Page 130 of Raise Hell

“I’m Evangeline!” I screech as his finger twitches. “Evangeline Pratt. Olivia is my sister.”

The gun stays pointed at me. “Evangeline?”

“That’s right. Evangeline Pratt. Olivia and I are twins.”

“Twins.” He studies my face as if searching for differences that he won’t find. “Olivia never said anything about having a twin.”

“Not really that surprising. We haven’t spoken in years. She’d probably rather forget that I exist.”

“I can see why.” He lowers the gun, but his finger is still on the trigger. “Where is she?”

“In a coma. She never woke up after she was attacked.” My gaze narrows on his face. The search for her attacker doesn’t stop just because I’m afraid for my life. “It was you who did it. Wasn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Vaughn gestures toward the door with the barrel of his gun. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

He grabs my arm. I try to fight him off. I can hold my own in a scrape, but not against a guy who has fifty pounds on me and apparent psychosis on his side.

One lesson I always took from binging true crime television is that you never go anywhere with a kidnapper. If they’re planning to kill you anyway, make them do it in a public place. At least that way, they’re more likely to be caught and brought to justice.

But with a gun pressed to your head, it’s easy to forget whatever rules you think you know.

Vaughn leans his face close to mine, baring his teeth. “Come quietly, or I’ll make it hurt.”

I don’t have any choice but to go with him.

* * *

I don’t see anyone else around as Vaughn drags me outside.

Anya must have gone to fucking Siberia to get the damn Chunky Monkey. If I survive this, next time I’m going to tell her to skip the ice cream run.

Vaughn keeps the gun pressed into the small of my back. Like I’m going to forget it’s there if the metal isn’t poking my spine.

“I’m complying here. Can you back off a bit?”

“Can you shut up?” He digs the gun harder in my back. “Turn here. The car is parked at the far end of the lot.”

Once we’re in his car, Vaughn does the smart thing and makes me drive so he can keep his gun pointed at me.

So much for taking him by surprise. I should have known that a Havoc Boy would be a born criminal.

My hands grip the steering wheel as I try to decide if it’s worth it to ram us into a tree.

There isn’t a guard posted at the gate, so I don’t even get the chance to signal for help. It’s late enough in the evening that we don’t pass any other cars as we take the winding road down the hill toward Drumville.

“Slow down on those curves,” he commands. “If you crash this car, I promise you won’t be walking away from the scene of the accident.”

There goes that idea.

I decide to keep him talking.

“Where are we going?”

“To the police station.” He surprises me by actually answering. “Olivia Pratt is going to walk in there and make a statement implicating a convicted felon in her assault. A felon who is already in prison for a different assault. He was the one who put her in the hospital, not Havoc House.”

He wants me to make a false statement to the police that will exonerate Havoc House.

The thought of it makes me want to vomit.

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