Defiance Falls Boxed Set: The Complete Defiance Falls Trilogy

by Dean, Ali

  “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 ha
nds 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 18

  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.

  I wasn’t paying attention as I opened the passenger door, and it just missed slamming into someone walking by. She was looking at her cell phone, so maybe it was her fault too. But as soon as our eyes connected, it took all my self-control to keep a neutral expression.

  “Sorry,” I said, plastering on smile. “Didn’t see you.”

  Kylie Cornwall pursed her lips. She kept her eyes on me but didn’t say a word as she stepped around the door and continued on her way. I shook my head as I watched her go. Why were we letting this girl go about her business when she was threatening us, accosting Hazel?

  I thought my mood couldn’t get much worse, but Hazel snubbed me first period. We’d established our seats in the back of the class beside each other, but she must have purposefully taken one in the second row by the window, where it was already filled up.

  I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I slid into one of the last open seats three rows behind her. Some people in the front had even turned to watch me. People used to at least pretend they weren’t looking, tried being discreet. Now I was a spectacle. I’d been elevated to a status that I didn’t even understand. And definitely hadn’t asked for.

  My eyes remained glued on Hazel throughout class, but she never glanced my way. I didn’t hear a word the teacher said as a coldness trickled through me. The feeling was familiar. It was the same one I’d been trying to ignore all through high school. I welcomed it, the longing that had become a part of me over the years. The internal begging to have her look me in the eye, just for a second. Any attention I could snatch from her, a brushing of shoulders in the hallway, it would make me high for the entire day. I’d been pathetic.

  But this feeling was almost better than everything else that had been crashing through me the last few days, the entire week. Ever since I got the call about the fire, if I was being honest. I wondered if what I was experiencing was anything like soldiers coming from back from war. Constant action and danger and then suddenly, real life. That adjustment was hard, disorienting, and confusing. Only this wasn’t the same, not really, because there was still danger. Wasn’t there? I couldn’t even figure out if the war was still happening or if we’d already won.

  When class ended, Hazel stood up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. My stomach turned as I remained frozen in my seat, rooted in place. She walked right on out of there, and I let her.

  What was happening to me? I was being a coward, that’s what. With that thought
racing in my head, I jumped up and nearly knocked people over chasing Hazel. The hallway was jam-packed but I managed to squeeze through until I reached her, tugging on her backpack.

  She spun around, and my eyes widened at the fierce expression on her face. “What?” she barked out. People slowed around us, and then they gave us a wide berth.

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

  “What do you think?” Hazel shot back, a hand moving to her hip.

  I was distracted by my dick for a second, as it seemed to wake up every time Hazel tossed her attitude around. Not the time, man, I said, trying to give it a pep talk. “I think you’re pissed.” Wow. I was taking pathetic to a new level with that retort.

  Hazel’s lips flattened into a hard line, even as I caught a shimmer of amusement in her eyes. She spun back around before I could think about how to handle her, and I was too dumbstruck to go after her. Once again, I was frozen in place, rooted to the ground. The crowd swallowed her up just as I heard Bodhi’s laughter behind me.

  He threw an arm around my neck as he looked down the hallway where she’d disappeared. “What? You thought once you got her back it’d be smooth sailing? Think again, brother.”

  Emmett came up on my other side. “You didn’t show last night. That’s the second Sunday dinner in a row you missed without giving her a head’s up.” He didn’t hide his disapproval, but the sinking sensation in my chest lessened at this. At least I’d been clued into the source of Hazel’s fire. “Mimi kept asking if you were coming.”

  Bodhi pulled me roughly with the arm he had around my neck. “Careful, Pops might cut off your condom supply if you keep it up.”

  I didn’t need the condoms anymore, we were already past that, but her cousins didn’t need to know this. My mind flashed to being inside her by the Lake before it went to Pops and Mimi’s dinner table. Last week she was worried about me, and maybe she was this week too, but in a different way. Worry only went so far with Hazel. She’d laid it out for me on Saturday night, and she was right. I couldn’t run from what was happening to me, I couldn’t hide or mask it. And I’d done just that. Again.