Текст книги "Six Brothers"

Автор книги: Lili St. Germain

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

Fifteen

I want to vomit, but I can’t. These stupid bitches are here willingly. I want to stop this, but I can’t.

These girls want this, I remind myself. They have come here of their own accord and are actually excited at the prospect of being deflowered by a biker, or maybe a bunch of bikers.

Idiots.

I hover in the bathroom with the blonde, watching through the slit in the door as Maxi straddles the now naked brunette. That didn’t take long. He takes his erect cock and lays it on her stomach, the tip of it ending just below her bellybutton.

“Oh, honey,” he says, forcing her legs wider and positioning himself at her entrance. “Did you see how big I am on you? This is gonna hurt.”

He pistons into her violently and she screams. I bet this isn’t how she expected it to be. I bet she thought it’d be glamorous and sexy, being desired fucked by a biker, when really, it’s just horribly sad. She screams again, and he laughs, continuing to pump her as hard as he can. Her screams taper off to moans and the occasional whimper.

“It’s hurting,” the girl whimpers as he continues to pound her.

Maxi laughs smirks and pulls out of her, his dick coated in her blood. Roughly, he turns her over, entering her again from behind. “Don’t lie, bitch,” he says excitedly, laughing as she cries into the pillow in front of her face. “You love it when I fuck you.”

I wait another few minutes, the blonde looking more nervous by the second. I want to tell her she’ll be okay. I want to tell her it won’t be that bad.

I’d be lying, of course.

“Here,” I say to her. “Open your mouth.”

She looks at the pill dubiously. She’s smarter than her friend, and not as daring. Funny, I’d assumed it was the other way around.

“It’s an E,” I whisper, pressing the tablet to her lips. Upon hearing that, she parts her lips, takes the pill that I press onto her tongue and swallows. Once I’m sure the pill is out of her mouth, I point to Maxi, who is fucking the other girl into painful oblivion.

I only have a few more minutes before the brunette passes out. I didn’t give her an E at all, you see. I gave her an extremely powerful sedative that will knock her out for the next six to eight hours. She won’t remember a thing.

Hopefully.

I close the door quietly and motion to the black bag I’ve brought into the room with me. “Pass me that, will you?”

She bends down and grabs the bag, handing it to me. I reach in and pull out a coiled length of rope and a black satin eye mask that has a band of elastic attached to it, and hand it to her.

“You know how to tie knots? I ask.

“I guess,” she says. “What’s this for?” Her eyes widen. “I don’t want to be tied up.”

“Maxi’s into being tied up.” I say. “Relax. You’re the one in control, here.”

She relaxes visibly. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” I say, gesturing to the ropes. “He likes to be tied up really, really tight.”

She nods and brushes past me as she exits the bathroom, and I watch her go with a sinking feeling. I imagine what Elliot would think of me right now. He’d never speak to me again if he saw the shit that just went down.

Still.

I watch through the cracked bathroom door as the blonde walks out into the bedroom. It only takes Maxi a moment to see her and realize she’s a lot more awake than the semi-conscious girl beneath him.

“Well, hello,” he says, pulling out of the first girl and climbing off the bed. “And how are you, sweetie?” She walks hesitantly, probably slowed by the initial screams of her friend and the powerful drugs now circulating her system. I glance at the girl on the bed, who is passed out cold. I estimate in about ten minutes, this one will be joining her.

“Okay,” she breathes, as she approaches him slowly.

“And what’s your name?” Maxi asks, his cock in his hand as he circles her.

“M-mel,” the girl stutters. “We’ve partied together heaps of times.” She looks at her friend and worry flashes across her face. “Is she okay?” she asks Maxi.

Maxi laughs. “She’s great,” he says. “What’ve you got for me, little lady?”

I grit my teeth as she holds up a length of rope in one hand, a black satin eye mask in the other. “I have a surprise for you,” she says. “All you have to do is sit down and put this on.”

He looks dubious at first until she smiles and licks her lips, staring suggestively at his cock, and then he’s sold. He rushes to the chair in the corner and sits down, taking the mask from her outstretched hand and sliding it onto his face.

She fashions crude and clumsy knots around his wrists and ankles, before stealing a small glance at the bathroom door where I’m hidden. I nod encouragingly, rolling my eyes after she’s turned back and gotten to her knees in front of him.

“Um…” the girl says, hesitating.

“What?” Maxi growls, clearly unimpressed.

“It’s just…there’s blood…”

Of course there is. He just banged her virgin friend within an inch of her life. There was blood.

He groans. “Just fucking suck it already,” he spits, pistoning his hips up into the air.

She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, taking him into her mouth. I don’t want to watch so I just listen for the thud.

It doesn’t take long.

Thud.

I open the bathroom door. The first girl is still passed out cold on the bed, a small patch of bright red blood between her legs. The second girl has crashed unconscious onto the floor besides Maxi, who is in the chair and getting more confused by the second.

Showtime.

I grab my little mirror and the first girls drivers license, striding into the room.

“Who’s there?” he asks, pulling at the ropes that secure his arms and legs to the wooden chair.

I smile, placing my mirror onto a small table and dragging it over to where Maxi is thrashing. I pull his mask off so that he can see me.

He blinks a few times, looking me up and down.

“What the fuck?” He roars when he sees the two girls unconscious. I smile prettily, straddling him, my breasts pressed against his chest.

“You’re a lucky boy,” I say, putting a finger to his lips. “Your father has a present for you.”

I reach behind me and tug at the silk laces on my strapless corset, letting it burst open before it falls to the floor. Maxi’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. I know he’s been hot to have me since the minute he laid eyes on me.

“What’s my present,” he asks, licking his lips, staring at my tits. Hooked.

“I’ll take you so high, you’ll never come back down,” I say, grinding myself against his wet cock.

He watches with wide eyes as I lean over and grab the mirror stacked with lines of cocaine. I rack one up with the card—the harmless cocaine—and press one nostril shut, lower my nose and breathe in deeply.

Fuck. I see stars, bright, shiny, dazzling stars, as the coke enters my bloodstream and bubbles along to my brain, hot and delicious.

“Your turn,” I say, as I place the other side of the mirror under his nose. I block one nostril for him as he snorts a line.

He looks at me in horror, choking, as his entire body spasms underneath me.

I caress the side of his face with my free hand, smiling as I lick my lips. “Happy birthday,” I whisper. “You sick fuck.”

“What are you doing?” he yells, struggling beneath me. His strong arms pull the ropes taut, his coiled muscles threatening to snap them, but he’ll be dead long before these ropes begin to fray.

I frown in mock sadness. “You didn’t ask me my name,” I pout.

“Fucking whore is your name!” he spits, struggling like a pinned wild animal beneath me.

“Oh, keep moving like that,” I moan, mocking him. “Feels good.”

I shove the cocaine back under his nose but he pulls away, arching and bucking and twisting.

“What the fuck is this?” he demands angrily, as I climb off him.

“You know what they say about your past coming back to haunt you?” I ask calmly, business-like as I shove the piece of duct tape across his mouth. He isn’t expecting it, had been too busy keeping his eye on the mirror full of poisoned coke to watch what I’m doing. He screams behind the tape, his efforts emitting nothing but a very small sound, barely perceptible and definitely not noticeable to anyone outside the room.

The tape serves a dual purpose: to shut him up, and to seal off his mouth, forcing him to breathe through his nose. He bucks and struggles like a pinned bull, but I am patient. I let him struggle for a few minutes until he tires, and then I withdraw a plastic bag from my underwear, tipping fine white powder into my palm. Straddling him again, I grab a handful of his hair with one hand, shoving my coke-covered palm right under his nostrils. He immediately holds his breath, and a slow smile spreads across my face.

“How long can you hold your breath for, Maximilian Ernesto Ross?”

His eyebrows shoot up as if to say, how do you know my name?

“Oh, I know your name. I know everything about you. I’ve known you since the day I was born into this motherfucking club.”

He’s still clueless, but he’s starting to connect the dots. I lean closer and lick his cheek, the same way he licked my cheek six years ago as he fucked me half to death. I pout. “It’s me, Maxi. Julie. I got a new face, but I still remember what you did to me and my family.”

Snap. All at once he realizes exactly who I am, and runs out of air. He shoves his head violently from side to side, but I have a firm grip on his hair and my palm merely follows him as he thrashes, breathing in the toxic powder at the same time.

His nose begins to bleed and his eyes roll back into his head momentarily, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks in his cold blue eyes.

“Don’t you like my gift?” I ask him mockingly, as he thrashes violently, spilling most of the powder over both of us.

He stares at me defiantly, hate and rage radiating from him, a muffled word that sounds like a no coming from underneath the tape.

I laugh. “Don’t lie, bitch,” I echo his previous statement as I pull his head back and force more powder under his bleeding nose. “You love it when I fuck you.”

Sixteen

The moment of truth. Maxi is dead, has been for half an hour.

There won’t be any reviving that motherfucker.

I untied him once his heart had stopped beating for ten minutes and arranged him on the bed with the girls. The ropes and duct tape are jammed underneath Maxi’s bed, where I doubt anyone will think to look. The rest of the harmless cocaine is flushed down the toilet, with only the strychnine-cut coke left, stashed in small baggies in Anna and Melanie’s purses.

There’s no conceivable reason for anyone to suspect me.

Especially with what I’m about to do next.

My clothes are back on and I’m kneeling in the middle of the room. As I stare at the last line of powder on the mirror, I’m starting to doubt my plan. But the only way to make this look genuine is to make it look like I’ve snorted the same shit that just killed Maxi. I can’t think of any other way to remove myself from the scope of suspicion. This way, those stupid girls will cop the blame for giving us their tainted coke, and I’ll look like a victim as well.

I freeze in position as I hear voices at the door. I strain to hear them over the heavy metal music coming from the party, their voices becoming clearer as I concentrate.

It’s Jazz and someone else, talking heatedly right outside the goddamned door.

Oh my God. Do not come in.

“Get out of my way, bro,” a voice says.

Jase.

Shit, shit, shit! If they come in and see me, perfectly normal and conscious while Maxi is dead and the two girls are passed out, I am screwed.

“Nuh-uh!” Jazz says, his deep laugh just like his father’s. “”It’s not your birthday, little brother. Wait your fuckin’ turn!”

I hear jostling against the door and decide that it’s now or never.

I take a deep breath, grit my teeth and snort hard, the tainted powder slamming into my brain like a blowtorch turned to max.

The strychnine-laced coke burns the inside of my nose and I feel a thin trail of blood thread its way out of my nose, dripping onto my lip. It tastes bitter and metallic all at once, like cola and pennies swirling in my mouth, and I gag on the taste.

The room spins around me and I drop the mirror to the floor, where it shatters into a million pieces. Seven years bad luck? I think I’ve already done my time.

“What was that?” Jase barks outside the door.

I hold up a hand to catch at the blood underneath my nose, trying to stop the mess, but it’s useless. It goes everywhere, down my throat and into my cleavage, soaking into the top of my corset. So much blood for such a small amount of powder.

“You think you’re such hot shit,” Jazz yells outside. I crawl towards the door, my palms and knees collecting sharp pieces of mirrored glass along the way.

“Let me in there, dick!” Jase yells.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jazz demands, and I hear a fist connect with bone. Ouch. “There were only ever six brothers, you understand? You little bastard. You’re probably not even his.”

Their footsteps and voices recede as I get to my feet.

I grab for the doorknob as my vision clouds and a fresh avalanche of blood begins to pour out of my nose. I choke as I wrench the door open and stumble into the hallway. The music in the place is so loud it’s deafening, and I’m trying to yell, but I can’t hear myself above the Metallica bursting through the empty hallway.

They were just here. Where did they go?

I limp along as Enter Sandman pulses through me, and the strychnine bores holes in my brain. I fall to my knees, suddenly panicking that I’m in serious trouble right now.

I had better not fucking die, I think to myself as I crawl towards the kitchen. Surely there’ll be someone in there.

I round the corner, still choking and bleeding from my burning nose. It shouldn’t hurt this bad, just one tiny line. My brain is screaming, my entire body is buzzing angrily, and the blood won’t stop pouring out of my nose.

I stop and lean against the wall inside the kitchen. Nobody.

Fuck!

I breathe quickly, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and stem the flow of blood. Then I think it’s probably better to let it bleed and get as much of the strychnine-laced coke out of my body as possible. A build up of blood bursts free and splatters on my chest as I wobble back to my feet and inch along the wall, back out to the hallway.

I head for the row of bedrooms at the far end of the hall. At least one of them must be occupied.

But they’re not. I knock on the first one—Dornan’s door—and wait, followed by the second and third doors. I’m crying out for help by now, I need someone to find me and call an ambulance before this shit kills me.

This was the stupidest idea ever.

I finally reach Jase’s door, but I’m almost certain he’s not here.

Should’ve gone the other way. There’s music and noise and I’m an idiot for going down the dark hallway toward the bedrooms, instead of heading for the bar and plenty of people who can help me.

Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my shoulder and I am spun around effortlessly.

Jase!

My relief turns to dread as I see Jazz towering over me, his eyes full of things that he’s promised to do to me.

“You’re wearing the shoes,” he breathes. “Fuuuuuuck.” He slams me against the wall right next to Jase’s door, his body covering mine.

“I’m kind of fucking dying here,” I mutter, pushing my palms against his hard chest.

His hand wraps around my slippery throat, wet from the blood that continues to course from my nose.

“Told you that could be arranged,” he says, grinning wickedly.

Great. He’s going to try and fuck me while this poison tries to kill me from the inside out?

I make my hand into a fist one last time and pound weakly on Jase’s door. The strychnine is in my bloodstream now and my vision is turning splotchy and dull.

“Uh-uh!” Jazz says, grabbing my wrist and wrenching my arm back. “Jase ain’t gonna save you this time, bitch.”

I feel my entire body convulse, as if trying to find a way to expel the poison that circulates within me. My ears buzz angrily and far, far away, I hear a door open and an angry voice.

It’s him, I know it. I can’t make out what he says, but I feel better knowing that he’s found me.

It’s the last thing I hear before I crumple like a piece of tissue paper and everything goes black.

Seventeen

When I wake up, I’m alone. It’s dark, and I hear a faint beeping noise above the din of the Los Angeles traffic outside.

I’m in a hospital.

Beige ceiling, beige walls. Stiff pillow under my pounding head. I’m propped up a little, so I move my dry eyes around the room. I inhale sharply when I see that I was mistaken.

I am not alone at all.

There’s a lone figure sitting at the foot of my bed, black eyes shining in the weak light cast from the bright hallway.

He doesn’t say anything, the silence between us making me anxious.

“What happened?” I croak, my throat full of rocks.

“I told you, you should have left,” he says bitterly.

He leans forward, and I relax as I see it’s Jase, not his father.

“My brother’s dead and my dad’s about to start a gang war.”

“What?”

He unfolds himself from his chair, coming to beside the bed, where he towers over me. His eyes are haunted, his features pinched with stress and exhaustion. A fistful of guilt and self-loathing punches me in my stomach. He’s suffering because of me, another marionette in my quest for vengeance.

“What the hell were you even doing snorting coke with Maxi and a couple of underage girls?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer that, so I just shrug. “I don’t know.”

He appears unsatisfied with that answer, so I elaborate.

“Your dad wanted your brother to have a birthday he’d never forget.”

Jase snorts, clearly disgusted. He grabs his leather jacket from the back of the chair and shrugs into it, picking up a helmet from the floor.

“Later,” he says, marching to the door.

“Wait!” I say, struggling to sit up. “Aren’t I coming with you?”

He turns slowly, the smirk on his face something that doesn’t belong on someone as gorgeous as him.

“No.” he says. “You’re staying here. You almost fucking died. Again.”

A chill runs through me as I think about almost dying six years ago, but I quickly realize he’s talking about Dornan stabbing me a mere week ago.

“Oh,” I reply.

He looks like he’s ready to explode, his neck muscles bulging, his hands balled into fists.

“You know, I thought you were different,” he says, glaring at me. “But you’re just the same as the rest of them.”

Jase tosses something on the bed beside me. I peer down and realize it’s my phone.

“Call me when they discharge you,” he says, without looking back.

I open my mouth to speak but he’s gone, and I’m staring at a closed door.

I lay back into the pillows, cursing myself for my stupidity. This wasn’t meant to happen. I almost died?

I think for a few minutes, my head whirling.

Maxi’s dead. Dornan’s on a rampage of some sort. Jase is pissed with me.

That leaves one person.

I scroll through the three contacts on my phone. Dornan. Jason. Tattoo Guy. Elliot answers on the third ring.

“This had better be good,” he says groggily. “If you woke my daughter up, I’ll fucking kill you.”

His daughter. Jesus. I was going to ask him to come get me, but I can’t exactly ask him to leave her in the middle of the night to come break me out of my hospital room.

“Sorry,” I say quietly. “I was just…can I come see you?”

He must detect that something’s not right in my voice, because the next time he speaks, he’s wide awake. “Sure,” he says. “Everything okay?”

I glance down at my hospital gown and the IV line in my arm. “Peachy,” I reply. “I just miss you.”

“Huh,” he says. “Of course you do.”

I say goodbye and end the call.

Ten minutes later, I’m walking down San Vicente Boulevard, wearing nothing but a hospital gown that ties at the back, and blows open when the breeze stirs, showing the world my ass cheeks. I’ve got no shoes on and nothing but my phone that I clutch in my hand. It’s three in the morning and the streets are pretty quiet, my only companions a random homeless woman pushing a trolley, and the gently rustling palm trees that line the street, towering over me.

I’m aching inside, the utter desolation of my vengeful quest almost too much to bear.

But I will bear it. Because I refuse to buckle. They will not break me.

I’m a fighter, after all. And this fight’s only just begun.

Rage and loneliness alight in my chest, I stick to the shadows, and make my way to Elliot’s apartment.