Page 6 of The Knight

I don't understand why they would hire a lawyer to protect me.

Unless they're afraid that more of their secrets might come out if the police look too closely in my direction, discovering, perhaps, that the reason why I was targeted by killers was because I looked too closely at a strange accident Cole was involved in. What could've been a simple night of reckless drinking and driving has gotten not just him in hot water, but also the governor, whose son was in the car with Cole—and who covered up the accident in the first place. Investigators are still looking into the body of a young woman found in the trunk of that car, and somehow I get the feeling the Elite don't want them looking too closely.

I just don't know why.

I thought a lot of terrible things about those rich boys, but I never thought they were murderers.

If they have blood on their hands and I accept this lawyer's help, that means tying myself to them in ways I never would've accepted before I stepped foot on Coleridge's campus.

But my life has gotten complicated, and I can't turn down help, no matter where it comes from—or whose money pays for it. There are too many questions that need answers, and people who need to pay for what they've done.

Chief among them, the two men who put a rope around my brother's neck and hung him from that tree.

"I need you to go to my school, or have someone go there or something, and get this laptop from my room." I hand over my student ID, which still has my false name on it: Brenna Cooke, a girl with secrets. "The laptop has evidence on it."

He raises his brows. "Evidence you don't want the police to find? Because, Ms. Wilder, I have to warn you that impeding a police investigation isn't covered in my services."

I wonder how much extra that kind of help costs. "It doesn't incriminate me. It's my brother who I'm afraid will be exposed on it, and he's dead. But I think it could prove who took me. I want to know who it was."

"Fair enough." Pocketing the ID, he studies me. "You know, Ms. Wilder, I've seen many clients try to take justice into their own hands. It almost never ends well."

Frowning at him, I point out, "I can always call someone else to get the laptop." And I can—if I have any friends left, or get any battery back on my phone. "Just do this one thing for me. Consider it the cost of whatever retainer they're paying you. After this, I won't need representation."

"For both our sakes, I hope that you're right."

Chapter 3

Time passes painfully, physically slowly. I can feel every drip of the IV as it slowly dilutes the chloroform going through my veins. One of the nurses lends me a phone charger, and I manage to respond to Wally and Mom's concerned texts; they're on the way here, but still at least a couple of hours away.

I want nothing more than to jump out of my hospital bed, run down the hallway, and go straight back to the Rosalind dormitory to get my brother's laptop out of my room. It kills me that I didn't figure out sooner something else might be on it—Lukas even pointed out that there was some kind of used-up space on the hard drive. But I know nothing about computers, and knew even less, apparently, about my own twin brother.

A drug dealer for some kind of criminal ring that ultimately killed him, and nearly killed me too.

He was in so deep that I didn't even see him drowning.

I'm lost in my thoughts when a knock comes on the door. Before I even get the chance to respond, Tanner Connally saunters in.

Behind him, I hear Lukas's European-accented voice say, "We should decide what we're going to say—oh, you just went in. Fabulous. I'm sure that'll end splendidly."

Looking up into Tanner's light hazel eyes, I feel a chill go down my neck. He's observing me with concern, even as he walks confidently into the room like he owns the hospital itself. If I didn't know better, I'd almost swear that he's actually worried about me.

An impossibility.

One his slight frown and the dark circles under his eyes communicate anyway.

"You sure do know how to leave a party," he says, his deep voice falling into his signature drawl as he leans up against the window across from my bed. "Next time my dad has one of his boring fundraiser and drags me with him, I'm leaving via mysterious circumstances, and showing back up on the police blotter. It really has a certain flair to it."

Hewouldturn this all into one big joke. "Be careful. If you disappear, you might not come back."

"Is that some kinda threat?" A crooked smile twists his mouth at one end. "Aw, I'm touched. I knew you cared."

I sigh, looking to Lukas for someone reasonable. "What are you two doing here? Did you come to see how that lawyer you bought is working out? Because I wasn't arrested."

"Yet." Tanner raises a brow in my direction. "Didn't you steal from Holly? Come to think of it, Georgia's dad had to cancel her credit card a while back. Was that you too? You act so suspicious and distrustful, butyou'rethe one no one should trust. Maybe you should work on yourself first before you fuck up someone else's life."

"Hush," Lukas says. "Brenna almost died tonight. That's why we're here—we want to see if you're okay. Or at least I do. Things got... heated in the storm."

He has an intense look in his blue eyes as he approaches the bed, almost studying me. His dirty blond hair is a mess; it doesn't look like he combed it. And while Tanner somehow managed to fall into a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt at some point tonight, Lukas is still wearing what he wore to the dance, albeit without the suit jacket or the pompous tie. There's a slouched and worn-in look to him, like he was tossed around in an industrial sized dryer after going for a swim in a pond.

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