“Do you have the paperwork?” Hawk asked. “From your parents’ files?”
“In my bag,” Cassie said. “Why?”
“Give it to me. I’ll have one of my buddies from the Bureau look into it, see if he can make any more connections.”
“The Bureau?”
“Hawk used to be a fed,” I said.
Cassie blinked like I was speaking another language and she didn’t have a translating app handy. “A fed like… with the FBI?”
I threw my ball against the wall, caught it when it bounced back. “Is there any other kind?”
Cassie looked at Hawk like she was seeing him clearly for the first time. “You used to work with theFBI?”
“Once upon a time,” Hawk said. “You going to give me the papers?”
She hesitated, dug in her bag, and pulled out a stack of papers held together with a paperclip.
Super retro.
“In the meantime,” Jagger said, “I’ve been thinking about the Aventine connection.”
I held the ball in my hand, putting the pieces together. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I think so,” Jagger said
“Wait a minute…” Cassie looked from me to Jagger. “What are we thinking?”
Hawk stood, grabbing the papers out of Cassie’s hands as he headed for the hall. “They’re thinking it’s time to talk to the Kings.”
“Who are the Kings?”
42
CASSIE
“I thoughtwe were going to Aventine?” I said as we passed the sign for the university.
I was in the front seat of the G-Wagon next to Vigo, who looked unfairly hot in a black tank top that showed off his musclesandhis ink, his thighs spread just enough in the driver’s seat that it was hard not to stare at the bulge of his dick.
It was worse now because I knew what it felt like in my hand — in my mouth — although not yet where I wanted it most. I’d had time to play with both him and Jagger in the five days since Jagger had discovered the connection to Kensington Trust and I had zero regrets.
Okay, that was a lie. I had two regrets: Hawk still hadn’t joined us and I was still a virgin.
“We’re going to see the Kings,” Vigo said, flashing me a grin, his eyes shaded from the July sun by his sunglasses. “Not the same thing.”
“I thought the Kings were part of Aventine,” I said as we slowed down to approach a winding driveway.
“‘Were’ is the operative word,” Jagger said from the back seat. “They’ve been out for a while now.”
“Then how can they help us with the Aventine connection?”
“Just because they’re not enrolled doesn’t mean they don’t still run the school,” Hawk said next to Jagger.
Gravel crunched under the tires as we wound our way up the leafy driveway, sheltered on both sides by old trees. When we finally emerged into a clearing, I expected to find an old house, maybe a Victorian like Daisy’s or one of the old farmhouses that were still scattered in and around Blackwell Falls.
But the house that came into view was a far cry from either of those things. It was big and modern, a series of cubes made largely of glass that shimmered under the sun.
