had to stick with them for a while so they wouldn’t get suspicious. When I finally managed to drop them, I didn’t know what to do, or where to start looking for you. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t have you around him.”

  “Are you talking about that Diego guy?”

  He nods, his jaw clenching tight.

  “He was kind of scary.”

  “I never want him to touch you, ever. I don’t even want him looking at you,” Vincent spits.

  I reach out for him, brushing my hand down his arm in an attempt to calm him. “Who is he?”

  “My cousin. I live with his dad. I…I hate it.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the roof of the car.

  Shuffling a little closer, I study his moonlit face. His expression is so tormented, my heart can’t help but ache for him. “Thank you for protecting me tonight.”

  My soft words make him flinch and he turns to gaze down at me. “I thought you’d hate me for killing the date.”

  I smile and shake my head. “You can’t kill this date. It’s not even over yet.”

  Brushing his thumb across my cheek, he gives me a pained smile. “I better take you home.”

  It hurts a little, but I don’t say anything. I’m only disappointed because I’m not ready for this night to be over. I can sense he wants to get me out of here though. The feeling’s only amplified when he asks me to duck down until we’re out of the parking lot.

  I do it, but as soon as we’re in the clear, I sit up and ask him to tell me his story.

  “What story?” He frowns, gripping the wheel until his knuckles are white. The muscles in his forearms flex tight and I study the shape of them. His arms are strong. Everything about him seems strong, like he could take on an army if he had to. Maybe he already has. Maybe his house is a constant battlefield.

  I lean back against the headrest, my throat thick with emotion. “Your story, Vincent. Everyone has one, and I’m guessing yours is a lot sadder than most. Why do you live with family you hate? Where are your parents?”

  His nostrils flare while he clenches his jaw and does everything he can to not look at me.

  After a few minutes of silence, I finally concede. “Sorry, it’s not really any of my business.”

  “My dad left when I was four. I don’t really remember him, and I’ve never seen him since he walked out the door. Mom had depression and she got addicted to who knows what. My brother basically raised me. She overdosed when I was eleven and we got shipped to Armitage. Uncle Enzo’s the only relative who was willing to take us. It’s been shit, especially since Nick was sent away. He used to look out for me, but…” Vincent’s chin bunches for a second until his expression returns to a hard look that no doubt keeps him safe.

  “Was Nick the guy accused of murder?” I ask quietly.

  “Yep. Accused, convicted, sentenced to life in prison.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-two.”

  “Wow. That’s so young,” I whisper, my eyes smarting as I think about what life in prison really means for him. “Do you think he’ll get out on parole?”

  “Eventually.” Vincent shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’ll be years away though.”

  “Do you ever go and see him?”

  Vincent pulls in a breath and holds it for a second. “I’ve been a couple of times. It’s hard to look at him, you know? He used to be my hero and then he just…became one of them. It happened so fast, I didn’t even see it coming.”

  “I heard he said he was innocent.”

  Vincent scoffs. “All the evidence was there.”

  I shrug. “Evidence can tell a lie if it’s planted correctly. You should know that.”

  He gives me a sidelong glance but doesn’t say anything.

  “Have you ever asked him his side of the story?”

  “I don’t want to know.”

  “Why not?”

  Vincent rubs a hand over his mouth. His fingers are shaking slightly, tension radiating from him like he’s a nuclear weapon primed to explode.

  I bite my lips together, but don’t take back the question. Sucking a breath in through my nose, I turn to look out the window until Vincent’s soft, broken voice makes me turn back.

  “Because what if he did it? What if he can’t look me in the eye and tell me he’s innocent? My brother can’t be a killer. I don’t want him to be.”

  “But you don’t mind him being falsely accused and convicted?”

  “The evidence was there, Chloe!”

  “And you don’t believe it! If you’re too scared to talk to him in case he admits to being guilty, then there must be a part of you that believes he’s innocent. You just said your brother can’t be a killer.”

  Vincent huffs and shakes his head. “Just stop, okay? Since his conviction he hasn’t said shit about being set up. He hasn’t appealed. Nothing.”

  “Maybe he figures it’s pointless. Maybe he’s given up.”

  “Or maybe he’s guilty!”

  Vincent’s thundering angst shuts me up. Gazing down at my hands, I let silence fall between us. I don’t want to aggravate Vincent, even if I do think he should talk to his brother. Why would Nick claim he was innocent and then shut up about it? It just feels a little off. I don’t know the guy, but if he used to be Vincent’s hero, then there must have been something good about him, something worth looking up to. Right? Maybe the murder was an accident…or not Nick’s fault at all.

  Everything is not always as it seems. Vincent is living proof of that, and I hate the idea that his hero is now stuck behind bars, especially if he’s not guilty.

  Man, I wonder if he is.

  I can’t decide which is worse—him actually being a killer or him serving time for a crime he didn’t commit.

  Vincent wants him to be innocent. He needs to know that the person he always looked up to hasn’t let him down.

  Crap, I’m probably dreaming.

  Nick is probably guilty.

  But what if he’s not?

  If he’s anything like his little brother, how could he possibly be capable of pulling the trigger on an innocent man?

  I want to find out.

  I’m going to find out. I don't know how, but I'll figure out a way.

  Vincent saved my life. Maybe this is a chance for me to give a little something back.

  14

  Whatever Keeps Her Safe

  VINCENT

  Shit. I just yelled at Chloe.

  I am a date killer.

  Of course I was going to fuck it up.

  I’m Vincent Mancini. I don’t know how to do anything else.

  This silence is suffocating. But I don’t know how to break it.

  Grinding my teeth together, I focus on the road. I keep my eyes ahead, determined to get Chloe home safely.

  Is she ever going to talk to me after this?

  Probably not.

  Clearing her throat, Chloe leans toward my radio. I don’t even know if the thing works. I wince as she flicks the knob, expecting it to fall off, but it doesn’t and the car fills with a song I don’t even know. It’s haunting and beautiful, the guy’s voice hitting me right in the heart.

  “‘Ashes,’” Chloe murmurs. “I love this song. It’s so sad but beautiful.”

  I glance at her, my heart filling to overflowing as I take a mental snapshot.

  “Vincent,” she whispers.

  “Yeah.” I can barely rasp t
he word.

  “I know you probably think this date has been ruined or something, but you should know that I’ve had a really good night. Until Diego, everything was perfect. And after Diego, everything has been raw and tense, but I’m still sitting in your car. And you’re driving me home while we listen to beautiful music. I don’t care who your family is, or what they have or haven’t done. None of that changes the fact that you are a good human being, and I’d go out with you anytime.”

  My throat is so thick I can’t even swallow. Talking’s off the menu.

  All I can do is look at her.

  She smiles at me and then turns back to face the front, closing her eyes and softly singing along with the song.

  There’ll never be another like Chloe Barlow.

  But I don’t see how I’m ever going to keep her. She deserves so much better than me.

  That familiar sadness that’s been living in my chest ever since Mom died spreads through my body, settling like a heavy blanket over my soul.

  I didn’t kiss Chloe goodbye. What’s the point of torturing myself?

  She pecked my cheek like she did last time and slipped from the car. I kept my lights on to guide her home and then drove past her house.

  I wonder what it’s like in there.

  I bet it’s a home, with parents who say “I love you.” Home-cooked meals. Conversation around the dinner table. Teasing banter. Stories about the day. I bet they hug each other when they’re sad. There’d be no fists in their house.

  Pulling up to my crappy home, I gaze at the peeling clapboard exterior and fight the urge to take my car and drive until I run out of gas. But what would be the point? I’d just get shipped right back here. Even if I am seventeen, and old enough to leave home, what would I leave with? It’s not like I’m rolling in cash. It’s not like I can get a decent job when I don’t even have my high school diploma.