Deuces Wild by Goode Ella

Author:Goode, Ella
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Carter

I didn’t hear the sirens. The music was too loud. Plus, two hundred seniors and a few underclassmen were noisy enough to drown out an airhorn so I was surprised when our butler, Felton, found me standing by the edge of the pool trying to block the rest of the class from looking at Mallory’s nearly naked body.

The butler draws me aside. “Sir, there are officers here to see your guest.”

My eyes fly to Mallory, who is in a splash fight with Aly. Look at me, learning people’s names. I give myself a brief pat on the back before turning to Felton.

“How’d they get past the gates?”

Felton clears his throat. “They were open for all the guests.”

We survey the rowdy crowd in unison. A couple of the tables have been tipped over. Someone has broken off the arm of one of Dad’s statues. There’s more beer on the tiles than in anyone’s stomach and so many people have had sex in the hot tub that the thing is going to have to be drained and disinfected with industrial bleach. Or maybe we should just tear out the tile and start over.

“Remind me to never host another party, Felton,” I say as I walk over to grab my hoodie. It’s cold outside of the water. Whoever thought a pool party in fucking January made sense needs his head examined.

“Noted, sir. Should I call your father?”

I check the time. It’s nine here so it’s four in the morning over there. Dad’s not going to be awake for another two hours. Besides, I’m an adult with a fat bank account. I can figure this out.

“Nah. I’ll deal with it.” I start for the house.

“Very well. I’ve placed the officers in the library and—“ He stops short and so do I. The officers have wandered out of the library and are standing on the terrazzo tiles of the back sundeck overlooking the pool. My mind flashes to the beer and possible weed that is being consumed below. I don’t love these classmates of mine, but no one is getting arrested at one of my parties.

I charge up the stairs. “May I help you?” I strive for pleasantness.

“How old is everyone here?”

“This is private property. Do you have a warrant to search the place? Because, if not, I think you should leave.”

The tall, gaunt officer who looks like he stepped out of a Tim Burton animation pulls a piece of paper from his breast pocket and flicks it in front of my face. “We have a warrant for the arrest of one Mallory Simmons. We have information that she is being harbored here.”

I snap to attention. No one is taking Mallory from me, particularly not the police. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. No one by the name of Simmons lives here. It’s my dad and me and my cousin.”

“Ms. Simmons is a dangerous runaway who has stolen thousands of dollars. For your own safety, it’s best if we take her off your hands.

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