I blink at him slowly, taking in his darkly handsome features like I’ve never seen him before.
And in a way, it feels like I haven’t.
I thought I had my guard up, I thought I was keeping me and Mom safe by not getting too comfortable, by being paranoid and suspicious of everyone here.
But it turns out, I wasn’t paranoid enough.
Things in this twisted world I’ve fallen into are more fucked up than I ever imagined.
16
Lincoln and I stare each other down for another full minute. But I’m the one who finally breaks the standoff. I turn away from him, snatch my phone and wallet off the bed with one hand, and storm toward the door.
I don’t shut it because I can’t trust myself not to slam it, and the light from inside the room spills out into the hallway behind me as I stride quickly toward the north side of the house, where my bedroom is located.
“Harlow, wait.”
It’s the second time one of them has called me by my name tonight, and just like the first time it happened, it makes me hesitate. As if there’s some power in the word that only they possess, as if it’s a command instead of just my name.
Lincoln’s voice is soft, but his grip on my elbow is hard as he forces me to a stop. He spins me to face him, and his eyes burn in the darkness as he gazes down at me.
“You can’t tell me what to do!” I whisper fiercely.
“No.” His expression hardens. “But I can tell you that I look out for the people I care about. I’d do anything to keep them from getting hurt. I told you we can’t go to the police, and I’ve been nice about it so far, but I don’t have to be. So think twice before you say anything about this to anyone.”
My brows draw together slightly, and I shift uncomfortably in the tight grip of his hands, which are clamped around my shoulders.
There’s a warning in his voice, but there’s something else too.
A plea.
He means what he’s saying. And no matter what else I might think about Lincoln Black, I don’t believe he’s an evil person. All five of us had our lives turned upside down tonight, and I honestly think he’s trying to do the best thing he can right now. He’s worried for his friends, I can see that in his eyes. Maybe even worried for me—although that makes less sense. You have to care about someone to worry for them.
His hands move up my shoulders, and one slides around the back of my neck, threading through the hair at the base of my skull, while the other traces the line of my jaw. I freeze, blinking at him as his thumb skims lightly over my lower lip. He’s staring at it, but I’m not sure he’s really seeing it. His mind seems a million miles away.
“It’ll be okay, Harlow,” he murmurs. “No one will hurt you. But you have to trust me on this.”
Warmth cascades through my body from the places he’s touching me, and I swallow hard. What the hell is wrong with me? Two seconds ago, I was kissing his friend, and now I’m responding to his touch like my body has been craving this for weeks.
It’s the shock. It has to be.
It’s left me feeling too open and vulnerable, exposed and raw like a fresh wound. My emotions are all over the place, and my body is looking for comfort from any source it can find.
My hand drifts up to brush the back of his, and I can feel his grip tighten slightly.
Then he stiffens, as if he just realized he was seeking comfort from the wrong place too. His voice is harder when he whispers again.
“All you have to do is not do anything. Let the police sort it out on their own. This is important, Pool Girl. You’re the help—so help.”
My lip curls, and I pull my chin out of his grasp. Goddammit. Every time I think he’s shown another side of himself, he reminds me it’s all the same stupid side. Selfish. Entitled. Condescending. When am I going to stop looking for more? When am I going to stop letting him slip past my walls only to fuck with my emotions?
I bat his hand away, stepping back. “Yeah, I get it, sir. Duly noted. Don’t worry, I’ll be a good little maid.” My nostrils flare. “I’ll keep your damn secret, but I don’t want anything else to do with you, your friends, or your insane, fucked up world. Leave me out of your plans and your stupid schemes from now on. And as far as I’m concerned, my favor to River has been cashed in. I don’t owe any of you shit.”
Without waiting for him to respond, I turn and stalk down the hall toward the wing I share with my mom. I swipe under my eyes as more tears well, clearing away the mascara I’m sure is smeared there.
Before I go into my room, I peer around the corner at my mom’s apartment. I press a button on the side of my phone, and the screen lights up, flashing 11:54 p.m. She’s probably home from her date, but for some reason, I’m filled with a desperate need to be sure. To be absolutely certain my mom is tucked safely away in her bed, and not out there in the dark night where a man in a black ski mask roams the streets.
So I slip inside
