Page 31 of Unspoken Truths

The words are sarcastic as he turns back to leave and I push open the heavy wooden door to the parking lot.

“I don’t have any medical shit in my SUV,” Mr. Emil growls. “Does she have anything in her bag?”

Opening it, I go through it, making a sound when I find gauze, wet wipes, and tape.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “You could say that.”

“I’ll have one of my men check her cuts when we get home, I think some liquid stitches will reseal her wounds. Fuck this place,” Mr. Emil grunts, pissed off.

“I swear I didn’t run that article,” I tell him softly as I follow him to his electric vehicle.

He bought it within weeks of getting married, my father told me. He wanted a safe vehicle for his new wife and her child. Apparently, Ignacio has never been fond of the idea of becoming part of a blended family. As an only child, he’s used to having all of the attention.

Too damn bad. As Mr. Emil clicks the button to raise the trunk door and lays her down on a blanket, I get to work with the items in her bag. I have no idea what I’m doing, yet even I can tell it needs to be cleaned, taped with gauze, and then pressure put on it with the special bandage that compressed around her leg.

“Not bad,” her stepfather mutters, picking her back up. “Get in the back seat with her, protect her head. No funny stuff.”

Just as I open my mouth to ask him what the hell he’s talking about because she’sunconscious, I see the smirk on his face.

“Very funny,” I tell him, watching the truck door close before getting into the back seat.

Helping Mr. Emil get Rachelle comfortable, her head rests in my lap while I run my fingers through her hair.

“You had a really bad fucking day, love,” I sigh.

“So you do like her,” Mr. Emil reiterates from the front seat, pulling his seat belt on before turning on the car.

“I think I liked her the second I saw her,” I admit. “Is she really going to go back to Carlysle Prep after all of this?”

“As soon as I know who is responsible for the article,” he says. “This can’t happen again. I’m going to stir up some outrage with parents too. It’s been awhile since I’ve been able to create chaos at that school. Otherwise, the rest is up to her.”

Nodding, I sigh as Mr. Emil drives to his house. A part of me wants Rachelle to show everyone that she’s fully capable of making a stand and shining at the school. I want to walk hand in hand with her, go to dances, show her the good parts of attending Carlysle Prep.

The other part of me has a feeling that the Kings are out for more blood than what’s already been spilled.

“Miss Hailey is the only one who could have amended the copies,” I say finally. She doesn’t deserve my respect or loyalty if this is what she’s capable of. “Someone must have forced her hand, but yesterday after lunch I checked on an error in the copy. That was the last update to my knowledge.”

“She’s young, hasn’t been teaching as long at the school. I think maybe three years if that,” he says softly. “If no one else is playing by the rules, then I suppose the gloves are off, aren’t they?”

My father works at a very high level in Mr. Emil’s organized crime organization as his right hand man. While they have a lot of legitimate business dealings, they are still very scary men.

“I think you’re right,” I say, looking down at Rachelle.

If her stepfather is willing to get his hands dirty, or send someone no one else knows, then I’m completely on board.

“Do you think your father would be willing to put a mask on and see what secrets she’s willing to spill?” Mr. Emil teases me.

I haven’t ever seen this side of my father’s boss. Most of the time, he’s very stern and scary.

“Being that the stunt could have gotten me also thrown out of school, I think he’d be all for it,” I say.

“Then we’ll consider it done,” he says.

As soon as we arrive back at the house, things blow up a little bit. Rachelle’s mother is panicked by the sight of her daughter’s pale, listless face, and Mr. Emil attempts to explain what happened as he carries her in. Julia’s eyes narrow on me as I walk into the house, and then dismisses me as he calls out for one of his men.

“I need you to get the liquid stitches and antiseptic, please,” he tells Tomas.

“Emil, what’s wrong?” Julia growls.

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