The Risk (Kings of Linwood Academy 3)

I care about these boys. I trust them to have my back.

And it’s a good goddamn thing I have their help.

Because come Monday, I’m going to need it.

18

I don’t know why, but between Dax and Chase, Dax is almost always the one who drives.

Chase has a car though, a dark red Aston Martin that sits in the garage next to Dax’s gray Mercedes. And he lets me borrow it early on Monday morning, walking down the stairs with me and escorting me out to the garage.

It’s a testament to how worried the kings were about me after my accident—and how worried they all are now—that he doesn’t crack any jokes about how I shouldn’t scratch the paint or anything. The roads are clear and dry, so at least I won’t be dealing with snow and ice on this little excursion.

Just… other threats.

“You ready for this?” he asks as he hands the keys over to me, using the opportunity to tug me into his embrace.

Something has shifted now that I’ve had sex with each of the guys. They touch me all the time now, and I touch them right back, our hungry bodies constantly finding their way closer to each other, as if we can’t ever get enough.

My arms wrap around his back, the keys clutched in my hand, as I tilt my face up toward his.

“Fuck, no. But I’m doing it anyway.”

He chuckles at my blunt response, but worry floods his eyes a second later, banishing the spark of mirth. “Be safe, Harlow.”

“I will.”

“I’m serious.” His grip on me tightens a little. “You don’t know how many times the four of us had to talk each other out of calling this whole thing off and tying you up to your bed so you couldn’t go.”

Nerves twist my stomach. If they’d tried to do that, I would’ve found some way to break free and snuck off to do this anyway. And I’m guessing they know that, which is probably a huge part of the reason they didn’t even try. But I don’t like this any better than they do. I feel like I’m about to barf.

Forcing myself into action, I rise up on tiptoes and kiss Chase quickly before turning to his car. Before I slide into the driver’s seat, I glance back at him. “I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Yeah. Soon.”

He backs up and watches as I pull out of the garage, and I lose sight of him as I head down the driveway toward the street.

The address is loaded on my phone’s GPS, and I follow the calm female voice on autopilot, my mind already skipping ahead, trying to foresee the future, to imagine the different scenarios that might play out.

Will Hollowell believe me? What will happen to me—and my mom—if he doesn’t?

My evil brain has no problem coming up with a million horrible answers to that question, and my hands start to shake on the wheel, so I turn up the radio and try to drown out my own thoughts.

The recent snowfall has melted a little, and the snow that remains is turning brown and gray. The world doesn’t look like a pristine winter wonderland anymore, and that somehow seems fitting as I make the final turn and head up the driveway toward Judge Hollowell’s house.

I turn down the music, as if I’m afraid he’ll hear me coming, and when I roll to a stop at the end of the drive, I stare through the large windows of the living room, trying to make out any movement inside.

God, I hope he’s home.

I came here early enough that he shouldn’t have left for the courthouse already, and also early enough to make sure he knows I haven’t met with Detective Dunagan before arriving. He has to believe that I truly won’t do that.

Okay. You can do this, Harlow. Just breathe and keep your fucking head on straight.

At least I don’t have to pretend to like him anymore. I won’t have to look at him with a blank, innocent expression on my face as if he’s just some friend of my mother’s who might be able to help me.

Those cards are on the table, and there’s no taking them back now.

Not giving myself the moment or two of stillness it might take to realize this is all a horrible, dangerous idea and back out, I shove open the car door and head up the walkway toward the front door.