Page 56 of Disobedient Pawn

“Lizzy says you’re cute,” I said.

His brows drew together as his lips made a little pout.

“Cute? We need to take more photos. Maybe those got my bad side.”

I couldn’t hold back the laugh as I put my phone away. “No, we don’t need to take more.”

“I’ll take some later and send them to you.”

“No, I swear, you’re all good.” I pictured getting a million naked flexing shots…on second thought that wasn’t a horrible idea.

“Fine…cute. I’m not cute,” Myles mumbled as we left the school. I loved the miniature rant, it added to the adorable factor, but I bit my tongue from saying that. “Tell me something about yourself, Snowflake.”

“What do you want to know?” I gripped my mini backpack harder, worried about what he might ask.

“How did you end up at Wayward? I mean, no offense, but almost all of us were arrested by age fifteen. We’re not exactly a wholesome school if you know what I mean?” I stared at the side of Myles's face in disbelief. Did I get sent to a boot camp? “You just don’t strike me as the type to have gotten into trouble with the police before.”

“Wait…are you telling me that Wayward is like a boot camp?”

“No, more like a spot for rich and powerful families to put their kids that is safe, especially those that tend to get themselves into trouble.” He smiled wide.

“You say that like it’s the greatest thing since sliced bread. It really isn’t,” I said, suddenly wondering what the hell everyone had done. I couldn’t picture Ivy or Chantry killing a fly, let alone doing something that warranted reform school. Vicky, on the other hand, I could definitely picture her keying cars she thought were ugly.

“I don’t know what that saying means,” Myles said.

I crossed my arms, more annoyed than ever with my father. Did he really think that I needed a school for delinquents? I was a top student, and even when Mum was at her sickest, and I wasn’t going to class, I always handed my homework and projects in. Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fucking livid with the man, he found a way to do something that would make me hate him even more. Was it possible to reach a point of anger where there was no coming back? If so, I thought I was reaching my limit.

“It means you act like this is great, but it’s not. What the heck did you do? Am I out with a murderer or a rapist or…”

“Whoa, I’m not a rapist,” Myles said, and I noticed he left off the murderer part, which made me inch further away in my seat. “Okay, look. I was arrested for theft before my family left Ireland. Even before I could drive, I liked fancy cars, and I may have pinched one or two to take on joyrides. The owners didn’t find it as amusing.”

I relaxed in my seat but looked around the inside of the Ferrari. “Naw, I didn’t steal the Ferrari. I worked hard to get this car,” Myles said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ya didn’t have to. The look on your face said it all.” He ran his hand through his hair, and the messy look got messier and somehow looked better. “The world can be a dark place, Snowflake, but it doesn’t mean those that do dark things are bad people.”

The ride was quiet as I contemplated what Myles said and how I ended up at Wayward. There were so many questions, and I knew there would be no other choice than to break down and call my father. I didn’t want to, but this would eat at me until the mystery was solved.

“Do you want to talk about something else,” Myles asked, pulling me out of my brooding thoughts.

“Sure, why did I overhear a couple guys talking about you and using the name Echo?”

Myles cringed and rubbed his hand on his jeans. I didn’t think I was going to like the answer.

“Well…shit.” My brows lifted. “If I tell ya this, promise me yer not going to run away?”

“Now I’m worried.” Myles looked over and sighed.

“I guess it’s better ya know, now. My family moves a lot of money and holds books for families all over the world, and they may have ties to money that could potentially be from crime and or from gambling,” he spewed the run-on sentence out.

My mouth fell open as I stared at his worried expression. “Did you just tell me your family finds ways to wash money and are bookies?”

“It sounds so much worse when ya put it like that.”

“And the nickname?”

“I may or may not be the person they sometimes send to collect. The name comes from them screaming so loud.” Myles cleared his throat. “Okay, stop looking at me like that.”