Page 150 of Kings & Corruption

I looked around, like I might see whoever had stuck the note in my pocket skulking away, but no one stood out in the crowd of students making their way to and from the admin building.

I looked back at the note. This was the first time I’d worn this particular jacket at Aventine, which meant someone had slipped it in my pocket in the past three hours.

I thought back over the first half of the day: walking to class with Rock (no one would dare), sitting in Professor Ryan’s class (no one had sat on either side of me), and meeting Claire, Quinn, and Erin for lunch.

It had to have been lunch, probably on my way to the cafeteria or on my way out, or maybe when I’d been pushing through the crowd to get to the lunch table.

The question was, who was it? And what did they mean about the Kings?

Chapter67

Willa

Istood in my underwear and stared at the dress hanging over one of my closet doors with suspicion, trying to figure out what the Kings had gotten me into. Short and black with long sleeves and a cutout from the collarbone almost to the waist, it might have been a dress made for any slutty occasion.

This was what I got for leaving my costume for the Bad Ball to them. I’d had plenty of time to insist I’d come up with my own costume. I’d taken the easy road, and now it was time to pay the piper, another of Nana Russo’s favorite sayings.

I turned to the bag of accessories Rock had brought to my room, but it wasn’t much help. I took everything out one at a time and set it all on my bed: a retro-looking purse, a pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings with black seams up the back, a pair of basic black stilettos (if Jimmy Choo was basic), a hat that looked almost like a beret, a delicate vintage watch, and a pack of cigarettes with a note taped to the front with Rock’s handwriting:Don’t you dare light one of these.

I snorted out loud. I’d never met such a hot nerd.

Taking a deep breath, I got to it. I had exactly two hours before we had to leave for the Bad Ball, and I didn’t want to be rushed, especially since I was also psyching myself out for the meeting at the hunting cabin.

I’d been instructed to do my makeup however I wanted and to braid my hair, and I ran through my plan while I went to work in front of the bathroom mirror.

First, steal the gun from the console by the front door. Rock hadn’t had time to teach me how to use it, but my dad had been a Mafia don. I wasn’t squeamish about guns, and I’d rather have it and risk firing it wrong than need it and not have it.

The next part was harder: I’d have to hope the Kings weren’t watching me every second so I could sneak away. Not exactly a foolproof plan, but there wasn’t much else I could do.

I’d figure something out.

The scariest part of all would be getting to the hunting cabin. I’d had no idea what the note meant, but an online search had turned up several articles about abandoned cabins in the woods surrounding Blackwell Falls. Some of them had been used by the workers and foremen when the quarry had been in production. Others had been used for hunting.

I’d been nervous about finding the right one, but it turned out there were a lot of weird people out there who liked to hunt for abandoned places, and a couple of them had posted maps of the various cabins.

Only one of them was close enough to walk to from Aventine, and I’d mapped it about a mile from the admin building and ballroom.

A mile wasn’t an easy walk through the woods, especially in the dark, but it was doable, and I’d stashed a pair of boots and a jacket behind one of the ceiling panels in the women’s restroom closest to the ballroom.

I could do this.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. “You can do this,” I whispered.

My makeup looked good. I’d taken a chance on both a smoky eye and a red lip — a combo that was usually too much — reasoning that any famous female criminal was probably a historical figure, and makeup was almost always heavier back then.

Besides, the dress screamed skanky. It was clear what the Kings wanted. Who was I to disappoint?

Anyway, it worked, and I thought about the next part of the equation while I braided my long hair.

The Kings. I hadn’t told them about the letter, and I didn’t plan to. It was a gamble. The person who’d slipped the note into my pocket was more than likely an enemy — but it played on my biggest fear about the Kings: that I couldn’t trust them.

My conversation with Rock at Cassie’s had left me feeling sure we were on the same side, but it had been a fragile trust based on desperation.

What choice did I have?

Now I had another choice. It sucked, but it was still a choice.

If the note was right and I told the Kings about the meeting, I might never get the promised information about Emma. If it was wrong, I might end up fighting for my life.

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