Page 108 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
We roar through the streets of Boston. Liam smirks the entire time, and I hold on for dear life. We screech past Ashburn College toward the highway.
“You’re having fun,” I manage.
“Definitely. Theo’s been into cars forever. Mine was always breaking down, so I ended up riding with him a lot.”
“And it’s a sore subject for him?”
He chuckles. “He’s particular. And there’s a girl—”
“There’s always a girl,” I interject.
He glances at me, nodding. “Well, this particular one knows how to push every single one of his buttons.”
“Sounds like a fun girl.” I can only imagine who it would be from school—assuming she went to Emery-Rose Elite and not one of the other neighboring schools.
“You never met Amelie’s sister?” He spares me another glance, this one shocked. “She’s your age.”
It takes me a second to pull her name to the front of my mind. “Lucy?”
Liam’s smile is wry. “Lucille and Theodore. Cute, right?”
I snort.
“I can’t decide whether he wants to kill her or fuck her,” he adds. “Maybe both.”
“Wow.”
“Life as a Page girl is never boring. Amelie was apparently shipped off to Italy with her new husband. It’s been a bit hush-hush, but Theo said the Pages are involved with the New York Mafia families.”
I rotate toward him, gaping. “Mafia? In Rose Hill?”
“No, in the city. I don’t know the full story, but Theo was pretty adamant about Lucy’s, ah, innocence.” He merges onto the highway and hits the gas. At this rate, we’ll be home in an hour.
I contemplate the idea of Amelie being married. Having a husband. We’re only a few years out of high school—I’m barely twenty, she and Liam are twenty-one. How old is this husband of hers? Fifty? Was it about the money?
My imagination will run away from me if I don’t get answers, but Liam probably isn’t the person to ask. Maybe her sister…
And nothing would make me happier than encouraging the button-pushing of Theo Alistair.
That’s if Lucy is even in Rose Hill—or Stone Ridge, as the case may be. The two towns are side by side on a map, but miles of farmland and woods separate the two. It was regularly a twenty-minute drive to get to school every morning.
If we weren’t speeding.
“Mom’s going to freak out,” I mumble. “She hasn’t called me back, so I don’t think she’s seen the news.”
Liam sighs. “Maybe. We’ll deal with it. It isn’t like we aren’t safe in Boston—my apartment is well secured. It’s just a matter of the police figuring out—”
My phone’s shrill ring silences him.
A Boston number.
I swallow. Unexpected unease flutters up my throat. “Hello?”
“Is this Skylar Buckley?” a female voice says.
Liam quiets the radio, and I put the call on speaker.
“This is,” I say. “Who’s calling?”