Duke: Chapter 37

That was utterly unexpected. Who’d have thought that the Hawthorne brotherhood would be willing to help us? I shake my head. It still doesn’t seem real, but if that Archer guy can do what they say he can, that’ll go a long way to making me feel better about our plan for Friday night. I slide my gaze over to Lennon, who’d fallen asleep on the three-minute drive between the two houses.

I can’t blame her for being exhausted. Today was more than anyone should have to deal with. And I really fuckin’ hate that I have to add to it now. I poke around in my backpack to make sure the two journals I’d taken from Hunter’s glove box this morning are still where I left them, and they are, so I zip it up.

I hate to have to disrupt our quiet again.

As we all shuffle into the house, Mason with Lennon wrapped around him like a koala bear, I glance toward the office. There’s a fucking secret door behind the books. That’s what Hunter had told me.

My jaw grinds as I contemplate how to do this while following everyone into the kitchen. Should I put it off? What I have to tell them is only indirectly part of everything concerning the OG Bastards and their country club of horrors.

In the kitchen, I stop at the island, rest my hands on the granite, and drum my fingers as I watch Mason set Lennon on one of the stools to fetch her some water. Duke busies himself in the pantry for a moment, then emerges with bread and peanut butter. He ducks his head into the fridge for the jelly, then proceeds to make one sandwich after another.

He looks up, gesturing to the pile of sandwiches. “Sorry, I was fuckin’ hungry after that strategy session.”

I nod, watching Mason massage Lennon’s back. She’s practically falling asleep again under his touch with her head resting on her arms on the counter. She’s bound to be both tired and tense after everything that’s transpired … and it doesn’t help that the plan is going to put a lot of pressure on our girl.

Rather than get caught up in what I have to show them and risk none of us filling our tanks, I let everyone eat first. It can wait ten more minutes. I’m not looking forward to sharing this information with Lennon, anyway.

Once everyone’s finishing up, I clear my throat. “Can you all stay right here?” I pat my hand on the counter. “I don’t want to pile on, but I do have a few things you need to see, and there—fuck, there just hasn’t been a spare minute until now.”

Lennon’s head pops up, her mouth open in an O, her eyes nervous.

I wince at her response. “I know. I hate to do this, too. Be right back.” I jog off to the front of the house and up to my bedroom where I’d left the envelope with the photos and nightie.

As I reenter the room, there are three pairs of eyes watching me anxiously. I take a deep breath and drop the envelope onto the counter. As Mason reaches for it, I shake my head. “Wait.” I bend down to dig into my backpack and pull out the journals. I set them on the counter with a resounding .

“The fuck’s all this?” Duke’s eyes narrow.

I’d wait forever to tell them if I thought I could spare Lennon this. I stare into her frightened eyes. “It’s bad, Lennon. But I don’t want to keep it from you.”

“No more bullshitting. Let’s go,” Mason grits out.

I nod. He’s right. With my jaw tense, I put my hand on the envelope. “This morning when I came downstairs, this was on the kitchen table. I believe it’s a slap from the OG Bastards. It’s Lennon’s nightie from the night of the auction. And”—I exhale harshly—“photos of what they did to her.”

Duke growls. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Sweet girl, it’s your call if anyone sees these or if we burn them. But I’d hold off on that decision until we know how things go on Friday. We can hide them somewhere. I don’t trust putting it in our safe, especially with the second thing I’m going to tell you.”

“Jesus.” Mason scrubs his hands over his face, then gestures that I should keep going. “Bring it. Lay it all out there.”

“Before I punched Hunter, I made him confirm for me exactly what happened to Lennon. Wanted to know if he lied. He did not. He spilled everything. And he also told me where they had her in these photos.” Lennon looks at me with anxious eyes. “It’s here. In this house.”

Duke jerks. “What the fuck.”

I nod. “One of the bookcases in the office. It’s a door. How much do you wanna bet it’s similar to what we saw at the club? A place where they can behave like animals without being witnessed.”

Mason shakes his head. “How the fuck long have they been assaulting women?”

“A really fucking long time. We’ll go look for it in a sec. I actually suspect there may be an exit in and out of our damn house. That’s how they have gotten in and out without our knowledge. They didn’t need to use their keys and the front door. Too obvious. Too high of a chance someone would see them.”

Lennon’s face has grown deathly pale. She shakes her head. “How about these?” She frowns, touching the two books. One is very obviously feminine, pink with flowers, like a watercolor painting. The other is simple brown leather.

“Journals. I found them in Hunter’s glove box this morning.”

“You’ve been busy.” Lennon gawks at me, a slight tremble in her hand where it rests on the journals.

“One is Lily’s—I assume we’ll find entries about the affair she had with Isaac, her pregnancy, questioning who the father is. Maybe more. I don’t know. We’ll have to read. The other is Hunter’s. It appears to only start a year ago, though. I’m unsure if we’ll find anything useful, but I figure we’d better read them over the course of the next two days, right?”

Mason pulls the leather-bound one toward him. “I’ll read Hunter’s.”

“Okay. I’ll take Lily’s then.” I don’t know which will be harder to read, honestly. They’re both going to be interesting in different ways, I’m sure.

“Let’s hope Hunter’s is just damning,” Duke murmurs.

Lennon glances at us, then picks up the envelope and walks away without a word.

“Think she’ll look at them? Maybe she shouldn’t.” Mason follows her retreating figure with his eyes.

“It’s her call. But I can tell you, they’re bad. The stickiness she felt was mostly liquor. Maybe spit? There are several images where I could see the bottles around her, men’s hands. A couple of really disturbing close ups of tongues and fingers. I literally shudder to think of everything they did to her.”

“Fuck,” Duke bites out as a noise from the front of the house gets our attention. He juts his chin in that direction. “We’d better go. Sounds like she’s looking for that door.”

Mason and I take the journals with us, leaving nothing to chance.

“This is definitely where they had me.” Lennon’s voice sounds small from inside the room.

Damn, she figured it out fast. One of the bookcases is hanging open, acting as a doorway to another room.

My stomach roils as I step through into the other room. It’s an almost perfect replica of the room at the club, dark and dank with white pillar candles everywhere … and masks that line the walls. Dead center is what looks like some awful ceremonial table. There are metal rings attached that make me suspect they’ve tied women to it.

But can they get in and out of our home without our knowledge? That’s my biggest question. When I take a moment to look around, sure enough, there’s a trapdoor in the floor that opens when I pull up on the metal handle attached.

Not wanting Lennon to follow, I have the guys stay with her to check things out myself. I follow the tunnel for almost half a mile, all the way to another trapdoor. I climb a short ladder and push it open. I find myself in the middle of the fucking woods behind Bainbridge Hall. Motherfuckers. This house isn’t that old.

had it built like this. They’ve had access this entire time.