I hate this.
Not knowing.
Being at his mercy.
Being weak.
I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard. Hold it together, Leighton. I quickly wipe away the lone tear that drifts down my cheek. I refuse to let him see me like this, let him know that he made this of me.
I'm a Moore.
I’m sure as hell not going to make it easy for him.
Hours later, the door finally opens, and I am fully expecting Devon to walk through. Instead, a tall slim girl enters. I eye her warily, not knowing what to expect. She seems familiar somehow, but I can't put my finger on it.
Neither of us moves. She tucks her curly blonde hair behind her ear, her wide, blue eyes trained on me. She's wearing black jeans paired with a white blouse and black boots. Stylish, yet casual, and all designer. The floral scent of her perfume drifts through the room.
“You must be hungry,” she says in a soft voice as she places some food on the side table. She picks up the bag of trash from the last meal and puts it on the floor outside the door, pushing it further away with her foot. I think she's going to leave, but she comes back in, closing the door behind her and looking as if she wants to say something. My gaze rakes over her, sizing her up.
I could so take her.
“Whatever you're thinking, you better stop it. There are two guards standing just down the hall,” she says, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. “Men everywhere.”
Of course there are.
I stare at her for a moment, watching her body language, the expression on her face. She’s not bluffing.
“I’m Hayley,” she says, taking a seat in the same wooden chair Devon sat in earlier. She places her arms on each side of it and studies me.
“Make yourself at home in my humble prison,” I say dryly, leaning over to see what food she brought me. A burger and fries.
“I just thought you could use some company. You must be bored out of your mind,” she says, watching me as I eat the burger.
“And who are you, exactly?” I ask her, picking up my burger. I don't bother denying the boredom.
“Hayley,” she repeats. I lift my head up and stare directly into her eyes. They’re clear and friendly and I see no anger or hate lurking behind her calm façade, but some people are good at faking that sort of thing.
“I meant who are you in the grand scheme of things, Hayley?” I ask her, taking a bite of the burger.
“I’m a family friend of the Andres,” she says, glancing around the room curiously.
“Whose room is this?” I ask her, continuing with my meal. Her curiosity has piqued my own.
She shrugs, but doesn’t answer my question, so I continue. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”
“I don’t know what they plan on doing with you, Leighton Moore, but the least I can do is drop by and keep you company now and again,” she says.
“Can you bring me a television?” I ask hopefully. I hate to ask for anything from these people, but I need something to amuse myself. And Hayley doesn't seem so bad. I stop that thought. She must know I'm here against my own free will.
Hayley purses her lips. “I’ll see what I can do.”
With that she gets up and leaves, offering me a sympathetic smile before the door locks behind her. Her sympathy pisses me off.
I finish my meal, forcing myself to eat everything offered.
With nothing else to do with my time, I have the longest shower in history. Looking through the clothes I’ve been given, I choose a pair of yellow sweats and a snug T-shirt. Who chose these clothes? I have so many questions, and no freaking idea about any of them.
The next time I see Devon, I’m going to demand some answers.
DEVON
“So, you're holding Leighton Moore locked up, eh?” Hayley says when she finds me in my uncle’s library, my head in my hands. It’s the only place in this mausoleum of a house where I can actually think, and after what happened earlier I need to clear my head.
I say nothing. She knows who Leighton is, just like I do.
“God, Devon. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking, Hales, that I’m almost there. And she was in the way.” It seems like a plausible excuse. Hayley knows all my theories about who's responsible for my family’s disappearance and, well, death. I'd hate to admit to her I only brought Leighton here because I didn't want George killing her just like that—it seems stupid when you think about it. She's not any safer from me.
“Hey.” Hayley puts her hand on my shoulder and I look up at her, a golden halo around her head from the lights behind her. I always thought she looked like an angel with her beautiful blonde hair and those baby blue eyes. “What's going on?”
“They found them,” I say, my voice breaking. “The new high school construction site.”
“So? This is nothing new,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone, sitting next to me. If it was anyone else I might have been offended, but Hayley accepted the truth long ago, the same way I did. “This is what we needed. Do we have a plan?”
I'm not surprised that she's including herself in these plans, whatever they are. My uncle is letting me call the shots on this one, as they discussed this morning. Because it's personal to me. Like they weren't his family, too.
This is the ultimate test. I know what he expects, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it, too. And even if I didn't, he wouldn't let it slide.
“An eye for an eye,” I tell her, letting the words settle around us. I don't feel any different for finally voicing my plan.
Hayley nods, squeezing my shoulder harder. She was always supportive of my decisions, whatever they were. It's what best friends do. Or, best friends and ex-girlfriends, in Hayley's case. She's the only person in this world I'd trust with my life.
I met her in front of her father's office the day after my parents disappeared. Her dad is the DA, Mackenzie Fletcher. My father and he grew up together. When my uncle got me from boarding school, the first place we stopped was their house. I sat on the hallway floor, my arms limp at my sides, when she approached, carrying some chocolate in her hands. She shared it with me, and held my hand while they talked inside, not saying a word.
We've been inseparable since, though I never felt her father approved. I’m not exactly the kind of person someone like him would want his daughter to associate with.
For a while we just sit there in a comfortable silence.
“If you can't let it go . . . ” she says.
“I can't let it go. It's not right, and I owe it to them,” I say, my voice gaining more conviction with each word.
“She wants a television.” Hayley changes the subject, amusement lacing her voice. “The girl is held prisoner by the nephew of a sworn enemy, and she wants a television.”
“I'll get her something. Will you help me out with her?”
“Why, are you scared of that little girl?” she asks.
“She’s not that much younger than you. And, if you were me, you wouldn't go in there either.” I give her a pointed look.
“Oh my God,” she says in mock outrage. “She didn't?”
I groan out in exasperation and lean my head on the wall behind me, looking up. “Oh, she did,” I say as a vivid image of Leighton's naked little body plays in my head. I swallow hard, hating myself for the pang of regret I feel for walking out of her room.
“Wow, I'm actually impressed she'd dare to try and seduce the unattainable Devon Andre,” she says, thoughtful. She turns to me, and her lips curve into a smirk. “Like you'd fall for that. Doesn't she know anything about you?”