Fuck.
If I had thought I might elicit an ounce of pity from this man, I’ve been playing the wrong tactic. And from the way he’s talking, he wouldn’t be swayed if he knew who the guys’ parents are either, knew how connected they are. In his mind, it’ll be easier to deal with the fallout from our murder than with letting us escape this house unharmed.
My mind churns, feeling sluggish and too fucking slow as I try to come up with something to say, something that can appeal to this man’s twisted business sense. Because this isn’t personal. He might be angry at Hollowell, but he’s not doing this to punish us or out of some personal vendetta against us. Niles D’Amato has simply decided he can’t allow us to live.
So how the fuck do I convince him otherwise?
I can’t think of a single damn thing—besides begging, which I’d do in a heartbeat if I thought it would stand a chance of working.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter. Because we run out of time.
Before I can open my mouth again, the sound of a car’s engine filters softly in from outside, and I see Judge Hollowell’s beige car rolling up the drive. If he looked through the large living room windows right now, he’d see five people sitting on his couch and another five gathered around them. But he doesn’t, and a second later, his car glides out of sight, headed toward the attached garage on the other side of the house.
“Watch them. Mitch, with me.”
Niles jerks his head at us, then at the man standing in front of Dax. The two of them move toward the foyer, splitting up to frame the wide doorway between the entryway and the dining room. I don’t know what’s beyond that, but I’m guessing Judge Hollowell will have to pass through the dining room on his way to the rest of the house.
My heart thuds hard and heavy against my ribs as I watch the smaller door at the far end of the dining room. The open floor plan of the house means I can see almost the entire dining room and part of the room beyond.
My gaze stays rooted to it.
Waiting.
Waiting.
There’s the soft thud of another door closing somewhere else in the house, and I think I forgot to breathe somewhere in the middle of this because my chest is tight and I feel lightheaded as I keep staring at that single spot.
And then Hollowell appears.
He doesn’t realize anything is amiss at first, doesn’t know we’re there. He walks with the casual, confident stride of someone who thinks he’s alone. But halfway across the dining room, he looks up and freezes.
A dozen different emotions flash over his face at hyper speed, and then he pivots on his heel to run. But Niles and Mitch are already on him, emerging from their places framing the dining room entry and grabbing him so fast he barely makes it a full step. The one named Mitch is big and burly, even bigger and rougher looking than Niles, and he grabs Hollowell by the neck, spinning him back around and shoving him to his knees. The judge lands with a sharp crack against the hardwood floor.
Niles and Mitch both level their guns at him, and Hollowell looks up, breathing hard.
I got my wish.
This man who always looks so calm and collected, so unruffled, doesn’t seem quite so put together now. His suit jacket is twisted, higher on one shoulder than the other from Mitch’s rough handling, and there’s a glint in his eye I’ve never seen before. I recognize the emotions behind it though.
Fear.
And desperation.
I wanted to see Hollowell come undone. I wanted to see him afraid of something for once in his goddamn life.
But I can’t enjoy it. Not when the boys I love are sitting next to me with guns aimed at their heads.
“You know, I thought after all we’d been through together, you would’ve had a little fucking loyalty,” Niles tells the man kneeling in front of him, his voice hard with anger.
“I do. Of course I do.” Hollowell shakes his head, and he’s already mastering his emotions, the mask of casual control returning.
“Do you? Because these goddamn kids came to my place of business today with a very interesting story. Do you know what that was?”
Hollowell’s gaze flashes to the five of us, lingering the longest on me. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but his expression seems to tighten somehow. Then he shifts his attention back to Niles, charm radiating from every pore. And although I hate the motherfucker, I have to admit he knows how to be charming—how to disarm people with his voice, his words, and his pleasant smile.
“No, I don’t know. But that girl is the one whose mother was arrested for Iris’s death. So I presume she’d make up any story about me she could think of to try to turn you against me.”
“Is that what you’d presume?” Niles tilts his head, taking a step closer to Hollowell. “You’ve handled this whole thing pretty fucking poorly, Alex. Iris seeing us together was bad enough, but now you’ve got five more teenagers who know about us? I didn’t tell you to get rid of her just so you could replace her with five more potential leaks. Especially ones you never told me about.”
“I was handling it,” Hollowell says smoothly, although when his gaze darts to me again, I can see a wild look in his eyes. “I was taking care of everything. Just like I took care of Iris.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that girl!”
Niles’s voice booms out so suddenly and so loudly that it makes me jump. Chase presses closer to me, as if he’s trying to lend me strength and keep me still all at once. All three of the men surrounding us
