Текст книги "Transcending Darkness"
Автор книги: Airicka Phoenix
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 36 страниц)
Chapter 2
The shivering wouldn’t stop. It ravaged the length of her body in rivulets of hot and cold so severe, it was worse than the time she’d had the flu and had to be admitted to the hospital. Every inch of her hurt with a viciousness that felt stifling and unbearable. She couldn’t breathe and the world kept going in and out of focus.
Somehow, by some miracle, she found herself at home. Its emptiness seemed to howl around her in a cruel sort of silence. Puddles of light and shadow spilled across every room in a filmy dark gold. The previous night’s supper, something cheesy and creamy, lingered through the space, yet despite the fact that she was starving, the scent made her queasy. Her insides roiled and gave her just enough warning to get her sprinting for the bathroom.
Dear God, this can’t be happening.
Partially wheezing and partially sobbing, she huddled down next to the toilet with her legs drawn and her clammy face mashed into her raised knees. Her body heaved with every struggled breath until she was certain she’d pass out from lack of oxygen.
Somewhere deep in the house, hinges squeaked. A floorboard creaked. Any other time, the sounds wouldn’t have filled her with unimaginable dread, but in that moment, it only made her want to cry harder.
“Juliette?” The raspy voice soaked up the silence. “Juliette, are you home?”
Pulling herself together and scrubbing away all lingering signs of her weakness, Juliette twisted her face into a smile and stepped out of the washroom.
“Hello Mrs. Tompkins! Did I wake you?”
As small and frail as a child, Abagail Tompkins stood barely at five feet with fine, white hair that hung in straggles around her withered face. Her blue eyes had faded to gray, but still sparkled in a way that always made Juliette envious. She stood in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, clad in her floral housecoat and pink slippers.
Mrs. Tompkins rented the one bedroom in-law suite in the basement. It worked out for both of them, because Mrs. Tompkins was on a fixed budget that barely covered the cost of a matchbox and Juliette needed someone to be home with Vi when she couldn’t be.
“I was up,” the woman croaked. “Joint pains,” she explained with a miserable shrug. “But how are you?” She looked Juliette over. “You’re not at work today?”
The arcade.
Juliette wanted to swear and kick something, but that would only concern Mrs. Tompkins all the more.
“I’m going in a few minutes. I came home to change.” She paused before adding. “I’ll be working a triple shift tonight. Do you think—?”
Mrs. Tompkins put gnarled hands up. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll make my chicken casserole and make sure Little Miss does her homework.”
Grateful not to have to worry about at least one thing, Juliette smiled. “Thank you.” She started for the stairway. “Let Vi know that I put you in charge and she has to listen.”
Thin lips pursed and Mrs. Tompkins huffed. “I raised five children and six grandchildren. I know how to put down the law.”
Laughing, Juliette climbed the rest of the way to the top. The moment she was out of ear and eye shot, her smile dissolved. Her shoulders drooped. She stumbled into her bedroom and shut the door.
She knew she needed to call Wanda at the arcade and let her know she would be late, but there was a lack of energy to do anything. Normally, each day was done with a sort of numbness that didn’t end until she was face flat across the sheets. But that protective veil had been ripped away and Juliette was exhausted and yet, oddly, highly alert. Her mind was a tangled knot of everything and anything she could possibly do to get Arlo his money. There was still seven hours before she had to see him and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d tried everything.
She could get an extra two hundred from her overdraft protection at the bank. It was a risk, because the bank had already warned her they would shut her accounts down if she did that again. But what choice did she have? It was either her bank account or her sister. There really was no other option. Still, that left her five thousand, three hundred unaccounted for and nothing short of selling the house was getting her that. Even if that was an option, seven hours wasn’t enough time to do it.
Pacing, she slid sweaty fingers back through her hair and fisted, ripping out strands from their roots, but not caring. Below, she could hear Mrs. Tompkins puttering around the kitchen. Cupboards opened and closed. Dishes rattled. She heard the beep of the oven being preheated. Then the quiet hum of some lullaby song Mrs. Tompkins always hummed while cooking.
Juliette dropped down on the edge of her bed and stared absently at her dresser. Most of the drawers were empty whereas once, they barely closed. She had sold most of her high end, brand named stuff and lived off thrifty jeans and t-shirts, much to Vi eternal disgrace. But they were cheap and practical. She withdrew a fresh pair of pants and a top and stripped quickly out of her sweat drenched clothes. She combed out her hair and refastened it in a ponytail before grabbing her purse and hurrying downstairs.
“Mrs. Tompkins, I have to run to the bank, but I’ll be right back.”
She heard all right, dear just before she shut the front door behind her and bounded down the front steps.
The bank was around the corner from the house, a white building lined with sheets of glass that were tinted a green-blue against the sun. Juliette went to the teller first to cash the check before making a straight line for the machines. Her fingers shook as she inserted her card.
The two hundred dollars went into the envelope along with the five hundred from the hotel. It was stuffed back into her purse before she left the building and made her way home.
“I don’t want your stupid casserole!” was the first thing Juliette heard when she stepped back into the house. “I’m going out with my friends.”
Dropping her purse down on the table next to the door, Juliette followed the shrill sound of her sister’s screeching and found the blonde looming over the island while Mrs. Tompkins diced chicken into neat cubes on the cutting board.
“Your sister put me in charge,” Mrs. Tompkins said evenly. “That means I want you at that table doing your homework.”
“You haggard old c—”
“Hey!” Outrage crackled down the length of Juliette’s spine as she barged into the room. “What’s the matter with you?”
At sixteen, Vi was the exact build and height as Juliette. They shared everything right down to the dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. The only thing that differed was their attitude. But even that, Juliette had once shared. Vi was exactly how Juliette used to be, shallow, self-centered, and engrossed in the knowledge that nothing bad could possibly ever happen to her. In a lot of ways, Vi was the way she was because Juliette refused to open her eyes to their situation. She knew Vi knew enough, but if she knew the full extent, she never let on. Juliette was fine with that. She had already grown up too fast for the both of them.
“Why do I have to listen to her?” Vi demanded, waving a thin arm in Mrs. Tompkins’ss direction. “She’s nobody.”
“She’s family,” Juliette countered sharply. “And you better watch your tone.”
Vi’s pert little nose wrinkled in a clear show of disgust. “She’s not my family and I don’t have to do shit.” She swatted a strand of hair off her shoulder with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I’m going out with my friends. I need money.”
Juliette shook her head. “I don’t have money and you’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you serious right now?” The deafening volume of Vi’s shriek nearly made Juliette wince. “Oh my God, you are trying to ruin my life!”
“I’m trying to get you to finish your schooling,” Juliette countered calmly. “You need to graduate, Vi.”
“Ugh! I have a life and I have friends and I don’t need you—”
“And homework that needs to be done,” Juliette finished for her. “I have to go to work so you are going to listen to Mrs. Tompkins, eat your supper, do your homework and watch TV, or something. I don’t care. But you’re not leaving this house.”
“You are not my mother!” Vi roared, flags of crimson flooding her cheeks. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“I can,” Juliette said with a note of sadness she couldn’t suppress. “I am your legal guardian and that means I’m responsible for you and your wellbeing until you’re eighteen. Until then, you listen to what I tell you or—”
“Or what?” Her hiss was mocking and cruel.
Juliette never flinched. “Or I send you to Uncle Jim’s farm and let him ruin your life for the next two years.”
All color drained from the other girl’s face in a single sweep of horror.
“You are such a bitch!”
Eyes glittering, Vi stormed from the kitchen. Juliette listened as the crack of her pink pumps resonated off the hardwood all the way down the hall. Then all the way up the stairs. It ended with the booming bang of the upstairs bedroom.
She sighed heavily into the silence her sister’s tantrum had left behind. Mrs. Tompkins studied her with sad, shrewd eyes, but thankfully didn’t comment; they had gone through this song and dance before with Vi. Juliette had apologized profusely over and over again for the girl’s behavior. There was nothing left to do.
“I’m going to work,” she mumbled at last. “You might not be able to reach me, but I’ll try to be back some time tomorrow morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins nodded. “All right, dear.”
Taking her weary frame, Juliette ambled her way upstairs. In Vi’s room, the stereo blared something angry and loud that rattled the door. Juliette let it be. She had learned long ago not to fight every battle if she wanted to win the war, and Vi was one giant war.
In her room, she stripped quickly and showered. Then she dressed carefully in a short, black skirt and a white blouse over a white camisole. She combed out her hair and left it in a rippling wave down her back while she applied a fine stroke of makeup, all the while, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.
There was no longer room to ignore the inevitable. She had done her best, but in the end, there was only one final option. One last thing she could give Arlo to protect Vi. While she lacked the courage to put a name to the unthinkable, she knew what needed to be done.
It had never dawned on her just how much she weighed until her entire weight was being supported by the grace of her unsteady legs. The three inch pumps she’d forced her feet into wrenched and wobbled across gravel as she hobbled her way to the warehouse doors. Lights spilled through the cracked windows on either side of the sheet of metal, a sure sign that someone was home. A burly man stood in front, sucking lightly on a cigarette. Juliette could just make out the crimson little rosebud flare up with every inhale. His dark attire enfolded him in the setting dusk. But the light from inside the factory glinted off the smooth globe of his shaved head and the thick silver hoop stretching his earlobe. Eyes squinting, he watched her approach through the plume of gray smoke he expelled between them.
“I’m here to see Arlo,” Juliette said with all the gumption she could muster. “He’s expecting me.”
He brought the tabacco stick to his mouth again and she caught the sharp glint of a bar piercing through his bottom lip. His free hand slipped behind his back and he withdrew a walkie-talkie.
“Boss? There’s a girl here to see you.”
There was a long pause of silence where Juliette was forced to see who would blink first. He did when static erupted from the device in his hand.
“What she look like?”
The guard looked Juliette over, assessing her quickly. “Blonde. Kind of hot.”
Any other time, any other person, the compliment would have been flattering. But knowing the reason she was there, Juliette wanted to be sick.
“Send her in.”
Clipping the walkie-talkie back on his belt, the guard took hold of the iron handle and yanked the heavy doors apart, revealing a patch of dim yellow light against the night.
Juliette stepped carefully over the threshold and onto smooth concrete.
The entrance opened into a wide foyer caged in by slabs of metal. An opening had been cut into one side that led into an eerie darkness.
Her insides quivered with apprehension. Her hands shook as she smoothed them down her skirt. She looked back to see if the guard would at least show her the way, but he gave her one last, almost pitying glance and let the door slam shut between them.
Alone, she started forward through the dingy hue of a single dangling lamp swaying miserably overhead. The opening bent into a narrow corridor that stopped abruptly at several sharp turns. It reminded her of a maze and she was the mouse that had to find the cheese. The click of her heels seemed to echo through the place in a hollow pulse, resounding off the metal and bouncing along each thick beam overhead.
It hadn’t been very hard to find where Arlo would be that night. It was a Friday and that meant collection day. Anyone who owed the Dragons made sure that they had their money in before the end of that day. Juliette had been there every last Friday of the month for seven years, but she’d never gone inside. Usually, she gave her money to the guy outside and left. She knew it was safe because no one was stupid enough to double cross Arlo.
The clan had been in the family for generations, getting passed down from father to son. Juan Cruz was still the kingpin of the eastside, but Arlo ran the streets. He was the one who got his hands dirty and had built himself a name that most wouldn’t even dare whisper. They were mostly runners, smuggling everything from drugs, to guns, to children and women. Juliette hadn’t known that world existed outside of cop shows until the day Arlo had shown up on her doorstep. Now she was in so deep she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get out.
The end of the corridor opened to every frat boy’s dream playhouse. It was built with the sole purpose of entertainment and comfort. The area was large, large enough to hold two pool tables, a full arcade tucked into one corner, and a lounge in the other. There was also a built in bar with an enormous oak counter that gleamed under the dull fingers of light spilling down from the dangling lamps overhead. A long, wooden table took over the center of the room like an ugly gash. The thing was painted a faded gray and there were no chairs around it. Only men.
There were four standing at the table with Arlo. Six more sat around the lounge area watching some basketball game on the plasma TV mounted into the wall. They all looked up when Juliette stepped into their domain. The TV was muted.
“Juliette.” Arlo stepped away from the papers he and the four men had been poring over. “I see your sister isn’t with you so I’m assuming you have my money.”
Willing her nerves to hold steady, Juliette closed the wide distance between her and the monster watching her. She stopped when there were three steps between them.
“I don’t have all of it, but I brought whatever I could raise.”
She pulled out the envelope from her purse and held it out. Arlo smoothed a hand over his grinning mouth. He chuckled.
“That wasn’t our deal, Juliette.”
She nodded, wishing he would take the money because her hand was beginning to tremble.
“I know, but I … I’m willing to work off an extension.”
There was no mistaking how scared she was. Everything right down to the tips of her hair shivered with barely suppressed terror.
Arlo arched an eyebrow. He shoved away from the table and started towards her in a slow, almost taunting strides.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
Her arm dropped to her side. A hot wave of mortification rushed up her throat to fill her cheeks. She could feel the eyes burning into her, the ears all listening, waiting for her response.
“In whatever way you want.”
Her voice caught on each word like hooks snagging on flesh. She felt each one rip away a piece of her until she was in bloody tatters.
Arlo stopped dead in his tracks. A darkness that made her skin crawl crept into his eyes. They raked over her, a slow progression along the length of her. His teeth caught the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sure we can think of something.” He rubbed an absent hand along the curve of his jaw. “Why don’t you take all that off and get on the table so I can get a better look at what you’re offering?”
Juliette’s muscles stiffened.
“Problem?” he challenged.
Her gaze darted to the six men sitting almost motionless across the room.
“Don’t worry about them,” Arlo said casually. “They don’t mind watching.” He paused to slide a tongue over his teeth. “And if you’re good, I might not even share you.”
Crippling panic slammed into her. It rolled down the length of her spine in a serrated wheel of ice. The packet of money slipped from her numb fingers and struck the side of her foot. Bills spilled free from the top. They lay forgotten as she struggled not to join them in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Arlo watched her, dark eyes hooded with a sick sort of pleasure. She knew fear was the thing that gave him his power, but she couldn’t stave hers back. It rushed over her, hot and formidable, threatening to drown her. Around the room, silence continued to crackle. But it was the type of silence no one ever wanted to hear.
“Juliette,” Arlo purred in that mocking drawl of his. His boots scoffed across concrete as he swaggered forward. “You’re making this very hard on yourself.”
Heart beating louder than his words, Juliette willed herself not to turn and bolt. She knew that would only make things worse. She knew running would only fuel the whole pack into chasing her. So she stood perfectly still. He stopped before her, smelling of beer and cheap cigarettes. There was a stain—tomato sauce—just on his stubbled chin. Juliette focused on that rather than the predatory glint in his eyes.
“Undress or I will undress you.”
He emphasized his promise with a sharp click of a switchblade being snapped open. She hadn’t even seen him remove it from his pocket, yet it sat in his hand, glinting menacingly for all it was worth.
Her fingers trembled as she lowered her purse. The bag hit the ground with an almost resounding thump that was nowhere near as loud as it sounded in her head. The sound made her jump despite having expected it. Ignoring it, she reached numbly for the buttons holding her blouse together. The fastens slipped with too much ease through the holes. The V parted inch by painful inch to expose the camisole and the full curves of her breasts. They rose and fell rapidly with her every ragged breath. The sight of them seemed to drag Arlo to her. It took all her strength and courage not to be sick when his heat crawled over her, thick and speckled with his foul stench. Her skin prickled in reaction. Her stomach recoiled. She would have flinched back, but her shoes had fused themselves into the grimy floor. All she could manage to do was avert her face when his pushed all the closer.
“Faster, Juliette,” he urged, his voice breathless with anticipation. “I’m not a patient man and I have been waiting a long time for this.”
A choked sound escaped. Her mortification was swallowed by the crippling reality of what was about to happen. She was under no illusion that Arlo would be gentle. He wouldn’t care that she had never been with a man. No doubt he would relish the fact. She just prayed to God he didn’t do it right there in front of his men or worse, let them have her, too.
A sob worked up into her throat, suffocating what little oxygen she’d managed to hang on to. It formed a tight ball in her windpipe, choking her until she was certain she’d blackout. Part of her hoped she did. Then she wouldn’t be present for whatever he did to her.
His fingers, rough and almost scaly, brushed against the contour of her cheek, smearing the tear that had slipped past her defenses. The salty tang was smudged across the quivering curve of her bottom lip, bringing with it the taste of pizza and sweat leftover on his skin. The sensation kicked at her stomach, harassing the frothing bile.
“Pretty little Juliette.” His fingers curled into her jaw, cutting and biting as her face was wrenched towards his. “Always looking down your nose at me, thinking you were too good to lower yourself to my level and yet…” His grip tightened. His grin broadened. “Here you are, giving me the thing you swore you never would. How mortifying for you this must be.”
Juliette said nothing. She could think of nothing to say. Part of her was afraid she might spit on him, or vomit if she even considered opening her mouth.
The hand fell away to close around her upper arm instead. The unevenly cut nails tore at flesh as she was hauled forward. The envelope of money went skidding under her feet, littering bills in all direction. No one seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy watching as Arlo shoved her against the table. The thing must have been bolted into the concrete, because it didn’t so much as budge with the impact. But Juliette knew her hip would hold evidence of the assault come morning.
That was all the time she was given to think about it though. The next moment, Arlo had her wrenched down onto her back. His hands grabbed her wrists when her survival instincts kicked in almost automatically and she began flailing. Her arms were slammed down against the wood just above her head with enough force to steal her breath away with the pain. Her thighs were forced apart by lean hips.
“Don’t fight me, Juliette,” he panted, washing her face with his sour breath. “You came to me, remember? You asked for this.”
By this he meant the hand he forced between their bodies. The fingers tore at fabric until it found skin. Above her, his grunt was met by her weak sob. He didn’t seem to mind when she squeezed her eyes shut tight and twisted her face away. He had found what he’d been searching for. Blunt fingers brutally prodded against her dry opening, jabbing and pinching despite the resistance of her body. Against her thigh, his erection seemed to swell the harder she tried to buck him off. It burned through the rough grain of his jeans to singe her with every grind of his hips.
“Please…” she choked out, desperately trying to wrench away. “Please stop…”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He ran the flat length of his tongue across her jawline. “I don’t mind having your sister instead. Didn’t think so,” he mocked when she clamped her teeth down on her lip. “So be a good girl and let me in.”
Despite every voice in her head screaming for her not to do it, she let her body go limp. She shut her eyes and prayed to God it ended quickly.
“Boss? We got company.”
The phantom voice shattered through the sound of labored breathing, of buttons and zippers being undone. It cracked through Juliette’s sanity, nearly destroying her as relief speared through her.
Arlo drew away and she wasted no time rolling off the table. Her knees deserted her and she hit the ground hard enough to peel the skin on her knees and palms. The room swam behind a thick film of tears that threatened to fall no matter how hard she tried to battle them back. Her entire body shuddered with a violence that made her feel half crazy, like the only thing keeping her sane was the shock.
Above her, Arlo cursed and reached for the walkie-talkie set somewhere on the table.
“Who is it?” he snapped into the device. “Tell them I’m busy.”
“Is that right?”
The voice was deep with a rolling accent that vibrated through the silence as easily as a whip. It was followed by the steady clip of approaching footsteps. A moment later, the entranceway was filled by no less than eight men in sleek, expensive suits in varying shades of gray and black. One man stood at the helm, tall, dark, and breathtaking in a way Juliette couldn’t help noticing despite the circumstances. He was the type of man who belonged on the cover of GQ. The kind that romance novels were written about and women longed for. He radiated power, the kind that dominated the space and crackled like the approach of a terrible thunderstorm. Juliette could feel the snap of his presence even from a distance. She could feel the rise of the hairs along her arms. The sharp scrape of it along her skin. It rippled through her veins to pool somewhere deep inside her like a harsh combination of alcohol and fear. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous and he was pissed.
“Are you busy, Cruz?” he spat, slicing through the thickened air with an Irish lilt that she would have found dead sexy any other time. Eyes the voluminous black of absolute night pivoted against a face defined from the very definition of rugged and focused on Juliette still on all fours half under the table. They narrowed. “Is this your idea of busy?”
Nerves frayed beyond repair, Juliette fumbled for the edge of the table and forced her body up. Her knees buckled uncontrollably, sending her staggering into the wood. But she remained upright, which was a miracle in itself.
“Wolf.” Arlo set the walkie-talkie down and clapped his hands together once and kept them firmly clasped in front of him as he regarded the group. “I wasn’t expecting a visit.”
“Weren’t you?” The man took a single step deeper into the warehouse. “Bit surprising that considering this is the third time this week your men have been caught doing business on my turf.”
“A mistake,” Arlo said hurriedly. “I’m dealing with my crew and it won’t happen again.”
“No, it won’t.” He moved closer, his strides unnaturally even and calm. “But that doesn’t change the facts. You owe us for using my streets to peddle your garbage. I’m here to collect.”
A muscle jumped in Arlo’s jaw. Juliette recognized it as well concealed rage. She expected him to lash out, to throw the first punch or, at the very least, tell the guy to get out. Instead, she was surprised by the restraint tightening the length of his jaw. It made her wonder just who the newcomer was, because anyone who scared Arlo enough to curb his temper was clearly someone not to screw with.
“Unless you’d rather I took this to your father,” the man went on. “I’m sure he’d like to know why I was forced to make this trip.”
At the mention of his father, Arlo seemed to straighten and shrink back at the same time. Juliette noticed only because they stood a mere five feet apart. Everyone else seemed to be focused on the scattered envelope of money the man idly nudged with the toe of one shiny dress shoe. He seemed unperturbed by the fact that there was hundreds of dollars just lying across the floor. Juliette showed that type of disinterest to litter on the streets.
“There’s no need to involve my father,” Arlo said, propping his ass against the ledge of the table and folding his arms. “I’m sure we can come up with a solution that suits us both.”
Stepping over the envelope, the man shrugged. “All right then.”
He drew to a stop in the strip of space separating Juliette from Arlo. That close, he was a too-close two feet from her. Close enough so that she could stretch out a hand and touch his broad back. So close that she could easily make out the fine, white lines running vertically down his suit and catch the shimmer of light playing amongst the thick strands curling over the collar of his suit. But what she noticed most was that she could no longer see Arlo and she had a feeling he couldn’t see her either. It was crazy to think it was deliberate, but she couldn’t help feeling relief at the temporary security.
“Seventy.”
Arlo’s short, hard laugh spoke of his outrage before he even spoke.
“Seventy percent? That’s more—”
“More than half,” the man cut in. “I’ve done the math.”
“That barely covers the cost of shipment, never mind—”
“Not my problem. That’s the cost of doing business in my neighborhood without my say so. Something you should have thought of, clearly. I don’t take well to guns being traded in my parks. You’re lucky I don’t ask for the full hundred.”
Juliette couldn’t help herself. Curiosity and a whole lot of stupidity had her leaning an inch to the left to peer around the man’s looming frame to where Arlo stood looking like someone had just force fed him a cluster of cockroaches. His sour expression only seemed to deepen when her movement caught his attention. The anger in his eyes sharpened even as they narrowed and she knew she’d screwed up.
“Why don’t we talk about this in private?” He bit out as he heaved away from the table and reached for her. His hand closed around her wrist and she was dragged to his side forcibly. “Pierre, take Juliette into the other room. This is no place for a woman. We’ll continue where we left off when I’m finished.”
The notion of picking up where they’d left off churned in the pit of her stomach. Her gaze flicked to the man watching her. His expression was void of everything, but a bored sort of disinterest that assured her she would get no help from him. Not that she had expected it. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop herself from silently begging him not to leave her there. But he made no move to do anything when she was hauled away from the group towards a set of doors across the room. The grimy sheet of metal lay hidden behind a thick curtain of shadow and shrieked like a lost soul when it was wrenched open. She was shoved inside and sealed in.
