big-screen TV, a knife-tossing range (and several porcelain dolls with their eyes stabbed out), a cat jungle-gym that reaches the tip of the vaulted ceiling and—
“Is that a… a skate ramp?” Noah chokes out.
“I went through a skating phase.” I flop down on the sofa. It used to live in one of the upstairs drawing rooms. Antony and I used it as a sled to slide down the stairs, and then relocated it here. It sags a bit in the center as Noah sits down. “I’m afraid I have no staff, so if you want a drink you need to get it yourself.”
“I’m gonna need one.” Gabriel hugs the drinks cart. Eli perches gingerly on the edge of the book fort while Gabe shakes and pours. He hands around six fancy-looking cocktails. Eli rests his feet on the cover of a book on Greek vase painting and stares at it like it will eat his soul. Queen Boudica bounds over to him and nudges his hand. Eli strokes her, and the tension in his shoulders eases a fraction.
“Well, well, well.” Antony’s ice-blue eyes dart from Gabe, to Noah, to Eli. Nothing escapes him. “The rockstar, the arch-nemesis, the stalker.”
“Arch-nemesis?” Noah tugs on his collar. He won’t look at me. Or Eli, for that matter.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Gabriel downs his drink in one gulp and reaches for Eli’s while holding his other hand out for Antony to shake. “And you are?”
“I’m Claws’ cousin, Antony. And this is Tiberius.”
“You’re the guy who was in my house.” Eli leaps up, his hands clenched in fists. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Tiberius cracks his knuckles as he advances on Eli. His face twists into a maniacal smile. “You want to see how many chicks you’ll pull with your nose sticking out your ass, pretty boy?”
“I wouldn’t fight him if I were you,” Antony says. “Sit your ass down, Stalker Boy. You should’ve learned by now what happens if you keep Claws waiting.”
“Claws?” Gabriel nods at me. “Nice nickname, better than Mac. It suits you, Claws.”
“It’s just a dumb name from when we were kids,” I mutter. I know what’s coming. The big questions. The questions that will destroy everything.
I glance at Antony, trying to convey through eye movement and grimacing that we have to rescue this situation somehow. The guys cannot find out the truth. But Antony sits beside his prizefighter on the ramp, swinging his feet and smoothing the lapels of his fancy suit like he hasn’t a care in the world. I can’t read him, and I can’t count on him to come to my rescue here. I’m the one who bought the guys into this mess. I let them get close.
“You’re Mackenzie’s cousin? From the Long Island Malloys?” Eli glares at Antony. “I don’t remember Mackenzie ever mentioning you.”
“I’m from the Malloys up your ass,” Antony shoots back. Gabriel sniggers. Eli’s drink has disappeared.
Eli turns to me. The raw hurt in his eyes fucking burns. I swallow as my chest constricts. There’s even less air in this ballroom than when I was trapped in that tiny panic room. “Mackenzie, can you explain what’s going on here?”
“Eli, I know you’re pissed, but shut up a second.” Noah grips his glass so hard his knuckles turn white. He runs his fingers through his hair but forgets he’s holding the glass, and ends up tossing sticky alcohol across the rug. “Can’t you see Mackenzie’s upset? Someone shot at us.”
Gabriel grabs his friend’s shoulder and shakes him. “Who are you and what have you done with Noah Marlowe?”
“What I’ve done is bring this whole fucking mess down on our heads,” Noah says.
What?
I open my mouth to protest, but Antony’s eyes flick to me. I snap my jaw shut.
“What the fuck, man?” Eli yells. The Southern twang creeps into his voice. That’s not good.
Noah’s fingers rake through his hair, again and again, until the bit at the back he soaked in alcohol stuck out like a reverse unicorn horn. “The pieces didn’t fit together until now, but… it’s what I came to talk to Mackenzie about. When I got home on Friday night, my dad was in his receiving room, having a conversation with Brentwood.”
“Who’s Brentwood?” I ask. Antony leans forward, interested. He knows that name, which can’t be a good thing.
From the way Eli’s face has gone all pale and weird, I suspect he knows this Brentwood, too.
“Let’s just say he’s known to do a few favors for the richer families