IV
Gemini
“A nything?” Syn is right behind me, breathing down my neck.
“If you want up my ass, let me drop my pants first before you bite,” I mutter.
“I swear to god, Gemini, stop fucking around.”
I stop typing and spin my chair around. Syn is only just quick enough to jump out of the way. “I know I make this shit look easy, but it takes longer than five seconds to hack someone’s phone records, and it will go a lot quicker if you back the fuck up.”
“It’s a waste of time, anyway,” Royal mutters. He’s pacing back and forth alongside my bed, like he has been for the last hour. “The best we might find is a number from a burner phone. Any messages will have been encrypted before they were deleted.”
“It could be suicide,” Syn says.
“If it’s suicide, there’s not going to be an untraceable number. If it’s a cover-up, then even if Salaway was a dumbass, his killer will have deleted all the evidence. Admit it, Syn, you’re just wasting Gem’s time.”
Royal’s not wrong.
I’ve checked the access codes for the house, and between us leaving and returning, there are only two entries, both matching the code we gave this year’s initiates. If Vixen hadn’t survived and hadn’t been able to tell us it was Salaway, then that clue might have helped before. I’ve been able to hack Salaway’s social media—idiot uses the same password for everything—and while there was some bitching about Vixen a while back, there’s no direct reason there.
The only thing linking him to her is his suicide note, where he confessed to killing Vixen, without giving a motive, and that he was taking his own life because of the guilt.
Syn’s got me hacking his phone company to see if he’d received any calls from unknown numbers, but as Royal pointed out, it’s not going to tell us much more. If Salaway didn’t attempt to kill Vixen because he wanted to, there’s only one place where those orders would have come from.
“Or do you want to check that nothing’s going to lead back to you?” Royal asks.
“Yikes,” I mutter.
Not that Royal isn’t saying what I’m thinking.
Syn’s made no effort to hide how much he hates Vixen.
“What?”
Royal puffs up his chest as he folds his arms and glares at Syn. “You couldn’t get rid of her when you released that video, so you got Salaway to finish the job.”
Like his system is rebooting, Syn seems to freeze. Then, with no warning, he launches himself at Royal. Royal barely dodges Syn’s fist, but he recovers quickly, spinning and wrapping his arms around Syn, flinging him on my bed.
It’s tempting to leave them there to wrestle it out on my bed, but it’s only fun if there are no clothes and plenty of oil. Leaning over, I open a desk drawer and pull out two pairs of handcuffs. Before either of them know what’s happened, I’ve handcuffed each of them to opposite bedposts.
“The fuck, Gemini?” Royal snarls at me.
“You should be grateful,” Syn snaps at him.
As they continue to insult each other, I walk over to a box in the corner and fish out the two ball gags I have. With them hanging off my index finger, I hold them up as I walk back over. “Are you two going to shut up, or do I need to use these?”
“Have you switched your ADHD meds out for crack?” Syn asks me. “Let me go before I—”
“Kill him?” Royal offers. “Wouldn’t be the first, right?”
“Fuck’s sake.” I toss the ball gags to the side, picking up a riding crop. From this angle, I’m able to whip Royal across the ass, but Syn’s lands on his thigh.
“Oh my fucking god, Gemini!” Syn bellows.
“You’re fucking unhinged,” Royal cries, rubbing his ass.
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t hit either of you hard enough to hurt, but I will next time.”
“I’m going to chain you to the bed and whip your ass,” Royal tells me.
He means it as a threat, but under different circumstances, I’d be stripping and laying down with my ass in the air. Maybe I can persuade him another time?
“Royal doesn’t really think you tried to kill Vixen, do you?” When Royal doesn’t answer, I raise the crop.
Royal huffs, shooting me a glower before he turns his attention to Syn. “No.”
“Good.” I nod. “Because we know Syn was with us and couldn’t possibly have done that, and , if he did give Salaway the orders, we both know he’d tell us, right, Syn?”
Syn’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t try to kill her, and I didn’t give any orders.”
“So why has it taken our entire lives to get to this point where we throw fists at each other? If we’re going to throw fists, we throw fights.”
“Because he’s suddenly decided he cares about Tori,” Royal snaps.
“Cares?” Syn arches an eyebrow. “I care that the sister of the person who I thought killed my brother spreads her legs once , and Royal decides that pussy is more important than friendship. He cared first.”
Royal doesn’t say anything, instead, he looks away.
“Well, huh,” I say.
Syn switches his attention to me. “Don’t pretend you haven’t when you’re the one who’s given her a fucking pet name.”
Before he can move out of the way, I reach over and whip his thigh. “I was huhhing at the fact you said thought . Past tense. Which means you don’t think her brother killed JP.”
Syn goes to hit me, but I step back out of his reach. He lets out an annoyed grunt then sits down on the edge of the bed and rubs at his temple with his one free hand. “Sometimes, Gemini, I genuinely wonder if your parents adopted you from Area 51.”
I shrug. “They’ve never mentioned it, but it’s not completely impossible.”
“Is it too late to disown him?” Royal asks Syn.
“You can try and get rid of me, but I’m like herpes. I’ll keep coming back.”
Royal stares at me in disbelief. “Have you ever tried to filter what comes out of your mouth?”
I point at the discarded ball gags. “They work sometimes.”
“Okay, enough,” Syn says with a half-hearted snap. “I appreciate a lot happened very quickly, and you have the attention span of a fucking gnat, but I did tell you that I was starting to doubt that Cole Reynolds murdered JP.”
Saying I have the attention span of a gnat is quite generous, especially when it comes to some of the things Syn says, but not this time.
“You said you thought the murder was orchestrated by the XXXVII, and I pointed out that meant you were essentially accusing your father of, at the very least, conspiring to kill his son. Then I asked what the motives would be, and you didn’t give me any.” I shrug. “And considering that, even by my standards, that all sounds pretty crazy, I figured you were just venting shit.”
With his free hand, Syn rubs his face as he seems to deflate onto my bed. “I did. But the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense. My father was angry that she came here. He wanted her gone—not dead. When he found out Reynolds had confessed to JP’s murder, he was determined to get the death penalty in a state which doesn’t even have it.”
“So Daddy Keyingham doesn’t know anything about JP’s murder?” I ask.
Syn shoots me a dark look. “Don’t you ever call my father daddy again.”
Does that mean I can call Syn daddy?
“Whatever you’re thinking, put a stop to it.” Syn practically growls at me. “Because I know damn well your mind is running to places it shouldn’t. No, I don’t think my father knows anything about JP’s murder. But I also don’t believe Salaway would just take it upon himself to try to kill someone—for me—without trying to get some kind of acknowledgement from me. He’s a tool for someone. That someone could be anyone.”
“It could be, but realistically, to have the ability to get Salaway to carry out the act, then only someone in the XXXVII would have that reach. And, if we’re seriously saying that’s an actual possibility, then they won’t be happy when they find out Tori’s still alive.” Royal points out. “They’ll want us to clean things up. I don’t care how much it pisses you off, but I can’t do that. Not her.”
If the XXXVII give orders, you follow.
“That depends on who wants her dead,” Syn responds.
Pursing my lips, I tap the crop against my thigh. “Who do you think that is? And why?”
“Who has motive?” Syn asks.
I raise the crop and point it at him.
Syn rolls his eyes. “Aside from me—and aside from my father. My guess is du Pont.”
“Why the fuck would Preston du Ponce want her dead?”
“Because if someone killed one of my best friends, I’d want the revenge too.” Syn narrows his eyes as he looks at me, his arm tugging the cuff against the bed post. “Or, in your case, I’d give them an island as a thank you.”
I clutch at my chest. “Harsh.”
“Are we saying Preston did this with or without the XXXVII’s knowledge?” Royal asks, ignoring the completely unnecessary insult that Syn gave me.
“We all know that the XXXVII want me to walk into the White House. If they wanted her dead, it wouldn’t have happened in this House—not while I’m living in it. There might not be evidence, but the gossip would fly about my feelings for her. Some things could be brushed under the carpet, but this would be something that could tarnish my reputation in the future.”
Syn tries to pace... He doesn’t get very far.
“You think Poncy went rogue?” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m surprised he cares enough.”
“I agree,” Royal says, slowly. He frowns. “But I also agree with Syn: Salaway acting on his own accord doesn’t fit. If there is someone else, it does make sense that the only one with a level of reach to achieve this is associated with the XXXVII. But this doesn’t help Tori. If someone wants her dead, they’ll try again.”
“You’re assuming they’re the ones hunting her,” Syn says slowly. “If the XXXVII were behind this, why has no one called us? We went to the police with Salaway, so they’d know.”
Royal cocks his head. “You’re saying we wait for them to call?”
“I say, we act like the British,” I declare.
“And what? Make a cup of tea?” Royal grabs a pillow and launches it at me.
I punch it away. “Instead of hunting foxes, they chase a scent.”
Syn looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, gently shaking his head, but Royal straightens his back. “You mean, hide her somewhere? Even if we could get her off campus, what happens when the XXXVII ask you where she is?” Royal asks me. “Even you will tell, and if you don’t, you’re not good enough to make her disappear by yourself.”
While I’d give it a go, Royal’s right. The XXXVII have more resources available than I could dream of.
“If she leaves here, they might not want us to do it. And if she’s not here, maybe she’ll let things go, and the XXXVII will consider the matter handled.”
“It’s a stupid plan.” Syn snorts at me.
“What was your plan?” Royal attempts to cross his arms, but when the handcuff stops him, he plants his hands on his hips.
“What do you mean, my plan?”
“You’ve had Gemini trying to hack Salaway’s phone records in a blind attempt to confirm that the XXXVII was involved. Clearly, you thought that was going to be the case, so what the fuck were you going to do next?”
Syn glares back at Royal. “As I said, if it was the XXXVII, why has nobody called us? Either way, the college has been compromised. Trying something again here would be foolish and have too many people asking too many questions. Whoever wants her dead would want her off campus. The safest place she can be is here.”
“What a brilliant idea.” I toss the crop to the side, and with a grin, skip towards the door.
“Gemini, you fuck. Uncuff us.” Royal snarls at me.
Ooops.
I’d forgotten they were cuffed to my bed, but when I turn and find both of them glaring at me, I hold up my little finger. “Only if you pinkie promise to handcuff me to the bed later.”
“Unlock the fucking handcuffs, Gemini,” Syn yells at me.
With a dramatic sigh, I walk over to the desk drawer I got the handcuffs from and root around for the key. Then I turn back and grin at them. “Do you know if Moran keeps bolt cutters in this house?”