Ruthless

Chapter 17 KISSING IN THE CHURCHYARD

That night, Hanna tramped down a steep slope toward the darkened windows of the old Huntley Rectory, an imposing stone building on twelve acres in southern Rosewood. The church had once been a mansion that housed an older, wealthy railroad baron and his Olympic-team-in-training of male fencers. The railroad baron had gone crazy, murdered several of the fencers, and escaped to South America. His mansion had been converted into a monastery shortly thereafter, but people were always saying they heard swordfight sounds and ghostly, tormented wails from the tallest towers.

The heels of her booties sank into the muddy soil. A twig snapped against her face. A couple of fat raindrops splattered on her forehead, making her skin prickle, and Hanna kept thinking she saw two huge eyes watching her from the trees. What was she thinking, agreeing to meet Liam here? What was she thinking, agreeing to meet Liam at all?

She was such an idiot. How could she fall so madly and crazily for a guy she knew nothing about, just because he paid her a couple of compliments and was an amazing kisser? It was as bad as her crush on Patrick, and look where that had gotten her. When she’d left Rue Noir last night, she’d vowed to put all this behind her—there was no way she could fraternize with the son of her dad’s biggest enemy. And when she’d met her father at Starbucks this morning to discuss how well the flash mob had gone, he’d been scowling at something in the paper. Hanna peeked over his shoulder; it was an article about Tucker Wilkinson and how much money he gave to charities. “As if he actually cares about multiple sclerosis,” Mr. Marin said under his breath. “That whole family has poison for blood.”

“Not his kids,” Hanna squeaked before she could stop herself.

Her father gave her a sharp look. “Everyone in that family is the same.”

But between then and now, an achy longing had bloomed inside of her. She kept thinking of the way Liam looked at her, like there was no other girl in the universe. How he confessed that damaging secret about his dad, seeming so broken and sad. How he wanted to take her to Miami so he could have her all to himself. How the unbearable loneliness she’d felt since she broke up with Mike vanished when she was with him, and how she forgot all about A, Tabitha, and Kelsey when they were together. So when Liam texted her earlier this afternoon, asking if she’d meet him here—sufficiently secluded, she noted, so that no one would see them—Hanna couldn’t help but text him back that she would.

The old mansion-turned-church rose up before her, a huge structure of stonework, turrets, and antique stained glass. The saints etched into the windows seemed to glare at Hanna in judgment. Something scuttled around the corner, and Hanna froze.

“Psst.”

Hanna jumped and spun around. Liam stood in shadows under an old, blown-out lamppost. Hanna could make out the shy smile on his face. A huge part of her wanted to run to him, but instead she stood where she was, giving him an uncertain look.

“You came.” Liam sounded surprised.

“I’m not staying long,” Hanna answered quickly.

Liam’s feet made squishy noises in the mud as he walked closer. He took her hands, but she quickly pulled away. “This isn’t right,” she said.

“Then why does it feel right?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “My dad would kill me if he knew I was with you. Wouldn’t your dad kill you, too? This isn’t some kind of setup, is it?”

“Of course not.” Liam touched her chin. “My dad has no idea I’m here. Really, I should ask you if this is a setup. I told you a huge secret, before I knew who you were.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone about that,” Hanna muttered. “That’s your business, not mine. And my father doesn’t play dirty.” Like yours does, she almost added, but didn’t.

Liam looked relieved. “Thank you. And, Hanna, who cares about a political campaign?”

Hanna twisted her mouth. All of a sudden, she didn’t know how she felt about anything.

“I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.” Liam ran his fingers through her hair. “I’ve never felt such a strong connection with anyone else before. I don’t care whose daughter you are. I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”

Hanna’s heart melted, and when Liam began to kiss her, she no longer felt the drizzle on her cheeks. Slowly, her body sank into him, and she breathed into his neck, his soft, shampoo-smelling hair.

“Let’s run away together,” Liam whispered in Hanna’s ear. “Not to Miami. Somewhere farther. Where have you always wanted to go?”

“Umm . . . Paris?” Hanna whispered.

“Paris is awesome.” Liam slipped his hands under Hanna’s shirt. She jumped a little at his cold palms on the small of her back. “I could rent us an apartment on the Left Bank. We wouldn’t have to deal with any of this election bullshit. We could disappear.”

“Let’s do it,” Hanna decided, swept up in the moment.

Liam drew away, reached into his jacket pocket, and took out his cell phone. He pressed a button and then held the phone to his ear. Hanna frowned. “Who are you calling?”

“My travel agent.” The cell phone’s screen glowed green. “I can get us on a flight tomorrow, I bet.”

Hanna giggled, flattered. “I wasn’t actually serious.”

Liam pressed END. “Well, you say the word, Hanna, and we’ll go.”

“I want to know absolutely everything about you first,” Hanna said. “Like . . . what are you majoring in?”

“English lit,” Liam answered.

“Really? Not political science?”

Liam scrunched up his face in disgust. “I have no interest in politics.”

“And how is it that you have a travel agent on call?”

“He’s an old family friend,” Liam said.

Hanna wondered if the Wilkinson family had lots of old family friends—probably on the political payroll. “So you’ve been to Paris before?”

“Once, with my parents and brothers, when I was nine. We did the tourist crap, but I just wanted to sit at a café and watch people.”

Hanna leaned against the damp stone wall, not caring if it made wet prints on her butt. “I went to Spain once with my parents. All they did was fight, so I stuffed my face and felt miserable.” Liam chuckled, and Hanna lowered her head, mortified. Why had she blurted all that out? “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Liam stroked her arm. “My parents fought like crazy, too. But now they just . . . don’t speak.” He got a faraway look on his face, and Hanna knew he was thinking about the trouble his parents were in. She touched his arm gently, not sure how to comfort him.

Suddenly, the doors to the church banged open. Liam grabbed Hanna’s hand and pulled her into the shadows. A bunch of teenagers sauntered out, followed by a familiar ash-blond woman in a knockoff Burberry jacket, but Hanna couldn’t quite place her.

“I’m so sorry,” Liam said in Hanna’s ear. “I wanted to meet you here because I didn’t think anyone would be around tonight.”

More people streamed out of the church. Then, Hanna saw a head of chestnut hair and flinched. It was Kate, arm-in-arm with Sean Ackard. Sean walked stiffly, like he was a little afraid of Kate’s touch. He held a flyer in his hand that said V CLUB across the top in big capital letters.

That was why ugly Knockoff Burberry Jacket was familiar— it was Candace, the head of the Virginity Club meeting Hanna had crashed long ago in hopes of getting back together with Sean. They must have moved the support group from the Rosewood YMCA, where it had been held last year, to here. So Sean was still a devout virgin! Hanna was dying to ask Kate how she’d liked her first V Club meeting. Had they sworn off touching? Had Sean bought her a no-sex promise ring yet? A mirthful laugh slipped from her lips.

Kate froze and Sean came to a halt next to her. She looked around. “Is someone there?”

Hanna clamped her mouth shut. Liam stood very still beside her.

“It was probably a raccoon,” Sean said finally, guiding her to the parking lot.

“Did you know her?” Liam whispered once they were out of earshot.

“She’s my stepsister,” Hanna said. “If she saw me with you, I’d be dead.”

Liam stiffened. “I’d be dead, too. My dad would probably stop paying my tuition at Hyde. Take away my car. Kick me out of the house.”

“That makes two of us.” She leaned her head on Liam’s shoulder. “We’d be homeless together.”

“I can think of much worse punishments,” Liam said.

Hanna ducked her head. “You probably say that to all the girls.”

“No, I don’t.” He looked so sincere that Hanna leaned in and kissed him forcefully on the mouth. He kissed her back, and then moved to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead. His hands caressed her waist. Who cared if she’d only met him a few days ago? Who cared if this was wrong? Who cared if their families hated each other? Liam was right: This kind of connection shouldn’t be ignored. It was like one of those rare comets—it only came around once every thousand years.

Two hours and a million kisses later, Hanna climbed back into her car and sank against the seat. She felt blissed-out and exhausted. It was only then that she noticed the little blinking green light on the top of her cell phone. She pulled it from the pocket of her bag and touched the screen. ONE NEW TEXT, it said.

She glanced up, gazing around the parking lot. The streetlights cast golden, uninterrupted circles of light on the pavement. The wind rattled the handicapped parking signs and blew an empty gum wrapper into the grass. No one was here. With shaking hands, she touched the screen to read the message.

Hannakins: I know you guys are living out your own private Romeo and Juliet love story, but remember: Both of them die in Act V. —A