Page 109 of The Ruthless Note

Dutch’s warning—that I shouldn’t owe his father any favors—rings through my head. It’s enough to make me think that Jarod Cross shouldn’t be my ticket out of every situation.

“I really appreciate you looking out for me, Miss Jamieson.” I smile at her. “But I can’t afford to trust anyone else right now.”

“Cadence—”

“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving Redwood.”

The bell chimes again. The last warning to get to class.

“I have to go,” I say.

On the way down the hallway, I pull out my phone and text Jinx.

Do you still sell secrets?

Jinx: Do you have secrets left to trade, New Girl?

I suck in a sharp breath.

There’s no way I can get out of this without fighting fire with fire.

Me: I need all the dirt you have on the chairman of the board.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

DUTCH

“What are we going to do about Miller?” I pose the question to my brothers. We’re around the pool at our villa.

Zane’s got his feet in the water and a bunch of beer bottles by his side.

Finn is staring at the star-lit sky, his glasses on his nose. He rarely wears his contacts when he’s at home.

“Jinx raised her prices, but I’m willing to go all in on Miller’s dirty laundry,” Finn says, his voice low and dark.

It’s the most obvious method.

Tear him in the dark. Where it hurts.

Just like we did to that neighbor who insulted Sol right in front of us. It’s hands-off. Clean. Detrimental.

Sol’s method back then was too messy, too obvious. It lacked finesse.

Cadence has the same mentality and it’s why she’s in this mess.

Miller is crafty. That day in the gym, when Cadence got Christa arrested, I saw in her pretty brown eyes that she thought she had the upper hand. She had no idea who she was dealing with.

That’s what happens when good girls try to go bad.

Watching her grow and learn to truly rake her claws over others would be sweet. If it wasn’t such a damn headache to clean up.

I shake my head. “We start smearing mud at Miller, he’ll throw it back. He knows what we did to get Cadence out. He knows we did it for Sol. It won’t take much for him to out us. We can’t afford to make this worse.”

Zane lifts the beer to his mouth and sips. “You have something in mind?”

“The path of least resistance.” I meet Zane’s eyes in the dark. My twin’s hair is messier than usual. His eyes are red-rimmed. His strategy of partying and screwing his way through the crap he feels is taking its pound of flesh.

I would tell him to cool it if I thought he’d listen.