Scandal Never Sleeps

Book 1: The Perfect Gentlemen

by Shayla Black, Lexi Blake

Genres: Mystery; Romantic Suspense; Suspense

Synopsis

From the New York Times bestselling authors of the Masters of Ménage series . . .

They are the Perfect Gentlemen of Creighton Academy: privileged, wealthy, powerful friends with a wild side. But a deadly scandal is about to tear down their seemingly ideal lives . . .

Maddox Crawford's sudden death sends Gabriel Bond reeling. Not only is he burying his best friend, he's cleaning up Mad's messes, including his troubled company. Grieving and restless, Gabe escapes his worries in the arms of a beautiful stranger. But his mind-blowing one-night stand is about to come back to haunt him . . .

Mad groomed Everly Parker to be a rising star in the executive world. Now that he's gone, she's sure her job will be the next thing she mourns, especially after she ends up accidentally sleeping with her new boss. If only their night together hadn't been so incendiary-or Gabe like a fantasy come true . . .

As Gabe and Everly struggle to control the heated tension between them, they discover evidence that Mad's death was no accident. Now they must bank their smoldering passions to hunt down a murderer-because Mad had secrets that someone was willing to kill for, and Gabe or Everly could be the next target . . .


From the Trade Paperback edition.

Release date: August 18, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 400

Sample

PROLOGUE

Creighton Academy

22 years ago

Gabriel Bond really wanted to murder his best friend. He even knew how he’d do it—by beating Maddox to death with that damn camcorder.

“Do you understand the trouble you’ve caused, Mr. Bond?” The very fussy school counselor Mr. Ogilvie sat back, his bushy gray brows rising over his eyes like judgmental twin caterpillars.

Gabe had always loathed his last name since no one at the exalted Creighton Academy would call him anything but “Mr. Bond.” It made him sound like some kind of stupid secret agent. Currently, they’d come to the point in the James Bond film when the floor opened and dropped him into a vat of man-eating sharks while the bad guy monologued. Gabe was fairly certain he would rather swim into the Great White’s mouth and allow himself to be eaten alive so he didn’t have to hear the horror about to transpire.

He should have known nothing good would come from screwing a member of the rival debate team. Especially when it hadn’t been a student of the all-girls Murray Heights Academy for Young Women, but their faculty sponsor. Damn, she’d looked maybe twenty, and in exceptional shape. She’d had the most gorgeous pair of breasts he’d ever seen in his young life.

Roman Calder stepped up beside him. “I don’t think my client should answer any questions.”

Sometimes Roman took his position as the president of the Creighton chapter of the Future Lawyers of America way too seriously.

“Mr. Calder, you’re in trouble, too. All of you boys are. This is a serious offense. While Mr. Bond has shamed our academy, the rest of you broke the rules as well. What did you think you were doing, sneaking off to a bar? What will your parents think?”

His father would likely high five him and breathe a sigh of relief because he now had confirmation that his only son was neither asexual nor gay. His mother would roll her eyes and take another drink from her ever present “coffee” mug that smelled suspiciously like vodka. Only his younger sister would worry.

This entire incident was Mad’s fault. Mad the instigator. Mad, the dude who’d taped his best friend’s one-night stand without bothering to ask first. Fucker. Gabe felt his face flush slightly, but he’d learned enough about the world to know when to bluster his way through.

Yeah, Mad had taught him that, too.

“Mr. Ogilvie, I don’t understand why my friends are here. Maybe they were out after curfew, but it’s no secret that nearly every student is from time to time.” Another thing Gabe had learned was when to throw himself on his sword. God, he was going to miss his friends. If his stupid dick got him expelled, he had no illusions about what would happen. His parents would ship him to another prep school, and he would have to start all over. “Please, if you’ll let them off the hook, I’ll admit to everything.”

“Martyr,” Mad coughed like the idiotic douche he could be.

Gabe very slowly lifted his hand behind his back and shot his bestie the middle finger.

Connor Sparks stepped up. “No, Gabe. We went into this together. We go down together.” He frowned. “I wish I could have played against Exeter. It’s going to be hard to miss out on the league championship.”

Daxton Spencer shook his head, following Connor’s lead. “Yeah, I think the whole school will be deeply disappointed. Without our captain, we’re sure to lose.”

Smart bastards. Gabe repressed a smile and couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Creighton took lacrosse and the league championship very seriously. It brought money and prestige to a school that valued both greatly.

The counselor, who in Gabe’s opinion had always had it out for them, leaned forward. “If you think for one second that sports will save you from the punishment you’ve earned, you’re wrong. This establishment has rules, and I follow them. I’ve seen the video evidence. It’s disgusting. Perverse. What is wrong with you boys?”

Dax and Connor looked around, then at one another, and shrugged.

Mad grinned as if silently admitting their list of faults was long and distinguished.

“You think this is funny? Expulsion is the only acceptable outcome for this mess. We raise gentlemen at this school, and you six have proven you’re anything but. And you, Mr. Hayes . . .” Ogilvie turned to Zachary Hayes, the quietest of the six.

Their contemplative buddy never made a move without thinking through the outcomes and consequences first. Zack frowned.

Gabe felt his stomach drop. God, he was getting Zack kicked out. Zack, the freaking class president and valedictorian. The one with the brightest future.

“I’m surprised at you,” the counselor continued. “I knew you would find nothing but trouble when you fell in with this crowd. I believe I warned you.”

All eyes turned back to Zack. With dark hair and winter blue eyes, Zack often seemed ready to permanently retreat inward. He’d been at Creighton for two months before Gabe had really talked to him. Mad had been the one to bring the quiet kid into their group. Gabe had soon realized that Zack was smart and funny . . . and could sometimes figure a way out of a bind. For five years, it had been the six of them against the world. They shouldn’t have fit. Connor and Dax had naturally become pals because they were both athletes. Roman and Zack were the obviously ambitious types. And somehow he’d been the nerd taken under the wing of the most obnoxious, devious-minded rich boy at school, Maddox Crawford.

They felt like brothers, and he couldn’t be the one who fucked up everything. In a year, they would graduate and they had plans to attend Yale together. They’d coached Connor through trig and made sure he’d gotten an A so they wouldn’t be separated in the future. One for all and all for one, and all that shit.

Maybe his dream was about to be dashed, but he wasn’t going to screw over his friends. They had a pact.

“It’s my fault. I blackmailed them into sneaking out with me.” He was willing to tell any lie that might work.

“Dude, that was weak.” Dax rolled his eyes. “Like anyone would believe that. Look, Mr. Ogilvie, you know how the press is, willing to say anything salacious about us rich boys to make a buck. Do you really want People magazine running an article that exaggerates about Creighton’s super entitled boys running wild and taking women who have barely given their dubious consent to bed?”

Gabe gaped at his friend. What the hell? “Her consent wasn’t dubious, asshole.”

“The press won’t care,” Roman pointed out, then turned to the counselor. “That scandal won’t look good for the school, either.”

“I don’t make my decisions based on the press, only the rules of this school. And I fully intend to talk to my counterpart at Murray Heights this afternoon. Miss Jones will be dismissed by the end of the day. I have no doubt they will call the proper authorities as well. No school worth a whit wants a sex offender working on campus.”

Shit. He’d landed a nice, remarkably limber young lady in a heap of trouble. Hell, he’d come on to her. She’d simply been trying to help a guy have fun. Why should her good deed be punished?

Gabe raked a hand through his hair. His day sucked. He needed to hang it up and become the loner he’d been before Mad had taken him in and shown him how to stand up for himself. “Please don’t do that.”

“He can’t for two reasons: First, the age of consent in the state of New York is seventeen, so engaging in sexual relations with Miss Jones wasn’t illegal, and she is, therefore, not a sex offender. Second, I don’t recall that sexual intercourse with another consenting adult is an offense one can be expelled for. If that’s the case, Ogilvie would have to expel most of the senior class, especially if they’ve met Augustine Spencer.”

“Hey! That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Dax objected.

“What? She’s a giver. I mean that in the nicest possible way,” Roman assured. “But back to the point. Ogilvie could probably have Ms. Jones fired . . . but he has no proof the incident ever occurred.”

“Of course I have proof. I saw the tape.”

Roman turned with the smooth expertise of a kid who’d spent his share of time in mock trials and won them all. “Mr. Bond, did you sign a release or in any way give Mr. Crawford permission to tape you in coitus with the lovely Miss Jones?”

He shot a nasty look Mad’s way. “No. Hell no, and don’t be stupid. If I had known, I would have clocked the fucker.” Ogilvie’s bushy brows slashed down in a judgmental scowl, and Gabe remembered where he was. “I mean, I was entirely unaware and would have protested vociferously had I realized the encounter was being taped.”

Gabe had decked him afterward. He’d broken Mad’s nose, but Mad just seemed to view it as one more story he could tell over beers someday. He’d shrugged it away, like he did everything else—with the negligent grace of a man who knew there was a billion dollar trust fund waiting for him at the end of the yellow brick road of prep school.

“I might have forgotten to ask.” Mad smiled benignly. “You know art doesn’t apologize.”

And neither did Mad.

Roman slapped his hands together in jubilation. “I believe we’ll discover that Miss Jones was unaware as well. In this state, no recordings, video or audio, may be made or used as evidence in a civil trial without the informed consent of one of the participants. They can fire her for moral turpitude, but they need that tape to hold up in a court of law. Since there was no consent to tape the encounter and it happened out of the public eye, that tape won’t hold up and Murray Heights lawyers will likely advise the administrators not to open the school to a lawsuit they can’t win. I’m afraid you don’t have a tape.”

Ogilvie’s face had turned a florid shade. “Listen here, you little shit, this isn’t some court case. I don’t need permission. You’re all being expelled and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. This school turns out not simply gentlemen, but perfect gentlemen. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to get rid of you, Maddox Crawford? I’ve anticipated this day, longed for it, since the moment you walked through those doors, you overindulged bastard. I’m taking you down—and sending your friends with you just to make you miserable.”

“Is this because I pulled that prank on your car your first year here? You need to get over that.” Mad rolled his eyes.

Of course this was happening because Mad had done something stupid.

What the hell was Gabe going to do without them? He couldn’t fathom it. He even hated summer breaks. He would go to his parents’ place in the Hamptons and sit like a piece of furniture because he didn’t fit in there. The only part of going home he enjoyed was seeing his little sister, Sara. Besides her, he’d only ever fit with these five guys. One way or another, they’d all been on the outside. Gabe studied too much. Zack was an introvert. Roman spent much of his time with his head in a law text. Dax’s father was some bigwig in the navy and his mother was a New Orleans socialite. Connor was a scholarship kid with nothing in his pockets. And to most, Mad was an asswipe . . . though a strangely likeable one. Gabe had never been more attached to other people in his life and he had zero idea how he would survive without them.

They all stopped, looking at each other as though trying to process the fact that their prep school cocoon was over.

Ogilvie took a long breath. “Good. Now you understand how the world works, boys. When you fall in with a bad crowd, you get taken down with them. You may all go and pack. I’ll be speaking to your parents this afternoon. And good riddance to you, Crawford.”

For once, Mad didn’t have a pithy comeback. He’d gone stony, his eyes blank.

How was this happening? They weren’t bad guys. They looked after each other. They’d only wanted a drink, and Emily Jones had been so damn pretty, Gabe hadn’t thought twice.

Gabe was about to turn around and walk out when Zack finally spoke, his voice low and filled with an authority none of them had ever heard before.

“I know how the world works, Mr. Ogilvie.” Zack stood and straightened his tie. “Do you know about the Brighton Endowment?”

The counselor snorted. “Of course. It’s an annual three-million-dollar grant. It means a great deal to this school.”

“It does. Did you know my father is very good friends with the donors responsible for that endowment? They listen to him. William Markovic considers me a second son, in fact. If you go through with this, I will have a long conversation with Mr. Markovic, and this school will find itself three million dollars short next year—and every year thereafter. I’ll ensure the rest of the staff and faculty know exactly why. I think you might find yourself out of a job as well.”

“You don’t have that kind of power,” Ogilvie blustered.

“You think I don’t? My father was the ambassador to Russia for years. He’s been close friends with the last three presidents, including the current commander-in-chief. My father wants one thing and one thing only from me. Everyone who’s met him knows that he gets what he wants. My future is mapped out. If I do the right things—get the grades, remain class president, go to the appropriate college—then I accomplish everything I should. If you derail me from this path, I’ll get my ass kicked in ways that would make your head spin. But it will end even worse for you. I recently got my SATs back. I had a perfect score. I’m getting into Yale, and Skull and Bones will be waiting for me senior year because they know what my father’s friends have already figured out: I will be the president of the United States one day. Now, you can be my friend or my enemy. You decide.”

Ogilvie said nothing for a long moment, then he cursed under his breath, not quite meeting Zack’s gaze.

“I’m glad you understand me. You’re a low-level counselor, so I’m going to stop wasting my time here and make an appointment with the dean. He takes my calls, you see. You can’t get rid of us. I’ll also make sure the lovely Miss Jones suffers no ill effects. Since my friend here was smart enough to use a condom, I don’t expect any other complications. I’m also going to assume that Dax and Connor did the right thing and destroyed that tape.”

Connor gave him a thumbs-up. “We burned it early this morning, but we’d planned to mention that later.” Because they’d had to break into Ogilvie’s office to finish the deed.

“Damn it,” Mad cursed. “That was a good piece of film.”

Zack sighed. “Someday you’re going to go too far, Mad, and I only hope we can save you then. As for this time, we didn’t do anything but be young and stupid. Miss Jones is single, and because Gabe has a five-o’clock shadow by noon and a surprisingly large dick, I understand how she might have believed he was older. The only one who did anything criminal was dumbass over here.” He pointed to Mad.

“It was?” Mad tossed his head to flip his hair out of his eyes. “I just thought it was a beautiful act that should be recorded for posterity.”

With a shake of his head, Zack went on. “We’re finished now, gentlemen. I believe it’s lunchtime and the cafeteria has likely done something amazing with gelatin. Let’s go.”

Zack started for the door, and Gabe watched him openmouthed. Where the hell had that confident, convincing speech come from?

“This isn’t over,” the counselor swore.

Zack sent him a pitying look. “It is. I have a surprisingly shitty life, but this is one case where I have power and I’m going to wield it.”

They followed Zack out, Mad nearly pulling Gabe along. Ogilvie didn’t challenge them. Lightning from the heavens didn’t strike them.

“Guys, it can’t be that easy,” Gabe said as they emerged into the sunlight. They were suddenly surrounded by classmates pointing at them and chattering about the scandal.

“Dude, did you really screw that blonde?” one asked.

“I can’t believe you got into a bar,” another stated.

Zack put a hand on Gabe’s arm as the rest started receiving high fives for sticking it to the man—and the chick—though Gabe was sure they meant two different things. “It is that easy. Let it go. You bent a few rules but didn’t do any real harm, man. It’s going to be okay. Ogilvie needs to understand there are no gentlemen here.”

“That’s not true. Bond was a gentleman and allowed the lady to come first.” Maddox snorted. “I think I should get T-shirts made, plaster ‘Perfect Gentlemen of Creighton’ across our chests. The old curmudgeon would love that . . .”

Gabe prayed the stupid moniker didn’t stick. “I’m still going to kill you, Mad.”

Mad put an arm around him. “Promises, promises.”

ONE

New York City

Present day

Gabe stared at the urn and wondered what had gone so wrong. One minute, life had been something resembling normal. Well, normally fucked up. The next minute, he was standing in a church full of somber shock and lilies with at least seven hundred people at his back, waiting for the proper reaction to hit him. “You son of a bitch. How could you leave like this, Mad?”

He kept his voice low, given the fact that most tabloids would love to run a story about Maddox Crawford’s best friend cursing his very name before he was laid to eternal rest.

Damn, but Mad would have hated the idea of eternal rest, of peace. The fucking bastard had never rested. He’d always been scheming up a new plan and forever instigating chaos.

He’d also left behind problems Gabe didn’t even want to think about. But he would have to in about six months, when his sister had her baby.

He stared at that ridiculously expensive urn and thought about smashing it in rage. It would serve Mad right to be vacuumed up by a handheld sweeper.

He turned away and caught a glimpse of his sister. Sara sat in the well-polished pews of the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola. She was discreetly in the middle, not wanting to call attention to herself. Wearing a black Prada sheath, with her tawny hair in a neat bun, she looked like she belonged amid the marble finery of the Upper East Side church because she did. Sara was Manhattan born and bred. Unlike her older brother, she’d never been shipped off to boarding school. Even in the face of grief, she comported herself like a lady.

Her eyes might be red, but she stared straight ahead, her shoulders back and her head held high. And she was carrying Maddox Crawford’s baby. That fucking asswipe hadn’t kept his promises—any of them.

I’ll watch after her, Gabe. You don’t have to worry. I love her. It’s stupid but for the first time in my life, I’m in love. You’re my best friend in the world. I know I’ve been a jerk in the past, but I’ve always taken care of you. Now I’ll take care of her, too.

He’d been a dumbass to let Sara date Mad. It should have been a no-brainer that the asshole would seduce and dump her. Mad hadn’t been as faithful to Sara as he had been to his MO. Christ, everything about their relationship had been utterly predictable—except Mad’s die-in-a-plane-crash routine, but the rest of it . . . Fuck, he could have written that book.

“Hey, I think they’re ready to start the service,” a quiet voice said from behind him.

Gabe turned. There stood Roman Calder in his customary three-piece suit, which Gabe knew he purchased from a London tailor twice a year. He made the voyage from DC to the UK under the auspices of diplomacy, but it was really about those suits. And now that Roman was here, Gabe wanted to know one thing. “Is he coming?”

Roman sighed, his face falling slightly. “You know how busy he is. He sent me. And you’ll have me for a few more days. I’m staying over for a fundraiser.”

Gabe shouldn’t have expected a different answer. Mad had been a terrifically controversial figure. In a world where the one-percenters were vilified, Mad had been the poster child for rich, bad-boy behavior. If he wasn’t screwing some small company out of its profits, he’d been humping a supermodel.

Gabe wished he’d stuck to those women and left his sister alone. “Let him know we missed him.”

He turned and started back down the aisle. There wasn’t a family pew. Mad had been the last of his line, his father having died of a heart attack two years before. That had struck Gabe as odd, since he’d been sure Benedict Crawford hadn’t possessed a heart.

“You have to forgive him. You know he’s torn up. He got the news during a press conference,” Roman said under his breath. “A fucking reporter brought it up after his speech on the immigration reform bill. He was completely caught off guard.”

Gabe had seen the news clips. Hell, everyone in the country had seen the president of the United States stop in the middle of a Q and A with the press, turn, and walk away. “Tell Zack not to sweat it. We all get it. He’s got huge responsibilities.”

Roman followed him down the second pew, where Dax had reserved their seats. “You have to understand how the press would interpret his attendance. After the way Mad lived the last couple months of his life, I couldn’t advise it. He hates that he can’t be here.”

Gabe knew exactly how the last two months had gone. After Mad had dumped Sara, he’d gone a little crazy, drinking by the gallon and painting the town red with models and actresses. But Gabe suspected what others couldn’t: Mad had been protecting someone. No idea who. His best guess was that, after dumping Sara, he’d found a new mistress and used all the other women to divert the tabloids’ attention from the new object of his desire. That had been Mad’s MO, and he’d heavily relied on bait-and-switch tactics when he had been hounded by the press. Gabe should probably let it lie, but he wanted to know the identity of that woman. He wanted to know if Mad’s new mistress had any inkling of the pain she’d caused by luring Mad away from Sara.

“I hate that I have to be here in the first place.” Dax stood and stuck out a hand. Like everyone else in the church, he looked grim.

Gabe shook it, studying his old friend and wondering where the hell the years had gone. It was hard to believe they’d all been kids together, their worst problems being math tests and how to sneak over to the girls’ school so they could make out. So many of his childhood memories were shared with the other men in this pew. And the one in that damn urn. “Brother, it’s good to see you. I thought you were somewhere in the Pacific.”

“I came home the minute I heard. I had some leave.” Dax’s gaze shifted as he stared at the place where Mad’s coffin lay. “Why the coffin? He’s not in there. From what I understand, there was barely enough left to cremate.”

Gabe’s stomach threatened to turn. He didn’t want to think about how Mad had died. Sure, in his darkest moments he’d thought about killing the fucker himself, but damn, he’d loved the guy, too.

Never let ’em see you sweat, Gabe. That’s the key to bullies. You walk by. You flip ’em off. If they give you real trouble, you take them down in a way that ensures they stay down. You go for the kill because that’s the way of the wild, my man.

Gabe had learned that lesson from him. At the time, Mad had been talking about the bully upperclassmen at their school, but Gabe had taken that lesson into business. If he was going to take down someone, he made damn sure they couldn’t get back up. Ever.

“The coffin is there for show. Apparently, people want something substantial to stare at during the service. That’s what the coordinator said.” Gabe sighed.“The picture doesn’t count, and the urn is too small.”

There was a large poster of Maddox in front of the empty coffin. He was dressed in a custom-made Brooks Brothers suit, smirking at the camera like a douchebag. But then, he’d always looked like that.

Would his baby inherit that smirk? That never-ending thrill for life Mad had possessed?

Damn you for leaving us behind. And damn you for what you did to my sister, but I fucking wish you were here.

He sat on the pew, his brain buzzing. He’d gotten the news five days ago and it still hadn’t quite penetrated. He kept expecting to turn around and see Mad walking toward him with that damn smirk, drink in hand. It was wrong to consider someone as alive as Maddox Crawford dead.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. Gabe turned to find Connor, dressed in a button-down shirt and pressed slacks. Just another normal guy—except for the fact that Gabe knew he was Agency. The CIA had claimed Connor long ago, and any illusion of normalcy he donned was really a mask. “Sorry I’m late.”

Gabe stood and put his hand out. Connor took it. “It’s good to see you.”

It had been at least a year since they’d been in the same room. They kept up via e-mail and the occasional phone call where Connor never mentioned what country he was in. “You, too.”

“Do you know anything about his death?” Gabe murmured. “Have you looked into the incident?”

They all leaned in. Connor dealt in secrets. Oh, he might say he was simply an analyst, but there was no way Connor wasn’t an asset, as they would call him in the Agency. Even though they’d been friends for years, Connor had changed, become more distant, colder. Deadlier. No, Gabe didn’t buy that Connor sat in front of a computer. Connor got his hands dirty.

“I don’t know anything, guys,” he said with an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry.”

Roman shook his head. “It’s not a CIA matter. The FAA is handling it. Trust me, I’ve been up their ass about it. So has Zack.”

“I called in my contacts,” Connor said. “They told me the investigation is in its early stages. They have the black box and they’re carefully probing the wreckage. There were reports of high winds in the area where he went down. The working theory is the plane hit a storm system and the pilot lost control.”

Gabe had heard that theory. It was difficult to think that a storm had taken down Maddox Crawford. He’d been a force of nature himself. Mad should have been shot by a furious husband—or brother.

“I promise, I’ll make sure you all get the final report,” Roman murmured. He nodded toward the aisle. “Is that who I think it is? What’s her name? Tavia?”

Gabe looked up. A gorgeous blonde with killer cheekbones strode quickly toward the coffin. Mad had hired Tavia Gordon—and paid her well—to be his public relations guru. And he’d kept her hopping. From what Gabe could tell, Tavia had spent all her waking hours putting out the fires Mad had been prone to start. Though a bit tall and fashionably thin for his taste, she had a delicate, aristocratic face. No denying she was an icy beauty.

He’d wondered more than once if Mad had thrown Sara over for Tavia. Because there must have been a woman. With Mad, there always had been. Had his buddy worked his playboy angle to throw the paparazzi off his PR Girl Friday/mistress so she wouldn’t be inundated? He’d wondered if Mad had been trying to protect Sara, but given the cruel way he’d cut her out of his life