Chapter thirty-one
Rylan
“You are one freaky sneaky motherfucker,” Tai chuckles, throwing me a knowing glance over his shoulder. “You’re starting to make me look sane.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up, T. Don’t pretend you’re not curious as well.”
Tai shrugs nonchalantly. “Never said I was innocent.” He laughs to himself, fingers slapping the keys as I try to follow the screen.
Bexley will have my balls if she finds out we’re doing this. She already has them in a tight grip but after this, there will be a whole new meaning to blue balls when she strangles me and the family jewels.
Strangely enough, I’m okay with the consequences. Not that I’m into cock and ball torture. Personally, I’d prefer my nuts stay attached to my body. And after hearing what happened to Cameron Caroma during junior year’s opening football game, I never want to experience a broken dick.
Every male in the vicinity felt Cameron’s pain that day, his shrieks measuring comparatively with a jet engine on the Decibel Scale.
Penile fracture was the technical diagnosis and the poor bastard has never been the same since.
I’m fairly certain he wears a junk cup twenty-four-seven and jumps if anyone makes any sudden movements near him.
But if Bexley snaps my manhood over this, it’s a price I’ll gladly pay.
“Anything yet?” I snap.
“My, my. You’re impatient. Have you tried meditating?” Tai suggests. “Or yoga?”
“Have you tried my foot up your ass?”
Tai groans playfully. “Tempting, Ry. Does our girl know you’re interested in tickling my prostate?”
I sigh, pinching my forehead. “I’m three seconds away from body slamming you into Sophia’s room.”
“Bex will be the least of your problems if we interrupt the sacred Kindle time,” Tai comments. “Okay—I have a few things. Where do you want me to start?”
Leaning in closer, my chin is practically on his shoulder as I scan the screen. “Anything. All of it.”
Tai tilts his head back, brushing our cheeks together. “Are we having a Titanic moment? Just to be clear—I’m Rose and you’re Jack.”
I turn my head slightly to look at him, painfully aware how ridiculous we’d look if someone walked in and saw us right now. Our noses are inches apart, my body hunched over his as I play big spoon with our heads cuddling. “Give me the information, Beckett.”
“Fineeee,” he exclaims with a sigh. “Elliott McIntosh, twenty-four. Originally from the West Coast but moved here two years ago after his parents separated. Currently lives with mommy. He’s been at the coffee shop for eighteen months.”
He pauses and I wait. Tai doesn’t say anything, a sly grin slowly spreading across his cheeks.
“And?!” I gesture, hitting him softly in the back of the head. “What else do you have for me?”
Tai jumps, rubbing his skull. “Ow! Control yourself, you heathen. What more do you want? Social security number? Blood type?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Well, I have them,” Tai grunts. “But I need to know what specifically you want me to find.”
Ever since meeting Elliott when I collected Bexley from work, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that he’s a bad apple.
Yes, yes. I’m certain it is that petty jealousy that was so-lovingly pointed out, but that’s still not going to stop me from sussing this guy out and making sure Bex is safe around him.
I straighten up, taking a step back from Tai. “Criminal history, disgruntled ex-girlfriends—anything that could mean Bex is in harm’s way.”
Tai nods, typing away. “And if there’s nothing sinister? We accept it and move on?”
“No.”
He chuckles at my quick reply. “I saw that coming. Alright—leave it with me.”
Ry: I did something. Forewarning: You’re going to be mad.
Bex: Hello to you as well. Wonderful. I leave you unsupervised for one day and already you’re becoming a loose cannon. What did you do, Astor?
Ry: You’ll find out tonight. The three of us are coming over. Also you’re going to need a bigger bed.
Bex: Now I’m definitely suspicious. Does this surprise involve dick? Because I’ll need to stretch beforehand.
Ry: Unfortunately, no. But I’m not ruling out fucking you until you pass out again. I’m planning on staying the night. Tai is adamant he is as well. Which in turn means Hunter will set up camp not to be outdone.
Bex: Well it is Tai’s turn tonight. You’re impatient.
Ry: Funny. Tai said the same thing.
I’m vaguely aware that my hand keeps drifting to my pocket every thirty seconds, checking that the laminated paper is still there. I could probably set a timer to it.
The Lawless Dragons tickets are firmly stuffed in there, ready for me to whip out and surprise Bex.
She may very well harm me for this as well. But I’m also confident she’s going to be excited. Plus… it’s a present. She can’t possibly hurt me over a gift.
I know how much she hates me buying things for her, but that’s just how I love.
It’s actually pretty sickening if I dwell on it too much.
If my mother hadn’t been sent away, maybe I’d be better at this—know the right way to be a boyfriend.
But unfortunately without her, the only way I’ve ever been shown affection is in the form of money.
Idiot me assumed that it was normal, that every family was as isolated as mine.
Galas and evening events, flashy credit cards, and expensive vacations were the highlights—and lowlights—of my childhood.
That’s only when my father had the patience to be around me.
It was minimal, of course. Dinners where staff or guests were also present so we didn’t have to interact.
For the longest time, I enjoyed it. What teenager wouldn’t?
I wanted for nothing and had everything I had ever dreamed of.
Until I realized the dream was just a concept planted in my mind, and eventually the flashy, materialistic things started to dull.
Honestly, I may have gone a little overboard. Like most other tickets in this day and age, they were sent digitally after I purchased them online. But where’s the fun in that?
The idea of Bex hanging it on her wall with her Lawless Dragons posters brings me a level of joy that I haven’t felt since I was a little kid.
I start tapping my pocket more frequently when I enter the spotless office. Maybe Bex is right—we’ve been conditioned too much to always be suspicious. This feels justified though.
I’m man enough to admit I’m being a bit overbearing and psychotic about the whole Elliott situation. But searching through my father’s office? Totally valid.
Especially after Hunter found those encrypted files on the Dean’s computer. It could be nothing, but I’m willing to bet it’s something. Just like my gut is telling me there’s probably more here.
He’s out at the mayoral office this afternoon doing the usual. Appearances, pretending to care, meetings. The efforts are doubling down the closer we get to the election period.
We all know he’s going to lose. I know it. He knows it.
I knew it even when I negotiated the votes from Bex the first night we became one in the warehouse parking lot. It’s still astonishing that she agreed to it—but all that shows is that Bex is confident the Cedar Heights candidate will win as well.
I’ve already decided that I’m going to tell her to rescind the promised votes. Even with everything I have against my father and the vile feelings he incites in me, part of me hates to back out of a deal. I’m nothing if not a man of my word. A deal’s a deal.
But this? I’m willing to compromise my beliefs if it means screwing him over.
As I start scouring his belongings, searching the drawers and filing cabinets, my mind drifts to another residence, blissfully imagining Bex’s face when she sees the tickets soon.
And I touch them in my pocket. Again.
These compulsive tics are going to slow me down at this rate. Even if I did drop them, it’s not like I’d lose the tickets.
I need to stay focused.
The sooner I can get through this, the quicker I can get to Bex’s house.
Nothing sticks out as I comb through his mayoral and personal paperwork, carefully making sure everything is exactly as I found it. He’s meticulous, and the smallest item out of place will raise the alarm.
Do I care? Not particularly.
I just don’t want to deal with him.
The final drawer is a disappointment—just a collection of project folders. I start to close it when the label on one catches my attention.
It’s just a regular address, almost insignificant, except I know that address. I’ve typed it into my GPS. I’ve been there.
Cedar Heights Academy.
Pulling the manila folder out, I flick it open and begin reading the small bundle of documents. All standard material you’d expect to find with a project. Building plans, safety reports, blueprints.
An application to construct halts me.
Why would they need to do construction? It’s a repair, correct?
Except this is for a brand new structure—a start to finish project.
Grabbing my phone from my pocket—the other one—I hold it steady as I snap photos. I quickly double check the quality before placing the folder back in the drawer and closing it.
Poor Tai’s going to have his work cut out for him at this stage. I might need to formally hire him.
After texting the others that I’m heading to Bex’s now, I grab my overnight bag and jog down the stairs excitedly.
My mind is strictly in tunnel mode so that when I close the front door behind me, I nearly barrel someone down the steps.
“Rylan,” a voice purrs. “I do love when you’re fast, but remember to use those pretty blue eyes to watch where you are going.”
The chill and repulsion is instant.
“Olivia,” I growl, annoyed. “What are you doing here? I’m on my way out.”
Liv’s eyes land on my bag. “Evidently. Let me guess… sleepover at dear Bexley’s?”
“That’s none of your business,” I shoot back, lips curling when I spot the nasal strip across the bridge of her bruised and battered nose. “You got that nose job you always wanted, I see.”
She narrows her eyes at me in a glare. “Despite your recent… choices, you’re not stupid, Rylan. You know exactly what happened.”
I nod once. “Yeah. You fucked around and found out.”
“I was assaulted!” She snaps, losing the cool and collected act. “Spencer did this.” She points to her nose with a sharp pale pink acrylic.
Crossing my arms, there’s not an ounce of compassion reflecting back at her. “From what I’ve been told, it was much deserved.”
Liv huffs. “She’s violent, Rylan. A delinquent who should be locked up for society’s safety.”
“Violence comes in many forms,” I say calmly. “Same with bullying. Words are powerful, Olivia. You should think before you speak.”
I go to step past her, done with this conversation. It’s never that easy though. The tiny patter of footsteps flurry behind me giving chase.
“She’ll pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.”
Spinning around hastily, I glare down at her. “Are you threatening her? I made myself perfectly clear where I stand and what I won’t tolerate.”
Liv cocks a sly half-smile, clearly loving that she has me riled up. “I’m only here to warn you. There are lots of people who would love to see the Cedar Queen taken down a peg or two. Don’t get caught in the crossfire.”
She emphasizes the last word and my blood starts to boil. I step forward, unfazed that she stumbles back slightly, letting out a wince as she touches her nose.
“Did you have anything to do with the fire the night of the dance?” I ask darkly.
Liv recoils, flabbergasted. “Ew. Why would I waste my time on someone like her?” She gawks at me. “I’m going to be prom queen next month.”
I raise an eyebrow, not bothering to hide my disgust. “You really are the most self-centered person in all of Ridgeview Valley. Congratulations. That’s quite the achievement.”
“You were supposed to go with me to prom,” Liv says, crossing her arms and pushing out her chest. “You have ruined all my plans.”
“You’ll survive.”
This time when I walk off, she doesn’t follow. But her voice still rings out after me.
“I warned you, Rylan. Just remember that.”
Ignoring her, I turn my truck on, drowning out her whiny voice as Lawless Dragons loudly plays. This new album is fucking amazing. Bex and I have been listening to it non-stop.
I don’t bother to check Olivia in the rearview mirror as I pull out onto the street, tapping my pocket one last time.
The sharp corner of the laminated paper pokes me back and I let out a sigh of relief, eyes darting up to the green light as I accelerate the gas to cross the intersection.
A horn blares out of nowhere, and I instinctively look around to locate the source of the noise, my foot easing off the pedal.
I have no time to react when I spot the large black Ford F-350 speeding toward me, running the red light.
Bang.
There’s a long screech of buckling and crumpling metal, my world spinning out of control in a tilted blur before I’m jolted to an abrupt halt. And everything fades to black.