When I finally set her down in the backseat of my Hellcat and hand the keys to Caleb, I’m pissed off for not knowing why I give a fuck and annoyed that I have to let her out of my sight. I barkat Caleb to take them home and then stay with them. We don’t need James questioning why Caleb is coming home in my car. This is going to take some finessing if we want to stay offDad’sradar.
I squeeze myself into Caleb’s too-small car and watch my own vehicle shrink in the rear view mirror. And I hate—hate—how uneasy it makes me to let Kira out of my sight. Something about her stubborn, reckless endurance is stirring a sharp, unwelcome pulse beneath my ribs. That determination… She’s going to live to keep it up, right?
Shaking my head to try and clear it, I pull out my phone and dial a contact.
“I need you at Industrial and Patton Road,” I say, hooking an arm behind the passenger seat with no room for questions. I hang up before they can confirm.
It’s about a thirty minute drive to the opposite side of town where Patton Road meets Industrial Hills—a place where back in high school we used to race our cars and risk our lives for fun, and the nostalgia burns as I roll down the window.
Between the familiar drive and seeing Kira, I might as well have a flip phone. The night air cools my fingertips where they tap on the windowsill, bringing back that illusion of invincibility when sneaking out felt like freedom and not an escape—when James was still ‘dad’ and my mother was still alive. I was only just learning what he really did as a lawyer, all the power moves and bribes that went on behind the scenes of his illustrious and deceptively honorable firm. I felt untouchable in the wake of it.
What kid wouldn’t?
I was the guy that got to break the rules because rules weren’t meant for Landons. There was nothing James couldn’t get me out of and nothing morals could touch. I had thecooldad, the one putting a gun in my hand and telling me that if I ever neededto shoot someone—to shoot to kill. Because maimed people sue. And dead people couldn’t.
Even now, that logic doesn’t feel entirely wrong. But it’s corrosive without limits—without my mother. She had been the balance to James’s callous lifestyle. Without her, the implications are much more insidious.
Turning onto Patton Road, my grip on the wheel tightens, the leather creaking under my fingers. I know that I’m only supposed to take a few bruises tonight, especially if I want to throw James off our tail, but the temptation to go all out gnaws at me. The trees lining the empty road blur past, promising oblivion. I inch the speedometer up to eighty-five as images of my mother rotting in a coffin flash in my mind.
She was ten years younger than James. She should have at least outlived him by that much. Kind and warm, with a penchant for being unbiased, she should have lived a long life. But ultimately, that naivety of seeing the good in everyone was her undoing. She had to have seen what James was capable of, but she chose to weigh his immoral career choices as a fair trade for his charm and intellect, hishonorablephilanthropy.
But there’s nothing honorable about James.
And there’s nothing honorable about sitting back and letting him exist when I know her death was his doing.
The gas pedal strains under my foot.
Seeing James again has relit the fuse I pinched between my fingers in an effort to stop from going crazy. I only came back from the city to make sure Caleb wasn’t going to be his puppet now that he’s coming of age, but it seems I should have come back sooner.
“Fuck,” I slam my palm against the steering wheel.
He thinks this is normal. That helping two girls hide a corpse is just another Friday. James has twisted him up so tight he can’t tell right from wrong, danger from safety, survival fromstupidity. He’s not ruthless—he’s indifferent, a worse flaw than cruelty in our world.
And it’ll get him killed.
With a clench of my jaw, I ease my foot off the gas. I can’t go out in a fiery blaze and leave him. I just can’t. I have to teach him.
Wrenching the wheel, the car veers sharply, and I force my body to go slack. I aim for a random tree, the headlights carving through the darkness.
The impact is deafening—a shattering crunch as the hood crumples inward like paper. The airbag erupts, slamming into me with brutal force, and my head snaps back, colliding with the headrest. Pain blooms as my ribs protest with shallow breaths. Through the taste of blood filling my mouth, I realize I’m going to have a nasty headache.
Groaning, I push the deflated bag out of my way. The car is hissing, steam rolling into the night, and I elbow the door to get out before it catches fire.
Idowant the car to burn, just not with me in it.
The night is quiet as I spit blood onto the ground and pull out my phone. Rolling my shoulder, I find a tree to lean against and dial nine-one-one.
“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”
When I don’t respond, the clipped voice continues to prompt, “Hello?” But I don’t need my voice recorded, so I stay silent long enough for them to locate the call and then hang up. Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I fumble and curse as one of my fingers doesn’t cooperate.
What in the?!
Squinting in the dark, I realize my middle finger is bent at an unnatural angle. With a growl, I snap it back into place without a second thought.
I wonder if Caleb would be so eager to help the Noland girls if he knew this type of cleanup normally runs our clients upwards of half a million—the likes of which Kira Noland couldn’t hope to see in her lifetime. Disposal of a body and evidence doesn’t come cheap… or easy. I make a fist a couple times, testing the joint of my finger. Maybe I should send her a bill. I chuckle to myself and pull out a smoke, amusing myself with the idea of hand-delivering her an invoice. I wonder if she’d narrow those pretty eyes right on me.
I take a couple drags as I eye the Audi, realizing it doesn’t want to catch fire on its own and that I’m going to have to get creative. Even though Officer Cully—who better be in the fucking area like I told him to be—is on our payroll, the less he knows, the better, and it’s better if the car is torched before he gets here. Funny how it could have just as easily been Officer Wayne receiving the call tonight.
