Fraud (Antihero Inferno Book 2)

by Lily White

  “The gauntlets? You’re joking, right? They’re still running people through the woods?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Not since Yale. But, honestly, the woods would be preferable to what they’re doing now.”

  Ava gets quiet, her gaze flicking away for only a brief moment.

  “They’re screwing with people’s lives, Ivy. Not just to bully them, and not just to be dicks like they were in high school. This isn’t the typical popular crowd bullshit anymore. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. Mason hasn’t told me all of it. I just know it’s serious.”

  The fact that he told her anything is surprising. “Did Mason tell you they’re screwing with my life? Or that they’re planning to?”

  I mean, it wouldn’t be a total shock to find that out. But beyond the pranks I pulled in high school, I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Can Gabriel really hate me that much?

  She shakes her head. “No. Until you told me you’re going on a date with Gabriel - like an idiot, I might add - I had no idea you were involved with them again.”

  “Then why are you so worried?”

  Shame shadows her eyes, her expression tight as she shifts in her seat to face me. “Because I just helped them play that game on another woman.”

  “What?”

  The question volleys from my throat much faster and louder than necessary. But I can’t help it. If anybody would refuse to play their games, it’s Ava.

  “Why would you do that? And to who?”

  Her eyes lower, the shame I see on her face deepening. “We all have our reasons, but that’s not the point.”

  “Who is the woman?”

  “Luca Bailey. But you wouldn’t know her. She went to Yale and somehow ended up here. I have no idea what they even want from her, just that they want something.”

  Okay.

  Either the car just crashed into a building or my world imploded around me, the force of it shaking me to the core.

  “Say that name again. I’m not quite sure I heard you right.”

  Ava locks her eyes with mine. “You don’t know her.”

  “Say it,” I insist.

  Because...no.

  There’s no fucking way that-

  “Luca Bailey. Why?”

  I don’t recognize her first name.

  But her last?

  Oh yeah. That rings a bell.

  A shiver runs down my spine to think there is definitely more to this than meets the eye. And I’m sick over the fact that certain secrets aren’t as unknown as I’d believed.

  “You look pale, Ivy. Are you feeling all right?”

  Turning to look out the window, I reach for those streamers of sunlight again. I need them right now. Their warmth. The serenity of bright patches breaking through the rolling clouds.

  Now I have an idea of why Tanner wants information from me. And if I’m right, then a world of trouble is about to crash down on my life.

  “No,” I answer, my voice shaking more than I’d like. “I’m suddenly not hungry.”

  “Is it something I said? We can go somewhere else, if you’d like. Just tell me what you want to do.”

  I want to run.

  I know that.

  If what Tanner wants has anything to do with what I know, then I need to run.

  The only problem is I can’t be sure.

  Not yet.

  Not until I talk to Gabriel.

  There are only a few days left before our date. I can plan in the meantime. Prepare.

  And if this is about what I think it is, then I’m about to leave for an extended vacation.

  But not before I find out for sure.

  And not until I’ve reminded the Inferno just who it is they’re dealing with.

  Glancing at Ava, I round my shoulders and smile. “Actually, I’m feeling a little better. We should still do lunch. And while we eat, you can tell me everything you know about Gabriel and the Inferno.”

  Gabriel

  The night is somewhat surreal. Not because anything has happened yet, or that I worry anything will.

  To everybody else, it’s a normal Friday. The guys are gathered at the house. All but the twins, who are off doing whatever it is they do, and Shane, who is at a bike show.

  As I pull up to Tanner’s house, I park around back near four other cars that belong to Mason, Jase, Taylor and Sawyer.

  The interior of the car goes silent when I kill the engine, but rather than stepping out, I stare at the screen of my phone, my thumb hovering over a missed call from Warbucks.

  How funny that he should call on the same night I’m due to meet up with Ivy for the first time in ten years. He was the influence that indirectly caused the war I’ve had with her since the day we met, the man who stoked my rage so that I would strike out at her because I couldn’t defend myself against him.

  Maybe it’s a coincidence he should check in with me when I finally have her within reach, but I still find the timing suspicious.

  It wouldn’t be surprising to learn our fathers track us. We’re the sticky fingers they have on the younger generation, and now that we’re all of age, our value has only increased for the screwed-up things we can do to people.

  Sending us all to law school wasn’t a coincidence. Lawyers make incredible criminals, only because we know the laws well enough to bend or break every one of them.

  Every aspect of our lives were planned out to suit them.

  The only problem is that it will ultimately lead to their downfall.

  The last person I want to talk to is my father, but I hit the button to return his call and bring the phone to my ear just as the asshole picks up after the second ring.

  “I think you know why I’ve been calling.”

  There’s a scratchy grumble to my father’s deep voice from years of smoking cigars. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished that sound indicated throat cancer of some type, but unfortunately he hasn’t dropped dead yet.

  “To wish me a happy birthday,” I deadpan. “How sweet of you to remember.”

  He’s quiet for a second, but not because of what I said. I hear the distinctive clink of ice against a glass tumbler, his throat swallowing down the whiskey I know he’s drinking.

  “It’s not your birthday.”

  “Ah, well, you’ve forgotten for the past three years, so I thought that maybe this call would finally be the one when you show me you give a damn. I have Hallmark on speed dial for the day that happens. It would make a good movie.”

  “Cut the shit, Gabriel. Tell me what’s going on with Ivy.”

  “Nothing much at the moment,” I lie.

  “What the hell is taking so long?”

  “She’s a touch problematic,” I lie again.

  The truth is that Ivy has been oddly agreeable this week. I’ve spent the past several days vacillating between the opinion that either the years truly have tamed a woman who used to breathe fire or she’s playing me.

  The former would be a shame, and the latter is more probable, but Ivy has never been one to play such simple games.

  Of all the pranks we’ve pulled and battles we’ve fought, not once has she pretended to tolerate me or be someone she’s not.

  Most likely it’s because the one time she let down her guard around me, I taught her why it was a very bad idea.

  “Maybe if you tell me what it is exactly that you’re wanting from her, I can use that to hurry her along.”

  Our fathers have an annoying habit of giving us marching orders without telling us all the details. Whatever information they want from Ivy is important to them. I know that because of how often he calls about it. Which only means that information is important to us as well if we hope to one-up these bastards and get our revenge on them.

  He sips from his drink again, and I hear the distinct slam of the tumbler down on whatever table he happens to be near.

  I’ve pissed him off.

  Good.

  The asshole deserves that and more after all
the shit he’s put us through.

  One of these days, I might push him into a stroke, and I’ll laugh to know I caused it.

  “I’ve already told you all you need to know. I want information on Governor Callahan. If Ivy knows what’s good for her, she’ll give it to us. Make sure you get it, Gabriel. We’re running out of patience.”

  He hangs up before I can respond, and that’s perfectly fine by me. The less I have to talk to him, the better.

  Unfortunately, I’m also now in a shitastic mood, which only spells trouble for Ivy.

  After grabbing a joint from the center console, I tuck it behind my ear and get out of the car. I gave up smoking the shit after Yale, but every so often my nerves are rubbed raw, and I need to smoke to relax.

  The door slams closed a little too hard, but that happens when I want to kill the fat fuck who contributed to my DNA.

  I don’t call him Dad. Never will. None of us reference our fathers as anything more than an issue that needs to be crushed now that we have the means to do it.

  Letting myself into Tanner’s house through a side door, I walk through the kitchen and into the dining room to see everybody gathered in the living room.

  Most of the guys are standing on one side with both Luca and Ava keeping them company, but Tanner is seated all by his lonesome on the other side of the room like the loser kid nobody picks for their softball team. The sight of it makes me chuckle.

  This shit with Luca is amusing, and seeing Tanner stewing over a woman who has driven him crazy since the day he met her helps ease some of my frustration.

  Dropping my weight into a seat next to him, I cross an ankle over a knee just in time for Tanner to bark, “You all need to get the fuck out.”

  Laughing at that, I relax in my seat and notice the hard stare Tanner has on Luca. The bastard is hunting, and while it’s clear as day to me, poor Luca has no idea what’s watching her.

  “Still nothing, huh?”

  Green eyes snap to me. “This is your fault.”

  I cock a brow at that and grin.

  “Right. Because I’m the one that’s fucked with her life since the moment I met her.”

  In truth, I have, but nobody needs to know it. I’m the darling of the group, the easy smile and fast friendship. People want to trust me, probably because I’m the most laidback of the bunch. The man you can tell all your secrets to because I’ll never use them against you.

  And if you believe that, you’re an idiot.

  “I’m only here for a little while, and I need to talk to you about Ivy,” I assure him, still inwardly laughing because I’ve never seen Tanner look so frazzled in his life.

  The only reason I’m here at all is because Ivy insisted on picking me up for our date, and I’m not stupid enough to tell her where I live. Not after the chicken incident or a dozen other pranks she pulled that almost got me kicked out of the house when Warbucks caught wind of what she was doing.

  “Great. It’s nice you stopped by. Now leave.”

  Tanner leans back in his seat and stares ahead at Luca, his legs stretched out over the floor in front of him, and so much tension in his shoulders that a feather could touch him and he would shatter.

  If the guys don’t leave around the same time I do, Tanner will murder them all and make my life a hell of a lot more complicated.

  I pull the joint from behind my ear, rolling it between my fingers as Tanner’s gaze remains locked to Luca across the room.

  Smacking him on the shoulder to drag his attention back to where it should be, I lock my eyes to his while biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the way he narrows his stare on my face.

  If Luca is smart, she’ll run the fuck out of this house while Tanner is distracted.

  “Can you stop eye-fucking Luca for one goddamned second to listen to me about what’s happening tonight?”

  It’s obvious he’s too wrapped up in his own shit to give a fuck about my issues, but I force him into the conversation anyway. By the time I’ve dragged his ass through the topic of my plans for the night, I’ve smoked the joint and feel a hell of a lot better.

  It’s not that I’m nervous about being around Ivy. If anything, I’m excited. However, the anticipation of finally bringing her to heel also drives a vein of distrust through me because it can’t be this fucking easy.

  By all indications it is, but that still doesn’t ease the pounding of my pulse and the tension in my shoulders when the doorbell rings.

  Tanner’s obvious relief at seeing me go makes me feel sorry for Luca. Without doubt, he’ll chase the rest of the group out to be alone with her. But that can’t be my problem tonight, not when I open the front door to see an aggravating beauty standing on the other side.

  Ivy’s blue eyes meet mine, and it reminds me of the day I met her. Just like that day, she’s the spoiled princess staring at the broken prince, only my eyes aren’t bruised this time, and hers are no longer innocent.

  Running my gaze down her body, I unleash the smile I’ve used so many times to sneak past a person’s barriers. Because that’s what you do when you’re hiding.

  You smile.

  You lie.

  You deceive.

  You pretend that you’ve never been hurt and that you never will.

  Her lips stretch apart to match my expression, her body fidgeting in place because I haven’t said anything.

  “Are you ready?” she asks, a trace of nervous humor in her voice.

  This is awkward as fuck. I’m not even going to try to lie. About that, at least. Then again, given everything, I’m not surprised.

  Over text messages, it’s easy to say the right things and pretend we haven’t spent the majority of our lifetime at each other’s throats. She’s begged and pleaded with me to help her. Explained she wouldn’t pay the price. And each time she brought up the reason we’re talking again, I’d redirected the conversation.

  She will pay.

  I’m confident about that.

  The only question is how long I’ll drag out this game until the time comes for her to fess up.

  Despite talking for a week, I still don’t have the best feel for Ivy. I still don’t trust her entirely either. And probably never will.

  It’s obvious we’re both watching our backs because there’s no telling who will strike out first.

  “I’ve been ready,” I finally say, doing nothing to hide the fact that, even though she’s dangerous and I know it, I still can’t help appreciating the view.

  Really, it’s like standing beneath an erupting volcano. You know you need to run. To hide. To get out of the way of the flowing lava and searing ash. But at the same time you can’t help feeling awe at the brightly colored explosions that rattle the ground beneath your feet.

  “This is weird,” she says on a laugh, her words mimicking exactly what I’m thinking.

  Offering another smile, I step out and shut the door behind me. “Let’s make it less weird.”

  “How?”

  Slipping an arm around her shoulder, I lead her across the porch and down the stairs to her waiting car.

  “We could fuck on the way to the restaurant. That tends to break the ice, I hear.”

  Obviously, I’m not being serious.

  Not really.

  Who am I kidding?

  Maybe a little.

  She slaps my chest as we approach the car, her driver pulling the door open to allow Ivy to slide inside.

  I don’t miss the look her driver gives me, a feral touch her and die expression that matches the broad width of his shoulders and stocky tree trunks for arms.

  About my height, the man is packing some impressive equipment. He meets my stare as I slide onto the seat next to Ivy, a challenge obvious in the stern line of his mouth.

  The door closes with a slammed warning, and we’re doused in shadow as Ivy scoots away as far as she can.

  Smart girl...

  “Your driver seems...nice.”

  She shakes her he
ad, refusing to look at me.

  “Ignore him. Scott serves two purposes, one of which is to keep me out of trouble. My dad thinks I need a bodyguard and a babysitter.”

  Well, at least that explains why the guy was looking at me as if deciding whether I should die slowly from the blood loss of having my balls chopped off, or quickly with a bullet in my head.

  Scott is going to be a fucking problem.

  I ignore it for the time being, and the corner of my lips curl at the nervous flutter I notice in Ivy’s hands, the missed attempts she makes to buckle her seatbelt despite the full attention she’s giving the effort.

  Someone is nervous.

  Relaxing against my seat, I buckle mine with a smooth motion, my hands sure and steady.

  “Was it the comment about fucking that has you so flustered?”

  Blue eyes peer up at me, the latch of her seatbelt finally clicking in place.

  I take a slow look down her body again, intentionally taking my time on the exposed skin of her legs. “Nice dress.”

  Again, I’m not lying to say that. Ivy looks immaculate in a champagne-colored dress that does nothing to hide the curves of her body. She’s never been shy about that, though. She was a temptress at best when we were growing up, but now she’s absolutely stunning.

  “I know you’re kidding,” she answers. “About the fucking, I mean.”

  Giving her a slow smile that reveals exactly what I’m thinking, I ask, “Am I?”

  Her eyes flick over to me again. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Or maybe she doesn’t know what to do with me.

  This isn’t Ivy.

  But then I’d guessed that from the texts we’d exchanged over the past week.

  And it makes what I have to do almost too easy.

  Flashing me a wobbly smile, she glances out the passenger window as the car pulls smoothly over the driveway. Light from the fire sconces lining the path flicker against her eyes, and I’m captivated by the sight of it.

  “You have a beautiful place,” she says.

  “Thanks. I’ve put a lot of work into it. It took almost a year of renovations to get it exactly how I wanted it after I bought it.”

  Her eyes round with wonder, although I’m not exactly sure why. The house Ivy grew up in makes Tanner’s place look like a run-down, low rent hovel.