I Dare You Read online

  Table of Contents

  I DARE YOU

  COPYRIGHT

  PLAYLIST

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  ADDICTION

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  OTHER TITLES BY SHANTEL TESSIER

  I Dare You

  Copyright © 2018 by Shantel Tessier

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For more information about the author and her books, visit her website- www.shanteltessierauthor.com. You can sign up for her newsletter on her website, or you can click on the link below. The newsletter is the only place to get exclusive teasers, first to know about current projects and release dates. And also have chances to win some amazing giveaways- http://goo.gl/4wd9CV

  Editor: Jenny Sims

  Formatter: CP Smith

  Cover Designer: Tracie Douglas with Dark Water Covers.

  PLAYLIST

  DIAMANTE – “Sleepwalking”

  Like A Storm – “Love the Way You Hate Me”

  Papa Roach – “Gravity”

  Korn – “Coming Undone”

  Onlap – “Everywhere I Go”

  Sivik – “High – Remastered”

  No Resolve – “Love Me to Death”

  Nothing More – “Sex & Lies”

  Divide the Day – “Fuck Away the Pain”

  Starset – “Die for You”

  Eminem, Rihanna – “Love the Way You Lie”

  Chase Atlantic – “Triggered”

  From Ashes to New – “An Ocean of its Own”

  Egypt Central – “White Rabbit”

  The Veer Union – “Bitter End”

  Breathe Carolina – “Shots Fired”

  Sick Puppies – “Here with You”

  Skillet – “Feel Invincible”

  Shinedown – “How Did You Love”

  Ruelle – “Fear on Fire”

  Too Close To Touch – “Sympathy”

  Theory of A Deadman – “Angel”

  Meg Myers – “Desire”

  Blacklite District – “With Me Now”

  Nothing More – “Go To War”

  Valerie Broussard – “A Little Wicked”

  PROLOGUE

  COLE

  Have you ever been to a funeral where the preacher stands before the friends and loved ones of the deceased and talks about how shitty the person was? How he fucked around on his wife? Or spent his family’s life savings to feed his gambling addiction? How about during his bachelor party when he snorted coke off a hooker’s ass?

  Me neither.

  Why is it that we’re fucking saints the moment we die?

  You hear the preacher say things like, “Oh, John Smith was a lovely man who loved his wife and kids,” when he should really be saying, “John Smith was a worthless piece of shit who fucked the underage babysitter every chance he fucking got while his wife was busy working two jobs and raising his ungrateful children.”

  And let’s not forget that the deceased in that casket before you never even went to church. Let alone knew the preacher who speaks so highly of him. All he knows are the stories the blinded loved ones wrote down on a little card for him to share.

  He’s a fucking puppet.

  Now, I haven’t read the Bible word for word, but I know the Lord says if we confess our sins and ask for forgiveness, he will cleanse our souls, and we will be forgiven.

  Poof. It’s like magic.

  Now that begs the question–what if you’re not sorry? What if you don’t care to be forgiven?

  No amount of holy water could cleanse my soul, and I’m okay with that because when I sinned, I understood that I would one day have to pay. We’re all going to die eventually. You can be one of those people who bury your head in the sand to avoid talking about it all you want, but it’s life!

  Live or die.

  Heaven or hell.

  Angel or devil.

  It’s black and white. There are no gray areas.

  So tell me ... when you’re lying in that casket in front of your friends and family, what are they going to think of you? Are they gonna believe that preacher who talks bullshit, or are they gonna know you didn’t care if you were going to burn for eternity?

  Now, I’m not a religious person. Obviously. But I do know this. When I am damned to hell, it’ll be because I fucking earned it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  COLE

  I look up at the dark, cloudy sky. It’s officially a new year. January first. Some would consider it a chance for a new beginning, but I’m not like most people. The sun set hours ago, but I stayed out here in the heated pool, trying to clear my mind. But like always, it’s a mess. Constantly reminding me of that day. A day that took so much from me ... as if I had it to give.

  I didn’t.

  I stand at the bar in the kitchen next to my friends Eli and Landen. Maddox, our other friend, stands across from us.

  “Go on. Take it,” I taunt Maddox, looking down at the stopwatch on my phone.

  He lets out a long breath and throws back the shot.

  “Five,” I count, and everyone in the room shouts and applauds him.

  “Fuck, man.” He gasps for air. He places his palms on the bar and bows his head. “You wouldn’t think that would be that hard.”

  Eli laughs beside me. “You’re such a fucking pussy.”

  “Let’s see you do five shots of Crown.”

  Eli waves him off like it’s nothing.

  “In one minute,” Maddox adds.

  Eli rolls up his sleeves. “Line ’em up.”

  A raindrop falls on my face, and I roll over onto my stomach and dive to the bottom of the pool. I sit here and just enjoy the silence. Trying to forget. They always come back to me, though. Like ghosts. They haunt me, reminding me I failed them.

  I let out a long breath and watch the bubbles fl
oat up to the surface. Closing my eyes, I fist my hands, feeling that tightness in my chest at the need for air. I hold out just a little longer.

  Something hits my arm, and I open my eyes to see it’s a diving ring. I place my feet on the bottom and shoot up, sucking in a deep breath when I hit the cold night air.

  I see my best friend Deke standing by the lounge chair and table. The white umbrella from the table shields him from the rain.

  “We’re ready,” he says, placing his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

  I swim over to the side of the pool and climb out. Grabbing the towel off the table, I wrap it around my hips. “Where are the guys?” I ask.

  “Meeting us there.”

  I nod and run a hand through my spiked hair to knock the water out of it.

  Deke looks over at the dark pool. “How is your shoulder?”

  “Fine,” I lie. It always hurts, but I’ve learned to live with the pain.

  He nods as if he believes me. He doesn’t. “Kellan doesn’t like your plan.”

  “Then Kellan can sit out,” I snap.

  “That’s what I told him. But you know him.” He sighs. “He thinks people will look for him.”

  “That’s the point.” You kill a mouse and leave it in the open, then other rodents come out to feed on it. It’s called bait. I go to step around him to head into the house, but his hand shoots out and lands on my wet chest, stopping me.

  “You sure you’re ready, Cole?” His eyes go to the scar on my shoulder. “I’m not doubting your plan. It’s solid. But I want to make sure you can execute it.”

  I nod. “We’ve waited long enough.”

  AUSTIN

  I sit in the back, staring out the window of the white Escalade SUV. It’s decked out with all the amenities required by a rich person. Heated leather seats and steering wheel. TV screens in the dash and headrests. Oversized tires with some shiny chrome wheels. Blacked-out windows. A booming stereo system. The interior is a beige color and smells of leather. Things I’ve never had before. I never needed them.

  He thinks they’ll intimidate me. He’s wrong.

  It’s been ten years since he saw me last. Four since I’ve spoken to him on the phone. I just need to get through the next four months and then I’m out after graduation. In two months, I’ll be eighteen and won’t have to live with either one of my parents.

  Raylan slows down, veering onto the wide shoulder before turning down a private road. The trees lining the narrow drive look like claws as the branches nearly scrape the sides and top of the SUV.

  “He’s a good man,” he says, breaking the silence.

  He’s got you fooled!

  I snort, seeing nothing but what the headlights allow us to see. It’s past eleven on a Saturday night and eerie out here in the middle of nowhere.

  For as long as I can remember, my father has preferred to live in seclusion. No one comes this far out of town. That’s why he picked this property after all. He had this house built for his wife when they got married. They chose to settle down in Collins, Oregon, a small, rich city on the coast, even though he was living in Vegas at the time he met her. She was a showgirl, and he had money. A match made in heaven.

  “He’s not home often,” he adds, sliding his green eyes to mine in the rearview. Well, that’s a bonus!

  The trees part, and through the soft drizzle, I see a house fifty yards ahead, facing us. Three stories tall, it looks every bit like the small castles I used to read about in fairy tales. Green vines climb up the sides of the house like hands grabbing on for dear life. Last time I was here, I used them to climb out from my second-story window. Its white stucco and black shutters make it look a tad on the evil side when lit up at night from the spotlights on the ground. It has twelve fireplaces, a six-car garage, and living quarters for the people he hires to do the jobs his wife is very capable of. A five-tier fountain sits in the middle of the circular drive. Large trees cover his twenty acres, hiding them away from anyone who happens to be nearby.

  Raylan brings the SUV to a stop and gets out. I step out and shut my door, following him. The only sound is the wind whipping the trees around. Raindrops on my skin cause a chill to run up my spine.

  “Come on,” he calls out, already climbing the stairs.

  I take them two at a time, passing the white columns and entering the house. I stand in the massive foyer looking over the black and white checkered floor and to the staircase to the left. It lacks anything resembling a home. And makes me think more of a museum with priceless artifacts. It smells the same. Like money. Crisp hundred-dollar bills. As if the walls and floors are made of them.

  “Austin? Is that you?”

  I hear the annoying voice and sigh. My father’s wife, who is young enough to be my older sister, comes running into the foyer. Her bleach blond hair down and straight. Her makeup done as if she just finished getting ready for the day. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a blouse to match, she looks as if she’s spent her day at an office.

  She doesn’t work.

  “Oh my gosh, you’ve gotten so big,” she squeals, pulling me in for a hug. The smell of her expensive perfume almost makes me sneeze.

  “Hello, Celeste,” I say, giving her a half hug.

  She pulls back but holds my arms and smiles. Her brown eyes soft. “Wow, haven’t you grown up?”

  “That’s what kids do.”

  She smiles at Raylan. “Please put her things in her room.” Then she takes my hand and starts dragging me out of the foyer and down the hall. We take a right into the elaborate kitchen. “Your father left these for you,” she says, patting the kitchen island.

  I walk over to them and pick them up. It’s my school schedule, a set of keys, and a credit card. Along with a note.

  I bought you a new car. Don’t wreck it. And here is some money. The limit is thirty thousand.

  That is my father. Always buying shit. He paid my mother off. Bought us a big fancy house that she let go to shit. Gave her a fancy car she sold for more money. He gives her more child support than we could ever need, but she uses it on drugs, alcohol, and her boyfriend. Anything to feed her addiction. Instead of me.

  “He got me a car?” I question.

  She claps her hands excitedly. “Want to go see it? It’s in the garage. I helped him pick it out.”

  I shake my head, hoping she didn’t have it custom painted bubble-gum pink to match her personality. “It’s late. And I’m tired.”

  It didn’t take very long to fly from California to this fucking town on the coast of Oregon, but she doesn’t need to know that. I could use some sleep.

  She nods, her smile falling. “Of course. Let me show you to your room,” she says as if I don’t remember where I stayed last time I was here.

  I leave everything on the counter and follow her up the grand staircase, noticing the lack of pictures on the walls. My room is the first door on the left.

  To my surprise, it doesn’t look like a teenager threw up in it. It’s large with a white sleigh bed and matching long dresser. It has big bay windows overlooking the forest in the back, and a TV mounted on the wall. It looks the same as it did when I was seven.

  When she looks at me, I arch a brow, causing her to laugh nervously. “I don’t know what the trend is these days. But I figured we could go shopping this week and you can pick out some things for your room.”

  “Thanks. Sounds good,” I say, reaching out and picking up a dark gray scarf from the bed.

  “I bought you these today,” she says, holding up the other four in various colors. “It’s up into the fifties now, but it can still get cold at night. I wasn’t sure you had any since it stays pretty warm in California.”

  “Thank you,” I say, dropping it onto the bed and rocking back on my Chucks. I just want her to leave. One thing about living with my mother was that I was always alone, and I liked it. I’ll take silence over endless chatter any day.

  “So I’ll leave you alone to get settled in. I k
now it’s late.” She comes up to me and pulls me in for another hug. “I’m so glad to have you here, Austin.” Then she pulls away and walks to the door to leave but comes to a stop. “Oh, Austin. Be ready to leave by ten in the morning.”

  I frown. “Where are we going?”

  She smiles brightly. “Church.” Then she shuts the door.

  I fall onto my bed and close my eyes. My mother ships me to my dad’s, and he has his young teeny-bopper wife babysit me. My life can’t get any worse.

  I pull my cell out of my back pocket to see if I have any messages. Nope. I have a feeling my friends have already forgotten about me. I didn’t have many to begin with anyway. Digging into my purse, I pull out my journal. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. It was like my therapy back when I needed someone to talk to but no one was there. The older I got, the less I wanted to talk to people. Kids my age don’t wanna hear about my problems.

  I sit up when I hear engines roaring and loud bass from outside. Making my way over to my window, I look out to see headlights over back in the trees. There’s a dirt road that runs parallel to the house. I remember it from last time I stayed here. It used to lead up to the cemetery on top of the hill, a couple of hundred yards away, but now it dead ends down at the bottom of the hill. By the house.

  A white SUV of some sort comes to a stop first, and the front two doors open. I can’t make out the people—too far away and too dark out—but they’re tall. The second car to pull up is a little black two door.

  I quickly count five bodies and watch as they all make their way around to the back of the trunk. They pop it open, and one guy leans over, reaching down into it. He pulls out a man. He falls to the makeshift gravel road and tries to scurry away.

  “What the …?” I trail off as two men grab him, picking him up. One at his feet, the other by his head, and they start to walk away with him.

  The one man slams the trunk while another grabs a black duffel bag out of the SUV. And then they start to walk off. I duck to make sure they don’t see me, which is stupid. They don’t know I’m up here, and it’s past eleven on a Saturday night.

  Do they know my father lives here? Although trees cover most of this side of the house, you can still see it from where they are now. Do they just not care?