Page 51 of Wicked Deceit
“I know tonight is something we’ve all been afraid of. We don’t know what’s going to come,” Chase swallows hard, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “But you look beautiful, Sunshine. Like, beyond my wildest dreams. I love you. I’ll protect you,” he murmurs the last part, a hiccup escaping him when he looks me over.
“I love you too,” I whisper, stepping up and planting my lips on his. His fingers dig into my waist, dragging me forward to deepen the kiss. The tip of his tongue rubs along the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I give him one small taste before a familiar, deep voice breaks us apart in a hurry.
“Ahem,” A throat clears from behind us, and I stumble back when Chase pushes me away with an inhuman squeak.
I blink a few times, righting myself, and glare at my boyfriend standing rigidly before my father. He wipes his lips off like he wasn’t just sucking my tongue into his mouth. With a hard swallow, he puts his hands in the air in surrender.
My father smirks. “How about we get into the limo? We have a worthy charity to attend to,” Dad says, gesturing toward the door. His ice blue eyes sparkle with mischief when Chase flounders over his words, turning a deep shade of red.
“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir. I was just..” Chase stumbles over his words and feet, tripping toward my father. The only reason he doesn’t hit the ground is because my father catches him by the scruff of his suit and holds him up.
“I heard what you said, Son,” my father murmurs, and I finally see the admiration. “Keep up the good work. Or else….” Again with the threats that turn Chase paler than a ghost and a slight hint of green. His cheeks expand like he’s about to blow chunks all over my father’s shoes. Which would not sit well with the man still holding him up. A smile plays at the edges of my father’s lips when he puts Chase back onto his feet and wipes down the arms of his suit. “Yeah, son, or else….” His words trail off again in some sort of threat that I can’t comprehend.
What would my father do to Chase? Or all the boys for that matter? Bury them? Make them disappear like some sort of mafia boss? Shit, I’ve been reading way too many books for that. When my morbid thoughts fall away, the only sign my father was there is the gloomy, crestfallen face of my boyfriend staring at my father’s retreating back as he slips through the front door.
“Shit,” Chase hisses and frantically grabs my hand. “Note to self, Sunshine. Don’t kiss you when your family is around.” Shaking his head, he pulls me outside into the cool December air, which nips at my exposed skin.
Chase and I pile into the sleek black limo my mother insisted we arrive all together in and settle into our seats. All around us my family laughs with one another, passing around a bottle of expensive champagne, and fills tall glasses. Once we’re all settled, the limo takes off down the long driveway of the rented house and heads down the darkened highway. Familiar dark streets surround us as my family’s idle chatter fills the car, and they slowly sip at their drinks.
Old anxiety creeps in when I clutch Chase’s hand, and he looks at me, furrowing his brows. I give him a tight smile, trying to reassure him I’m okay. But he instinctively knows and squeezes my hand in reassurance. The anxiety creeps up my spine and tingles through my body. I take a deep breath, working through the bone crushing feeling weighing me down.
“It’s okay, Sunshine,” he murmurs in my ear. Despite his promise to keep his lips to himself, he leans in and leaves a lingering kiss on my cheek. All the while his eyes never stray from my parents.
I swallow the heavy lump of anxiety and try to force it back into the depths of where it came from. Not daring to speak through the emotions tightening my throat, I nod my head, clutching him for support. The day will come when I ride in a car and no longer feel like my chest will cave in from the pressure. But today is not the day, and my fear continues to chase me through the duration of the drive.
Bright white lights sway through the night sky, illuminating the way to our destination. Like the damn bat call in the sky, I can’t take my eyes off the mess we are most likely about to walk into. I feel it deep in my gut that after tonight, everything will change.
An ominous sensation flows through me, and alarm bells ring in my head. Violent shivers run down my spine, and my whole body shakes from the aftermath. The usually bright, full moon is covered in dark clouds, causing the towering hotel in the distance to be illuminated by only a speckling of street lights and various lit windows.
As we pull up to the front side of the prestigious hotel, my heart sinks into my ass. People mingle outside on a makeshift red carpet, posing for the flashing cameras. They smile with diamonds dripping from the women’s necks and ears, decked out in the highest end fashionable dresses. More trepidation races through me at the sight of the growing crowd. Lines and lines of people wait to get in and smile more for the camera.
I’ve been so focused on the Apocalypse’s next move, I didn’t take into account there would be so many damn people here and that I would be out there with them, too. I swallow hard, counting in my head to ground myself, and turn to Chase, memorizing the specks hidden in the depths of his gray eyes. Never wanting to forget the way his bushy blonde brows dip when he’s concerned or the way he bites his lip when he’s excited, I take him all in. Right now he looks at me like I’m the most precious treasure he’ll ever have, and he never wants to lose me.
As the doors open from the outside, I look at the brightly lit, beautiful hotel soaring into the sky. Apprehension sits like a heavy stone in my gut when I come face to face with the very event I’ve been fretting over for the past few months. Chase grips my hand tightly and helps me out of the car, guiding me toward the mouth of the monster.
On the outside, the illustrious East Point Hotel presents itself as this beautiful and welcoming gem, beckoning people inside with rich promises. But on the inside, the structure fills with rot, but not from the wooden structure holding it up or the plaster lining its walls. It’s rotting from the occupants entering its doors who are about to walk across its marble floors and stand by its grand staircase.
Our prime suspects will drink, be merry, and schmooze unsuspecting people under the guise that their money will go to needy foster kids throughout the county. Who knows? Maybe that’s precisely where it will go. Or it’ll go to line their pockets, like everything else they do. From experience, they’re greedy beyond measure, killing their wives and children to get their grubby hands on any sort of money, damning the consequences.
All we have to do is figure out how the rest of the town plays into all this. Are they contributors? We know they willingly cover up the crimes of the Apocalypse, so what do they get? The money? The satisfaction?
Tonight, we continue our investigation.
Peoplechatterinsmallgroups around the massive ballroom of the East Point Hotel, decked out in beautiful ball gowns and sleek tuxedos. Waiters carry trays of champagne and fancy finger snacks around the room, delivering them to people who raise a hand. Multiple tables of silent auction items are spread throughout, with places for names and bidding amounts. Sailboats, condos, and even a date with several women who volunteered are up for auction. All in the name of charity.
The Christmas charity event disguises itself as a ploy to raise money for the foster kids in the county. Explaining they’re trying to give these kids a better life with new clothes, laptops, and even college funds to help further their education. From the research the boys and I have done, some money finds its way to the children who need it most, and the other fraction of the money goes to line the pockets of the man or organization putting on this front. Or so we think. There’s no evidence to show it does, but deep in my gut, I know Cushing Cunningham is up to no good when it comes to a wealthy event like this.
My eyes dart around the room, taking in the scene. Everything is lavish, sparing no expense in setting it up with diamonds and expensive drinks. Not only is everyone dressed for a Hollywood red carpet, but they also decorated the entire room to match. Several men and women, including Piper, come and go from a guarded room, smirking when they come out. Their eyes trail across the crowd with triumph, and pride puffs out their suit-lined chests. I wrinkle my brow, noting several guards standing outside, checking IDs and signaling them to enter, making me wonder why someone would have to show an ID to enter. What are they hiding in there?
“You look so beautiful,” Chase whispers, dragging me from my thoughts about the forbidden room.
I eye it, narrowing my eyes from the dark corner we’re hiding in when Cushing comes waltzing out with a smarmy grin. He shakes several hands of the men waiting outside and engages in quiet conversation, leaning in to whisper in their ears. What the hell are they saying? And what are they doing? And why is it hidden? Do they have these mysterious investments that Crowe had talked about on the phone when we spied on him?
What….
“Oh, Sunshine,” Chase sing-songs, cupping my cheek. He smirks when he forces my face to his and stares adoringly at me. He tilts his head and taps on the side of my temple. “What’s going through your mind?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. “Something is off with that room,” I say, moving my eyes and begging him to follow my gaze.
