Page 26 of No Place Left to Hide

I throw up my hands to stop them. People are starting to pay attention to us. “Can we stop? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Always the peacekeeper,” Claire mumbles, though she looks like she’s contemplating several ways to murder Jena right here in this kitchen.

Looking at them now, you’d never guess they were practically inseparable a year ago. I don’t know how many times I called either one of them to find they were already together, baking something or watching some lame campy horror movie and ranking it against the classics.

Now, if Claire baked anything for Jena, it would probably be laced with poison.

“Howisyour new school, Claire?” I ask to get her attention off Jena. Neither one of them is likely to back down. “Really. Are you settling in?”

After a painfully long stare, Claire swings her attention back to me. She looks bored again, like she’s slipped back into the unaffected persona she waltzed in with. “I don’t want to talk about my new school. I’dmuch rathertalk about you.”

Shit.

Claire grabs a couple shots off the counter and downs one. “How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“This,” she says, gesturing around the lake house as she downs the second shot. “To win. You’ve been in my shadow since kindergarten and now you’re at the top of the pyramid. Queen bee. Party hostess. Waldorf’s most valuable bitch. And you only had to step on my neck to get there.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I haven’t won anything. And I certainly didn’t step on anyone to get what I have.”

“Right, you let your dad do your dirty work for you. Brooke Goodwin doesn’t ruin her manicure for anybody.”

I frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She continues as if I said nothing at all, snatching up a third shot and tossing the last one on the counter with a clatter. “Maybe it’s time to get those hands dirty, Brooke. Show these fine people who they’re really dealing with and see if you’re still at the top of that pyramid by the end of the night.”

Claire dances away, holding her remaining shot high above her head as she slips through the crowd of dancers.

“This can’t be good,” I mumble.

Jena folds her arms. “You think? That’ll be three shots in two minutes. I don’t know what the hell she’s planning, but drunk and resentful Claire is the worst. I told you we should have kicked her out right away. Now who knows what she’s going to do?”

“I know, I know. We have to get her out of here, but how am I supposed to do that without looking like a total dick?”

Jena levels me with a disbelieving look. “Better to look like a dick for a minute than deal with whatever the hell she’s going to put you through. You don’t play with the snake that bit you, Brooke. You suck out the venom and run.”

I wring my hands together. “Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly and efficiently. My dad will flip the fuck out if someone calls the cops. He’s got alotgoing on right now. I probably shouldn’t have even thrown this party…”

I look around and catch Felix’s eye across the room. I wave him over. Maybe he can provide some muscle. Felix is not a guy you say no to—especially when he asks you to leave a party. At least then it wouldn’t bemepersonally doing the removal. That should spare some gossip come Monday.

“You stay here,” Jena says. “I’ll get her out the front door and Felix will handle it if I can’t. Nobody has to know you’re involved. Felix can borrow Dylan’s car and drive her home. He’s not drinking tonight. Or I’ll call her an Uber or something. Either way, she’s going.”

I hug her so tightly she squeaks. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Wait until I get her out of here.”

I let her go, and she snags Felix’s hand as he approaches and pulls him toward the den. I think about stepping out on the deck as an extra dose of plausible deniability—if I’m not even in the room when theymake her go, nobody can say I was involved. Andbonus, I can sneak in more time with Dylan.

But before Jena takes ten steps toward her target, Claire jumps onto the coffee table, holds her shot in the air, and grins as everyone turns to look at her. “Who wants to play Truth or Shot?” she shouts. “How about I go first?”

She stares straight over the heads of all my guests, looking me straight in the eye.

“I have so many juicy secrets,” she says, downing her third shot like it’s water. “Somebody ask me!”

My stomach sinks.

Beau grins up at her. “Truth or shot, Claire?”

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