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Considering what happened at last year’s Bacchanal, it’s more than a little annoying he’d be looking forward to this one.
I watch Vaughn chat happily into the pink vase and try to keep a hold on my temper. “Sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t realize you wanted to start planning the party from Vaughn’s hospital room.”
“Give it a rest, Pollyanna.” He turns to Vaughn with a malicious grin. “You’re going to be just fine, aren’t you, buddy? If you were me, you’d be more interested in getting that nurse’s digits than hanging out in this stuffy-ass room.” Nolan pushes off from the window and heads for the door, barely sparing me a glance. “In fact, that’s precisely what I’m going to do. Let me know when you’re ready to get out of here, Ms. Nightingale.”
Nolan slides the glass door shut hard enough that it rattles in the frame before he heads in the direction of the nurse’s station.
This is what I’d been fighting to protect, I realize. Havoc House takes us and turns us into the kind of people who don’t care about anything but ourselves.
Havoc House is like a virus that infects everything it touches until we can’t do anything but spread the same illness that’s making us sick.
“Tell me about Evangeline and Olivia,” I say to Vaughn in a voice that I hope doesn’t carry through the glass. “Tell me what happened last year.”
Vaughn just smiles at me, the filmy haze in his eyes. “You’re pretty.”
“I’m going to fix this. But I need your help, you asshole.”
He holds out the vase. “It’s for you.”
Chapter Seven
I trust Drake Van Koch about as far as I can push a fully-loaded pickup truck up a hill. In the grand scheme of things, trusting him is about as smart as turning your back on a horror movie monster.
I trust a crocodile to bite me in the ass if I go swimming in its lake. I trust a leopard not to change its spots.
And the only thing I should trust Drake to do is stab me in the back.
But I’m more worried about the fact that someone definitely tried to kill me. Because I have no idea when they’re going to try again.
It’s clear that I was the target of that hit-and-run. Whoever is trying to get rid of Olivia Pratt for good doesn’t have a problem with collateral damage, even if that happens to be a Havoc Boy. No one is untouchable when it comes to keeping their secrets safe.
So Drake has put himself in the line of fire to help me.
I have no idea how to feel about that.
Although, I have to admit that I’d feel better if he gave me at least some details of his master plan. He wouldn’t tell me anything, no matter how many times I asked. It makes me wonder if he’s keeping me in the dark for the sole purpose of pissing me off.
But for the first time since I came to St. Bart’s, I feel so close to the truth that I can practically taste it. Drake might be holding his knowledge out like a carrot on a stick, but the lure is still enough to draw me in.
I have to know the truth. I have to see justice done. And the only way to make it happen is to work with a guy who I’m nearly positive will throw me under a bus if it becomes convenient.
Hopefully, I at least enjoy the ride.
I’m not usually the kind of girl who lets her emotions run away with her. That was Olivia. When we were kids, she was always the one who wanted to see the glass as not only half-full but also dipped in fairy dust. Olivia was the believer. She trusted in the essential goodness of people and that a bright future was always waiting if you worked hard enough to get it.
I know precisely where that optimism got her.
So no, I don’t trust Drake and I’m pretty sure that I don’t even like him. But that doesn’t stop the pang in my chest when I consider the fact that when this is done, I’ll never see him again.
I’ve tried my best not to focus too much on the fact that he was the last thing I thought about before passing out in that car. My life flashed before my eyes and he was my greatest regret.
How twisted is that?
Almost dying will fuck with your head.
But things are different now, in the cold light of day. I’m here for my sister. Nothing, and no one, else is going to distract me anymore.
Despite his claims that we’re working the same side, I’m still a little surprised when Drake pulls up to the doors of the hospital on his bike. The nurse insisted on rolling me out in a wheelchair, even though I’m perfectly capable of walking. She looks askance at the motorcycle before glancing down at me. “You’re going home on that?”
