Falling For The Forbidden

by Hawkins, Jessica

  I stand on one side, hands numbing around the belt. On Lorenzo’s other side, Shane presses him against the floor as his body writhes, legs kicking, fingers clawing at the leather around his throat.

  Strangulation is an excruciatingly slow way to go. In those harrowing minutes, the enormity of what I’m doing has time to slither beneath my skin and suffocate my vital organs. I hold strong with the reminder that my responsibility to protect Ivory overrides everything else.

  Lorenzo’s fingers fall away from his throat, and with a jerk of his leg, he loses the fight.

  It’s finished.

  Shane collapses on his ass, hands flying to the back of his head, his mouth hanging open with exertion. Horror. Shock.

  Adrenaline tingles through my limbs as I drop the belt and press my shaking fingers against the swollen Destroy on Lorenzo’s throat. No pulse. There’s irony in that, something I’ll contemplate when our wounds are no longer raw.

  I step back and shrug out of my jacket, sweating against conflicting bouts of relief and reality.

  I just killed a man.

  A man who broke into my house.

  Who killed our cat.

  Who attempted and maybe succeeded in raping Ivory again.

  Because I wasn’t here.

  My chest burns, my entire world rotating and spinning toward her. “Ivory?”

  For the first time since I came in, she moves. Just her eyes, shifting them to mine. Blood rims her nostrils, stains her lips, and dots the front of her t-shirt.

  My stomach twists. I need to take the cat, hug her, obliterate the distance between us. I reach for her.

  She jerks back, her arms tightening around Schubert’s dangling body.

  Not ready to let him go? Not ready for me to touch her?

  I understand, but dammit, I feel her rejection like a fist to the heart.

  A glance at Shane confirms he’s still dazed, staring at the body with unblinking, glassy eyes.

  My pocket vibrates with a text alert. Goddammit. Whoever is trying to reach me has terrible timing.

  I loosen my tie and toss it. Then I step in front of Ivory and brush my fingers across her jaw. She doesn’t react, her gaze distant, unfocused. When I lower my caress to the arm around Schubert, she releases an anguished cry and stumbles back.

  Okay. I won’t separate her from the cat. “I just need to know you’re okay.”

  Her demeanor goes cold, detached, except her arms, which hold Schubert tighter.

  “I fought him.” Her voice is a hollow metronome. “Bit him. Scratched his face.”

  “Good girl.” I want to pull her against me so badly, but if I do, I’ll unravel. I have to keep my shit together until this mess is contained. “Did he rape—?”

  “No.” A flicker of life stirs in the muddy brown depths of her eyes. “Shane stopped him.”

  Did her brother have a stroke of guilt? A sudden heart transplant? A hidden agenda? Hell knows why he stepped in, but fuck, I’m breathing a little easier knowing he did.

  Shane’s wheezing grows louder, more frantic, his blood-shot eyes on the waste of life that was Lorenzo. Maybe Shane isn’t a threat at the moment, but he will be if he runs. Honestly, he looks like he’s seconds from a meltdown.

  Another text comes in. I pull the phone from my pocket, but Shane’s guttural cry draws my attention.

  He covers his face with his hands, wailing like a fucking pansy. “He was my best friend.” His body rocks. “Oh God, he saved my life, and we killed him.”

  I maintain a towering stance above him, a position of power. “We killed the sack of shit who’s been raping your sister for four years.”

  Snapping his jaw shut, he looks away.

  Ivory stares at the floor, her expression blank. She’s in shock. But she’s strong as hell. There isn’t a doubt in my mind she’ll be sassing me again in no time.

  I refocus on Shane and steel my voice with authority. “You’re in deeper shit than I am.”

  His eyes lift, tears falling down his face. “How’s that? We both—”

  “Castle law. In the state of Louisiana, I have the right to defend myself and others on my property. That includes the use of deadly force against intruders. Justifiable homicide.” I point at Ivory. “I was fucking justified.”

  Problem is, if I call the cops, I’ll be arrested for a different crime. My high school student wasn’t just visiting my house while I was at work. She lives here. I won’t be able to hide that. Not with Shane involved. If I turn him in, he’ll return the favor.

  I have two choices. Call the authorities and face a publicized student-teacher trial that would destroy not only my future, but Ivory’s. Or deal with the body and make all of this go away.

  The second option only works with Shane’s cooperation. As much as I want to bury his worthless ass with Lorenzo, we’re in this together.

  I glance at my phone. A missed call and two texts from my PI.

  Smith: Gandara is free.

  No shit. I look up at Schubert in Ivory’s arms, his neck hanging awkwardly, likely broken. A renewed wave of anger funnels through me.

  Smith: Released yesterday. My CI just contacted me. Lawyer argued PTSD as grounds for an insanity defense. Got an appeal. Reduced sentence. I’ll be in touch as soon as I locate Gandara’s whereabouts.

  Lorenzo had a year left on his sentence. At least now I don’t have to worry about dealing with his release.

  I type out an acknowledgment since that’s what I would do if I weren’t standing over a dead body. I’ll let the PI look for Lorenzo. It’s a risk, but I need to see if his investigation leads him back to me.

  Shane’s gaze bounces between the phone in my hand and the door, as if considering escape. “You can’t call the cops, man. I stopped him from raping her!” His voice rises. “I killed my best friend. For her.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I hit send on the text and drill my gaze into his. “You broke into my house. You’re an accomplice to murder. If you run, I’ll make the call. If you give me what I want, this stays between the three of us.”

  He swallows. “What do you want?”

  “Answers. Cooperation.” I flick a hand at the body. No way in hell can I lift that big motherfucker by myself. “Then you’ll crawl back into whatever hole you’ve been in for the past three months and never come back.”

  “Okay.” He nods, his throat bobbing and eyes shifty. “I can do that.”

  I don’t fucking trust him. In a perfect world, I would’ve killed Lorenzo without another soul knowing about it. Two witnesses are two risks too many. Ivory won’t betray me, but whatever knowledge she has about my next steps could incriminate her. I need to distance her from it.

  I also need to disentangle her from Schubert.

  “Ivory.” As I wait for her to look at me, I remember the reason I rushed home. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

  “I—” She hugs the cat against her neck, looks down at her bare legs, at the floor by the bathroom door, and back at her legs. “I might’ve…” Her chin quivers. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for what? Releasing her bladder while fighting off a rapist?

  I capture her arm and pull her to me. “I hope you fucking pissed all over him.”

  Her hand strokes the cat’s fur. “I hope so, too.”

  I slide my arm around her waist, shifting her against me with Schubert between us. I move my other hand over his eyes, brushing them closed, petting his soft fur, letting myself mourn his death.

  He was a gift from her father, her comfort when she was scared, her friend when she had no one. He was all she had the last time she lost someone she loved. Now she has me.

  I hold her until her tears fall and caress her back while she silently sobs. Her trembling makes me ache. Her grief magnifies my own.

  Shane watches us from a few feet away, eyes wet and turbid, noises strangling in his throat as if he’s trying to contain his sniveling. Maybe it’s guilt. I hope he chokes on it.

  I reluctan
tly lean back. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

  The look of devastation on her beautiful face threatens to bring me to my knees.

  I strengthen my stance and gesture Shane over. “Your brother’s going to take Schubert.”

  Her arms tighten around the cat as a sob climbs up from deep in her chest.

  I cradle her face. “I’m so sorry, Ivory. I would give anything to make this easier.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “We’ll bury him in the backyard. I’ll build a memorial there, whatever you want, okay?”

  Tears drip down her cheeks, mixing with the blood on her lips as she stares at the cat.

  I nod at Shane.

  After a few cries of protest, she releases her hold. Shane bundles the body against his chest, his face falling.

  I turn her away, guide her into the bathroom, and draw the bath. “I’ll be right back.”

  Grabbing a towel, I step out, close the door behind me, and meet Shane’s eyes. “Who knows you’re here?”

  He flinches. “No one. I swear.”

  His promise means nothing to me.

  “Go out the back door and get the medicine from my GTO. Park the Honda in the garage. You’ll find a tarp and duct tape in there.” I drop the towel beside the body. “Grab whatever else we might need.”

  If he’s going to run, he would’ve done it by now. If he changes his mind, I won’t be able to stop him. So I leave him there with the cat in his arms and hope he’s smarter than he looks.

  In the bathroom, I give Ivory some sleeping pills, roll up my sleeves, and silently, soothingly, bathe her into drowsiness. I hate sedating her, but I don’t want to leave her awake and grieving by herself. She needs to be comatose for however many hours it takes to deal with the body.

  The urge to call my parents itches at me. Mom could stay with her while I’m gone. But making them accessories to disposing of a body is not an option.

  When a fist knocks on the bathroom door, some of the tension eases from my shoulders.

  I gaze down at Ivory, her skin pink from the heat of the water and her eyes hooded with fatigue. “If I leave you here for a few minutes, are you going to drown?”

  Her lashes lift, and a hint of a small smile touches her lips. “If you don’t stop hovering, I might drown you.”

  There’s my girl. I press a kiss to her brow, her nose, her mouth. Then I head toward the door.

  “Emeric?”

  I turn, my pulse singing at the sound of her voice.

  She leans her head back on the ledge. “Thank you.”

  I doubt she’s thanking me for a specific thing. Her gratefulness is always all-encompassing. Christ, I love this girl.

  “I’ll be right back.” I slip out and shut the door.

  Shane already has the body wrapped in tarp and duct tape. He sweeps the towel over the wood floors, clearing away any urine or blood, his expression colorless and etched in torment.

  I step beside him. “You look like you’ve done this before.”

  “Never.”

  Fear, shock, revulsion…there are so many overpowering emotions in that whisper, I believe him.

  With the body bagged, we haul it down the hall. I leave him at the stairs and return to Ivory.

  By the time I dress her, give her the medicine, and tuck her into bed, she’s deep asleep beneath the weight of sedation.

  I spot check the wood floors for blood with each pass I make through the room. I’ll do a thorough cleaning later, but to the unassuming eye, there’s no indication a crime was committed here.

  I change into a Henley and jeans and find Shane sitting on the top step, staring into space.

  “Let’s finish this.” My voice makes him jump.

  A few minutes later, the body is loaded in the Honda in the garage.

  I hand Shane a shovel. “Where’s Schubert?”

  He takes it, his glare digging into the closed trunk of the car. “Shouldn’t we deal with that first?”

  “At dusk.” I head toward the hall that leads to the back yard. “We need to talk.”

  Outside, the sun slips behind the monolithic tower of my estate, fading the sky into streaks of violet.

  Surrounded by oaks and blooming bushes, I set Schubert’s body on the ground and direct Shane to a spot beside the concrete bench in the garden. “Where have you been for the past three months?”

  He stabs the shovel through the mulch and starts the hole. “Not in New Orleans.”

  If I press, he’ll likely lie about his location. He said he flew in. Maybe that will help the PI track him this time.

  I sit on the bench and take in his receding blond hair, pale complexion, and the stupidity emanating from his dull eyes. Hard to believe he’s related to Ivory.

  With a deep breath, I rest my elbows on my spread knees. “Tell me how this came about.”

  Working the shovel through the dirt, he says quietly, tiredly, “Lorenzo called me yesterday, said he was released—” He stops, glances up at me, hesitating. “He was in jail for burglary.”

  He’s either fucking with me or he doesn’t know my involvement in Lorenzo’s arrest. As dumb as he is, I’m leaning toward the latter. That means he didn’t want to mention the burglary conviction for another reason. I can guess why.

  He returns to his task. “He called me when he got out, said he lost his apartment and needed fast money.” He shovels more dirt, avoiding my eyes. “I owed him my life, so I offered him a solution and flew home to help him.”

  I look up at my estate as the pieces slowly click together. Shane must’ve been following Ivory before he approached her in the parking lot. If so, he already knew where she lives. When he saw me that night and recognized me as the guy who punched him, he figured out our relationship and who she lives with. Our schedule is obvious, so he bet on the assumption we would be at school.

  “You came here to rob me.” My hands clench. “How did you get in?”

  He pauses then resumes digging. “I guessed her code.”

  Fuck. That’s a huge goddamn oversight on my part.

  So then what? Lorenzo went in alone while Shane kept watch? She fought him. Somehow the cat was pulled into it. I won’t demand those details from Shane. She’ll give me an honest account when she’s ready.

  He stares at the ground, voice tight. “She wasn’t supposed to be here.”

  “Except she was. What do you think Lorenzo intended to do to her after he raped her? Would he have left her alive to point him out in a line up after he robbed the place?”

  “Oh God.” His head lowers, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the handle of the shovel it has to be cutting circulation.

  “Do you know why I punched you that night?”

  He glares at the dirt, nostrils flaring.

  “She came to school with a busted lip.” I let my disgust clip the words.

  His eyes close, face pinched in pain.

  I find a sick sort of comfort in his guilt. “A brother is supposed to protect his sister. Stand up to bullies for her. Walk through fucking fire for her.”

  He leans on the shovel like a crutch, his entire body shaking. “I fucked up, okay?” He lets go of the handle and scrubs his hands over his head, his eyes stark with anguish. “She tried to tell me for years, but I didn’t listen. I was just so…angry with her. About the school thing and her relationship with Dad. Then here she is, living in this huge mansion…”

  I don’t think he’s talking for my benefit, and I don’t give a shit what his justifications are. I just need to know if he’s going to be a continuing threat to Ivory.

  Rising from the bench, I grab the shovel and dig. “So Lorenzo’s call gave you the idea to take from her. With his robbery experience, you jumped on the opportunity to steal some of her happiness for yourself.”

  He drops his arms to his sides and stares at the house, his voice a croaked whisper. “Yeah.”

  I settle the cat in the hole, swallow a knot of sadness, and return the dirt. “I should be burying you instead of
Schubert.”

  A frown contorts his face, his ignorant eyes backlit with conviction. “I promise I won’t cause her any more trouble. Fuck, I’ll spend the rest of my fucking life staying the hell out of hers. It’s the only thing I can offer her.”

  I’ll have a PI on my payroll for the rest of her life to make sure of it. “It’s time to deal with the other thing.”

  “Yeah.” He lifts his chin, gazing out toward the darkening sky over the eastern horizon. “I know a place.”

  Ivory

  The moment I wake, my muscles tighten in memory of the day’s events. A dim lamp glows in the gloom of the bedroom, casting shadows over my brother’s dour expression where he slouches in a chair beside the bed. It’s disturbing to see him in this house, in a place that’s always represented safety, happiness, and love. But I’m not scared. Emeric would kill him before allowing him to be alone with me again.

  I shift my attention down the length of the mattress and find watchful devotion in eyes of shimmering blue. My heart hums.

  Emeric told me once if anyone touched me, his response would be murderous. He’s a man of his word. Lorenzo is gone. Dead. No longer able to hurt me. I still feel heavily weighted by shock, my insides aching with the loss of Schubert and coiling with worry over Emeric taking such a drastic gamble with his future to protect me. But we’ll get through this together, no matter what.

  Sitting on the bed beside my feet, he traces a hand along the outline of my leg in the blankets. His chiseled face is smoothed into a calm mien framed in exhaustion. His black hair spikes in a chaos of perfection, and a steel gray Henley stretches across his shoulders, accentuating the strength of his neck. He risks that neck for me repeatedly, and today was no different.

  My grateful smile comes easily. “How long have I been out?”

  His jaw shifts, mashing the gum in his mouth. “Six hours.”

  I’m aware he spent that time dealing with Lorenzo’s body. What did he do with it? The flicker in his gaze tells me he anticipates the question, but there’s a hard glare there, too. He’s not going to tell me.

  I don’t want him to carry this burden alone, but it would be important to him to keep me isolated from the details. Pushing him on it would only make him frustrated and conflicted.