Sancia
Sancia slid into the chair across from Christian, whose blank expression told her nothing. She set the orange juice and a sandwich on the table, then let her gaze land on his stiff face. He’d texted her half-hour ago, and she told him where she planned to have lunch. The café was a popular spot close to the university that served a long list of soups and sandwiches. She wasn’t a big eater, so their menu items were ideal.
Christian leaned forward, and she couldn’t mistake the fury in his eyes. “You trying to set me up or something?”
She pulled back and frowned, but didn’t get a word in before he snarled, “Reels are still coming to my phone.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, then lowered her voice. “The same as what you showed me?”
Christian barely moved his lips when he answered, “Yes. Montego Bay.”
A gasp clogged her throat, and Sancia sucked at the straw to settle her nerves. She leaned over the tiny table. “You have to show me.”
He sucked his teeth and slouched in the seat. “I don’t have to show you anything. You know what happened.”
Angling her head sideways she said, “What if you’re just fooling with me?”
The dark eyes she found so mesmerizing shot fire at her. “Do I look like I have time for that kind of stupidity?”
Now that she thought about it, Christian looked as if he hadn’t slept a lot recently. This was serious. She sipped from the cup while gathering her thoughts. Five days had gone by since the police had asked her father to visit the station. That had been a rough stretch, and only self-confidence helped Sancia act as if the whispers didn’t matter. But they were true. She knew because someone had sent her a bank statement from one of Daddy’s accounts. How that was possible, she didn’t know. Of course, she couldn’t say anything to Daddy, because he’d snarl at her and expect her to know where the information came from.
This business with her and Christian looked bad, and it had to go away. She couldn’t afford any hint of scandal now. Her father would kill her.
When Christian closed his fist, she met his eyes. “Honest, I don’t know where those came from. Like I asked you before, what would I gain by sharing that? And you haven’t told me how I would have filmed it.”
“How should I know?” The finger he pointed at her shook as if he was freaked out. “And if I find out you had anything to do with that wild goose chase you sent me on two times in the past couple of weeks, you’re going to be sorry.”
His tone reminded Sancia of the one Daddy used to keep the family in line. But while she had to put up with his shit, she didn’t have to take it from Christian. “Don’t threaten me.”
“Don’t get it twisted.” His scowl made her shrink, then fiddle with the gold hoop in her ear to hide her response.
“That wasn’t a threat,” he continued, gripping the phone tight. “It was a promise.”
Her phone rang, and she fumbled to pull it out of her jeans. One look at the screen pulled a sigh from her. Jonathan was calling.
“Hey, you need to get down to Dad’s office at three o’ clock.”
Now, her stomach was queasy but Sancia kept her voice even. “What happened?”
“He’s having a press conference.”
As her stomach sank, she asked, “What does he need us for?”
“Window dressing, lame brain. His PR people probably told him it would look good to have us there. The whole all-American family look.”
A glance at her designer watch had Sancia rolling her eyes. “It’s gonna be tight. It’s already after one, and with traffic, plus going home to change—”
“Do whatever you have to,” he said, sounding like their father. “And be sure not to turn up looking like a slut.”
“Go to hell.”
Christian’s head snapped up, and he searched her eyes before looking away.
Her brother only snickered. “Just be grateful I don’t tell Dad half the things you get up that you think I don’t know about.”
She was on her feet by the time she ended the call. “I have to go. Family matters.”
Christian stood and shoved his chair back, then slipped his backpack over one shoulder and walked with her toward the exit.
With slow and confident movements that disguised the panic she could barely hold in, Sancia unlocked the Benz SUV that was parked curbside. As she got in with Christian watching, she remembered how much she hated the vehicle because it was pre-owned. But after she crashed the Porsche Macan after a night of drinking and partying, Daddy had been livid. At first, he swore she’d have to get around on foot like most other people, but she’d begged and pleaded until he gave in and bought her another ride. She supposed she should be grateful, but she was used to having only the best, and the come-down still griped her. Still, the Benz was better than what 98 percent of the students drove.
She switched on the engine, then wriggled her fingers at Christian who had his phone out. He barely dipped his head in response, which made her face flame. She wasn’t accustomed to being ignored, but she’d forgive him because he was worried about the video.
After cuing up Ava Max’s latest song, she pulled away from the sidewalk. Going to the mall would be a chore she didn’t need, but she couldn’t turn up looking less than her best. She spent the ten-minute drive hoping she’d find something ideal. Her mind snapped back to the road when the power locks clicked three times in a row. Weird. The SUV probably needed servicing.
She eased up on the pedal upon approaching the shopping center and signaled to turn. The vehicle continued past the entrance. Frowning, she sat up in the seat, gripped the wheel hard, and turned down the music. Despite laying her foot hard on the brake, the SUV kept going.
“What the hell?”
The edge of panic to her voice forced Sancia to settle her nerves and take deep breaths. “In. Out. In. Out,” she muttered while pulling the fitted shirt away from her skin.
A glance at the dashboard monitor showed nothing out of the ordinary, but no matter how hard she tried, the brakes wouldn’t work. As if the Benz had a mind of its own, they were now headed down Coral Way toward Miami. The heating system had kicked on and the cab was turning into a furnace. The seat was hot, and she wanted to rip off her jeans plus her shirt. Not only was the center console at a searing temperature, so was the passenger seat when she touched it.
“This can’t be happening.” She clawed at her shirt collar, hoping this was a nightmare she’d awake from at any minute.
The music increased to a deafening level, switching to a different station every few seconds. Jabbing the button to make it stop was a wasted effort. Perspiration trickled from her hairline, racing toward her cheeks. As she swiped at her forehead, the temperature in the cab lowered to normal. In the next moment, the sweat dried on her skin as the air grew chilly.
No matter what she did, the Benz careened down State Road 972, which had four lanes divided by a median with huge trees. Sobs tore at her throat as she jammed both feet on the brake to bend the four-wheeled monster to her will. Then, a cold voice interrupted the mayhem coming from the radio. “What you did in Montego Bay followed you home. Goodbye, Sancia.”
Gasping and shivering as tears blinded her, Sancia yelled, “No! This isn’t possible.”
The radio cut off and the Benz accelerated, then veered onto the grassy median. As the SUV raced toward a row of ficus with thick, gnarled trunks, warm liquid gushed from her bladder and flowed onto the seat.
At the moment of impact, she screamed.