PROLOGUE
COLE
HAVE YOU EVER been to a funeral where the preacher stands before the friends and loved ones of the deceased and talks about how shitty the person was? How he fucked around on his wife? Or spent his family’s life savings to feed his gambling addiction? How about during his bachelor party when he snorted coke off a hooker’s ass?
Me neither.
Why is it that we’re fucking saints the moment we die?
You hear the preacher say things like, “Oh, John Smith was a lovely man who loved his wife and kids,” when he should really be saying, “John Smith was a worthless piece of shit who fucked the underage babysitter every chance he fucking got while his wife was busy working two jobs and raising his ungrateful children.”
And let’s not forget that the deceased in that casket before you never even went to church. Let alone knew the preacher who speaks so highly of him. All he knows are the stories the blinded loved ones wrote down on a little card for him to share.
He’s a fucking puppet.
Now, I haven’t read the Bible word for word, but I know the Lord says if we confess our sins and ask for forgiveness, he will cleanse our souls, and we will be forgiven.
Poof. It’s like magic.
That begs the question–what if you’re not sorry? What if you don’t care to be forgiven?
No amount of holy water could cleanse my soul, and I’m okay with that because when I sinned, I understood that I would one day have to pay. We’re all going to die eventually. You can be one of those people who bury your head in the sand to avoid talking about it all you want, but it’s life!
Live or die.
Heaven or hell.
Angel or devil.
It’s black and white. There are no gray areas.
So tell me ... when you’re lying in that casket in front of your friends and family, what are they going to think of you? Are they going to believe that preacher who talks bullshit, or are they going to know you didn’t care if you were going to burn for eternity?
I’m not a religious person. Obviously. But I do know this. When I am damned to hell, it’ll be because I fucking earned it.
CHAPTER ONE
COLE
I LOOK UP at the dark, cloudy sky. It’s officially a new year. January first. Some would consider it a chance for a new beginning, but I’m not like most people. The sun set hours ago, but I stayed out here in the heated pool, trying to clear my mind. But like always, it’s a mess. Constantly reminding me of that day. A day that took so much from me ... as if I had it to give.
I didn’t.
I stand at the bar in the kitchen next to my friends Eli and Landen. Maddox, our other friend, stands across from us.
“Go on. Take it,” I taunt Maddox, looking down at the stopwatch on my phone.
He lets out a long breath and throws back the shot.
“Five,” I count, and everyone in the room shouts and applauds him.
“Fuck, man.” He gasps for air. He places his palms on the bar and bows his head. “You wouldn’t think that would be that hard.”
Eli laughs beside me. “You’re such a fucking pussy.”
“Let’s see you do five shots of Crown.”
Eli waves him off like it’s nothing.
“In one minute,” Maddox adds.
Eli rolls up his sleeves. “Line ’em up.”
A raindrop falls on my face, and I roll over onto my stomach and dive to the bottom of the pool. I sit here and just enjoy the silence. Trying to forget. They always come back to me, though. Like ghosts. They haunt me, reminding me I failed them.
I let out a long breath and watch the bubbles float up to the surface. Closing my eyes, I fist my hands, feeling that tightness in my chest at the need for air. I hold out just a little longer.
Something hits my arm, and I open my eyes to see it’s a diving ring. I place my feet on the bottom and shoot up, sucking in a deep breath when I hit the cold night air.
I see my best friend Deke standing by the lounge chair and table. The white umbrella from the table shields him from the rain.
“We’re ready,” he says, placing his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.
I swim over to the side of the pool and climb out. Grabbing the towel off the table, I wrap it around my hips. “Where are the guys?” I ask.
“Meeting us there.”
I nod and run a hand through my spiked hair to knock the water out of it.
Deke looks over at the dark pool. “How is your shoulder?”
“Fine,” I lie. It always hurts, but I’ve learned to live with the pain.
He nods as if he believes me. He doesn’t. “Kellan doesn’t like your plan.”
“Then Kellan can sit out,” I snap.
“That’s what I told him. But you know him.” Deke sighs. “He thinks people will look for him.”
“That’s the point.” You kill a mouse and leave it in the open, then other rodents come out to feed on it. It’s called bait. I go to step around him to head into the house, but his hand shoots out and lands on my wet chest, stopping me.
“You sure you’re ready, Cole?” His eyes go to the scar on my shoulder. “I’m not doubting your plan. It’s solid. But I want to make sure you can execute it.”
I nod. “We’ve waited long enough.”
AUSTIN
I sit in the back, staring out the window of the white Escalade SUV. It’s decked out with all the amenities required by a rich person. Heated leather seats and steering wheel. TV screens in the dash and headrests. Oversized tires with some shiny chrome wheels. Blacked-out windows. A booming stereo system. The interior is a beige color and smells of leather. Things I’ve never had before. I never needed them.
He thinks they’ll intimidate me. He’s wrong.
It’s been ten years since he saw me last. Four since I’ve spoken to him on the phone. I just need to get through the next four months and then I’m out after graduation. In two months, I’ll be eighteen and won’t have to live with either one of my parents.
Raylan slows down, veering onto the wide shoulder before turning down a private road. The trees lining the narrow drive look like claws as the branches nearly scrape the sides and top of the SUV.
“He’s a good man,” he says, breaking the silence.
He’s got you fooled!
I snort, seeing nothing but what the headlights allow us to see. It’s almost midnight on a Saturday night and eerie out here in the middle of nowhere.
For as long as I can remember, my father has preferred to live in seclusion. No one comes this far out of town. That’s why he picked this property after all. He had this house built for his wife when they got married. They chose to settle down in Collins, Oregon, a small, rich city on the coast, even though he was living in Vegas at the time he met her. She was a showgirl, and he had money. A match made in heaven.
“He’s not home often,” he adds, sliding his green eyes to mine in the rearview. Well, that’s a bonus!
The trees part, and through the soft drizzle, I see a house fifty yards ahead, facing us. Three stories tall, it looks every bit like the small castles I used to read about in fairy tales. Green vines climb up the sides of the house like hands grabbing on for dear life. Last time I was here, I used them to climb out from my second-story window. Its white stucco and black shutters make it look a tad on the evil side when lit up at night from the spotlights on the ground. It has twelve fireplaces, a six-car garage, and living quarters for the people he hires to do the jobs his wife is very capable of. A five-tier fountain sits in the middle of the circular drive. Large trees cover his twenty acres, hiding them away from anyone who happens to be nearby.