The Lies They Tell(46)

“But . . . what’re you going to do? Are you leaving the club?”

“Why, Pearl? Do you care?”

“I’m not the one who said I didn’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about actions.”

“Don’t you even want to know what’s really going on? I’ve been trying to tell you since the beginning. You’re supposed to be—” She stopped, took a breath. “I thought we were friends. But you won’t even talk to me. So, those are the rules? You can do whatever you want, hang out with whoever you want, but if you even see me with another guy, I’m dead to you? How is that fair?”

Reese turned on her. “It’s not just some other guy, Pearl, it’s Tristan-effing-Garrison and his trust-fund gestapo. You really need me to explain why it’s a bad idea to hang out with people like that? Those guys have no fear. Money and Daddy’s attorney can make anything go away. After what happened to your dad, how can you—”

“I don’t need you to tell me about that.” Her voice belonged to a stranger: harsh, flinty, years older than her. “I know what they did to us. What the hell do you think this is all about?”

For the first time, Reese hesitated, watching her. “You tell me.”

“Gee, can I?” When he stayed quiet, she took a seat on the bed, one leg folded beneath her. She lifted her coffee cup from the tray, plucking the plastic seal with her fingernail. “It’s more something that I need to show you.” She took the memory card out of her pocket. “This belonged to Cassidy Garrison.” He watched as she slid the card into his laptop and played Cassidy’s video.

When it was done, Reese sank slowly onto the edge of the mattress. The stiff resentment was gone from his expression. “You’re sure it’s real?” A nod. “Where’d you get it?”

“Found it hidden under the bathroom sink of the Garrison yacht. That’s where it was shot, too.”

“You’ve been on their yacht?”

“I’ve been lots of places. If you want to hear about it.”

He scooted back against the wall, opened his coffee, took a sip. “Shoot.”

She began with Bridges first approaching her; the party on Little Nicatou; the regatta, and so on, until she finally reached last night. When she finished, Pearl sat with her fingers linked loosely around her bent knee, staring at the pattern of Reese’s quilt. It was patchwork, looked like he’d probably had it since he was a kid.

“Sounds like Hadley really lost her shit.” Reese tore into his croissant.

“They knew she would, or at least Tristan did. It was all another test, a game. Hadley lost, and now she’s out. I don’t think Akil will ever look at her again.”

“Why’d Tristan set you up to win?”

“I don’t know.” Pearl bit her lip, shook her head. “It’s unbelievable. Those guys go along with whatever Tristan says. He’s got total control.”

“The alpha dog.”

“It’s more than that. It’s like they’re in awe of him, or scared of him, or both. Akil’s so mad all the time, all Tristan needs to do is wind him up. And Bridges . . . I don’t know what he is. Along for the ride, I guess.”

“Tristan sounds intense.”

“No. He’s actually not that bad.” Reese’s brows went up. “I’m saying he usually isn’t mean or nasty, that’s all. And he does stuff sometimes—random nice things, and doesn’t take credit for them. I don’t know, it’s weird. It’s like he’s always studying people. Playing games like last night in the cave is his way of . . . figuring us out, maybe?”

Reese cleared his throat. “So, as evil eccentric millionaire geniuses go, he rates about a six on a scale of ten. Gotcha.” He gestured to the paused video on the screen. “You think he knows about this?”

“If he knew, he would’ve taken the card before now. Either Cassidy didn’t have a chance to get back on the boat to grab it, or for some reason, she decided the danger was gone.” Pearl was silent a moment, the consequences of that sinking in. “Tristan said she had OCD, that she had panic attacks. Nobody outside the family knew. And somebody was after her, obviously.”

“Somebody pissed off enough to kill the whole family? What about that Akil guy? Maybe he snapped after she dumped him.”

“But Bridges said that he treated Cassidy like a princess.”

“Oh, Bridges said.” Reese leaned his head back against the wall, studying her. “What’s the deal with you and Golden Boy? Are you going to keep leading him on after he ditched you in the Caverns of Mystery, or what?”

Pearl opened her mouth to answer, but the words died. She didn’t want to bullshit Reese. She thought of Bridges’s lips on hers, his hands sliding places where no one had ever touched before, and felt a weakness that made her wonder where the power really lay. “I need more. I have to find out what happened to the Garrisons, to Cassidy. Maybe when I do—”

“People will stop blaming your dad.” Reese met her eyes. “I understand why you’re doing it. I don’t like that you’re risking so much.”

She forced a smile. “What risk? They’re just a bunch of Alligator Shirts, remember?”