Rhett and Apollo left the safe house before the sun fully rose over the horizon. They took my Corvette, promising to drop it off in Chicago where it’ll wait fuck knows how long for my return.
I wasn’t pleased about losing my car, especially when Apollo handed me the keys to a 1966 Pontiac GTO.
My first thought: you have got to be fucking kidding, but once I peeked into the garage that changed to: holy hell.
The car is state of the art. Renovated, lowered, painted matt gray. The ancient sound system has been updated to allow for a CD player and a hands-free system that seamlessly connects with my phone at a touch of a button.
The engine roars as I exit the interstate, two suitcases full of new clothes in the trunk. I skipped the much-needed nap in favor of shopping.
In my favorite white shirts, waistcoats, and suit pants I’d raise too many eyebrows at college, so I had to buy an entire closet full of new clothes.
I settled for simplicity. Things that won’t make me stick out like a sore thumb among the sea of students: hoodies, pullovers, jeans, tracksuit bottoms, and t-shirts.
My skin crawled every time I tried on another pair of jeans to make sure they fitted. It still crawls at the thought of ditching my holster for however long.
I take a deep breath, flooring the gas pedal as I make my way to the Berkshires, Massachusetts, where Lakeside College sits in the middle of nowhere.
Literally.
Rhett didn’t exaggerate when he said it was remote. According to the map, the closest town—and liquor store—is half an hour away.
That’s not what almost had me ditching the whole thing. It was the information I found online: Lakeside used to be an asylum back in the eighteen hundreds.
With little over an hour of the journey left, I stop at a gas station, filling the tank with fuel, and my trunk with things that might come in handy like whiskey and bottled beer.
My phone rings when I get back on the road.
“How’s it going?” Dante’s voice fills the car, pouring out of the speakers. “On the road yet?”
“I’m an hour away,” I say, not surprised he’s in the know.
Dante might be the only person my father respects. Maybe it’s because he climbed so high in such a short time. If Rhett believed in such nonsense as hierarchy in the mafia world, he’d have to admit that Dante, at only thirty-six, had reached a higher point than him.
“Check your email when you have a moment. The boss in Massachusetts is a friend of mine.”
“Andres Radley,” I mutter, remembering a guy I met a couple of years ago.
“Same one. He’s aware you’ll be on his turf for… a while. His connections are at your disposal should you need anything.”
“Thanks. Hopefully I won’t be there long.”
“You sound uneasy, Carter.” A distinct click in the background as he lights his Zippo. “What’s going on?”
I run a heavy hand down my face, cracking my neck. “I fucking hate this idea and I don’t know, but it’s something… something doesn’t quite add up. I can’t put my finger on it. Rhett’s motives are sound, but I can tell he only showed me half the picture.”
Dante makes an approving noise, like he’s pleased I’m not letting my father pull the wool over my eyes. He knows Rhett’s a cunning bastard and he doesn’t trust him.
Neither do I.
While I might be wrong, I’d rather be proved wrong than ignore my intuition only to find out I was right all along and should’ve dug deeper when I had the chance.
“I’ll get Jackson on it,” Dante offers. “But you have to give me a lead.”
Jackson’s the magician in Dante’s crew: a tech guy capable of digging up information no matter how well hidden. Ryder’s that guy in my entourage; he studied under Jackson’s eye. Given this chance, I’ll take the mentor over the student.
A silent moment fills the car before Dante speaks again. “Give me something to get him started, Carter. Anything.”
“See what he can dig up on Alex Fletcher.”
“Alex Fletcher,” he repeats a touch louder; Jackson’s obviously nearby, probably with his laptop open, ready to work. “I’ll let you know when he’s done. Keep me in the loop. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
That’s the best advice I could hope for.
◆◆◆
With a handful of leaflets and booklets, I exit the dean’s office, heading back the way I came in an hour ago. It’s a funny feeling, sitting before someone who firmly believes they’re superior while reality paints a starkly different picture.
People don’t act like themselves when they think they have the upper hand. Their true colors only shine brightest when the tables turn. When the other person holds the ultimate power, that’s when you see who’s hiding behind misguided ambitions and beliefs.
Not many people stand their ground when facing someone like me. But they do always know who they’re facing.
The dean does not. She’s blissfully unaware that the balance of power was disrupted around here the second I arrived. She’s also blissfully unaware that she’s let a cold-blooded killer under her roof and is about to hand him his prey.
The lock will turn, click, and Hailey will be tucked away in a nightmare with a man tasked to break her mind and spirit.
Before she arrives, I have time to map out the grounds, get familiar with the routine, find out which dorm she’ll be staying in, and locate the best observation points.
It also gives me time to scrutinize the rich and insufferable attending this place. I like knowing who might pose an issue, who’ll be easily manipulated, and who could potentially stir up problems I don’t have the time or energy for.
Exiting the building I head across the courtyard toward the male dormitories. The architecture of the older buildings shows their age—Gothic designs, large looming windows, spiked towers, and ornate statues, one of which sits in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by a circle of perfectly round, trimmed bushes. A stone angel, wings outstretched like it’s a guardian holding everyone here under its protection.
Too bad for Hailey, I don’t believe in guardian angels.
Ten minutes later, I lock my dorm room behind me, almost twenty-four hours without a wink of sleep catching up with me.
Exploring the grounds will have to wait, just like wondering about that thing I’m missing and can’t quite place.
Hailey’s the target, but there’s an entire chessboard to consider… and I’m not certain all the pieces are in the game yet.
