Amaya sat up straighter, the annoyance draining from her face to be replaced with something more serious. “We’re at my place. Just come here.”
Another moment of silence, then she hung up and looked at us all. “He’s freaking out. Something about Will and . . . Hendrix.”
I shot to my feet. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Amaya’s voice remained calm. “But he was already in the car. He should be here any minute.”
I rushed to the window overlooking her curved driveway, and sure enough, a few minutes later, Drew’s Audi came tearing toward the house. As soon as the car slammed to a halt, Drew jumped out and rushed to the door. His footsteps pounded on the stairs, and then he was standing just outside Amaya’s room, breathing hard.
“Shit.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t be dragging you into this. Never mind.”
He turned to leave, but we all lunged for him at the same time, shouting over one another. Between the four of us pulling at his clothes and scolding him, we managed to drag him back into the room. He took a seat at the foot of the bed, and the four of us lined up in front of him, blocking the door.
“Drew, what is going on?” I demanded. It felt good to have that steel back in my voice, the strength returning to my spine. “Are you OK? Is Hendrix?”
“Yeah, Hendrix is fine.” He waved that away, then fixed me with a look. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Me?” I raised my eyebrows, not giving anything away. Had he found out about my meltdown somehow?
“Will . . .” Drew swallowed. “Will’s lost the plot, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drag you girls into it, but I’m worried about you, D—what he might do. And I . . . I don’t know how to make them stop.”
He ran his hands through his hair again, and I shared worried glances with the girls. Mena sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulder, just as she’d been rubbing mine earlier.
“You’re not making any sense,” Amaya said. “What don’t you want to drag us into?”
He released a big breath and leaned his elbows on his knees. “Last year, just before the school year ended, some of the guys and I . . . we got into some shit.”
“Stop being vague,” I demanded.
“Fights. We started going to these illegal fights Will somehow found out about. At first it was just to watch, make bets. But after a while, some of the guys started fighting too. It was fun at first, a rush, all that money passing hands. But the people running it . . . the opponents they were pitting the guys against got tougher and meaner, and we started walking away with more bruises and less money. And then they wouldn’t let us walk away at all.”
“Luke and the guys. The car accident.” I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to remain even. Over the summer, four of the guys on the football team had been in a horrible accident, and none of them could play anymore. “They were hurt in a fight and not an accident.”
Will shook his head. “No. It was a car accident. It just wasn’t exactly accidental. The people running the fights got in touch after, made it clear. That’s what would happen to anyone else wanting to leave.”
The words coming out of Amaya’s mouth were filthy even for her. Harlow wrapped her arms around herself.
“You’re all a bunch of fucking idiots,” I said calmly. “You couldn’t just hire some hookers and trash your daddy’s yacht like regular rich assholes? You had to go and get involved in some dodgy fight club? That is the most toxic-masculinity, stupid-ass bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“I know!” Drew pleaded, hands splayed out. “We all lost interest pretty quickly, but they wouldn’t let us leave, and now . . . I don’t know what to do.”
“What does this have to do with Hendrix? With me?”
“Apparently, they tried to get Hendrix to fight before, invited him, but he said no.” Because he’d vowed never to lift a hand against another human being again. Despicable trash-bag assholes . . . “So, the posters exposing him—they’re trying to bait him, make him angry. Someone’s decided he’d make them a lot of money, that he’s worth the trouble of . . . coercing. And Will seems to be in with this shit way deeper than I thought. I should’ve known.” He gritted his teeth. “It was always Will with the information on the next fight, always Will making the first bet. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but that’s why he put the posters up. It had nothing to do with jealousy over you. But now that he knows how much you care . . .”
The blood drained from my face. Even as a weight lifted—relief that it wasn’t because of me Hendrix had been exposed—another heavier one settled in the pit of my stomach.
Drew nodded, as if he could see the horror washing over me. “After you laid into him yesterday, he realized that you and Hendrix—that there’s something more there. And I’m worried he’ll try to use it. Use you to get Hendrix to do what he wants.”
Drew heaved a massive sigh, a punctuation to the clusterfuck he’d just dumped on us.
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Amaya asked.
“Honestly? I’m scared.” He rubbed his thighs, as if his fear was something to be ashamed of. “All the others are too. We don’t want to get charged with anything, and we don’t know if we’ll get dragged down with the rest of them. Plus, I’m worried if Will finds out it was me . . . he’ll tell the others and . . .” He was scared for his life. He actually thought these people might kill him. Considering the state Luke and the guys had been in, I didn’t blame him. “Plus, it’s not that simple. We never know when or where the fight will happen until the day of, sometimes just hours before.”
Harlow stepped forward with a pen and a piece of paper. “Can you write the addresses down for me?”
Drew nodded and started to write things down as I mulled over what he’d told us. When he was done, he handed the paper to my sister, who had already situated herself at the desk and was filling Amaya’s computer screen with weird windows of text.
“Thanks for the warning, Drew,” I said and meant it. “But I’m not sure what we can do about it either. Maybe it’s time we told our parents? There’s got to be a way to get the police involved and keep you safe.”
Drew nodded, but he looked solemn, drained. “I was thinking that too, but I can’t really go to my dad.” Drew’s father had never laid a hand on his son, but he was a cold, unfeeling man who was always happy to point out failures, never successes. “I was thinking, maybe, with all your connections in the legal field . . . I don’t know.”
He was hoping I’d know what to do, who to speak to, how to handle this best. Because I always had answers, always had a plan, was always willing to do whatever it took for my friends.
I was tired, hungover, and sick of everyone thinking I was unbreakable. But Drew was a friend, and I had my girls with me all the way.
My hand closed over his. “We’ll figure it out.”
I didn’t know how, but we would. Together.
“Shit.” Harlow’s wide eyes were scanning the screen as if to double-check—triple-check—what she was seeing. Then she turned to us, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. “Those addresses aren’t random. I figured out what they have in common. Or rather who. We have a big problem, you guys.”