KITTY SAT IN HER CAR OUTSIDE DONTÉ’S HOUSE, A TEXT TYPED into her phone but not sent. She reread it for the billionth time: I’m out front. Need to talk to you. Really important.
It was dry, to the point, and revealed none of the emotions currently spinning around inside her like an emo whirlpool. Even with the bombshell she was about to drop on Donté, she wasn’t sure if she’d blown her chance with him. His texts that afternoon had escalated from worried to concerned to frantic, but her only response had been “I’m fine” followed by radio silence as she switched off her phone. How did he interpret that? As a rejection? Did he think she’d gone completely cold?
Probably. It’s what Kitty would have thought if the roles were reversed. Still, she hoped that he’d at least be curious enough to hear her out.
She hit Send, then shivered. A thick layer of fog had rolled down from the bay, and the whole neighborhood felt damp and cold.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d have to wait: Donté wasn’t much of a late-night person, but at midnight on a Friday, he should still be awake.
She was right. As she stared at the screen, she saw the telltale dots indicating that Donté was typing a response. She held her breath as her phone vibrated.
Be right down.
Thirty seconds later she saw the front porch bathed in warm yellow light as Donté stepped outside. He wore a pair of blue-and-green plaid flannel pajama pants, a black T-shirt, and slippers. He must have been getting ready for bed, and as she watched, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, exposing a rock-hard eight-pack that disappeared into his PJ bottoms.
Kitty’s stomach did a backflip as she remembered those abs pressed up against her own. Focus, she said to herself. You’re here on business. She took a deep breath, and let it out in three short bursts, then swung the door open and stepped out of the car.
As soon as Donté saw her, he jumped off the porch and raced down the driveway. She didn’t even get a word out before he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“Baby,” he said, his breath tickling her ear. “I’m so sorry. I was a total asshole and I don’t know if you can forgive me but—”
Kitty giggled. She couldn’t help herself. The happiness inside bubbled over, and she felt herself shaking with the futile effort to keep from laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Donté asked. He sounded hurt.
She broke away and looked up at him. “I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me.”
Donté shrugged. “There’s nothing to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Neither did you.”
He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. “Not true. There’s been something going on, something big, and I let it get in the way of us. I wanted to tell you, but it might put you in danger, so I had to keep it a secret.”
Kitty nodded. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
A wicked smile broke the corners of Kitty’s mouth. “I know that you’re a part of the new DGM,” she said softly.
Donté’s eyes grew so wide Kitty thought they might pop out of his head. “How—?”
“Because I’ve been keeping the same secret from you.” She waited and let the meaning of her words sink in. She could actually see the moment when Donté realized what she was saying. His jaw fell open and his shoulders sagged.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“DGM?”
Kitty laughed again. “Yes.”
Donté ran a hand over his closely shaved head. “But . . . but you’re the student body vice president. You joined the freaking ’Maine Men!”
“I had to. We were trying to figure out who’d been carrying on in our name. They were a resource.”
“We?”
Oh, this was going to blow his mind. “Bree Deringer,” she began.
“We assumed.”
“Margot Mejia.”
“Also assumed.”
“And Olivia Hayes.”
Donté inclined his head. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
Donté took a step back, then walked in a tight circle, processing what he’d just heard.
“And now it’s you,” Kitty continued, bringing it all back home. “And Mika. Peanut Dumbrowski and . . . Theo?”
Donté stopped walking and looked up. “Are you a mind reader or something? How the hell could you know that?”
Where was she supposed to start? It was a ridiculously long story, one that she and the girls only partially understood. And there was one thing she needed to know first.
“How did you decide to take over for DGM?” Kitty asked. “How did the four of you come together?”
Donté arched his left eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
Uh-oh. Was she supposed to? “No.”
“You aren’t the one who recruited us?”
Kitty slowly shook her head.
“Oh.” He pulled his head back, his lips pressed together. “It was the morning after the assembly where Bree turned herself in. We all found notes on our doorsteps.”
Kitty’s stomach tightened. “In plain manila envelopes?”
“Yeah!” Donté gasped, then tilted his head to the side. “Wait, how did you know that?”
“I’ll explain later.” Her mind raced as she slowly realized the killer’s plan. “What did they say?”
“That it was time for a new team to step up and take over where the first DGM had left off. And that if I was interested, to meet on the tennis courts that night at eight o’clock. It was signed ‘DGM.’ When I got there I found Mika, Theo, and Peanut, and we just kind of jumped in.”
Kitty stared blankly at Donté’s house. The killer recruited a new version of DGM. I will destroy everything you love.
The photo, the anonymous invitation to be the new DGM. There was only one reason the killer would have involved their friends. “I think you guys are in a lot of danger.”
Donté gripped her shoulders, his worried eyes fixed on hers. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.”
“We need to get everyone together,” Kitty said. There was no time to lose. “First thing tomorrow morning. Your team and mine.”
“Okay. Why?”
She took his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to him. “Because I think someone’s going to try and frame you for murder.”
