Chapter 11

No oneever tells me what the hell is going on. After our sexfest by the hot tub, Roman just…disappeared. He was pulled away by a phone call, and then…poof, gone. No word as to where he might be going. Nothing.

Sitting on the bed, I stare down at my last, unanswered text message to him, asking where he went. It doesn’t even look like he’s read it.

What in God’s name could have pulled him away so abruptly? A family emergency, maybe? But if that was the case, then why not just say that?

I don’t like this. I don’t like being kept in the dark. And it always works out this way…Roman and I share an incredibly intimate moment, and then something happens, and he’s pulled away. Being campus king is a full-time job, I guess, but why be so secretive about it? Honestly, it’s the cloak and dagger shit that makes it all so sketchy.

Still staring down at the text, I tap on his name, and hit “call.” A vein of anxiety slithers through me when I hear the phone ringing. I never call him, because we both prefer to text, but he really hasn’t given me a choice, has he? If he doesn’t want a phone call, then he should reply to my damn—

“Hello?” My thoughts are cut off by the sound of his deep baritone drifting through the receiver.

My heart stops.

I didn’t really expect him to answer.

“Roman?” I ask, my voice a little hesitant. “Where’d you go?”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line like he’s debating whether or not to answer me. Finally, he says, “Something happened with my brother. He’s okay, but he was rushed to medical. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back earlier. I had a few things I had to deal with.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad your brother is okay,” is all I can really say. I want to ask him when he’ll be home, but I’m afraid it’ll sound too clingy, so I just allow silence to fall between us.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says.

There’s a distance in his voice that pops up whenever we start talking about his brother. He never seems comfortable talking about his family, which is a bit weird, honestly. My instinct is to confront it head-on and ask him why he’s being so cagey, but I know that will just make him clam up even tighter, so I resist.

“Well, thanks for answering. I was just wondering if you were okay,” I say, trying hard not to sound like the clingy girlfriend. Or fuck buddy. Or whatever it is that we are.

“Yup, talk to you soon,” he says, then abruptly hangs up.

Uh, okay.

Well.

Lying back on the bed, I wonder what Roman could be hiding. Honesty, what I really need is a Private Investigator, someone who could dig around and ask questions. My account is pretty flush right now, so why not use it to help find Bree, while also looking into the Rush family?

Pulling my computer onto my lap, I literally just Google, “Best Private Investigators near me.” A bunch of results pop up, and I comb through the anonymous reviews until I find an investigation firm I like. I quickly book a consultation online, giving them my phone number, so someone can call me back.

With that done, I get up off the bed and slip my shoes on. One thing I’m not going to do is just wait around for Roman to waltz through that door. I’m going to keep myself busy.

Just as I’m grabbing my purse, my phone pings. It’s a text from Roman.

Forgot to mention, you have an appointment tomorrow at 1 pm to see my family doctor. You’re going this time. I’ll send my mom’s driver to pick you up.

Ugh. I’ve been putting the doctor’s appointment off for the last couple of weeks because, honestly, I’m so behind in my classes, I haven’t had time. But, yeah, I need to rip the bandage off and just get it over with.

I lock my phone without replying to Roman’s text because I don’t want it to look like I’m just pouncing on his every text. I’m not usually this hyper-focused on this type of stuff, but Roman is such a damn enigma that his weirdness has me constantly questioning myself.

Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I head downstairs. I need to get out of here. The more I sit around, the faster I spiral into the dark void of grief. I need a distraction. I need to be around people.

Downstairs, several circle members are milling around, which is usually the case. Rarely, if ever, is this house empty. There are always people here, always something going on.

I walk into the living room and see several guys sitting around smoking pot with several barely-clothed Debs on their laps. Music plays in the background, and a couple of the guys are playing video games on the huge television, while everyone else watches.

Across the room, I spot Nathan racking up some balls on the pool table and get the flash of an idea. He was the one who came to the gate earlier and told Roman he had a phone call. Maybe he has information about what’s going on? All Roman said was that his brother was taken to medical.

“Hey, Nathan.” I grab a cue stick. I’ve only played a few times, but I know enough to be competitive.

“Hey,” he says with a smile. “You gonna play?”

I shrug. “Yeah.”

Nathan chalks up his stick, looking at me from the side of his eye, like he’s afraid to look at me head-on. “How are you doing? Holding up?”

He’s talking about what happened with Bree. “I’m okay,” I say, hoping he doesn’t delve any deeper into the topic. I’m constantly on the brink of tears, and honestly, the simplest question could break the paper-thin damn I’ve built to hold them back.

He flashes me a tight smile, bending to line up the break shot. “Good, I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been thinking about you.”

I swallow and nod once. He takes his first shot, then studies the pool table to see where all the balls land.

Leaning down to line up my own shot, I glance up at him through my lashes. “So, um, crazy about Roman’s brother, right?”

Nathan stiffens, and his gaze quickly darts away from me. My change of topic makes him uneasy. Perfect. That means there’s more to this whole brother thing than I know. Otherwise, why would Nathan be uncomfortable talking about it?

“Yeah,” he says, if only to fill the lingering silence. “Crazy.”

I take a shot that misses. Straightening, I flash a smile, and try to look casual, like I’m just making small talk. “Roman called me earlier. I guess his brother is okay.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too,” Nathan says, lining up his next shot.

“So what happened?” I ask. “Roman told me, but he was in the car, and he was breaking up, so I didn’t really get the full story.”

Nathan seems to be considering filling me in, but it looks like he’s weighing the risks of sharing Burning Crown business. But it’s me. Queen bee. Why wouldn’t he be able to tell me? I guess he comes to the same conclusion because, after a few seconds, his features relax. “Well, apparently he was found in his cell, bleeding, and taken to medical.”

I blink at him. No wonder Roman ran off in a panic. “Bleeding? What happened? Was he attacked?”

Nathan’s jaw is set, and his broad shoulders look tight. “Apparently there was a note found with him.”

Shit.Nathan doesn’t say it explicitly, but a note means that whatever wounds Roman’s brother suffered were likely self-inflicted. That’s heavy, and my chest immediately aches for Roman. What he must be going through right now…

Ugh, now I feel bad for prying. But, let’s be real, that’s not going to stop me from digging further. Nathan is obviously feeling chatty, and who knows if I’ll ever get this opportunity again?

“Wow, that’s rough,” I say, taking another shot. I miss the shot again. Wow, I’m really bad at this. “Do you know why his brother is in jail?”

Again, Nathan hesitates, so I offer a little morsel of information—just enough to make him believe I’m in the know, and that I’m one of them. “I heard something about assault,” I add.

Nathan presses his lips together and nods. “He’s always been more impulsive than Roman, even when we were younger.”

Oh. “You’ve known Roman since you were young?” I honestly didn’t get that impression at all. I thought Nathan was just another member of the circle.

He nods, one side of his mouth curling up. “We went all through school together.”

“Huh, I had no idea you guys were so close,” I say.

“Yeah, we’re pretty tight,” he says with pride. He sinks another ball. “I actually got into Berkley, but I chose ExU because Roman and the other guys were here.”

“Wow, that’s awesome.” I’m pandering a bit, but I want to keep him talking. “So…Roman’s brother….he’s a bit of a loose cannon, eh?” Let’s see how much I can get him to tell me about Roman and his brother since Roman isn’t willing to tell me anything at all.

Nathan just glances at me before taking his shot. “I didn’t say that,” he replies defensively. “He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve what happened.”

Oh, damn. I’ve stepped in it somehow. “Oh, right, yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m just…trying to figure Roman and his brother out.”

Nathan straightens and leans against his cue stick, his gaze turning hard. Critical, even. “You should learn to leave well enough alone. Roman and his brother aren’t topics of discussion around here.” There’s a millisecond of silence before he smiles again, cutting through the tension. “Unless you’re a member, of course.”

I purse my lips and nod. Nathan has always been nice, and helpful, but the second I touch the topic of Roman or his brother, that wall goes up. The same wall Roman hides behind.

But why? What are they hiding?

I can only guess it’s because these rich bastards don’t want people to know their business. But I’m part of their circle now, right? I mean, peripherally. I guess that’s not enough. And all because I haven’t gone through the motions of some dumb ritual? But if that dumb ritual would get me all the inside information, then…

“How does one become a member?” I ask. “I mean, what’s the process?”

He looks at me dead-on, and I don’t know why, exactly, but the look in his eyes makes me uneasy. “You have to go through initiation.”

I nod. “And what does that entail, exactly? No one will tell me.”

“That’s the point, though, isn’t it?” He leans in, his expression dead-serious. “You have to be willing to give everything to the society. Unequivocal trust and loyalty. If you had that, you wouldn’t even need to ask what the initiation ritual is. You would be willing to submit yourself to whatever the society requires of you.”

Uhhh. Damn. “Are you sure this isn’t a cult?” I laugh, but the joke falls flat, and Nathan just blinks at me. “Sorry,” I say quickly. “That was a bad joke.” I clear my throat and decide to change the topic. “It’s just that people here seem really loyal to the Rush family.”

Nathan’s hard gaze doesn’t leave my face. “Not just the Rush family. All of the founding families.”

“Is your family a founding family?”

That smile returns. “On my mom’s side. My grandmother was a Rush.”

“Oh!” huh. “Small world. So why aren’t you one of the Sacred Sons?”

He laughs a little under his breath, like, he finds my ignorance amusing. “My last name is Herschel.”

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. That last name sounds really familiar. “Isn’t there a Herschel Castle around here somewhere?”

Herschel was a very well-known name in California in the early 1900’s. The main dude was some kind of newspaper guy, and worth millions, which back then, was a shit-ton of money. He had a huge-ass mansion built that was dubbed “Herschel Castle.” It’s a museum now.

“Yeah, it’s about 3 hours north.” He doesn’t confirm or deny his relation to the Mr. Herschel. “But it doesn’t matter how much money you have. That’s not the point. Anyone attending ExU is either wealthy or supported by someone wealthy. What matters here is the name. And the names that matter are Rush, Walker, McKnight or Ashford. You have one of those last names, and you’re automatically eligible to be a Sacred Son.”

I nod slowly, then gather up the courage to ask the one question I really want to know. “So, um, do you know if the Burning Crown has ever had anyone killed?”

Nathan looks at me sharply, and I’m suddenly reminded that Wyn warned me about digging around in Burning Crown business. And, yet, here I am, asking the hard questions right out of the gate. But I don’t have time to fuck around. Bree’s killer is out there somewhere, and if the Burning Crown has a habit of killing people, then this seems like a good place to start asking questions.

“You should be careful,” Nathan says, glancing around us to make sure no one is listening. “You might be queen around here, but you’re not a member, and questions like that’ll get you in trouble.”

His words are meant to scare me, I think, but being campus queen has given me a whole new level of confidence, so instead of shrinking away, I just blink at him. “And what kind of trouble would that be?”

He takes his shot, sinking two balls. Then he straightens and shrugs one shoulder, his gaze fixed on the pool table. “Non-members who know too much don’t last very long around here…”

That statement catches my attention, because, in Bree’s unfinished note to me, she said she’d discovered something about the Sacred Sons—something serious enough to warn me about, and serious enough to want to leave Malibu altogether. Is that why she was killed?

I blink and take a step toward him. “What happens, exactly?”

He shakes his head and lines up another shot, then takes it and misses. He straightens and turns his focus on me. “Let me ask you a question,” he says casually.

“Okay.”

He leans forward, putting all his weight on the cue stick, and I wonder if it’ll snap in two. “What would you do for someone you love?”

I blink, surprised by his question.

“I mean, how far would you go to protect them?” he clarifies.

I’ve been asking myself that same exact question a lot lately. If I’d known Bree was in danger, how far would I have gone to keep her safe? The answer always comes easy.

“There’s no limit to what I would do,” I say with a shrug.

My mind is cast back to Tyler, and what Roman did to him. Tyler’s death was brutal and painful, and still, it doesn’t come close to what I’d do to Bree’s killer if I ever find him. There’s a special place in hell for a cunt like him, and I intend to send him there personally.

So, yeah, how far would I go? All the fucking way.

Nathan points at me with a nod. “There you go. Exactly. The Burning Crown is no different. We’re a family, and there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to protect our own.”

“Interesting.” I nod, making a mental note of his answer. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do. Hmm. It’s just another piece of a very complex puzzle…