Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series Callie Rose (i read a book TXT) 📖

that she tried to get pregnant, that she wanted this to happen, and he’s still letting her control him like a damn puppet.”

“Fuck.” Dax scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, sliding his fingers through the short strands of coppery hair at the base of his skull. “That’s messed up.”

“That’s not the worst part.” A muscle in Linc’s jaw twitches. “He’s agreed to her terms, for now, but it’s only a matter of time before they change again. Before she wants more. So he’s trying to shield himself preemptively against the fallout in case she decides to follow through on her threat and try to ruin his reputation.”

“That’s not the worst thing, Linc,” I say softly. “I mean, it’s awful that he cheated on your mom—er, Audrey—but it could affect all of you badly if Paige goes after him hard. Maybe he’s just trying to protect you guys.”

I don’t know quite why I’m defending Mr. Black. Maybe it’s because I feel bad for suspecting him of being a murderer and not just a philanderer. Maybe it’s because he’s always been kind to me, even after everything that happened with my mom. I wouldn’t tolerate cheating from any guy I was with, so I can understand why Audrey’s so pissed, but I get the sense that Samuel is trying to make things right the best he can.

Linc’s shoulders sag, his posture shifting from anger to defeat in a heartbeat. “He’s trying to make strong connections and bolster himself in his social circle. And he just donated a massive amount of money to Judge Hollowell’s election campaign.”

My heart stops. I wasn’t prepared to hear that name, wasn’t prepared to have that face flash in front of my mind’s eye.

“He’s… what?” I ask softly.

“Judge Hollowell is planning to run for a Senate seat. Apparently, he’s been looking for early donors.”

“And your dad gave him money?”

Linc’s lip curls in disgust. “Yeah. A fat fucking check.”

“Holy shit,” Dax breathes, glancing around the car quickly before putting his attention back on the road. “He’s running for Senate? No wonder he didn’t want anything about him and Iris getting out. Hooking up with a teenager and getting her pregnant? His campaign would be over before it even started.”

I feel queasy. The idea of this man, who so far has managed to get away with murder—with taking not one, but two lives—deciding the fates of other accused criminals makes me sick. And as a Senator, he’d have even more power. People would look up to and follow the lead of a man who deserves to be in prison himself.

“No.”

The word is strangled and raw, but it’s the only response I have.

No. This can’t happen. I can’t let it happen.

“I know, Low.” Lincoln reaches up from where he sits behind me, grabbing my hand and gripping it tightly in his. “I can’t get my dad to take the money back without raising all sorts of questions about why. And I’m sure Hollowell’s got other influential people donating to his campaign. But we’ll stop him. We’ll find a way.”

The car falls into a tense silence as Dax drives, taking us through a part of Fox Hill I don’t recognize.

My mind is racing, trying to figure out all the implications of this. If Judge Hollowell is planning to run for office, it means he has even more to lose than we thought if any connection between him and Iris is exposed. It also means he’s hitching his wagon to some powerful people, and they won’t want to be brought down by scandal any more than he will.

“Well, I’d say we picked the right activity for the day,” Dax notes, dry humor in his voice as he pulls into the parking lot outside a large warehouse-type building. “I think we all need to blow off a little steam.”

I tilt my head to peer out the windshield as he pulls into a spot in front of the building, reading the large lettering on the side. Then I turn around to look at River.

“A… shooting range?”

The tension in the car dissipates a little as the guys react to the surprise in my voice.

“Yeah.” River grins. “You ever shot a gun before, Low?”

I shake my head. I was too busy going through cancer treatments and then playing poker with anyone who’d sit down with me.

He takes in my expression and nods. “I’ve only gone a few times. My dad took me when I was younger, to help me become a man or something. It can be a great stress relief.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I’m still dubious, but I pile out of the car with the guys anyway. We head inside and get checked in, presenting our IDs to the woman behind the front counter.

Then we’re escorted into the back and taken into the shooting gallery. My gaze swivels around with interest as we go, checking out the space around us but landing far more often on the four boys who accompany me.

They brought me here for a reason. For several, probably. To take my mind off my mom and off the loneliness of being without her on my birthday, to give me a chance to release some of the pressure inside my heart from the stress of everything… and to make sure I know how to defend myself.

No one has mentioned anything about that, but it’s impossible not to think about it as the man who showed us into the back takes us through the proper safety procedures and techniques of handling firearms.

A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined any reason I might need to fire a gun.

Now I can think of more than one.

My stomach tightens into knots at the thought, but I brush it away as the instructor fits us with protective eye and ear wear and then hands me a heavy black handgun.

It’s cool and solid in my hand, and I step up to the spot where I’ll fire from, focusing on the hanging target ahead of me—a black sheet of paper with