Page 62 of Pretty Secrets

All four doors slam, Oliver cursing under his breath as he sits up front with Leo. “Let’s go,” he directs. “We don’t want to get caught having this conversation on any cameras.”

“That bad, huh?" Leo asks. “Did you see his wrinkly cock?” He peers into the rearview mirror at me. “Is that why Eden looks like she’s going to puke?”

“Go somewhere private,” I hiss. “Somewhere a Knight would never set foot.”

“I’ve got just the place,” Leo promises.

He holds his palm out, and Alaric drops the keys there, not taking his stormy green gaze off me once. When I finally shift to peer at him, he frowns, jaw pulling taut.

I move to reach out for him, but stop myself. He’s a full Knight. If anyone knows these kinds of things go on, it’s Alaric Barclay.

Maybe we shouldn’t tell these guys what we saw...

Ollie turns around from the front seat, and I move my attention to him. In his eyes, I see all the same questions I’m asking myself.

What will the knowledge of what we just saw do to us?

26

Eden

Leo’s idea of somewhere privateanda place the Knights would never go is a go-kart track outside of town. It’s pretty rundown with a shitty food court area that consists of a hot dog and hamburger place inside a jerry-rigged Airstream.

“You take your dates here?” Oliver scoffs, turning his nose up at everything he sees. He may be the royal disappointment, but he’s still enjoyed a life of privilege. We all have.

Which is why this place is perfect.

The Knights wouldn’t set foot in here. They probably don’t even know it exists…because peering around, hardly anyone else does either.

“I don’t date,” Leo grunts. “And don’t knock this place until you try it. The chicken fingers are delicious.”

Correction. Only assholes like Leonardo Jarvis know a place like this exists.

Just thinking his last name makes me squirm as we stride collectively toward a bright yellow picnic table on the edge of a sea of picnic tables painted in all the colors of the rainbow. A few in the middle boast sun-faded umbrellas running through their center—a remnant of summer left behind. Or, who knows? To match the rest of the decor, they may leave them up all year round.

I study Leo. If he has any inclination as to what we saw in that office, he doesn’t show it. I’d like to think that if he knew there would be more of a reaction other than complete calmness. It was just wrong in so many ways.

He walks casually across the rocky area and moves to the tin can of a fast-food place, knocking knuckles with the worker inside. Wow. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen Leo be friendly with anybody.

Is that a smile?

I didn’t know the big guy had it in him. He’s a weird sort of contradiction right now. He’s the poster boy for danger with his tatted-up body, t-shirt that hugs his muscles—even his dark hair helps maintain his shadowy personality. But with him smiling like this, all of that lifts, and he looks like a normal dude out with some friends.

“You guys okay?” Alaric asks. “You’re acting funny.”

I tear my inspecting gaze away from Leo and instead, lock eyes with Oliver, wishing there was a way we could pause time to talk privately and figure out how we want to play this. Make something up? Tell them the truth?

If only we knew we could trust them…

The possible, awful outcome of telling them the truth is two-fold. One, if they’re not shocked by this, I’m not sure how I could go on fantasizing about either of them in the bedroom. Two, if they’re in on it, and we saw something we definitely should not see, we could be fucked.

Maybe Delilah witnessed something she shouldn’t have? The Knights get rid of problems like that. To my knowledge, they never murder anyone, but that could be my complete naivete talking. Maybe they do shit like this all the time.

“I take it you saw something more than just Kennedy screwing his secretary?”

Alaric waits for an answer, but I’m still at a loss for words. Trusting people when your sister’s murder was ruled an accident is difficult, especially when the people asking questions are a part of the organization that is your biggest suspect.

After a few minutes, Leo returns to the table with several baskets of chicken fingers and an array of sauces. Oliver sneers at them, but Leo only shrugs. “More for me.”

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