Dad is running for governor.
It’s so freaking ridiculous that it actually makes sense.
His play for our inheritance.
The chairman of the board run.
Teaching at Redwood.
Berating us for ‘ruining his image’.
It’s like someone flicked on a lamp in a dark room, illuminating all the shadows. Scattered puzzle pieces. Magnets snapping into place. Shifting tiles. A master puppeteer. Dad was painting a different kind of picture. One I never would have guessed even if someone shot me in the face with the truth.
Jarod Cross wants to rule more than just the music industry.
“What do you think they found?” Grey asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I look at her and try to keep the worry from my face. Her eyes are bright enough to burn and she’s smiling nervously. This is a big moment for her and I don’t want to ruin it by freaking out over dad’s plan to take over the world.
Or at least this part of the world.
“Zane, you okay?” She arches a brow, her voice going soft with worry.
It’s crazy the way she knows me so well.
The way she sees through my facade.
I almost slide over to her and give her another kiss. I know the only thing that would distract me from this nervous energy is unbuttoning her jeans and making her groan in pleasure, but I hold myself back.
Grey’s still trying to keep me at bay and if I push too hard, too fast, I’m no different than that creepy Steven who couldn’t take a hint.
I’ll work her down.
It’s just a matter of time until she’s mine completely.
I shake my head. “I’m good. What do you think the guys found?”
“Cadey said it was something big,” she adds. “That’s good, right?”
“All we need is a thread that links Harris to The Grateful Project.” I turn so my knee lightly touches hers. She doesn’t pull away. “The fact that those boxes were kept hidden means they have ammunition we can use.”
“I hope so,” she breathes. “Harris knows we were involved in that fire. I’ve been fielding calls from the administration office all day. The police are involved too. We won’t have many more chances after this.”
Her knee bounces up and down and I set a hand on it to calm her. “No matter what, we’re going to get your revenge.”
Troubled brown eyes meet mine and it’s a struggle to stay in my corner of the car. Does she know how badly I want to wrap my arms around her? One look at those luscious lips makes me burn in my pants. With one flash of those deep brown eyes, I’d burn myself and the world to the ground.
Grey inhales a breath, visibly composing herself. “How did you feel hearing your dad is running for office?”
I shift around. “I feel sorry… to all the people who’ll be dumb enough to vote for him.”
“You think he could win?”
“He’s definitely doing all the ground work.” I stroke my chin. “It’s surprising though. Dad isn’t the type to wear suits and ties. I don’t understand why he’d suddenly run for office.”
“Do you think it’s all connected? Him marrying my mom. Your inheritance.”
“Probably.” I tell myself to smirk, but my lips remain in a flat line. I can’t find the energy to smile and pretend that this isn’t ten kinds of screwed up.
“You’re worried,” she notes.
The skin under my cast itches. “I keep feeling like we’re always one step behind.”
She tilts her head, listening intently.
“What if that’s not all? What if, with all this, we’re still only seeing a part of the picture?” I mumble.
Every time it seems like we get a leg up over dad, he finds some way to reveal that he was holding the cards all along.
There’s got to be a way to end this once and for all. I just don’t know if I can be the one who makes it happen or if I’ll inevitably screw it up like I always do.
A soft hand lands on mine. I glance down and realize I’d been unconsciously scratching at my cast. Gently, Grey curves dark fingers around my pointer and sets it aside.
“We’re going to win.”
“You’re so sure?”
“In the stories, the good guys always win.”
My heart shrinks a bit.
Grey might be considered ‘one of the good guys’, but me?
I most definitely am not.
And that right there is what I’m most afraid of.
Because the villains… they always get close enough to taste it, but they never really end up with the happily ever after.
I follow Grey up the stairs into the house and note the heavy silence that hits us when we enter the living room. Boxes are scattered all over the rug. Stacks of papers form their own version of white-reamed skyscrapers. Energy drinks are crushed and piled in heaps, evidence of how boring this job was for my crew.
“You’re finally here,” Dutch says, drawing to his full height.
“Traffic was brutal,” I say.
Sol is leaning against the wall, sipping on a beer. His eyes meet mine and then drop to my wrist. His gaze screams murder when he sees my hand in a sling.
“How’s the wrist?” Sol asks. “You sure you don’t want to go back to the hospital?”
“It’s fine.”
He purses his lips and takes another sip.
“What did you guys find?” Grey asks, stalking forward. She lifts her purse over her head and then lets out a yelp of pain.
My eyes shoot straight to her and I realize her purse strap got tangled in her long, curly hair. I destroy the distance between us and stop her as she tries to yank the strap.
“Ease up, tiger,” I growl. “You’re going to tear your hair out.”
“It’s so annoying,” she mutters.
I brush her hands away and gently unwind her hair from the purse. Easing my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “Be gentle. Even the strands on your head belong to me.”
She shivers and twists her neck around. The brown of her eyes is almost completely overtaken by the black.
She wants me as much as I want her.
It’s so damn clear.
“Ahem.” Cadey coughs to get our attention.
Grey jumps as if she just got caught looking at me naked and whirls back around. If she had fairer skin, she’d probably be blushing. Right now, she’s just fluttering her eyelashes and looking like she’s suffering from heat stroke.
“W-what… I mean… you… on the phone… you said you found something,” she says breathlessly.
“Is it about The Grateful Project?” I ask, moving over to the box that Cadence is standing by. “Does it have dirt on Harris?”
“You can say that,” Cadey says.
“Okay…” Grey flips through the files. “What does that mean?”
I peer over her shoulder, pushing her curls aside so I can see into the document. It looks like a bunch of bank statements.
“What am I looking at?” I ask, whipping my gaze up to meet Finn’s. “Was this in the boxes we brought out of the hidden closet?”
My brother nods, his expression tight.
“I don’t understand,” Grey says. “This has nothing to do with The Grateful Project.”
“You could say it’s worse,” Dutch growls.
“Worse than a group of grown men preying on scholarship girls for their own twisted pleasure?” She shuffles forcefully through the papers. “I don’t think so.”
“We don’t have any evidence that Harris was involved in that,” Finn points out.
Grey turns to the side and looks at Finn, frowning. “I know it was Harris who called Sloane that night.”
“And that’s all the proof you have on him,” Finn says, slipping a thumb into his book to hold the page as if he doesn’t want this conversation to last long. “But that,” he juts his sharp chin at the documents Grey is crushing, “is a real bomb.”
“Bomb?” She squeaks and lifts it to the light.
We both look at it again.
“Who’s Cassandra Harris?” Grey purses her lips. “Her name is on all these statements.”
“That is Principal Harris’s ex-wife. She changed her last name back to her maiden name after their divorce, so this is basically a dud account. Except it’s been getting some giant deposits.” Cadey taps her finger against the file. The diamond ring on her hand nearly blinds me. “Guess from who?”
“The Grateful Project’s donors?” Grey asks earnestly.
Cadey’s smile sinks. “Not exactly…”
“We called around,” Sol explains. “And asked a few questions. Turns out those deposits are from the parents of some of the richest bastards at Redwood.”
“I cross-referenced with Jinx’s app.” Finn arches a brow. “The dates coincide with a bunch of major scandals that she wrote about.”
“You’re saying Harris was taking money from parents to quiet scandals?”
“Not just that. He was also taking money from the building funds account and from a bunch of scholarship programs,” Cadey adds. “Which explains why they’re so strict with the number of scholarship students that can attend.” She exchanges a knowing glance with Sol. “Because someone has to get the money. And it’s not a student in need.”
Grey closes her eyes and a slow, almost maniacal smile crawls over her face. “It’s not what I was hoping for, but…”
“But?” Cadey presses.
Grey smirks at me. “I can work with this.”
