16
“What are you thinking?” I asked my older brother as we stepped back inside the Lud.
“I’m thinking that we could use her to our advantage,” he told me. Then his phone rang, and he showed me the screen, and it was Mom calling. I checked my phone to see if she had tried to call me, but no, the oldest son was the apple of her eye.
“Answer it, bro?” I insisted, “Or else she’ll start harassing me to harass you to call her. And that puts me in a fucking bad mood.”
“If it’s important, she’ll leave a message,” he pointed out, and I made chicken noises to provoke him. The real reason he’s not answering the call was that our mother was a bossy, terrifying woman, who was very difficult to say no to.
My phone lit up, and I groaned as Mom’s name flashed up on the screen, so I swiped to take it: “Your oldest son is avoiding your calls. I’ll pass on your demands to him.”
“Ezrah, put him on,” she snarled, but I was disappointed that my charm didn’t work on her.
Sickle made a cutting throat action with his hand to indicate that he didn’t want to talk to her. “Sure, he’s right here,” I handed my phone to him, ignoring the unfriendly scowl.
He took a deep breath, cleared his throat before answering, “Hi,” he said politely, and I cracked up laughing as I ran up the stairs to grab a mattress from the only empty room in the house. Then found some blankets in the closet that smelled like pot, but seemed clean.
As I dragged the mattress down the stairs, Sickle had just swiped off the phone, wearing a face like thunder.
“And?” I sniggered as he handed me the phone. “What are your orders from the queen?”
“The funeral,” he snarled, looking annoyed as fuck.
“Maxwell’s funeral? Has there been an announcement?” I asked, awkwardly opening the front door and dragging the mattress out onto the balcony.
He seemed annoyed, “Not yet, but she wants me to escort the Boleyn girl to the funeral. Fuck, I told her that you and Lev were planning to take her, but she wants me to go as well.”
“Why? Doesn't she think we can handle it?” I pressed, ignoring the resentment rising in me at the difference in how the golden boy, the oldest son, was treated differently from me. I was basically the message-taking secretary, whereas Nicolae was the boss.
“Nah,” he sighed, “I think she has plans…probably the plans that I have.”
“Like,” I pointed my thumb in the direction of the basement, “as in using her as a pawn?”
“She didn’t go into details, but she visited Dad in prison, and he was very keen on exploiting this opportunity.” He followed me out onto the balcony and took out the basement key from his pocket to unlock the door.
“He’d be proud that we have her locked up in the basement, then,” I said sarcastically, thinking about the many times our father wished for the death of Maxwell Warwick, and now that it’s finally happened, it’s not quite what he imagined. “We could do whatever we want with her.”
“A rabbit in a hutch,” he said in a dark tone that concerned me a little.
“Bro, you’re not going to hurt her or anything?
” I needed to ask because I’ve spent more time with her than he has, so I've seen a different side of her, and honestly, I like her a lot. I enjoyed her fiery nature, and the fact that she was our enemy’s daughter made her even more attractive.
There’s nothing better than fucking your enemy who screams how much she hates you while cumming.
“Nah,” but I wasn’t convinced by his answer and suspected he had something in mind.
I laughed when he opened the basement door and immediately slammed it again to block something that was being hurled at him from within that banged against the wood.
“Spanner,” he said, wearing a look of amusement. “Maybe you should go first and use the mattress as a shield.”
“Fine, put the youngest son in the firing line,” I said sardonically as I shuffled closer to the door, held up the single bed mattress, so I was hidden behind it.
“On three,” Sickle stated, gripping the door handle. “One, two, three, and he flung the door open, and I quickly blocked the doorway with the mattress, then pushed it down the stairs as another tool was thrown at us under heated language, and luckily, Sickle slammed the door shut before it hit.
The door was quickly locked, and the key slipped into his pocket. “Bro, we can’t leave her down there for too long. There’s no ventilation. She’ll be inhaling grease fumes.”
“I’ll let her out in the morning,” he promised. “Hopefully, she’s learned her lesson by then.”
“What lesson?” I asked because it wasn’t the first time someone tried to break into the Lud, and it won’t be the last. We’ve been hit with paint bombs, fireworks, and hazing practices have taken place at our frat house, so why was Adina’s punishment worse than theirs?
Yeah, I know she’s Boleyn’s daughter, but she’s hardly a threat, especially after removing her gun and knife.
“Trying to break into the house,” he snarled, making me flinch. “Thought it was obvious.”
“Not really,” I muttered, not believing him. “Seems like you’ve got something else on your mind.”
He didn’t respond to my comment as we walked back inside, and I resigned to heading back up to my room to work on an assignment.
The first textbook my eyes landed on was my Finance book, and then I swiped for the snapshotted notes in my phone.
I found it difficult concentrating and waited twenty minutes before heading downstairs and out the front door to talk to Adina.
I pressed my ear against the wood, and it was deadly quiet, so I tapped gently so I wouldn’t frighten her, “Adina? Adina?” A bang struck the door of another tool thrown, and I grinned in pride at her fiery nature.
“Good that you’re alive and well,” I mocked, “but, ah, I was looking at our Finance notes, and there are a couple of points I want to talk to you about.”
Her voice snarled something that I didn’t hear properly, followed by another solid bang against the door. “Is that a yes?” I sniggered.
Then I heard the creaking of her running up the stairs, then more banging against the door, “I don’t have my books with me, do I?”
At this point, I was glad she couldn’t see my smiling face, because I was enjoying this heated exchange. “Yeah, I know, but I thought you could remember the notes, like what’s this about Financial Markets?”
“Let out, and I’ll tell you,” she said sweetly.
“That is tempting, but unfortunately, my brother has the key,” I informed her.
“Get the key off him, then,” she insisted, keeping her tone sweet, knowing exactly how to fool a horny man like me. “I’ll do whatever you want, Ezrah. We can do a rerun of our library episode.”
“Library rerun? Oh. Wait, you mean, when I fucked you over the table? Yeah, that was good. We’ll def do that again,” I pitched.
“Then you need to get the key,” she stressed.
“No chance, sweetie,” I exhaled, so close to doing as she asked. “I’ll jack off thinking about you sleeping down here all alone tonight, but I never defy my family. It pains me to say that family comes first, even when I miss an opportunity to slide my big cock into your wet pussy.”
She growled like a wild animal and kicked the door.
“How long are you going to keep me down here? I have class. I have…” It sounded like she was crying, but I couldn’t open the door to find out; besides, she might be faking it.
She didn’t have the physical strength I did, but she had her body to tease me with, and that was my weakness.
My fists clenched as I was dangerously close to kicking the door down, but instead, I backed away before I did something I might regret.
As I retreated with my tail between my legs, a cop car pulled up outside, and I crept inside and messaged Sick because I was unsure where he was in the large house.
Me: Campus cops have just turned up. Where r u?
They stepped up on the balcony and knocked on the door, and Cole answered, flinching and shooting me a look when he saw the uniforms. He knew the prize we had hidden under the house, so I hoped he kept his mouth shut.
“Can I help you, sir?” Cole said in a friendly manner, just as Sickle messaged me back with: Get rid of them.
Me: Fuck u. Get ur ass out here to speak to them.
“We received a concerning call from a student,” the cop said to Cole as I stood behind him, listening in.
“Yeah?” Cole said, feigning surprise.
“That you’re holding a student here without her consent,” the cop added, and Cole shrugged and shook his head, “Not that I know of.”
“You haven't heard of,” he checks notes, “Adina Boleyn?”
He shook his head, “No, I haven't,” then he stumbled and backtracked, “I mean…I have heard of her because she’s the drug cartel’s daughter, isn’t she? But I don’t know her personally.”
The cop made a face and spotted me in the background, “I don’t think her father is a drug cartel, but there is concern for her safety since he had just recently committed suicide, sadly.”
“Why would she be here?” Cole said, and the cop glanced at me again.
“Good question, but we’re going to take a look around,” the cop told him.
“Aren't you supposed to have a search warrant?” Cole asked him.
“Not on campus property,” he informed Cole. “Would you mind if we came in?”
“Sure,” I said as he stepped inside, and our roommates looked a little wary, and Sickle appeared from upstairs, “What’s going on?”
“They're having a look around for a missing person,” I told him so the cops could hear.
They split up, one cop stood in the entrance area and gazed up at the stairs, while the second cop wandered into the living room. “What’s in there?” the first cop asked, pointing to the games room door.
“The games room,” I answered, then flung the door open. “Be my guest.”
The second cop returned from the living room, took out his phone, and swiped for a number, then swiped off and poked his head into the games room where the first cop was and said, “Her phone has been switched off.”
“Interesting,” the second cop responded. “It was ringing earlier.”
I glanced at Nicolae, assuming they were referring to Adina’s phone, which he took from her.
They wandered around the ground floor, into the kitchen, second living room, and bathroom, then walked upstairs to peer into the bedrooms. They were upstairs for about ten minutes, then returned empty-handed.
There was nowhere else left to search, and as they maneuvered toward the front door to leave, Cop One asked, “Where’s your basement?”
We hesitated and tried to avoid looking at each other because it might reveal our guilt. Silence fell as the cops’ expressions grew suspicious at our lack of response. “Is access to the basement outside?” Cop Two asked, pointing to the door.
“Yes,” Nicolae was the one to cut the pressure as my nerves were going to hell in my gut. I kept trying to think of an excuse or something to deter them, but it would only seem even more suspicious. It was clear to me that they had information about the basement.
They walked outside as I mouthed, “What the fuck?” to Sickle because there was no way out of this shit, apart from saying that we misplaced the key, but they could still bust the door down.
The color was draining from Sickle’s face as heat prickled the back of my neck.
I considered running, and I wondered if Sickle was considering that too.
“Where’s the key?” I heard one of the cops ask loudly as he stood outside the door. “Anyone got the key?”
I looked back at Nicolae, who shrugged, surrendering to the situation, and revealed the key from his jeans’ pocket. “Got it,” he replied, approaching them and preparing to take the heat for it.
After all, it was his idea to trap her down there. We’ll get a good lawyer, the best money can buy, who will argue that it was a college prank, and Nicolae will get off with a slap on the wrist. I guarantee our mother will fight like a pitbull terrier to have her favorite son cleared.
He unlocked the locks, pushed the door, and the cops poked their heads inside. “What do you normally keep in here?” Cop Two asked.
“Motorbikes,” I heard Sickle’s unenthusiastic reply.
“Someone sleeping down here?” Cop One asked, obviously spotting the mattress.
“Nah, it’s storage,” Sickle replied as our roommates were hovering about curiously, having no idea why the police were there.
The cops disappeared inside, and I pulled Nicolae aside and whispered, “Tell them it’s a college prank.”
“She won’t go along with that story,” he whispered back.
The police reappeared, and I expected them to have Adina with them. “Alright,” Cop One said to Nicolae, “if you hear of Adina Boleyn’s whereabouts, please contact the campus police ASAP. We are concerned about her welfare and mental health.”
Nicolae was stunned, but he hid it well and closed the basement door as the police thanked him for his assistance. But as soon as their patrol car was gone, he flung the door open again and disappeared inside, while I stood at the top of the stairs.
“She’s not here,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair, distressed. Then he stalled as a realization came over him. “Who has the other key?”