by Eva Ashwood
Nathaniel frowned. “Don’t beat around the bush, Madigan. I’m not in the mood. I don’t like being yanked around, and you’re not old nor wise enough to do it well, despite what you might think. What the fuck happened?”
A muscle in Bishop’s jaw twitched, and he opened his mouth to speak again, but I stepped forward, fear urging me on.
“It was my fault!” I blurted, before a single word could come out of Bishop’s mouth.
Three heads snapped to me, three horrified sets of eyes widening as the boys all tensed.
“Cora—”
“No.” I held out my hand, shaking my head as I met their gazes.
My voice was surprisingly steady, and I realized that, although I was still afraid, it was nowhere near the same kind of terror I’d felt a moment ago. Because I knew what I had to do now. I knew the Lost Boys might never forgive me for it, but I couldn’t stand by and let them take the blame for this. If there was a life that would be forfeit, there was only one I could allow it to be.
A blanket of tension fell over the room, but I didn’t let the weight of it stop me. Instead, I turned my attention back to Nathaniel. Gathering my courage and composure, I walked up to the desk, speaking plainly and calmly, just like Mr. Tyson had done.
“No, this is my fault. Nathaniel wants to know the truth, and the truth is, it was my fault. I agreed to meet with Flint because he told me he had information about my father. I thought maybe he would have some information about who or what had led to my dad getting arrested, and I was desperate to help get my father out of trouble. But… instead of telling me anything, he led me away from where we’d agreed to meet.”
My throat tightened on the words, but I forged ahead, keeping my voice cool and clinical as I described the terrifying events of that night.
“He drove me to an alley, and I… I realized then what a stupid, stupid mistake I’d made. I forced my way out of the car and tried to run, but he came after me. He tried to rape me, and he intended to kill me. Which he would have, if I hadn’t… gotten ahold of his gun and shot him.”
As I finished speaking, the air in the room seemed to grow so thick it was almost like a physical presence. The boys all stood stock still, staring at me with stark expressions. But I ignored them, keeping my gaze focused only on Nathaniel.
I didn’t expect it, but as I spoke, Nathaniel’s gaze softened. There was an understanding that I wouldn’t have predicted in his eyes, and he gave another resigned sigh as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
“Is that so?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you then managed to cover up the murder and hide the body, disposing of it well enough that neither my men nor the cops have found it yet?”
My heart crashed against my ribs, but I swallowed and nodded again.
“Yes.”
Nathaniel took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke before licking his lips. Josephine was gazing at me with pitying eyes, and my stomach sank. She didn’t believe me. And neither did her husband.
I refused to back down though. I’d made my choice, and I would die defending it.
Taking a step forward, I drew in a shaken breath. “Please… If there’s anyone that’s responsible for this, it’s me. I made a mistake, and that was why Flint died. If I hadn’t agreed to meet with him alone, maybe I could’ve avoided this.”
The softness was still in Nathaniel’s voice as he leaned forward slightly. “I know what you’re trying to do, Cordelia. But let’s give up the game here, shall we? If we’re going to figure a way out of this mess, I’ll need the actual truth.”
“The truth is, we killed him. And we covered it up.”
Bishop’s voice cut through the air, and my heart sank.
No. No, no, no.
Why couldn’t they just have let me take this on myself? They shouldn’t have had to kill Flint at all, and they shouldn’t have been the ones to deal with the body. It should’ve been me. It all should’ve been me.
“It was my fault,” I insisted, raising my voice as I drew Nathaniel’s gaze away from Bishop. “Everything else I told you was true, sir. I found Flint’s phone number and called him. I set up the meeting. I stupidly let him get me alone. And I was trying to fight him off when the boys showed up and… and took care of him.”
Nathaniel rested his cigarette in an ashtray on his desk, then scrubbed a hand over his chin. His eyes were a little harder now, more assessing, as he shifted his gaze between me and Bishop.
“Well. That, at least, has the ring of truth to it. But there’s a difference between being a young girl trying to do what she thinks is right and three of my own men going off and killing another of mine. It’s not so easy to dismiss things like that, you see.”
“We’ll take whatever punishment you think is necessary,” Bishop spoke up. “But I’m not going to apologize for handling Flint the way we did. He was a sick fucking bastard, and he deserved it.”
Nathaniel’s head tilted sharply, his dark eyes flashing. “Maybe. But it’s not your job to be judge, jury, and executioner, is it, Bishop Madigan?” His gaze flicked to the other two boys. “Which one of you killed him? Unless you all pulled a trigger?”
Bish began to speak again, but to my surprise, Josephine stepped forward, walking around the side of the desk to approach us.
“That’s not the point. Only one of you did, but you all wanted to, didn’t you?”
There was a moment of hesitation as all the boys looked at her, and I wondered how accustomed they were to Josephine speaking in these meetings. She obviously knew the ins and outs of her husband’s business and wasn’t kept in the dark or left on the sidelines—but I wasn’t sure how often she took an active role in it.
“Yes,” Bish said finally.
“Fuck yeah,” Misael echoed, his voice angry and fervent.
Kace just nodded, looking like he wished he could kill the fucker again.
Josephine nodded, looking at each boy in turn before shifting her focus to me.
“You’re lucky to have three boys who care about you so much, Cordelia,” she murmured. Then she returned to Nathaniel’s side, tilting his head up by the chin so he could look at her.
“Dear,” she murmured. “They’re young. They love her. Certainly you understand better than anyone what being young and in love will do to you.” She smiled, the expression warm but also slightly sad. “I don’t think I need to remind you how you were when you were their age. What you did for me.”
Nathaniel was quiet, staring up at his wife. He looked miles away, as if he was remembering something that took him far away from this place, this time, to something in his past that had shifted the course of his life.
It made me wonder: was Josephine speaking on this because at a point in time, Nathaniel had killed someone for her?
It was a question I didn’t ask aloud. I held it on my tongue, not daring to pry when we were already in such a precarious situation and Nathaniel literally held our lives in his hands.
After a moment, Nathaniel sighed, bringing Josephine’s hand to his lips, kissing it.
“Teenagers are stupid,” he said, dry humor in his voice even as love reflected on his face.
“Yes. They are.”
Her voice was warm, and I suddenly felt like I was imposing on a moment too private to be shared. Like the two of them existed in a little bubble where no one and nothing else mattered.
God, I know that feeling.
Nathaniel kissed Josephine’s knuckles again, his gaze locked on hers as dozens of unspoken words passed between them. Finally, he pulled his attention away from her, turning back to face us.
“My lovely wife makes a good point. And yet…” He looked to Bishop, his brows drawing together. “This isn’t something that can simply be ignored. It would set a bad precedent. I can, however, grant a certain leniency because of the situation surrounding Flint’s death. And to be honest, it’s been difficult narrowing down who might’ve wanted to kill him, becau
se the list was so damn long. The man was a fuck-up who’d been becoming more and more of a problem for me.”
Nathaniel stood, retrieving his cigarette from the ashtray before walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it, pursing his lips.
“Now, don’t make the mistake of assuming you did me a favor. Don’t think I’m grateful to you for this mess.”
“Of course not.” Bish nodded, keeping his face impassive.
Hope and worry warred in my chest. We were so close, but still so far from safety.
“You broke the chain of command, and you broke one of the cardinal rules of my organization,” Nathaniel continued. “Which leaves me the question of what to do with you.” Shaking his head, he looked to me. “What exactly did you think you were going to dig up about your father from Flint?” he asked suddenly.
I shifted uncomfortably. I hadn’t been expecting to be put on the spot, but I did my best to hide my nerves as I answered.
“I believe my father was framed,” I said quietly. “Whatever… shady things he’s done with his power, I know that what he got put away for isn’t something he’s guilty of. Someone set him up.”
Nathaniel hummed again. “Does the name Luke Carmine mean anything to you?” he asked.
I bit my lip, nodding. “It’s the closest lead I’ve gotten since trying to find out what happened with my father. Besides the name Abraham Shaw.”
The dark-haired man considered my answer carefully, and I was sure I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes at Abraham’s name. “Well, if there’s anyone that would know—or have a hand in that—it would be Luke. How about we cut a deal? Since it was one of my men that caused this… this trouble, I’ll pick up the trail you were attempting to follow when you agreed to meet with Flint. I’ll find out if and how Luke sabotaged your father, and if he was working with Abraham Shaw to do it. In return, your family will owe me a favor, and the boys will have a second chance. That’s the only condition I’m willing to agree to or give.”
“What kind of favor?” It was Bishop who spoke up, but I was way ahead of him.
“I accept.”
“Cora—”
I shook my head. “I accept,” I repeated. “You have a deal, Nathaniel. I’ll make sure my dad knows who was responsible for trying to get him out of prison, and that he understands he owes you.”
Nathaniel nodded and sat back down. “Good. Then, the four of you are free to go. However, you three? Don’t make this a repeat offense. There’s only so much good grace I can offer before it’s seen as weakness, and I won’t have you making choices like the one you did with Flint again. Am I understood?”
They all looked a little shocked as it slowly sank in that none of us would be leaving this room in a body bag, but each one of them nodded. It struck me for the first time how close they—possibly even we—had come to dying today.
“No problem, Boss,” Misael said. “We’ll be on our best behavior.”
Nathaniel actually smirked, although it didn’t do much to make him appear less intimidating.
“Don’t go promising that. We all know how you are in particular, Misael. Just doing what I say and not stepping on toes will suffice.”
“Speaking of stepping on toes…”
Mr. Tyson’s voice almost made me jump, and he stepped forward from where he’d been standing near the door. I’d forgotten he was here. That he was the entire reason we were here.
Nathaniel’s gaze shifted to him, and his brows drew together. “What the fuck else?”
Annoyance hung heavy in his voice, and I had a sudden urge to punch Mr. Tyson in the face—or at the very least, slap my hand over his mouth to stop him from talking. We’d just barely scraped by with our lives after Nathaniel found out about the cause of Flint’s death, and I already owed both Muse and Mr. Ward favors to be collected at some unspecified time in the future. I wasn’t sure I had any bargaining chips left to diffuse Nathaniel’s anger at the fight the guys had gotten into with Eli.
“I told you Eli Parks is a new student at Slateview, and that he’s been throwing his weight around, bragging about being employed by Luke Carmine, yes?” Mr. Tyson asked, coming up to stand beside us in front of Nathaniel’s desk.
“Yes.” The man’s brows drew together.
“Well, these three”—he jerked his head toward the boys—“decided to try to shake him down for information about Luke, looking for info on Cora’s father. I found them all brawling outside the school.”
“Fuck.”
The single word settled on the room like a hammer, and Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed.
“That was my reaction too,” Mr. Tyson said with a wry smile, and I glanced from him to Nathaniel, trying to decipher the relationship between them. There was some deference in our teacher’s voice as he spoke, but a familiarity and ease too. These men knew each other well.
“How is Eli? Alive?” Nathaniel shot a pointed look at the Lost Boys, and Kace grunted.
“Yeah, he’s alive. He’s a little banged up, but he’ll fuckin’ live.”
“Good.” Nathaniel turned back to Mr. Tyson. “Keep an eye on Eli. Make sure he doesn’t stir up more shit. Carmine will be pissed as fuck if we find a way to get Van Rensselaer out of prison when he clearly wants him there. And that’s fine by me. But I don’t want to start a war until we’re ready to fight.”
“Understood.” Tyson dipped his head.
“Thank you, brother.”
My eyebrows almost shot up, and it took all my self-control to keep my face impassive as the word spilled from Nathaniel’s lips.
Brother.
Well, that explained the familiarity between them, and how a teacher at Slateview had ties to a crime lord. Their features weren’t overly similar, although now that I was looking for it, I could see how their eyes shared a certain intensity, and how their noses were both straight and narrow.
Half-brothers, maybe? That would explain the different last names too.
The Lost Boys were eyeing both men with surprise too. It made me a little nervous to think that they’d been going to school at Slateview all this time, with no idea that one of the teachers was connected to Nathaniel. I didn’t like that secrecy on their boss’s part, although I wasn’t entirely surprised by it.
Nathaniel Ward might have a softer side that rose to the surface occasionally, but he was still ruthless and sharp, and he’d probably seen a benefit in keeping Mr. Tyson’s role as observer quiet until it became necessary for the boys to know.
And in a way, his plan had paid off. If the three boys had known Mr. Tyson had any connection to Nathaniel, they definitely would’ve dragged Eli off campus for their interrogation, and I had no idea what the outcome would’ve been if our teacher hadn’t intervened.
Nathaniel turned to the boys, his expression grim. “Did you hear that? I can forgive you stepping out of line to stand up for your girl once, but you keep doing it, and I’m going to start thinking she’s a liability. Understood?”
They all bristled slightly, but they nodded anyway. I shivered. Nathaniel had seemed truly disgusted to hear what Flint had tried to do to me, and the impression I’d gotten of him made me think he wasn’t the type of criminal who made a habit of harming women or children.
But I didn’t want to push him or put that to the test.
“Good.” Nathaniel took another drag from his cigarette. “Now, all of you. Go. Before I decide this is a bad idea.”
We didn’t have to be told twice. We all left, filing out of the study as Josephine propped her hip on Nathaniel’s desk, turning to face him. Before the door closed, I caught a glimpse of her leaning in to kiss him. His arms banded around her, hauling her into his lap, and I glanced away hurriedly. I knew what it felt like, from my experience with the Lost Boys—that unquenchable craving for another person. But I felt awkward watching them, like a voyeur peeping into the little bubble they’d created.
Once outside the room, Mr. Tyson spoke for the first time.
With that, he left, heading down the stairs before us.
Bishop sighed, looping his arm around my waist. A droplet of drying blood still clung to the corner of his mouth where Eli had gotten in a lucky hit.
“Well. This has been a weird fuckin’ day.”
Twenty-Four
Over the next few days at school, we stayed away from Eli. He stayed away from us too, though whether that was because he had orders from his higher-ups, or Mr. Tyson had spoken to him, or he simply didn’t want to be the next on the Lost Boys’ kill list, I was uncertain.
Regardless of the reason, I was grateful that he steered clear. He still bore the marks of their fight in the bruises on his face, but he was focusing more of his attention on girls in our class rather than on getting under the Lost Boys’ skins. The girls, for their part, didn’t seem to think his black eye and bruised cheek made him any less attractive, and I rolled my eyes as I watched two girls fawn over him in the hall on Thursday as I headed to lunch.
What’s more, with Nathaniel’s promise to help me, I was feeling more optimistic about my father’s situation. Real progress had been made when the Lost Boys stepped up to join my search, and I could only imagine that with the resources at Nathaniel’s fingertips, he had a better chance than any of us at uncovering the truth.
The boys were more reserved about his offer of help.
“He’s our boss, and he’s a good man, and he’s done a lot for us, but I’m not about to say I think he’s doing this just out of the kindness of his heart. Your old man was powerful as fuck before he got taken away. He’s exactly the kind of guy Nathaniel’s only too happy to get in his pocket,” Bishop had told me seriously as the four of us had driven away from their employer’s house on Monday after our impromptu “meeting.”