Ava
A vicious game.
That’s what the years of a charade had been about, a need to condemn the rich and powerful boys who’d made it out of the tragic situation unharmed in any way. I’d learned so much in the last forty-eight hours, the families requiring them to attend Crandall University. It hadn’t been their choice or for that matter something they enjoyed. It was as much a prison as the private schools, some overseas, the boys had attended. Many of the girls as well.
They had a network, which my father hadn’t been a part of. Instead, he’d been hired by one or another syndicate or corporate mogul to trim the fat so a golden path could be provided for their children. It was fascinating, although I’d seen pain in Clinton’s eyes in particular as he’d spoken of his family. Whatever he’d endured as a child had been horrific.
I’d seen it before, kids who were abused never able to get over the trauma completely. His father had pushed him hard into becoming the head of the Cross Empire. I sensed it hadn’t been what Clinton had wanted.
Clinton had read the letter, and I sensed my father’s words had changed him. At least one of the men I loved more than anything had the same answers that I’d been seeking.
They weren’t pretty, the ugliness surrounding the reasons why something that would likely never be answered to anyone’s satisfaction. But they were the truths that might be able to set him free.
He was darker than before, not allowing me to know what he had planned. What the three of them had planned.
They’d removed the whiteboard, had stopped bothering to check the computer or make any phone calls, but their not-so-subtle meetings held in privacy had allowed me to feel the urgency of ending the charade as soon as possible.
Today was the day.
We’d shared in our passion and need, growing even closer. Sadly, it felt like we’d been living on borrowed time. I was sick inside, more so than I’d been during the entire time since learning my real identity. I missed my parents, but at least I knew they were safe. Would I ever feel safe again?
I stood pacing the floor in the living room of the gorgeous estate where we’d spent so many incredible hours, barely able to look out the window.
There were six guards watching out for me, walking the grounds. I’d seen them from the doors and windows, their weapons in plain sight. It terrified me.
My thoughts turned to the brother who’d been the reason for the destruction of so many lives. It was almost surreal that the plan had been many years in the making.
The pain of losing both his brother and his mother had been horrible enough. While my father, the Iceman, had been paid to end Donavan’s life, he hadn’t initiated the assassination. I couldn’t imagine what Clinton was going through.
My thoughts returned to the three men. While we’d teased about forever, buying several houses and even having a huge family together, I had no idea what would happen once this was over. I wasn’t unlike every other girl who either believed they were princesses and one day their prince would arrive or who fell hopelessly in love with a rogue of sorts. A man who held life in the palm of his hand.
Maybe I could buy into the concept of true love. At least my mother had set an excellent example. Unconventional? Absolutely, but that I didn’t mind. What worried me was that I wouldn’t be enough.
“Stop being silly.” Saying the words out loud didn’t make me feel any better.
A rumble of thunder drew my attention to the French doors. I could see a bolt of lightning in the distance, a storm approaching. I realized now why I hated storms with such a passion. But as the gray clouds turned darker, ominous shadows playing tricks with the light on the water, I was pulled into a horrific vacuum of fear. There was no reason why. I was safer than almost anyone I knew with so many guards prepared to lay down their lives for me.
What I feared the most was never seeing the men who loved me again. I knew they’d also protect me at the cost of their lives if necessary. A slow-burning agony continued to drive through my system, every muscle aching from extreme tension.
I had my phone in one hand, holding it close just in case, even if I didn’t expect them to call. It was a lifeline, a safety mechanism.
So, I continued pacing, trying to calm my breathing. I heard a slight knock on the door and jumped, a yelp escaping my throat.
“Whoa, Ms. Sadler. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I glanced at the man who’d entered, realizing I didn’t remember him. Maybe I hadn’t been paying close enough attention to those ordered to protect me.
“It’s okay. The storm is making me jumpy.”
“Yeah, I can understand. I just wanted to check to see if you needed anything.”
“I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
“Marty. I’m one of Clinton’s men.”
“Oh, okay. No, I’m fine. I think I’m going to make a drink. Would you like one?”
He didn’t answer right away, allowing what appeared to be a heated gaze to fall to my feet. I was instantly uncomfortable, but I chastised myself for being ridiculous.
“I’m on duty. Maybe I’ll take one later after this is finished.”
This. Even the way he said the single word seemed odd. I moved towards the bar, rolling my finger across the screen on my phone, noticing I’d accidentally scrolled to the text Weston had sent me when I’d left for San Diego. Just reading the words again offered some comfort.
As I pulled down a glass, I realized he was standing in the same spot staring at me. For some reason it annoyed the hell out of me. I poured a glass of wine, then tipped my head towards him, keeping my rockstar practiced smile on my face. “Did you need anything else, Marty?”
I backed away from the bar, moving towards the set of French doors. Another rumble of thunder sounded closer. I quickly looked outside, unable to see any of the guards.
“No. Not right now. Soon.”
Another tremor of fear drifted into my system. The wind was getting stronger, the sense of foreboding worse. As another flash of lightning powered closer to the estate, the sky took on an eerie blue color. Then I noticed something odd. I opened the door and within seconds, Marty was directly behind me.
“You don’t want to do that, Ava .”
Ava .
He’d called me Ava . I immediately moved outside and tossed the glass in his face. But he was too quick, grabbing my arm and yanking me backward into the house.
But not before I noticed one of the guards. He’d been shot.
After being pitched over the back of the couch, I struggled to stand, shocked the phone was still in my hand. Without hesitation, I typed in four letters.
Help
Then I heard a deep, ominous voice. “Hello, Ava . I thought it about time that we met.”