Текст книги "Four Score"

Автор книги: Lili St. Germain

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 6 страниц)

Twelve

Limbo.

A place un-christened souls inhabit. Trapped. Yearning as they roam empty corridors, always reaching for the sunlight but never quite touching it.

A quiet calm. An anxious wait. A refuge from a storm that threatens to wreak havoc and destroy everything in its wake.

Our limbo is temporary, and we indulge in it. What choice do we have? The starkness of our future lays heavy and invisible between us, like the souls of the broken children we left behind that fateful day. Our innocent selves—gone but not forgotten—still screaming for mercy in the recesses of our minds.

For the first few nights of our brief time together, we begin the night alone, but dream after dream assaults me. Reminding me of Dornan, the way he tasted as he came inside my mouth, or the droplets of blood that spread like fire as they soaked the sheets below us more than once.

It’s okay, though, because Jase is always there, and after a few nights, we decide to stop pretending and just sleep in the same bed all night.

And when we do? I don’t wake up in a pool of tears and sweat, haunted by zombified versions of the men I’ve killed and the man I’m yet to kill. I sleep soundly and wake gently, a welcome reprieve from years of horrific nights spent trying not to fall back into an endless loop of nightmares.

For a few glorious days, life is beautiful.

But that’s the thing about this life. Remember when I said, nothing good ever lasts?

Well, it’s true.

One call, eight days after the explosions, shatters our fragile peace.

Because Dornan is awake.

Thirteen

I’m sitting on the balcony, feet propped up on the wall in front of me, looking out to the ocean. There’s no wind this afternoon, and the water is like glass. It’s breathtaking, and it somehow calms me just being able to see it. People standing on long boards, paddling in the bay. Surfers on the shore, their boards forgotten since there are no waves. Children are building sandcastles on the shore, and in the distance, I can see the Ferris wheel turning on the pier.

So much life in front of me, people living normal, unencumbered existences. People without prices on their heads.

People who didn’t have to die to get away from the life they were born into.

I want to be one of those people, but as I listen to Jase speaking on his cell phone in the kitchen, I’m reminded yet again of the horrific existence we share. The cold reality of our families and their sins.

“Already?” Jase asks whoever’s on the phone. “He was in a friggin’ coma two days ago.” A pause. “Whatever. So, he’s at the clubhouse now?”

A spike of dread stabs into my stomach, and I look at the ground. I can’t be staring at that beautiful Ferris wheel, or the innocent children on the beach while I think about Dornan.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Jase says. I hear him toss something down on the bench, and assume it’s his phone.

I rise and enter the kitchen, almost colliding with him. We eye each other awkwardly as the waves of reality begin to crash against our thinly constructed wall of denial and hope.

“He’s awake,” Jase says grimly.

“Already?” I ask dully.

“Yesterday, actually,” Jase says. The bitterness in his voice is like poison. “I have to go to Va Va Voom to see him.”

I’m already grabbing my purse, but when I look back at Jase, he’s horrified.

“What?” I ask, alarmed.

He points at my purse. “What are you doing?”

I look down, expecting to see a spider or something on my purse, but there’s nothing.

“I’m coming with you.”

Jase’s face twists with anger. “You. Are. Not. Coming,” he growls.

I raise my eyebrows. “He’ll be expecting Sammi. If I’m not there, he’ll kill me.”

Jase shakes his head. “He’ll kill you anyway. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“There’s a lot wrong with me,” I snap impatiently. “I think we’ve established that.”

“I’m not letting you go anywhere near him, Juliette.”

I shake my head. “Jason. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I’d just forget about it all because we had sex a couple times?”

My tone is nastier than I’d intended, but I’m livid. What did he think, that I’d abandon my vengeance so casually?

Jase bites his lip, and the next words come out with difficulty. “I fucking love you, Juliette.”

I smile despite the tension. “I fucking love you, too. But my love for you doesn’t change my hate for him.”

Jase looks dangerously close to throwing me over his shoulder and locking me in his bedroom until he can talk me into staying away from Dornan. But I won’t let him. I refuse to give up my vendetta against the Ross brothers and their demon father.

The score’s only at four. And until it’s at seven? Love will have to wait.

“You think this is funny?” Jase demands loudly. “I went to your fucking funeral. You can never forget something like that! And now you’re going to walk back in there, and expect that he’s not going to figure you out soon? He’ll kill you for real this time.”

I struggle to stay calm. “Maybe he will.” I shrug. “It’s been a risk all along, but you know what? He hasn’t found me out yet, Jason.”

“So,” Jase says bitterly. “You’re saying that your need to make him pay is more important than what we have?”

“It’s not just about me,” I counter. “Or you. Or us. It’s about my father! It’s about Mariana! They died trying to save us from this life, and we owe it to them to do everything we can to destroy that man.”

Jase’s eyes burn into me; the sadness and reluctance to let me go is almost too much to stand. I feel like I can’t breathe, especially when he puts his hands on my shoulders and begs me. “Not like this,” he says feverishly. “Please, Julz, not like this.”

It’s probably the wrong reaction, but his begging makes me so angry, I could scream. How dare he try to use what we have against me? How dare he try to stop me from claiming vengeance against the man who destroyed us all?

I see red, and regrettably, I go for the sucker punch. “He killed your mother and left her in a bathtub full of blood for you to find. You’re his son, and he did that to you?” My voice threatens to break. It’s so high and shrill. “What do you think he did to them?! I know they suffered. I know it more than I know anything.” I clutch at my chest as I think of my father and what he must have endured at the end. “He made them suffer, and now I’m going to make him suffer.”

Jase’s face is drawn, fixed, decided. “Juliette,” he warns, “If you walk out that door—”

“If I walk out that door, what?” I interrupt. “What are you gonna do, huh? Nothing, just like you did nothing for six years.” I’m nasty, and I can’t help it. “Don’t worry. Leave it up to Julz. I’ll clean up the mess that you never could.”

I yank the door open and slam it shut behind me, the loud noise and violent gesture extremely satisfying.

I’ve got Jase’s car keys in my hand, and as I stalk to his car and yank open the door, anger bubbles in my veins.

Anger, and the sweet taste of impending revenge.

Fourteen

I get to the burlesque club a few minutes later, parking a few streets away in case Dornan sees me driving Jase’s car and asks me to explain. I jog the few blocks to the club, wanting to get there before Jase rides up on his Harley and intercepts me.

The front doors are unlocked; the place deserted at ten fifteen on a Tuesday morning. I wander in slowly. The darkened stage pulls old memories to the surface where they claw fresh wounds.

Crushing weight.

Leather.

A pair of black eyes that gleamed at us from the floor of the club. Emilio. He’d watched it all, barely blinked as his grandsons had taken their turns breaking me apart. First Chad, then Maxi, then the rest. As one would rape me, two more would pin my arms, and the others would hold Jase as he yelled and fought.

Then, one word spoken by Dornan’s father.

“Enough.”

Emilio ordered everyone out of the room but Dornan. Jase had been knocked out when he broke free momentarily and kicked Chad hard enough in the kneecap to cause it to dislocate.

Which left me, sitting naked with my wrists and ankles tied to a chair. My broken nose was making a weird scraping sound as I breathed past crushed bone and blood. It was cold, and I trembled violently as my exposed flesh rose in goose bumps to meet the frigid air.

Dornan made a show of removing his gun and knife from his holsters, placing them on a small table near where I sat. The camera was still going, or at least I assumed it was with the red light blinking every few seconds. By this stage, I’d been here for a few hours and had long since forgotten my modesty. My legs were cramping as I sat in a pool of my own blood, and I could no longer feel my arms.

I’d moved through the stages of grief swiftly as the Ross brothers had taken from me what wasn’t theirs. Firstly shock and denial, but that had been quashed as Chad had pressed painfully inside of me, eradicating any possibility that the horrors they promised were just threats. Secondly anger, and that’s where I still hovered, bleeding and furious as Dornan stood in front of me, his face poker-blank.

“Tell me, Julie,” he said, and I cringed as he used the nickname only my mother used. “Where’s the money?”

I shook my head. “I already told you, I don’t know!”

My breathing quickened, terrified as I watched him unbuckle his belt. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, but I daren’t look away in case I missed my own death.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panicking. No more. I couldn’t handle any more. Not again. Not him.

Dornan moved like a panther stalking its prey, every move measured and silent as he drew the belt from its loops and held it in front of him. It was black, leather, with a skull-shaped clasp.

“You know,” Dornan said, as he doubled the belt over and held it in both hands, “I was the first to hold you when you were born, Julie. All screaming and covered in blood.” He smiled darkly, standing in front of me.

Before I could flinch, he brought the belt down on my left leg, the leather burning as it bit into my bare flesh.

I screamed.

“It’s kind of like now,” he continued, playing with the belt in his hands. “Your daddy wasn’t there in time to see you be born, and he’s going to miss your death, too.”

He raised his arm and this time, I braced myself.

Not that it helped.

He brought the belt down on my other leg, and I screamed again. I screamed so loud that my throat felt like it would crack in two.

“Where’s the money, Julie?”

I started to cry, then. Hung my head and sobbed. Because I didn’t know the answer, and he wasn’t going to stop until I gave him something.

“My father will kill you for what you’ve done,” I cried, lunging at him against my ropes.

Dornan tilted his head to the side, an odd expression on his face. He chuckled mirthlessly, the sound hollow and bitter.

“Not if I kill him first, baby girl.” He bit his lip, letting the belt fall to his side.

Emilio cleared his throat, reminding us both that he was still in the darkness below the stage, sitting in his chair, his black eyes shining like orbs.

A flicker of annoyance registered on Dornan’s face as he turned his attention to his father.

“The belt isn’t working,” Emilio rasped, his Italian accent thick but understandable. “Maybe you need something a little more convincing?”

Dornan looked at the ground, then back at me. His mask slipped for just a fraction of a second, and I saw my chance. His tiny sliver of hesitation gleamed like a beacon of hope.

“Dornan,” I begged, “Please. You don’t have to do this.”

Dornan ignored my pleas as he untucked his shirt and began undoing the buttons. My stomach roiled as he shrugged the shirt off and laid it over the table next to his gun and knife.

“I swear, I don’t know anything,” I said desperately.

I had well and truly moved from anger to bargaining as he began to untie my ankles.

“You’re supposed to protect me!” I screamed. “You’re family!”

His face twisted into anger as he undid the final rope and wrapped his hands around my throat, pulling me to my feet. I tried to bear weight on my legs as I struggled against his grip, and failed miserably. I couldn’t even feel my legs, let alone stand unassisted.

“You’re supposed to be my family,” he growled as he throttled me painfully. “Remember?” He took one hand from my neck and drew it across his bare skin, reciting the words tattooed over the bottom of his ribcage. “Il sangue è sacro. Famiglia è sacra!” Blood is sacred. Family is sacred.

His indifference morphed into rage as he threw me on the ground. I cried out as I landed on hard wood planks, my skull and my elbows taking the brunt of the impact.

“Don’t ever talk to me about family,” Dornan spat as he stood over me. “You were going to steal my son from me.”

“He hates you,” I rasped, my own anger bubbling up inside me.

He stopped for a second, glanced at Emilio, then back to me. “I hated my father once, too,” he said, unbuttoning his jeans. “I got over it.”

What happened next was so brutal, so devastating, that even now, I can’t form words to describe it.

Blood is sacred. Family is sacred.

But clearly, we weren’t family anymore.

* * *

I’d moved into the final stage of grief, acceptance, as my vision clouded over and those white spots burst into shimmering stars, promising me peace, whispering sweet nothings in my ear that the pain would soon be over.

I accepted death, let it wash over me, and as a brilliant white light focused above me hours later, I smiled, believing I was finally going to wherever it was souls went after passing on.

Something sharp jabbed into my arm, and a gloved hand came into my vision as it tilted the bright light slightly.

Shit. I wasn’t going toward the white light. I started to hear again, panicked voices that yelled for blood transfusions and oxygen, and I realized I wasn’t dying.

I was being brought back to life.

I had ceased breathing; the only sound in my universe the intermittent roar and fade of my heart pumping erratically as it skipped to its irregular, fading beat. Someone shouted for paddles, and I thought it amazing that I could still hear snatches of voices even though my lungs no longer drew breath.

I had a choice to melt back into that acceptance of death, to succumb, and I won’t lie, it was so very tempting. I let myself sink further, the same fall you experience when you succumb to sleep, but I knew I wouldn’t be waking from this.

I screamed inside my mind as hot electricity bit at my chest and rushed through my body, forcing my heart to try and beat, but I resisted its saving grace, refusing to surface from my own demise. If my arms would work, I’d push them all away and demand that they let me die in peace.

I had accepted this. I was ready. I was ready to die.

And then a face appeared in my mind.

Jase. My dear boy.

I loved him. If there was even the slightest chance he was still alive, I had to hold on, for him.

I suddenly had to live.

Another shock, worse than the first, sparked something primal inside of me: a hope that burned like wildfire, and an anger that simmered like poison in my veins.

“She’s back,” a voice said, closer this time.

I opened my mouth and gasped for breath, pulling precious air into my lungs as pain spread through my body.

From the brink of death, I was born again—naked, bloody, and screaming as the cold reality of my survival overwhelmed me.

As I vowed to make Dornan and his sons pay for their sins.

Fifteen

I blink, shaking my head, and hear movement upstairs.

Dornan.

I adjust my white sundress and make my way quietly up the stairs. As I hit the last stair, I hear the creak of a chair from the office. I knock gently on the door and it swings open.

Showtime. I’m woefully prepared for this, but I suck in a breath and give it my all. I haven’t come this far just to drop my game in the final stretch.

Dornan’s sitting behind his desk, his laptop open in front of him. He’s staring intently at it, but presses a button shifting his focus to me when I enter the room.

“Sammi,” he breathes.

“Are you okay?” I ask hesitantly, hovering on the other side of his desk. I’m stalling. After making love to Jase, I can’t bear the thought of Dornan’s touch on my skin.

He rises from his chair, his ability to walk around apparently undisturbed. I marvel at the fact.

“You can walk,” I say, surprised. “I can’t believe it. After what happened?”

Luckiest bastard alive. That blast should have killed him.

“Come here, you little cunt,” he says, his teeth gritted together in a grotesque sort of grimace. It’s made worse by the healing scars that litter every piece of his exposed flesh.

“Whoa,” I reply lightly, surprised. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Dornan smiles, baring his teeth, and my world crashes down around me as I hear the door slam behind me, locked with a key from the outside.

He turns his laptop around so that I can see the video he’s watching, and my heart sinks as my knees threaten to buckle underneath me.

As I realize what it is I’m seeing.

Surveillance footage of a girl. A girl in a garage, wearing nothing but a thin nightgown, her movements quick and efficient as she places crudely fashioned bombs into the gas tanks of her enemy’s motorcycles. My heart rushes up into my mouth as I continue to watch the screen, completely engrossed. As the girl turns, the camera catches her face in the infrared light, and I see her trepidation.

Her excitement.

What a stupid girl.

I take a step back, hitting the door with my ass as he answers my question.

Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

“No,” he says, coming around the desk at me, “but I kissed your mother with it plenty of times.” He smirks as he delivers the final word in his sentence.

“Juliette.”

Sixteen

Every day for six years, I used to pray that I would find my way back to the boy I loved.

Until finally, one day, I did.

But that’s the funny thing about life. Nothing good ever lasts, not for me, anyway. You think you’re the one with the power, at least I did, but then I got careless. One tiny mistake, and now I am powerless to stop what comes next.

People think money equals power, but all the money in my bank account, the dirty notes laundered clean that my father left for me, are useless.

Money does not equal power. Power is held by the one with the knife in his hand, tracing shallow cuts into your skin.

Power is held by the one who owns you.

I had power once.

Now, I have nothing.