The Dirty Ones - Page 28

“You really didn’t know we were all still in contact?”

I blink at him now. “Wait, all of you? And Kiera?”

“Of course. Sofia and Camille are her peers. They talk online regularly.”

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“You think,” Hayes says, almost snarling the words, “that the world starts and stops when you enter and leave a room, don’t you, Connor?”

“No,” I say. “I’m just surprised that this is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Well, all the ladies, present company excluded, are living double lives. They don’t just shout that shit from the rooftops.”

“But you knew.”

He shrugs. “I asked.”

“How did I not know about this secret life stuff?’

Hayes actually laughs. “Come on, Senator. You know why.”

“I’m not a senator.”

“Yet. But then again, I guess that outcome depends on this outcome.”

Yeah, I think to myself. I think it does. And as much as I was trying my best to include the others in my paranoia—looking for connections with Kiera’s writing and then her family—this is about me. I’m sure of it. My puppetmasters published that book. They put it out there so I’d have a very clear picture of what my future looks like.

“Has Kiera ever ridden in this helicopter before?” I ask.

“Of course. I pick her up for lunch at least once a month and we… go places. Do things. See people.”

I don’t even know how to process that. “So she has a secret life too.”

“It’s not a secret, Connor. That’s the point you seem to be missing. Just because you’re oblivious to something doesn’t make it nefarious.”

“I didn’t say nefarious. I just said—”

“I know what you said.” He cuts me off. “And you’re still missing the point.”

“Which is what?”

“The world does not revolve around you.”

I tune him out after that. And he must not object because he makes no more attempts at conversation. If that’s what you call the exchange we had.

We land on his front lawn. Which probably needs clarification, because it’s one of those long expanses of open space facing the water. And it’s so far away from the mansion, there’s a road and a car waiting when we get out, leaving our bags behind for other people to deal with, ducking our heads under the rotors while holding our coats tight against the freezing wind and salty mist blowing up from the crashing waves of Huntington Bay nearby.

The car ride is short, and no one says anything. If Kiera heard any of our conversation in the helicopter, she doesn’t let on. Just gazes out the window as we make our way up to the massive, castle-like Fitzgerald family mansion.

Castle is a good descriptor. Because the imposing Gothic structure is all stone and comes complete with two flanking towers, gargoyles glaring down from tall, pointed-arch windows, a high-pitched, slanting roofline, and a massive twelve-foot door that makes you wonder if it’s gonna come slamming down on your head, drawbridge style, when you approach.

The only thing he’s missing is a moat, but perhaps that’s in the works.

We enter single file for some reason, Hayes taking point, and then we discard our outerwear into the waiting hands of the slew of servants and look at Hayes for direction.

I don’t care how important you think you are, when you enter this palatial mansion, you get a little overwhelmed. There are so many rooms I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of where to go.

“Follow me,” Hayes says, leading us to one of the nearby grand staircases. “Everyone’s already here in the third-floor library.”

The fact that he has to tack the ‘third-floor’ qualifier onto the word ‘library’ should tell you all you need to know about this place.

“Jesus, Hayes,” Kiera says. “You should’ve told me we’d be taking a hike when we got here. I’d have brought a protein bar to snack on while I climbed the seventy billion steps up to your third floor.”

He shoots her a good-natured grin over his shoulder and not for the first time since our little conversation, I wonder what kind of relationship they have.

Friends, she said.

Good friends, from the looks of it.

“Don’t you have an elevator in this place?” I ask as we round the corner of the winding second-floor landing.

“Several,” Hayes says. “But it would take longer to get to one than it would to just climb the stairs. The library is right at the top here.”

Kiera and I are both breathing hard by the time we stop in front of the massive double doors. Hayes reaches for both door handles, then looks back at us, grinning, like we’re in for a sweet surprise.

And I guess we are, because when he opens the doors the first person we see is Emily.

CHAPTER TEN – KIERA

“Hi, Kiera,” she says in one of those artificially sweetened voices. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“What the hell is she doing here?” I ask, whirling around to glare at Hayes.

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