The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy 2)

We’re running out of time. Linc’s parents will be back on Monday, so we only have a few more days of unrestricted access to the house. And considering we started with the most obvious places, it’s starting to feel like it’ll take a fucking miracle for us to find anything.

I set my slice down on the plate, resting my elbows on the counter like Lincoln just did and taking a deep breath, trying to calm my rising panic.

“Jesus. Look at you two.” Dax chuckles as he says it, but when I glance up at him, real concern reflects in his eyes. “You look like you’re about to lose it. We need a break.”

Linc and I both shake our heads, starting to object, but Chase steps up beside his brother.

“He’s right. If we only have a few days left, we need to be smarter. Strategic. Which means we need to be thinking clearly. You know?”

“Just for the rest of tonight,” River says, surprising me by taking the twins’ side. Then again, he looks a little worried too, so maybe Lincoln and I really do seem like we’re about to snap. “Then we’ll start fresh tomorrow.”

Linc’s amber gaze darts between his three friends before settling on me. And I think it’s what he sees in my face that finally convinces him. He lets out a sigh, and his bunched shoulders relax slightly.

“Yeah, all right. Fine.”

“Good.” Chase nods decisively. “Then for the rest of the night, no more talking about the search or thinking about it. We need something else to distract us.”

“Yeah, good fucking luck with that,” Dax mutters, his green eyes narrowing as he looks at me, as if he can actually see the gears continuing to turn in my head.

They’re probably right about us needing a break. My brain feels like a hamster on a wheel that won’t stop spinning, and it’s fucking exhausting. But Dax has my number—I really don’t know how to stop thinking about it all.

“I know.” River’s voice pulls my attention to him, and his lips tilt up in a pleased, amused sort of grin before he glances past me to Lincoln. “Do you have any cards?”

My heart kicks in my chest.

Oh, fuck yes.

I haven’t gotten to play poker in weeks, and even though there’s been good reason for that, I miss it. Playing a good game always makes me feel better. And what the hell, if I’m off my game from all the damn stress, at least I’ll be playing with people I trust.

Although I definitely won’t be betting any favors. Learned my lesson on that one, thanks.

Linc’s slightly haggard expression lightens, and his lips tilt up slightly before he turns and strides out of the room. When he comes back, he’s got an unopened deck of cards and a nice set of poker chips. Just the sight of them is weirdly calming to me, and I wolf down the rest of my pizza in a hurry, suddenly hungry again and excited to start playing.

Once we finish eating, we head downstairs to one of the rec rooms. It’s got a wide leather couch in front of a massive TV mounted along one wall, and in one of the opposite corners is a circular table perfect for poker. There are four chairs set up around it, and Linc goes to grab an extra one while I crack open the deck and start shuffling, letting the feel of the smooth, stiff cards between my fingers soothe me.

When the fifth chair is in place, we all settle around the table, and River opens the case containing the chips. “What are we doing for buy-in?”

“No buy-in.” Lincoln shakes his head. “I’m not taking Low’s money.”

I shoot him a highly offended look, narrowing my eyes. But I kind of get it. It’s not like Mom and I couldn’t use the money if I win, and there’s a pretty good chance I could take these four boys to the cleaners. But as River taught me last time we played, that’s not a guarantee.

And if they won my money, I know they’d all feel like shit about it. Mom and I don’t have a penny to spare.

If we’re gonna play, I want to really play. I want to do my level best to kick their asses, and don’t want them to go easy on me just because I’m a fucking charity case right now.

“Agreed,” I shoot back, holding Linc’s gaze as I shuffle. “But I’m not going all in with more favors. So what do we play for?”

He thinks for a second, then shrugs.

“Clothes.”

“What?”

My movement stutters, and the cards that were sliding so gracefully against each other get jammed up, a few of them tumbling from my grip.

He picks one up from the table—the ace of hearts—and hands it back to me, a beautiful, predatory grin on his face.

“You heard me, Low. Clothes. More specifically, the removal of them.”