Chastity Falls: Limited Edition Box Set

by L A Cotton

  I blinked rapidly and steeled myself. “Ready?” Stalking past Elena and Lydia, I ignored their slack jaws and forced myself to move in the direction of the guys’ house. I could hear all of them whispering behind me, but I kept moving. I had to keep moving. Despite my unsteady legs, I had to keep going.

  We finally reached the house, and Tyson let us in. No one said anything about my meltdown. They just continued talking amongst themselves like nothing had happened. I felt Elena and Paul eyeing me a couple of times, but neither said a word.

  “Who wants a beer?”

  “Me.” It rushed out.

  Paul scowled at me. “Are you sure?”

  I scowled back. “Yes.”

  “Get the girl a beer, Deputy Dad.”

  I could have hugged Tyson right then for sticking up for me. I just needed something to take the edge off. To dim the urge.

  “Fine. Fine.” Paul didn’t disguise the annoyance in his voice as he stormed to the kitchen.

  He came back seconds later and handed me a bottle. I took a long pull and let the bitter taste flood my senses. Turning my back on him, I found a seat in the living room.

  Things had gotten messy. After daring Nate to a drinking challenge, the guys had ended up wasted. Jamie joined us at some point earlier in the night and cheered Tyson and Nate on, taking a shot for himself occasionally. Elena and Paul had tried to talk me out of it to start with, but after the first couple of shots, the anxiety clawing at my insides started to subside. So I had another. And another.

  And now I could see double and was giggling at everything.

  “Paul, we need more tequila, man. Paul. PAUL.” Tyson’s voiced boomed through the house and I let out a giggle, causing Elena to explode with laughter.

  “Dude, I’m right here. Fuck, how drunk are you?”

  Tyson beat his fists on his chest in Tarzan style. “Me, man. You, fetch more tequila.”

  This caused another outburst and Elena and I ended up on the floor in fits of giggles, while Lydia snuggled up to Nate, trying to discourage him from doing any more shots.

  “Jamie, take my place? I’m out.” Nate hiccupped and rolled his head back.

  “I’ll do it.” Pushing up on my knees, I twisted into a standing position and brushed myself off.

  “Ohhh no you don’t, chica.” Elena tried to pull me back down, but I shrugged her off and stepped up next to Tyson, who was craning his neck in the direction of the kitchen. “Papi, tell her.”

  Tyson turned to me, towering over me. “Think you can take me, little lady?”

  Elena shot me a look, but I ignored her focusing only on Tyson. “You’re on, big guy.”

  Paul returned to the room carrying a bottle of tequila and warily approached us. “Ana, what are you doing?”

  I was staring Tyson down…or trying to. But the guy was built and drank most nights, whereas I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d been drunk in the last year. And neither time ended well! But the warm buzz was slowly replacing the hollow feeling. And I craved more.

  “Shot,” I demanded.

  Tyson wasted no time in snatching two glasses from the tray in Paul's hand and passed one to me. "For the lady."

  Elena and Lydia were trying to dissuade me, but I ignored them. My eyes remained locked on Tyson and I tilted my chin in challenge, causing a slow smirk to spread over his face. "You're going down, Ana Parry."

  My whole face scrunched up. He was going down!

  Lifting the glass to my lips, I shut out the strong smell and the tears forming in my eyes. And knocked it back in one.

  Fire erupted in my throat and I wanted to gag, but unwilling to give Tyson the satisfaction, I swallowed it down. Slamming the glass on the tray, I picked up a second and drank it straight down.

  Tyson's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Shit, Ana, where did you learn to do that?"

  A sense of achievement washed over me and I smiled. But then my stomach lurched and acid started to gurgle up in my throat. Clutching my hand over my mouth, I bolted out of the room, with a chorus of laughter and Spanish expletives following me, as I made a run for the bathroom.

  After emptying the contents of my challenge into the guys’ toilet, I washed my face and rinsed my mouth. Paul was waiting in the hallway as I exited the room.

  "Feeling better?"

  I waved a hand in the air at him, not wanting to open my mouth to speak. My stomach was still churning.

  "Come on, follow me." Paul's hand found mine, and he dragged me toward the stairs. I followed, too sick to care.

  Paul opened a door and disappeared into the void. When I stepped inside and he flipped the light on, I thrust my arm over my eyes and grumbled. Somewhere from the bathroom to Paul's room, my head had started to pound and the light wasn’t helping.

  Paul laughed under his breath, turned off the light, and switched on a lamp on his desk before turning to me.

  "Bed's over there. Get comfy and I'll grab you some sweats and a spare shirt," Paul said, before disappearing into another door in the room.

  My body slumped onto the double bed, and I closed my eyes trying to stop the room from spinning.

  Seconds later, he reappeared and I felt him move closer to the bed.

  "Here."

  I forced my eyes open. Paul was peering down at me, a pile of clothes in his arms.

  "Ugh, I'm not sure I can move."

  "You can sleep in my bed but not in those puke stained clothes. You stink, Parry."

  Somehow, I managed to drag myself off the bed and into the small bathroom. Paul had left me a glass of water and a toothbrush out.

  After cleaning up, I returned to the room. Paul was busy making himself a makeshift bed on the floor and I frowned. "What are you doing?"

  "I have to sleep somewhere." He shrugged.

  "You can sleep in the bed with me."

  Paul blinked rapidly, but then he said, "I'm not sure I want to. Did you look at yourself in the mirror?"

  We stood looking at each other. And part of me wished, just for a second, that I could forget Jackson. Paul and his goofy grin, shaggy blond hair, and trim body. He was the perfect gentleman, and he cared about me. And he was here with me.

  And Jackson was somewhere with the leggy brunette.

  Without thinking, I launched myself at Paul. His eyes widened with surprise as he caught me and we landed in a heap on the bed. I crushed my lips to his and Paul's body tensed underneath me. But when I wound my hands into his hair he relaxed, tightening his hold on me, he kissed me back.

  And I felt nothing.

  Except sheer guilt. I was a horrible, horrible person. Pulling back, I blinked back the tears glossing my eyes. Paul's eyes were still closed, his breath coming shallow and rapid. He touched his forehead to mine and sighed. "God, how I wish you meant that. That it wasn't just a way to get back at him. But I felt it the moment your lips touched mine. You're in love. With him. And I don't stand a chance. I never did."

  His voice was thick with emotion and I didn't think it was possible to hate myself more than I already did. I started to recoil, whispering the words, but Paul held me firm and pulled back slightly, opening his eyes to me. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I said we could be just friends. And we still can. I'll be the best damn friend you ever had, Savanah Parry."

  Chapter Twelve

  Jackson

  “Ugh, what is that smell?” I peeled my eyes open, draping an arm over them when the light hit. Fuck, that hurts.

  “That would be you, bro,” Dennis grumbled from somewhere in the room. What room I wasn’t sure, but it didn’t feel like my bed underneath me. “I think you’re lying in a pool of puke.”

  And then I felt it. The damp patch on my shirt. The smell wafting up to my nose. My stomach protested, gurgling loudly, and Dennis laughed. “Sounds like you might still have some left to come up. Just don’t do it on the floor; that shit will stain.”

  I was in Dennis’ room? Lying in his bed? What the fuck happened
last night?

  As if he could hear my thoughts, Dennis said, “You were out to get fucked up last night. I’ve never seen someone knock back shots of tequila like that.”

  My mind tried to conjure up the memories, but I had nothing. I could remember leaving the house and heading to the cove. Then I spent a good hour dodging Tammy’s advances while trying to pacify Braiden. And there had been shots. Lots of shots. After that, everything was blank.

  A sinking feeling washed over me, but I had to know. “Did I...” The words lodged in my throat and I coughed. “Me and Tammy, did anything happen?”

  Just the thought of me going anywhere near her had me wanting to puke. What if Braiden’s plan had worked? What if I slept with Tammy and I couldn’t remember. And Ana. Oh fuck, Ana.

  “Stop with the pained expression. You were too out of it to get it up, let alone use it. Trav and I carried you back. You didn’t do shit with her, but it wasn’t due to her lack of trying, though. Tammy was all over you like a bad rash and—”

  “Enough. Enough. Just get me a glass of water and some Advil.”

  Dennis shuffled and then paused. “It’s her, isn’t it. That Ana chick. She’s buried herself deep. I didn’t believe it last year; that Jackson Pierce had finally fallen hard. But you’re not over her, are you?”

  I didn’t reply. What was there to say? Dennis might have been inner circle, but he didn’t know the whole story. Not what went down in the cabin. That was between Braiden, Briony, Kyler, and me. All he knew was the sugarcoated version; Ana was bad for business and I had to end things.

  Finally accepting my silence, Dennis left the room. The door slammed behind him, and I attempted to sit on the edge of the bed. My head was pounding so hard I could feel the pulse in my temple, and it was painful to open my eyes. Steadying myself, I pushed off the bed and dragged my hungover ass to the bathroom.

  “Where the fuck is he?” a voice boomed, and I groaned, nowhere near ready to face off with Braiden.

  “Braid, let him get cleaned up first,” Dennis argued, but the door crashed against the wall, shaking the whole room.

  “Pierce, get the fuck out here.”

  I splashed my face with water, ignoring my red-rimmed eyes and the huge puke stain on my shirt and left the room.

  Braiden was standing rigid on the other side of the door, glaring at me. His icy stare was pinning me to the spot. I nodded at Dennis over his shoulder, and he left the room.

  “What?” I met Braiden’s glare, hoping this would be quick so I could get a shower.

  “What the fuck happened last night? You were supposed to hook up with Tammy. Instead, you got shitfaced, made a total ass of yourself, and had to be carried home like a pussy,” he hissed, and my eyes darted to the clenched fists resting at his sides.

  “I’m not going where a hundred other guys have been. Besides, we have bigger things to think about.” My head was about explode and all I wanted was to scrub the night away in a hot shower, so I said, “I’m done playing your games, Braiden. Right now you need me so back the fuck off and keep out of my life.”

  Pushing past him, I bolted out of the room, expecting him to follow or throw a fist in my direction. But he just stood there, looking at me like he didn’t even know me anymore.

  And it occurred to me...maybe he didn’t.

  “Boys, in here.”

  I followed Braiden through the house into Uncle Marcus’ den. He ran all of his businesses out of this one room. It oozed power. The deep mahogany furniture, deep red walls, and leather accents.

  “So, what did he say?”

  Uncle Marcus was still trying to talk to Declan Calder to smooth things over following Cole’s stunt, but all he was getting was radio silence. It only reaffirmed that something was coming.

  “I think we should assume the worst. Declan hasn’t responded to any of my calls. It doesn’t look good. I had hoped he would throw that good-for-nothing nephew of his out on his ass, but it appears not." He looked directly at Braiden. "Lockdown the campus and your suppliers and all exchanges go through me. Or Peter. And stay the fuck away from Reibeckitt, Braiden.”

  Marcus’ eyes narrowed at his son and Braiden scowled. He had been itching for his chance to get payback. “I think that’s the wrong move, Dad. We need to strike back. It wasn’t just us they stole from, it was Maconey, and he won’t wait forever for his money.”

  Rising from his desk, Uncle Marcus slammed his fist down on the desk and yelled, “Braiden Solomon, you will fall in line on this. Things are fragile and I do not need you fucking things up even more.”

  Without a word, Braiden’s eyes darted to me and back to his father's before he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

  Marcus turned to me and I straightened. This was how things usually played out. Braiden went on a rampage, and it was my job to limit the fallout. “Jackson, watch him. Don’t let him out of your sight. Things could turn to shit very quickly if he does something reckless. I’ll try to reach out to Declan again, but I fear our time is up. The truce is over. The future could get very messy.”

  The words hung in the air and I nodded, pushing off the chair to leave. But Marcus hesitated as if he was going to say something else and I paused. Waiting.

  “Braiden and Briony mentioned you’re having a hard time adjusting.”

  He didn’t need to say the words; I knew exactly what he was referring to.

  “I’m fine.” My voice betrayed me, cracking with emotion.

  “Jackson, don’t lie to me.” His tone pinned me back into the seat. “I know how much you cared for her. And I know I gave you my blessing, but Braiden brought some things to my attention, some disturbing things about Miss Parry. She’s not stable, Jackson. Bringing her into this life would be a risk. For everyone. Ending it, well, it was for the best.”

  My hands were shaking as they gripped the arms of the chair. I wanted to tell him that he didn’t know anything about Ana. My Ana. What did he know about what she had been through, what she had survived? But Marcus Donohue was not someone you argued with. Not without consequences.

  Steeling myself, I said, “My relationship with Ana is not something you need to be worried about. It’s over. It has been since before the summer.”

  He nodded and dismissed me, and I left the room in search of Braiden knowing exactly where to find him.

  Uncle Marcus had built the gym for us when we turned sixteen. Said we needed a space of our own to work out and burn off steam. It was pretty impressive with an array of cardio machines along one of the walls and a collection of free weights and benches in the middle. There was even a small sparring ring, but neither of us had entered that for a long time. Not since Braiden had broken my nose after a little friendly competition had gone too far.

  I found Braiden beating the shit out of one of the bags. He hadn’t bothered wrapping his hands and his blood smeared the bag as he repeatedly pounded his fists into the red material.

  Leaning against the bars of the running machine, I shouted over to him. “If you don’t ease off, you could do some serious damage.”

  He grunted, not stopping to look in my direction, and thrashed the bag even harder. The muscles in his arms tensed and flexed with every hit. The look of sheer determination on his face did nothing to hide the anger sitting just underneath the surface. It rolled off him in waves.

  As I watched him, I let myself remember. It hadn’t always been this way between us. Sure, there had always been some rivalry—more for him than me—but there had been a time when we were tight. Being a Donohue carried weight with people, and growing up, Braiden was all too happy to use it to his advantage.

  I couldn't care less about the power his name brought. Being a Donohue was all I knew, but I wouldn’t have chosen this life. But here I was, twenty years old and in the middle of a damn turf war between two of Oregon's most notorious families.

  Braiden finally let up and slumped onto his knees, his breath ragged. "You're right, I do need you. But i
t doesn't change anything between us. You betrayed your loyalty to our family and it won't be forgotten." He lifted his head and locked his eyes on mine. "I will never forget."

  He immediately dropped his eyes back to the floor, but I had seen it...the pain on his face. And it was a small victory for me. Because with Braiden off my back, I could focus on keeping Ana safe.

  "This is not a good idea," I said to myself more than to the guys.

  "You're either in or out, but we are doing this. That fuck Calder needs to know that he can't mess with our business and get away with it."

  "But what about your da—"

  Braiden slammed his fist down on the steering wheel. "I don't want to hear it. The old man is losing his touch."

  The old man would lose his shit if he found out about Braiden's plan. Even though Uncle Marcus had tasked me with keeping an eye out on him, there was no way to control this version of Braiden. Even though we both knew this could be the spark to ignite an all-out war.

  No one uttered another word en route to Reibeckitt, but the air was so thick my mouth was drier than the desert and I had to heave more than once just to clear my throat.

  "So we all know the plan?"

  The plan was still a little sketchy if you asked me. But Braiden hadn't asked me. Not this time. A line had been drawn; needing me and leaning on me were two different things now. I was no longer second in command. Sure, to the rest of the guys, it was business as usual, but something had shifted since Uncle Marcus called us into the office.

  No one answered him, and my eyes tracked the cars following in the side mirror. Most of the team was traveling behind us. All they knew was that we were about to kick some Valley ass. They didn't need much more explanation.

  "We're almost there," Braiden said, his game face mask firmly in place.