by Rebel Hart
He’s holding my hand too tight and walking too fast, sweating and looking over his shoulder in paranoia. I’ve never seen him this undone before.
“Slow down!” I bark at him, skidding my feet to a halt and yanking my hand away. “You’re hurting me.” My eyes glare at him with renewed rage as I tug at my stinging hand. I’m used to him hurting me, but I swore to myself it would never happen again, no matter what his excuse.
He looks back at me, his eyes welling up in desperate remorse.
“I…I’m sorry, Ophelia,” he stammers, stepping towards me. But I am unmoved. “I know…I know,” he tries again. “I know I promised I would never…”
“Hurt me again?” I snap back. “Funny how you’ve only been back in my life for ten minutes and you’ve already found some way to do that anyway.”
“I’m just scared, okay?” he pleads with me. “Come on, I don’t want to talk about this here in the middle of the street.”
I clutch my arms tightly across my chest, studying his urgency for a moment before I finally submit with a groan, taking off behind him again. His pace grows more frantic with each step as we approach my house.
“Hey! Wait!” I pull him to a stop again, wrestling him off to the side of the house. “Remember, I told you my mom and Brendan are home today. You’ve got to pull yourself together before we go in there.” Sweat is beading on the tips of his loose strands of hair.
“Okay.” He nods, not seeming to be able to snap out of it. He blinks rapidly, his wide, bloodshot eyes looking at me in a daze.
“They already don’t trust you after what they think happened before,” I remind him, growing angry at the memory. Remorse returns to his face, piling even more strain on top of his already-stressed expression. “Come on, Emmett, I mean it! They’re not going to like me bringing you here. If you act like this, they’re going to know something’s up. So, unless you want to tell them everything, you’ve got to calm down.”
He steps back and leans over to rest his hands across his knees, puffing sharp breaths out through his cheeks. I have to fight the urge to rush to his side and wipe his damp forehead, straighten his hair, and tell him everything will be okay. I want to coddle him, but I can’t let myself do that. Not after everything he’s put me through.
Suddenly, he straightens up and mops the sweat with the sleeve of his shirt. Like a switch has been flipped, he composes himself and comes back to me with an eerily casual smile. His face leans close to mine and a heavenly masculine scent floods over me. The effect he has never ceases to shock me—how I can always want to be so close and so far from him all at once? He devours me with his haunting, icy eyes, always filled with curiosity and desire. But there is always a lurking tinge of hatred and malice, and I never know if it is intended for me or not.
Emmett leans against me, nudging the strain of his pants between my legs. We’re both burning with desire. “I want you right now. Right here,” he murmurs softly. “Don’t you remember what it was like before? How good it felt to have me inside of you?”
He draws me in, and I am so close to caving. To risking getting caught or seen, and just wrapping my legs around him right here and now, hidden beside my house. The past couple of weeks have changed nothing—I still need him, even though I hate him. And no matter how much he scares me, it takes next to nothing for me to be ready to give myself to him again.
He stares at me and frowns. “I’ve always been able to see that fear in your eyes when you look at me,” he says remorsefully. “I’ve always wished so badly that I knew how to make it go away.” Before I can respond, he walks away.
“Okay, then,” I mutter, half-stunned as we turn back to the front door. I have to remind myself that I’m dealing with a master manipulator. Aside from the many things Emmett’s guilty of, his father was a monster, so he’s used to detaching from his emotions to save face.
The smell of simmering meat and spices wafts through the air as we step into the warmth of my home. “Ophelia?” my mother calls out as soon as the front door opens.
My mom is a nurse, and had no trouble finding a job when my scholarship brought us to Jameson. My stepdad Brendan works on power lines. They both do their fair share around the house, with the cooking and cleaning and constant worrying about me. She has been especially overprotective since I went missing for those few days.
Her face drops the moment she rounds the corner and sees him standing there next to me. “Oh,” she gasps.
“Hello, Mrs. Lopez,” Emmett chimes brightly, with a polite smile.
“Ophelia…” My mom is speechless. She didn’t expect to see me with him again after I told her I’d decided he was a bad influence.
“Emmett just needs some help with his homework,” I offer as calmly as I can. “We’re going up to my room, but he won’t be here long.”
She looks unconvinced, and won’t stop looking him up and down with a seething, distrusting glare.
“Mrs. Lopez, I owe you an apology.” He steps forward to interject just as her lips part and she seems to be gathering her words. “I can’t imagine how worried you must have been when Ophelia was gone with me for those couple of days. I should never have allowed us to get so carried away.”
The sincerity of his tone chills me. He is too good at lying, and any time I see him doing it to other people, I am reminded to be cautious of every word he says to me. I never ran off with him. He and his fucked-up family, along with the rest of the Elites, held me hostage in an attempt to get my estranged father to back off, but you’d never know that looking at us both now.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” I assure her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”
She looks at my hand, and then back at Emmett’s face. She’s not going to be so easily convinced. I see the rage building inside of her as her brow furrows and one fist rises to her hip. “You’ve got some nerve showing back up here,” she growls, scowling. “And you expect me to trust you this time? Just like I did after you wrecked your car with my precious Ophelia inside?”
“That was an accident,” he blurts, his lips pursing immediately at his poorly chosen words.
“An accident,” she scoffs. “How do I know she won’t ‘accidentally’ go missing again for a few days in your company?”
“Mom, really, it’s okay,” I interject, knowing Emmett can’t hold up to an interrogation right now. “I promise you I’m not going anywhere. Just a quick study and homework session in my room…that’s all.” The confidence and assurance in my own voice surprises me. I am getting good at lying, too, now. Something I’ve picked up along the way in Jameson, I suppose.
Her face twists up with doubt as she looks us both over with narrow eyes. I’m thankful for her wariness. If Emmett is up to his old games, it could save me. But I straighten up under her gaze, holding strong to convince her I am fine. Everything is fine. I am working to convince myself of just as much.
“I don’t want you two leaving the house together,” she commands, her voice low and defeated.
“Absolutely,” Emmett shoots back eagerly. “We won’t go anywhere.”
He is already turned away from her, racing up to the privacy of my room, but I linger for a moment and hug my mom tight. “It’s okay, I promise,” I whisper to her, side-eyeing Emmett boldly. I need him to make sure my words stay true.
“Please eat dinner with us tonight,” she says dryly in reply.
“Of course,” I chirp, sounding too cool and normal. I have to break away from this now, or I’ll lose my nerve. I turn to follow Emmett, wishing more and more that I had just told him no, that I couldn’t help him.
Our rented duplex is just big enough for the three of us. It’s cozy and has become my only safe haven in this hellhole. And even then, sometimes the danger has found ways to seep inside. Like right now, with Emmett Jameson in my room yet again.
The second we start up the stairs, his panic returns. He’s walking so fast, he stumbles as his sweaty hand pulls me alon
g behind him.
His sister is missing, and he thinks he’s being watched. He has good reason to be afraid. He has just played a part in taking down the Elites, the old money organization that founded this town and the owners of the Jameson Automobile Company, which employs just about everyone in the city. With his father dead and the rest of the Elites facing time in prison, he is the new king of it all. The only one, aside from his sister and mom, who got out of the scandals free and clear with his life and wealth intact. You don’t pull off something like that without dredging up at least a few enemies along the way.
I can see all of this new reality written all over his face. The perfect ending my father promised him isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and it’s only just begun.
Chapter One
BOOK 2
Emmett storms into my room and plops down on the edge of my bed as if it’s all so natural. But all I can think about is the last time he was here. His Elite buddies, Trey and Vincent, were with him. He pinned me to the wall before dragging me downstairs and sweet-talking my mom and stepdad into letting them take me out to the movies. I didn’t come home that night. Or the next night. My heart surges with anger as it all replays in my mind, and his pathetic, slumping posture only enrages me more.
“Okay, so spill it,” I demand, crossing my arms at a safe distance. “You got me here. What’s going on?”
“Bernadette hasn’t been home in days,” he says through a long exhale, running his hands through his hair. “Mom won’t let us call the police. She says she doesn’t trust them with the investigation going on right now.”
“Oh, so you mean the cops aren’t in your pocket anymore now that your father’s dirty dealings have come to light?” I snap, unable to hold back a grin of satisfaction. “It must be really hard on you, not having anyone to turn to,” I mock him sarcastically.
“I know, Ophelia. You have every right to be angry with me,” he murmurs as he breaks down into tears.
I have seen a lot of different faces on Emmett Jameson, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen him cry. I hate the way it weakens me. Every muscle in my body screams to stand still and hold my ground, but instead I find myself racing to his side, collapsing beside him as I pull his sobbing face against my shoulder.
“Calm down,” I tell him gently, with a tinge of resentment, but my body betrays me, stroking his hair. I hate how quickly he can quash my anger. The hold he has on me is maddening. “We’ll figure this out. Are you sure she didn’t just run away?”
“She would’ve left a note,” he sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “She likes attention way too much to just slip away quietly. She would’ve written something dramatic and made sure we found it.”
The rumors from school circle in my brain, coupled with the image of Bernadette screaming over her father’s body. My biological father shot him right in the entryway of their manor, leaving him flat and limp across the marbled floor with blood rapidly pooling around him. She was distraught. None of the Elites, including Emmett, have returned to school since, but word is that Bernadette is completely despondent.
“You don’t think…” I start softly, immediately covering my mouth to try and stop myself from even saying it.
“What?” Emmett barks, desperate for a lead.
“Well…everyone’s been talking about how much seeing your father shot in front her fucked her up,” I continue, hoping he won’t make me say it. “She wouldn’t have…”
“Killed herself?” he interjects, too dryly.
“I hate to even say it…I’m sorry,” I stammer and recoil, rubbing my hand against his shoulder. “I’m just trying to cover every possibility. I shouldn’t…Shit, I’m sorry…”
“Same as running away. She would have left a note.” He stands and walks a few feet away, distancing himself from me and my suggestions.
“You’re right. I’m sure that’s not it,” I say too loudly with false confidence, but the possibility still hangs heavy in my mind. “You’re all too full of yourselves to do anything like that anyway,” I mutter under my breath.
“What?” He spins back around, too distracted with his own busy mind to have really heard me.
“So, you think someone took her?” I pick up the thread again, trying to placate him. He nods. “What about Trey and Vincent? The Whitworths?”
The Whitworths were key players in the Elite gang, along with Emmett, his family, Vivian Blackwater, and her family. All old money who’d founded the town, built the school, and controlled Jameson Automobile Corporation, a maker of fine, high-class automobiles that employs practically the whole city of Jameson. The Elite parents had dabbled in oil, stocks, and arms-dealing. All their kids had trust funds. But now that has changed.
“Or Vivian and her family?” I continue, knowing that any one of the Elites could have it out for Emmett, his mom, and his sister. They are the only ones who made it out from my father’s vengeful wrath unscathed.
I hate even saying her name. While Emmett was making my life a living hell, despite our primal attraction to one another, Vivian stood by his side as his girlfriend. He doesn’t flinch at the mention of her, and I am unable to bite back my curiosity regarding their status, even with everything that has happened.
“Have you talked to her?” I ask gently.
“She called once the investigation began,” he explains, rubbing his jaw. His eyes dart around the room as he speaks evenly, without interest. “She thought I’d comfort her, but when I told her we weren’t together anymore, she turned on me. Screamed and cussed me out.”
“So, you helped land her parents in prison and then dumped her?” I quip, masking how happy I am that he didn’t cave into her plea for sympathy. “That’s cold.”
I want to hate Emmett, but whether I like it or not, my mind still isn’t made up about him. I’ve seen nothing but pure evil in Vivian and Bernadette since day one, though. I arrived in Jameson hopeful and excited about my track scholarship at WJ Prep, only to have them almost run me over and damn near break my wrist before I’d even had a chance to step foot on campus. And it only got worse from there.
“Would you have rather I stayed with her?” he asks coldly, his tone shooting straight to my core.
“I hate you,” I fume in response. He’s too cavalier, as if I was supposed to be left completely unphased after everything I saw happen between them.
“No, you don’t.” He flashes me an eerie, suggestive grin.
He’s right. I don’t. And that’s the problem. “Let’s focus, okay?” I fly to my feet and begin pacing the room. I can’t let this spiral into a talk about us.
“I don’t know.” He sighs. “Have you heard from your dad at all?”
I shake my head. Up until a couple of months ago, my biological father was completely irrelevant to my life. But shortly after realizing he and my mom met at WJ Prep and that he used to be an Elite, my whole life fell apart.
Not long after the discovery of who my father really was, I was plagued by mysterious messages and endless threats from the remaining Elites. Their parents had been using the software company of the satellite Elites, the Hendersons, to cover up politician extortion and sex trafficking rings. My father, having been cast out of town and stripped of his fortune after he embezzled tons of money to pay off his gambling debts, returned with a vengeance. He killed Thomas Jameson, leaving everything in Emmett’s control, and sending the rest of the Elites to prison only to supposedly disappear again once he was done.
“No. Nothing. And I’m hoping it stays that way.” I shake my head, feeling sick from the all too recent memories.
When Emmett and I gave our statements to the police, framing his father’s death as a suicide, they cornered me about my father. They told me he was under investigation for a slew of federal crimes and that I should report any contact I have with him back to them. But around here, you can’t even trust the cops. I’d rather not be faced with the decision of whether or not to tell them, so I desperately hope my father stays
away for good.
“Do you think he has something to do with this?” Emmett asks desperately.
“I wouldn’t rule it out, honestly,” I reply, my legs buckling underneath me as I plop back onto my bed. “I don’t trust him. But that’s what you get, Emmett. If you’re going to make deals with people like him, you have to expect shady things to come out of it.”
“So, you think he could have taken Bernadette?” he continues, reaching for any possible lead.
“I didn’t say that, but…” I stop myself, remembering who I’m talking to. Emmett was the one who worked with my father, offering to kidnap me for him and then letting him onto his property to kill his father. Who’s to say they aren’t still working together? That I know too much about their scheme, and when I refused to talk to either of them, they decided I couldn’t be trusted? This could all be some sick game to lure me back in close so they can take me out the way they did Thomas Jameson. My suspicions hang in a heavy silence.
“Have you thought about going to the cops anyway?” I ask finally, hoping to catch some hint of Emmett’s truth in all of this. After all, teaming up with my father again would explain his hesitancy to go to the police. And Lily did warn me that my father wasn’t really gone. “I know your mom doesn’t want you to, but…maybe they could help.”
“So many of them were close to my father,” he says, shaking his head in stubborn refusal. “I don’t trust that they’ll have our best interests in mind. Everyone knows my father didn’t really kill himself. They just got paid off and put that down on paper. They may be against me.”
“Could they have something to do with it?” I sit up, remembering not to rule anything out when it comes to the town of Jameson and its Elites. “Are they so corrupt that they might have something to do with Bernadette’s disappearance?”
“I can’t rule anything out at this point.” He collapses next to me, burying his face in his hands. “Which is the hardest part—I don’t even know where to begin.”