Page 12 of Pretty Threats

I rolled my eyes. “Lucky me,” I murmured, shaking my head again. Deep down, though, I wanted it to be true. I wanted to feel special.

“New kid in school” me had no idea what was to come.

Standing alone in my dorm room now, I smooth down my hair, trying to mentally prepare myself for seeing him. It’s like being chased by a rabid dog toward the edge of a cliff with jagged rocks below. Deciding to jump with the hope of landing between them is crazy, but so is stopping to be mauled. Either way, ending up irrevocably damaged is inevitable.

7

KILLIAN

Once we’re back at the house, we begin a systematic process of destroying evidence. War and I strip down. After Jamie uses a wire bristle brush on the inside of the gun’s barrel to fuck up ballistics, War and I hop in a canoe. Modern forensics are not to be messed with, so behind us the tracksuits and plastic jumpsuits are burning in a barrel.

We’ve been up for more than a day, so it would’ve been nice to have a boat with a fucking motor, but that’s noisy. In the interest of stealth, we’re using muscle power to get us into the middle of the river. It’s fine. War’s a monster, and I’m plenty strong. The current’s no match for us.

I drop the silencer and gun into the river, which is about forty-five feet deep here.

Now back to shore. We row hard, both glad we’re almost done for the night; sleep can’t come soon enough.

When we’re twenty feet from shore, I realize something’s off. A girl’s voice, high and scared, carries out to us. What the hell?

The barrel fire’s almost burned out, so the lack of light means I have to squint. There are two people standing between the SUV and my Corvette.

“Come on. Let’s move,” War murmurs.

Like me, he wants to see who’s on our property. We need to catch them before they take off.

We row harder until we reach the shore’s edge, and I grab the launch.

“Killian told me to come!”

I freeze momentarily, realizing that’s Raine. Jamie holds her arm, which immediately makes me want to kill him. I don’t like other people touching her.

“There’s no way he told you to come over right now,” Jamie says, his Irish accent more pronounced than usual.

“The fuck?” I say, not shouting, but not quiet either.

Their heads turn toward me as I jump from the boat and stalk over.

When I reach them, I grab her free arm. “I’ve got her. Let go.”

Jamie releases Raine, but he continues to glower at her. “I found her filming.” He raises Raine’s phone. “She had footage of our trash burning.”

“Well…” I shake my head as my mind tries to make sense of this. “It’s probably nothing. She films everything. She once filmed Cheerios floating in milk.”

Raine’s shivering. I’m guessing it’s not from the cold, since she’s wearing a coat, jeans, and a sweater. By contrast, I’m freezing my stones off because shorts are all I’ve got on. We were in a hurry to get rid of the gun.

“Gimme the phone,” I say. “I’ll erase her videos.”

War has crept up behind us. For a big guy, he’s a stealthy mother fucker. “Let’s go in the house. Bring her.”

“No,” she says.

Without a word, I pick her up and carry her across the parking lot.

She struggles the entire time, repeating, “No, Killian. Don’t.”

That’s a phrase I’ve heard a lot from her over the years.

The words have never stopped me. Not once.

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