Truth (Scandals of Banner-Hill Book 1) Page 13

  And to think I’d somehow forgotten all about him in the last twenty-four hours.

  My mistake.

  Nick is ripped. I knew he had killer arms, but those muscles have nothing on his abs. He’s sexy as sin. Exactly the kind of guy I’d pursue if I met him under different circumstances.

  I half-ass my way through Nick’s routine. The whole thing is supposed to be therapeutic or whatever, but my brain is too preoccupied to even consider relaxing. I exaggerate my movements as much as I can to keep Jack’s attention on me. It’s the easiest way to make sure I have him off-kilter and not thinking clearly.

  If he’s thinking about all the ways he wants to fuck me, maybe he’ll be too busy to keep tabs on me for my overreaching uncle.

  When Nick directs us into downward dog, I go out of my way to wiggle my ass in the most unnecessary way possible. No one else is paying close enough attention to notice it, but the men on either side of me certainly do.

  Nick chokes out a cough as Jack collapses in a heap behind me. I glance back at him between my open legs and wink when he makes eye contact.

  It’s almost too easy.

  When I step out of downward dog, Nick’s eyes are still trained on me. The women standing between us glance over their shoulders to see what he’s staring at. They roll their eyes simultaneously when they see me.

  “What?” I ask innocently. “Not reality TV fans?”

  They both whip around to face the front again. It’s one thing to sneer at me, it’s another thing entirely to be called out for it. Decorum in these social circles is only mostly dead.

  We make it through the entire routine this time without Nick coming anywhere near me. Based on the way he starts glaring in Jack’s direction during the end, I think I have some idea as to what’s changed.

  Jealousy. That’s cute.

  If only the moody yoga instructor paid a little more attention, maybe he’d notice the way my eyes trace the sweat running down the rivets of his body. I waste the last few precious moments with the group imagining how he would taste as I licked him clean.

  My own personal brand of twisted sex fantasy.

  It takes me a second too long to realize we’re done and everybody else is trailing off. I tear my gaze away from Nick as he starts to roll up the mats. Because god forbid we be forced to pick up after ourselves in a place like this.

  I do a quick roll of my own mat and then abandon it before my mark disappears for the night.

  “Hey,” I call out to Jack as he starts to escort Beth back to the building. She keeps walking a few paces before she realizes he’s stopped to look at me. I blatantly ignore the dirty look she tries to shoot me. It’s her own fault for thinking she can turn a legacy into a boy toy.

  “What’s up?” Jack asks, his eyes doing a slow perusal of my body. As if he hasn’t already looked his fill. He doesn’t even bother pretending to look me in the eyes.

  “Make sure you tell Murphy exactly how good you thought my ass looked tonight,” I say casually.

  His face turns a deep red as his eyes finally dart up to mine. He opens his mouth and shakes his head but not a word comes out. I’m sure he didn’t expect to be called out for either thing. The spying or the ogling. Guys like him always think they’re smarter than they really are.

  They also think they’re invincible.

  I wave my fingers at him so he’ll get the hint that we’re done here. My only goal this round was to make sure word gets back to my uncle.

  Murphy thinks he can control this chess board, using me as one of his pieces. I’m not interested in playing the pawn. In fact, I’m not interested in playing at all.

  I take my time following the others back across the lawn. I think Nick calls out my name but I’m too exhausted to deal with him. He’s awfully broody for a guy who spends all his time preaching deep breathing and relaxation.

  The sun is setting, disappearing partially behind Banner-Hill. I stare at the explosion of colors painting the skyline and try to actually take one of those deep breaths Nick is so fond of.

  It’s been a long time since I felt capable of catching my breath. Even now, filling my lungs with air only makes my chest ache.

  It feels wrong somehow to breathe that deeply. Like I haven’t earned it somehow.

  A hand grabs me by the arm and yanks me back. I tense instantly, expecting Logan to have somehow appeared. Instead, I’m forced to turn to see Nick glaring down at me. The thin sheen of sweat still coating his bare torso.

  I force myself to meet his eyes instead of staring at his abs.

  “There’s a no sexual contact policy in place here,” he growls.

  My eyebrows shoot straight up. “Yes, I’m aware.” I’m also fully aware that it’s never been enforced. Not when I came here the first time at fifteen, and certainly not now.

  “So if you’re fooling around with Trust Fund—“

  My snort cuts him off. “I think I’m starting to get you now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his eyes narrowing. He’s honestly too Baywatch to really look threatening, but I’ll give him points for effort.

  “The only person that would nickname someone else Trust Fund is someone who resents money. Probably because they don’t have any of their own.” I take a step closer to him, throwing him more off-guard. “And you made it very clear I shouldn’t flirt with you, but you’re not too interested in seeing me flirt with anyone else.”

  He grunts out a non-answer.

  “It’s hot wanting what you think you can’t have, huh? Like our private little brand of foreplay.”

  “Hell,” he mutters, his eyes darting around like he’s worried we could have an audience. Lucky for him, I’m pretty sure my babysitter has been thoroughly scared off for the day. I also haven’t seen Logan or Killian since last night.

  There’s a couple guys hanging out poolside, chain smoking cigarettes, but they’re completely oblivious to us.

  I stretch up on my tiptoes to speak close to Nick’s ear. No one’s close enough to hear me, but I like the dramatics of it. His body tenses like a nervous, wild animal. Looking at this man, it’s clear he’s been around the block. It’s only me he’s uncertain about. It’s too bad I don’t have the time to dedicate to corrupting whatever moral code he’s pretending to abide by.

  “You don’t have to play the martyr, Nick Barnes. Sinners have more fun.”

  11

  “This is it?” Sadie looks at the small stack of information I’ve compiled. My notebook. The financials from Patrick. My file which I caved and asked for a copy of.

  Lynne, the therapist tried to talk me out of it. Something about ignorance being bliss—but I’m pretty sure I’ve had my head in the sand long enough. I haven’t opened it yet. I’ve been staring at it for so long that I’ve psyched myself out.

  Hence me calling for reinforcements.

  Am I taking a risk by putting this kind of trust in two women I barely know? Absolutely. But no woman is an island. If Murphy doesn’t plan to work alone, why should I? At least I’m pretty sure it would take more than a well-placed downward dog to fuck with their focus.

  It also helps that I did a little extra snooping before summoning them. It wasn’t hard to confirm my suspicions.

  The only asses Siobhan and Sadie are interested in are each other’s.

  “Sometimes less is more.” My words don’t sound even remotely convincing. If whatever my father is into is as big as I think it might be, then I don’t really think these financial records are going to show anything. Actually…

  “How are you with numbers?” I ask Siobhan.

  She smirks. “You don’t run the business I do without acing a few math classes. Why?”

  “Look through these for me, will you?” I grab the file Patrick left for me and hold it out to her. She takes a ponytail holder off her wrist to tie her long hair up out of her face before taking it from me.

  “I figured this might be useful for whatever has you sneaking aroun
d all hours of the day,” she jokes then gets serious. “Okay, what am I looking for, boss?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” I say.

  She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Nothing?”

  “Nothing.” I make a snap decision about how much I’m willing to reveal as Siobhan and Sadie hang on my every word.

  “Here’s the thing,” I start, knowing I can tell them enough without going all in. “I think someone is doing something illegal here—besides the obvious. The easiest way to confirm that is if the financials are too clean. Good people make mistakes. Bad people can’t afford to. It’s the irony of the filthy rich.”

  Sadie’s mouth falls open.

  “That’s… brilliant.” Siobhan flips the folder open, and her eyes start scanning the pages so fast it makes my own head spin.

  I turn to Sadie as Siobhan plops herself down on my bed, already lost in the paperwork I’ve presented her.

  “I should warn you, my talents mostly include fashion advice and motivational speeches.” She grins sheepishly.

  “Well, I guess it’s about time we add aiding and abetting in family feuds to that list.”

  That perks her right up. “Actually, I have some experience in that, too. Not only is my family a whole slew of fucked up, but I also got a bit entangled in Juliet’s family stuff back in high school.”

  “Perfect.” I hand her my notebook since it doesn’t make any sense for me to review my own notes.

  And that leaves me with my medical file.

  I cross to the desk chair on the opposite side of the room while Sadie settles next to Siobhan on my bed. This way, I can sit with my back to them. It’s easier to face the unexpected if I don’t have to worry about my poker face.

  The room descends into silence aside from the occasional paper shuffling. I take a deep breath and open my file.

  Everything at the front is just intake paperwork. The boring shit leaving a paper trail of my daddy issues and fake drug problems. Apparently, teenage me wasn’t nearly as convincing about fictional addiction as adult me. The paperwork this time around has a whole list of prospective issues I could be dealing with.

  Cocaine because I seemed on edge—plus the photos, of course. Bulimia since I’ve eaten so many meals solo in my bedroom. Sex addiction after I neglected to go full detox for them those first couple days.

  These people really do think of everything.

  I put all of that aside because, right now, it doesn’t do anything for me. What I’m really after is the past—the therapy notes from my last visit. What could the therapist have possibly written down when I was seventeen and only here to help my boyfriend get in check?

  I might as well not have wondered. I skim through the pages once, twice, three times. There isn’t a single note from any therapy sessions when I was seventeen. It makes no sense. I can distinctly remember the guy they saddled me with back then because he would barely look me in the eyes. He spent every minute of our mandatory sessions staring down at his clipboard as he scribbled nonstop across it.

  If that guy wrote the most notes about me, then where the fuck are they?

  I plant my elbows on the desk and drop my head to my hands, digging my fingertips into my temples as I try to make sense of yet another puzzle.

  Therapy has always made me tight-lipped. Anyone who knows me at all would easily guess that. My father certainly would have no reason to pull those notes. Murphy, either. Logan and Killian would both know better than anyone that those documents would tell them nothing.

  The good stuff isn’t from when I was seventeen at my last visit. It’s the stuff from when I was fifteen.

  My first visit.

  I flip back to those notes. The first therapist I saw, a woman named Nancy who liked to tell me I reminded her of her granddaughter, didn’t take nearly as many notes. But the notes she did take were surprisingly… insightful.

  She noticed things about me that could easily have been overlooked. Like the way I didn’t look quite comfortable in my clothes because someone else packed my suitcase with my TV clothes instead of real things.

  Nancy wrote down the more obvious things, too. The way Dash walked me to every appointment, but Killian always picked me up afterward. She didn’t know it, but it was because Dash and Logan would get high while I was in my sessions. I didn’t know it either until I ditched one day and followed them down to the woods.

  They were talking about me.

  Dash described taking my virginity in great detail. At the time, I thought it was just generic bragging between guys. I wan’t offended, not when Dash was so complimentary. It wasn’t until after I fucked Logan for the first time that I wondered if Dash hadn’t been bragging so much as painting Logan a roadmap for getting to fuck me himself.

  Our whole relationship, my high school sweetheart was grooming me to be shared. In the end, Dash hated me for giving him exactly what he wanted.

  I close my eyes and try to remember Nick’s stupid deep breathing directions.

  In through the nose.

  Out through the mouth.

  “Siobhan?”

  “Hm?” She looks up from the file folder when I turn sideways in my chair.

  “Who has access to the medical files?” I ask. Her lips pull back in a grimace, confirming my worst fear. “Fuck.”

  “Sorry, but the therapists keep their case files in their own offices. Those aren’t exactly on lockdown, but patients can’t be in those offices alone. I’m sure the master keys all the staff carry can open all of them,” Siobhan explains.

  “Wait a second. If the therapists hold onto the case files, what the hell is stored in the file room downstairs? All these files used to be stored in there. What am I missing here?” I ask.

  Sadie shrugs. “They cleared that file room out years ago. It’s full of athletic equipment now.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Siobhan and Sadie both exchange a look.

  Siobhan rolls her shoulders. “Once they made that the athletic closet, they had to rekey it so people would stop stealing shit. There’s only one person that has access anymore…”

  “Nick.” I saw that for myself.

  Siobhan nods.

  “Well, the yoga instructor might be the only one with a key, but that doesn’t mean no one else has access. I managed to pick the lock and let myself in. How many other people here do you think share that skillset?” I ask pointedly.

  None of us got here by being model citizens.

  “And it wasn’t just full of yoga mats?” Siobhan frowns, a look of someone who is genuinely confused. She’s been in there at some point—I can read that on her face. So where the hell did those filing cabinets go when she snuck in? And why the hell did someone put them back?

  “I have a headache,” Sadie complains under her breath.

  I stand up, my chair scraping obnoxiously across the floor. I suddenly feel claustrophobic in this room. I’ve been here too long now for none of this to be adding up. There’s a weight on my chest as I consider the fact that I might have to leave here without finding anything on my father.

  “I need to take a walk.”

  I’m walking the perimeter of Banner-Hill when I stumble onto Killian. My first instinct is to bolt, but then I hear the chords. He’s playing that song. The one he never plays live anymore. And my feet make up their own mind, continuing forward even as my head tells me this isn’t worth the risk.

  There’s no one else out this far from the building. No one here to save me if Killian decides he wants a repeat of the other night. The music draws me in anyway.

  He doesn’t notice me right away.

  He leans against a lone tree, his fingers lazily strumming his guitar strings. As I draw closer, I notice his eyes are closed.

  A branch snaps under my feet, and his eyes snap open at the same time his hands still. He scowls when he sees it’s me. I’m not sure who else he would have been expecting. From what I can tell, the only person besides me that he interacts with he
re is Logan. He barely even acknowledges the staff.

  And I’m the one that showed Killian this path.

  We were both up early one morning. Him because he’d woken up from nightmares about his brother. Me because my father had called to say he was checking me out early. The show needed me. Megan couldn’t get enough footage of him and my mom to keep the network happy.

  It was the first and only time Killian kissed me without an audience.

  “Truth or dare?” I ask, stopping just a couple feet from him.

  He shakes his head, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

  “You know, Logan swore there was no way you’d initiate the game. Most women like playing because they hope they can give us something impossible and end up in our pants. Not you, though. You’ve made it abundantly clear how you feel about me.”

  “Careful, Killian. Your bitterness is showing.”

  “That’s really rich coming from you. You still holding that grudge because I gave you more orgasms than your boyfriend?”

  I can’t even muster up anger over his words. “Which one is it? Do you want to blame me for his death or resent him for getting tired of sharing his toys?”

  “What I want is to stop getting messages from Logan every time you’re seen with some new guy.” He strums another few notes of his song. “And for you to stop looking at me like the villain when Dash was the one using you as collateral in a fucking poker game.”

  I splutter, speechless for a moment. What Dash did was all kinds of fucked up, but Killian doesn’t have a soap box to stand on right now.

  Then I realize what he just said. “You know about the poker game?”

  Instead of answering me, he launches into the chorus of that song. Nightlights. The one I played a thousand times when it first came out—and have avoided ever since.

  “Trade it all for a night. That night turns into your life.”

  It makes my chest hurt to hear him sing it in person. I haven’t made that mistake in years.