I hop on my bike so I can take a quick run around the cliffs. Since drumming is out of the picture and the only girl I want naked and writhing under me is Grey, all I have to work out my restlessness is my bike.
Riding one-handed is going to be tricky, but thereâs no law that says I canât.
Even if there was, I wouldnât care.
I walk the bike to the front lawn and Iâm just about to throw my leg over it when I see a sleek black car slow down in front of the house.
Itâs dad.
I know by the way my skin curdles.
Hopefully, heâs here to screw with Dutchâs head and not mine. Iâm down a hand, but my twin has two arms to throw sensible punches with.
The window winds down. Dad appears, wearing dark black shades that hide his eyes from the sunshine.
âGet in. We need to talk.â
Yeah, Iâm not doing that.
I use the back of my foot to flick the stand and try to keep the bike balanced with one hand, but itâs so freaking heavy. Maybe I should have kept the stand down so I could balance it better while I hopped on.
By the time I figure myself out, dadâs muscleheads are climbing out of the car. One wraps his hands around my bike while the other grabs my shoulder.
âOff.â I wrench my arm.
He gives me a blank stare.
I glance at the house. If I shout, my brothers will come running.
I know that like I know my own name.
The problem is that Vi is here. So is Cadey.
What Dutch told me about their pregnancy issues bothers me and dad stirring up another mess with the girls right here doesnât sit well.
I decide not to put up a fight and go quietly.
Iâm not as calculative as Finn and I donât have two people to protect like Dutch, but Iâll hold my own. Dadâs insanity canât be worse than mine.
Swinging my leg off the bike, I stomp over to dadâs truck.
Once I slip inside, his meatheads start the car and we take off.
Dad stares straight ahead, wearing a black turtleneck with long sleeves that covers the ink on his body. Heâs wearing a watch so heavy, I wonder how his wrist can even hold it up.
âMake this quick,â I snap. âIâve got school.â
âArenât you suspended for a few more days?â
I glare at him. âWhat do you want?â
He laughs at me, and I hate him a little more than I thought I did.
âDo you know, Zane, that you remind me the most of myself when I was younger?â
I almost shudder. Thatâs not a compliment.
Dad takes off his sunshades and clips it in the collar of his turtleneck. âIâd gotten my first record deal and had my first taste of success. The world loved me and the girls wereâ¦â He blows out a breath as if heâs recalling every filthy, disgusting thing women were willing to do for him in the bedroom. âI had them eating out of my hand. Anything I wanted, anyone I wanted, I got them like this.â He snaps. âBut I was so stupid that I overindulged and almost lost it all. If I didnât have someone straighten me out and show me what was at stake, I would have imploded.â
âThanks for the trip down memory lane, dad, but can you get to the point before I have to puke?â
His eyes narrow on me. âHave you thought about what I said during our last conversation?â
âHow Iâm stupid, reckless and not worth a crap? Yeah, how could I forget a pep talk like that?â
Dad bares his teeth in a dark chuckle.
âHow far are we driving?â I glance out the window. Now that I think about it, dad is heading out of the city.
For a split second, I wonder if heâs going to kill me. And then I let the thought go. If he wanted us dead, he wouldnât do it himself.
And itâs freaking sad that I know for a fact that dad would kill us if he needed us out of the way.
The car makes a weird noise as we head off the road and bounce over deep potholes. I grab the handle above my window, trying to stay seated.
Dad looks unbothered. âYou and Finn moved out of the house. Did you discuss it with Marian first?â
I glare out the window. If I hadnât moved out, Marian would have kicked me out herself. We havenât spoken yet, but I have a feeling she doesnât want me anywhere near Grey.
âShe would have been distraught if not for the good news.â
I whip my head around. âWhat good news?â
âGrace went on a date yesterday. She told her mom she had a nice time and she plans to see him again.â
I curl my fingers into fists. Dad could be lying but, from that self-satisfied smirk curling his lips, I donât think he is.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Why would Grey tell her mother that sheâs dating that guy? What the hell is going on?
I want to pull out my phone and text her immediately, but dad is watching every little move I make.
The car stops.
Itâs right near the cliffs where I kissed Grey that night. The location isnât lost on me. My eyes take in the red clay, large rocks and the dangerous cliff that leads to nowhere but air and then a rocky demise. In the light, this place looks even more desolate and menacing.
Why are we here?
Dad doesnât do anything without an ulterior motive.
This car ride.
The creepy intimidation tactic.
Itâs all carefully chosen.
As if theyâd rehearsed it, dadâs goons climb out of the car. The doors slam shut and then a heavy silence drapes over us.
Something crinkles, heightening the tension.
I see dad moving an object from his left side and bringing it to his right. Itâs a brown envelope.
My uninjured hand remains stiff in my lap.
âGo ahead.â Dad offers the envelope. âOpen it.â
I glare at him.
Dad lifts the envelope and shoves it in my direction, insisting without saying a word.
I drop it in my lap, and peel the tab with my right hand. Dadâs eyes never leave me, almost like heâs waiting for something.
Once I turn the envelope over, a bunch of pictures come flying out.
My skin starts crawling.
Itâs me and Grey at the dance. The qualityâs grainy and whoever took it was probably filming through the glass panel window in the door, but thatâs definitely Grey.
My lips are on her neck and sheâs gripping the back of my hair passionately. The next photo is of Grey in the classroom, her head thrown back, mouth open in bliss while Iâm disappearing under her skirt.
Someone was spying on us.
My eyes whip up to dad and I give him a look thatâs pure hell. âYou were spying?â
âYou really should pay more attention to your surroundings when youâre screwing a teacher, Zane. If you canât do the right things, at least do the wrong things well.â
I grip the photographs so tight that they crumple.
The leather chair makes a noise as dad leans toward me. âDid you enjoy it, son? Being perverse? Breaking the rules?â
My nostrils flare.
âNow that you had your fun, itâs time for the consequences.â Dad picks up a picture and shoves it in my chest. âI told you that thing in your pants would get you in trouble someday, but you never listen, Zane. I guess itâs my fault for thinking you could do better if you were warned.â
His words rake against me, each one like a sharp claw digging into my flesh. My first instinct is to go after dad, but I just keep my fist at my side and glare at him.
One corner of his lips hitches up. He glances down at my clenched fingers and then meets my eyes again. âYou wanna hit me?â
Freaking psycho.
Iâve always wonderedâall these years, Iâve wonderedâwhat it would be like if my father wasnât the Jarod Cross. If he worked a regular job at a regular office. If he came home smelling of sweat and hard labor rather than booze and some other womanâs perfume. If he taught us guitar because it was once a hobby of his, a dream that he gave up because music rarely pays the bills and he loved his family more than his ambitions.
But that wasnât the cards I was dealt.
And this monsterâs blood runs through my veins.
Making me a monster too.
Dad lifts one of the pictures, one where Iâm kissing Grey on the mouth. âWhat I had to learn, all those years ago when I was a newbie in the industry, youâre going to learn it too. But not in front of the world. No, youâre not going to make those mistakes where the cameras can pick them out and laugh at you. At us.â
âYou went to so much trouble,â I snarl, looking at dad in rage. âBut what the hell do you get out of it, huh? Just another screwed up way to control us so you can run for governor?â
His brows lift imperceptibly. This time, his eyes fill with amusement.
âYeah, I know about that,â I snap. âYou need Granâs inheritance so you can fund your campaign, donât you? Teaching at Redwood for a semester, running for the chairman of the board seat, itâs all to change your image so people are willing to vote for you.â
Dad laughs, and the sound sends a black, chilly shadow over the car. He lets out a long sigh, as if his body canât take any more laughter and looks at me with eyes like hell. âDamn, youâre an idiot.â
I snarl at him.
My phone buzzes and, at the same time, thereâs a knock on the window.
Dad lowers the glass as I check my phone.
There are a bunch of texts in our group chat.
Cadey: Did anyone know Miss Jamieson was live-streaming?
Sol: What?
Dutch: @Zane You need to see this.
Dad winds the window back up. Whatever his goons told him has him smiling.
I click on the video link that Cadey sent.
It opens up to a video of Grey. Sheâs standing on the front steps of Redwood Prep with a bunch of microphones around her.
My stomach drops.
What the hell is going on?
I whirl around. âTake me back to the city. Now.â
Dad peers at my phone and smirks. âNot yet. Letâs see what she has to say first.â
I notice the blank, almost business-like tone heâs using and something snaps into place in my head. I drop my gaze to the pictures and then lift my head, staring at dad with new eyes.
Heâs right. I am an idiot.
âYouâre not going to use these pictures,â I breathe out. It all settles into place in my mind, like a million glass shards reversing in time, each one fitting back into the mirror a moment before it shatters. Whole. New. Reflecting the truth.
My heart starts to race.
âYou were never going to use those pictures.â I lift them. âTheyâre grainy. Weâre wearing masks that cover our entire faces. The only people who could correctly identify us are me and Grey. No one else would look at these and use them as evidence.â
Dad tilts his head to the side, saying nothing.
âEven worse, if people find out, your entire campaign would go up in smoke.â
His gaze swings away from me and then ricochets back, stabbing me like a knife.
âYou wanted me out here. You wanted me away from her.â I think about those boxes. The fact that all the files on The Grateful Project led nowhere and yet we conveniently found out that Harris was stealing from the school. Perfect evidence. A freaking bomb dropped in our laps and wrapped in a pretty bow.
The truth jolts me to the edge of my seat. âYou wanted her to do this interview. You want her to be the one who blows the whistle on Harris.â
âAnd why would I do that?â Dad goads.
My mind races.
I dig my fingers into the chairs. âBecauseâ¦â It hits me. âBecause if sheâs the one who takes Harris down, he wonât blame you for his downfall. You take him off the chessboard without any harm to yourself. Or the people behind the Grateful Project.â A dark hole opens up in the bottom of my stomach and it sucks the air out of my lungs. âYou know something about The Grateful Project.â
My nostrils flare when dad smiles.
Itâs like heâs taunting me, daring me to figure out the rest on my own. To admire the full breadth of his schemes. Inviting me to see the bigger picture, the way he played us all along.
âWho are the people involved in that project, dad?â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â He leans forward, his teeth flashing like a wolfâs. âBut if I did, Iâd say they were dangerous and theyâd be really, really upset with anyone who stirs the pot.â
The rest of his words go unsaid, but I hear them like a gunshot.
Those involved in The Grateful Project would be angry enough to silence anyone who threatens to tear their masks off.
Sweat rolls down my back and it gets hard to swallow.
Grey.
No!
At that moment, I hear the most terrifying words.
âPrincipal Harris was just a cog in the machine that took my best friendâs life. But there are others. Guilty perpetrators who were involved in The Grateful Project. Whoever you are, and whatever youâve done, I will drag your sins to the light.â
I look down at my trembling hand and find Grey on the livestream, eyes fierce and lips pursed in determination.
âMm.â Dad makes a sound deep in his throat. âThatâs not good.â
Frantic, I whirl around and snap the door handle. At that moment, the child locks engaged.
I hear the snap of the door closing.
The handle wonât budge.
âOpen the door.â
Dad just laughs.
I throw my elbow against dadâs neck and drive him against the window. He slams into it with a thunk.
âOpen the damn door!â
Teeth flashing white, dad stares me down. âYou behave yourself, Zane. Behave yourself and Iâll make sure no one touches this family.â
On edge, I grit my teeth. âYou wonât ever get what you want. Iâll make sure of it.â
Shouts erupt from outside.
Dadâs goons see that I have him against the window and rush to unlock the door so they can help him. I pounce on the opportunity, throw my door open and rush through the desert.
I have to stop this.
I have to get to Grey.