Bane (Sinners of Saint Book 5)

by L.J. Shen

  “Thank you for becoming a girl he would be so proud of.” Mom squeezed back.

  Great. Now my mother was crying, and Jesse was crying, and I really needed a blunt, a drink, and a complimentary blowie in order not to feel like we were in a This Is Us episode. They hugged. My heart felt like two pieces locking back together into something whole.

  My father had been a rapist.

  My girlfriend had been raped.

  And yet, somehow, I had managed to make the two women in my life stronger, and proud.

  I leaned against the doorframe, the keys dangling between my fingers. “So? What’s it going to be? Every minute you spend here is a minute wasted on Emery not being thrown into jail.”

  That made her disconnect from my mom.

  Mom wiped Jesse’s tears and smiled. “You’re stronger than your circumstances,” she said to her, in English.

  Snowflake said, “Spasiba.” Then she turned to me and held out her hand. “Can you be there for me? Just in case I need someone to hold my sword for me?”

  I did a little bow with my head. “Why, my princess, I thought you’d never ask.”

  TIME STRETCHED BETWEEN THE MINUTE when we got into the truck and the moment my feet hit the asphalt of the police station’s parking lot. Roman made some phone calls. I was too nervous to listen to them. My mind was elsewhere. It was like I was trying to remember why old Jesse had let it happen in the first place. Why I’d let them get away with it.

  I didn’t want to see their faces, their sneers, their anger. A part of me, a very ridiculous part, still wanted to please those who’d taken me under their wing when I was just the ex-poor kid from two towns over. A bigger part wanted them to pay for what they’d done to me.

  “Yo, hang back for a sec,” Roman said when we leaped out of his truck, lacing his fingers through mine, both of us watching the double glass doors of the police station open as a man in a sheriff’s uniform walked out of them, yanking his belted pants up over his belly.

  “Sheriff Brian Diaz.” He shook my hand, and I returned the shake, like it was the most natural thing in the world, before realizing that six months ago I couldn’t have done that. I would have turned around and run away. “Thank you for coming here today. It’s a very brave thing that you’re doing.”

  Bane squeezed my hand, still looking at the sheriff. “Bring us up to speed.”

  “Well, Miss Carter is going to identify the suspects behind a window. They won’t be able to see her, but she’ll be able to see them.” He turned his gaze back to me, smiling reassuringly. “You won’t have to meet them or speak to them. After that, mainly more paperwork to supplement your amended statement, and you’re done. Evidence is strong and sufficient.”

  “How long ago were they arrested?”

  “Checked in forty minutes ago,” Brian replied.

  Roman nodded solemnly. “Bail?”

  “A hundred K.”

  My teeth nearly snapped. Was that how little my innocence was worth? Roman massaged my back in circles, still talking calmly to Sheriff Diaz.

  “Are they lawyered up yet?”

  “Their parents and lawyers are on their way.”

  “Let me know if they’re bailed.” Bane’s jaw hardened.

  “Protsenko…”

  But even Sheriff Diaz knew better than to argue with him over this point.

  I wasn’t supposed to come face-to-face with Emery, but somehow, I knew that I would. Like I couldn’t truly move on unless our eyes locked together one last time. And they did. I was just passing through the hallway when Emery, Nolan, and Henry were being moved from the holding cells. The three of them were in handcuffs. My arms were swinging by my sides freely. Free. I was free.

  The two large officers behind Emery exchanged annoyed looks, like it shouldn’t have happened, and Villegas shook her head and stared at them blankly. It only took five seconds before Emery was pulled to the door next to the one I was entering, but it was enough.

  Our eyes met.

  His were empty.

  Mine were full.

  I knew that, because of the way his gaze widened on mine, when he realized, for the first time, that I wasn’t the girl he’d left behind. I dipped my chin to my chest, smiling and muttering under my breath, “Pleasure running into you like this, Emery.”

  Bane waited out front while I was taken into a small white room where the paint job was chipped, rolling down from the ceiling. There was a window at the center of the room that showed us another room, still empty.

  Detective Villegas explained the procedure, and the whole time, I thought about the first time Emery Wallace had asked me out on a date. I’d been so giddy and happy that day, I’d accidentally walked straight into a wall.

  Looking deep into your rapist’s eyes with them knowing you are on the other side of a tinted window was strange. When Emery walked into the room, I felt warmth spreading through my chest for the first few seconds, before I remembered what we were here for. His pupils dilated when he stared back at the mirrored window, like he, too, was able to look at me. Nolan and Henry were there, along with some men of different ages and attire. The three boys looked pissed and scared, their eyes bright, their jaws slack.

  “Take your time. Breathe,” Madison whispered into my ear.

  I wielded my sword.

  They couldn’t hurt me anymore.

  I pointed at the three of them calmly. “They were the ones who did it.”

  Villegas nodded and left the room.

  I pressed a hand onto the window and smiled at them. Emery smiled back, as if he could see me. It was taunting, but it was there. I took all of him in. His brown-blond hair styled in an expensive haircut and moussed to death. His pretty blue eyes. His slender body, goody-two-shoes Polo shirt. Nolan, who looked like everything wholesome and American in the world. Henry, a WASP from hell, with his lanky frame and bony nose, looking like a classic trust fund baby. I looked at them, and they looked at me, and all they could see was black, because that’s who I was to them.

  The darkness.

  The stain in their history.

  Not to be removed.

  Not to be forgotten.

  I would spread, and conquer, and be remembered, so that other women would not end up like me.

  I pressed my face to the chilly glass, laughing. Bane was outside. He couldn’t be there with me when I identified them. He couldn’t see how crazy they made me, and that was a good thing. That moment of insanity was mine. Not to be shared with others. Well, other than the officers, but I was sure they’d seen worse.

  “You’re not getting away with this.” I rolled my head from side to side against the glass, realizing that my closure was going to be different. It was going to be made through lawyers and courthouses and documentation. I couldn’t yell in Emery’s face and bite Nolan the way he’d bitten me, or kick Henry the way he’d kicked me.

  And I was okay with that.

  I turned around and asked, “Can I go now?”

  They escorted me back outside to make sure I didn’t run into any of the boys or their parents. The first thing I did was collapse into my boyfriend’s arms and laugh and cry simultaneously, overwhelmed by emotions. Detective Villegas was there to stand outside the room, a smile tugging at her lips.

  And I couldn’t help but feel that justice had been served.

  That the princess had won.

  And that somehow, she’d even gotten her prince.

  A Year Later.

  SLUT. THE WHORE OF BABYLON. Jezebel.

  Emery, Nolan, and Henry are all in jail now, so these words no longer get tossed in my face when I walk down the street. Thirteen years each, the maximum the state of California usually gives a rapist. The judge had a lot to say about the boys’ behavior when he gave the verdict. Especially after more girls came forward.

  Two they met in college.

  Emery’s girlfriend, who admitted he’d forced her into doing things with him when they were together.

  And
Wren, who confessed they’d taken advantage of her one night, when she was too drunk to drive back home.

  I say “boys,” but chronologically, they should be men.

  They’d never be men.

  Men don’t take without asking.

  Men don’t abuse women.

  Men. Don’t. Rape.

  Mayra got her license revoked by the state, and she is now under investigation. Last I heard, she had to sell her house, because she was no longer able to pay her mortgage. Comes with the territory of not being able to practice your profession, I suppose.

  My bank account still says that I’m a millionaire, but it is my soul that feels rich these days. My mother is somewhere in Anaheim, couch-surfing with former friends and calling me every now and again, begging for a dime or two. I have yet to touch Darren’s money, but when I do, I know what I’ll be doing with it. I will help others in a way no one helped me when I needed it most.

  I talk to Detective Villegas. A lot. Together we brainstorm ideas of what to do with the money. How to make sure it ends up in good hands. But here are the things I would never use it for: Clothes. Homes. Cars. Expensive gifts.

  This money has meaning. I just haven’t figured it out yet.

  “Birthday pancakes!” Hannah yells from downstairs, and I grin into my pillow, cracking one eye open.

  “I’m trying to watch my weight!” I call from my bedroom upstairs. Hannah only comes to work three times a week now, but I still pay her double what Pam did. Thanks, Darren.

  “You have to have pancakes for your birthday; it’s a rule.”

  “Well, rules are meant to broken!”

  I take the stairs two at a time. I don’t expect to see Bane there, because I know he had some business downtown. Things have been hectic lately, with us sorting out our future in Todos Santos, Bane’s career as a pro surfer and instructor, and the fact that I bought into a partnership at Book-ish, the bookstore where I still work.

  Bane is not there, but everyone else is.

  And there are balloons. Dozens of them. A huge Happy Birthday banner hanging across the dining room. I smile at my tribe, feeling loved, and cherished, and giddy. Feeling loved.

  Hannah. Gail. Sonya. Edie. Beck. Mrs. Belfort. Kacey. Ryan. Everyone I know and love.

  Gail and Sonya are the first to approach me. Gail unlocks herself from her boyfriend Beck’s hug and walks over, scanning my pink PJ’s with amused mockery, and Sonya wipes the sleep from my eyes like the mother I never had.

  “I thought long and hard what to get you for your birthday, and I decided I have just the thing for you.” Gail laughs.

  “Is it a new best friend? Because my current one is sassing around way too much,” I say.

  Sonya shakes her head and snakes her arm around me, gathering me into a hug.

  Gail shoves a box of condoms to my chest. “Use them. My boss is an asshole, and I don’t need more of him in this world.”

  Sonya shrieks in protest and waves her finger at Gail.

  I take the box and put it on the granite kitchen counter.

  I don’t have the heart to tell her that it is too late for that. That I haven’t taken my pills in months.

  Besides, it’s so early on, I’m not even nauseated yet. I’ve only missed one period, and I still haven’t told Bane. But yesterday, when I took the test and it came out positive, I stood in front of the mirror and smiled.

  My Whole Life Has Been Pledged to This Meeting with You

  I hug Gail, and she puts her palm across my heart and whispers into my ear, “I’d have given you a sword, but you already own one.”

  “You fucked my fucking mom.”

  I drum my fingers over the glass separating me from jewelry that costs more than a five-bedroom house in Fresno. Hale rolls his eyes inside their sockets and waves me off. “I didn’t know she was your mom. When you came in that day with Jesse, I was just as surprised as you were.”

  “I didn’t know it was you in the bedroom. I’d have killed you,” I say conversationally. This, by the way, is not an exaggeration.

  “I know.” He pretends to wipe invisible sweat from his forehead. “Dodged that bullet. And there are more to come.”

  “All set.” The saleswoman behind the counter hands Hale a small green gift bag with his latest purchase. He spent his last ten salaries on it.

  “Anything for you?” She smiles at me sweetly as she goes back to admire the engagement ring in the catalog. The one Hale just purchased.

  “Are you asking me if I feel like spontaneously spending thirty K today? Hard pass, woman.”

  She laughs. I turn toward Hale and lift a finger in warning. “If you give me a sibling, I’ll fuck you up.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re nuts.”

  “That wasn’t a no. Give me a solid, binding no.”

  “I’m marrying this woman, and she is forty-four. We may have a kid. We may not. Either way, you’ll find out in the next few years.”

  So here is what happened: the day I came in with Jesse, my mom had decided to have a one-night stand with someone she had met at a bar the night before. Someone who had happened to be my business partner. She’d asked him what his name was. He’d said Johnny. He’d asked her what her name was. She’d said Ruslana. They both thought it would be nothing more than a one-time fling.

  Then I came in, in the middle of their…don’t let me spell that out for you, and she’d kicked him out. Well, Hale being Hale, he got super pissed. First, because of the unfinished business, but mostly because he’d messed with one of his best friend’s moms. He swung by her house later that day to confront her about her lying to him. She pointed out that he was lying, too.

  They told me the week after that they liked each other too much not to see where it would lead. They asked me, from a scale of one to killing myself, if it would hurt me if they pursued a relationship.

  At first I thought I was experiencing a heart attack.

  “Snowflake, check my heart rate. It’s as fast as a Ferrari.” I’d drawn Jesse’s palm to my chest. She’d said I needed to give them the chance to be happy with each other. With any other chick, I’d have told her to mind her own business and bend over.

  With Jesse, I simply tossed Hale a look that said: break my mother’s heart and I’ll break your teeth.

  If everything goes according to this fucker’s plan, my business partner is about to become my stepfather in the next few months or so. Weirdest part? He is two months younger than me.

  But I promised I was not going to dwell.

  I push past Hale as we both get out of the jewelry store, and stop in front of my truck.

  “Good luck today,” he tells me.

  “I’d say the same to you, but I really don’t want you as family.” I roll my eyes. I drive to where I need to drive to pick up what I need to pick up. Then go up to El Dorado to meet the girl of my dreams.

  We live in El Dorado. In a house that costs more than we’ll ever make in our entire lives. It’s not ours, and we don’t pay rent. And it has a pool. And a tennis court. And a fucking bomb-ass maze.

  I throw my truck into park and hop out. My gift follows closely behind me eagerly. It’s Jesse’s twenty-first birthday, and she can officially drink now. That’s good. She might need some liquid courage to answer my next question.

  “Come on, buddy. The maze is fun.” I tug at the leash. “I did unholy things to your future mom there more times than I can count.”

  “Jesse!” I call out to her, which prompts her breathless giggles, the ones that float straight to my dick. I know where to find her. In the center of the snowflake. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

  I’m praying the Labrador puppy behind me won’t bark and shit all over my surprise. Especially literally.

  “Are you panting?” She laughs harder, and I shoot the pup a you’re-making-me-look-bad frown, trying hard not to crack up. Dude is killing my swag. For a cute thing, he sure sounds like a chain-smoking swine.
>
  “Yeah.” I crack my gum. “Gotta work on my cardio. I could use some help.”

  “You’re getting help twice a day, sometimes three on weekends.” She hmmphs. I know what she is doing. She is reading one of her smutty books. I’ve grown to love them almost as much as the classics. Pushkin was the man, but recreating scenes from smutty books is far better than trying to recreate his. Dude was fifty shades of cray.

  I find her in the center, like I knew I would.

  No longer hidden by a hoodie, a walled-up expression, and shapeless pants, but with those dirty white Keds and ripped jeans and the smile that could break your heart even from across the room.

  I don’t want you, Snowflake.

  I need you.

  I need you.

  I fucking need you.

  “Happy birthday.” I unleash the pup on her, and he was a good choice—I knew he would be, when I picked him up from the shelter—because he runs straight into her arms and forces her to put down the book and hug him. He licks her face all over, like he is already hers. She squeaks, her smile too big for her face. I take my phone out and take a picture of it.

  Click.

  Remember this moment.

  “Roman!” She stands up, holding him close to her chest, kissing the top of his head. “This is perfect. He is perfect,” she amends after lifting him a few inches above her head, checking for his gender. “I’m going to call him Pushkin.”

  “It’s not all,” I tell her. She raises an eyebrow, probably remembering the fact that these were my exact words last year when I gave her the snow globe, and watches me. I decide on the spot, despite my best intentions, to do the whole shebang.

  Get down on one knee.

  Produce the ring I bought for her a long, long time ago.

  And bow my chin down, playing humble for once in my goddamn life.

  The ring was purchased after I realized I didn’t need SurfCity or a mall, or a fucking Vicious-styled secretary who looks she like she is about to shit a brick every time I glance her way. I sold the hotel and bought the ring the same afternoon. It cost about the same. Zero regrets there.