Their Ballerina

by Darcy Rose

  They are not going to believe me. They didn’t then, and they won’t now.

  The question is, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?

  “All right… well, call us if you ever need anything, and I mean anything.” Cash’s words run through my mind. Without thinking too much about it, I scroll through my contacts to find him. Just as he said, his name comes up under C.

  Cash (The good-looking twin)

  If I didn’t just kill someone, I would probably laugh about his entry. I hit the green call button and hold the phone to my ear. It only rings twice.

  “Hello, tiny dancer.” His deep voice comes through the line, and I can hear in his voice that he is smiling.

  “Cash…” My voice comes out raspy.

  “What’s wrong?” His demeanor changes immediately. Going from cheerful to worried. “Payton, tell me what’s going on?”

  “I-I think… I think I killed someone,” I whisper the last part as if someone might be listening.

  “Okay,” he sighs, almost as if he is relieved. Maybe he didn’t hear me right. “Where are you?”

  “I killed someone,” I repeat, making sure he understands.

  “It’s going to be okay. Where are you? Is anyone else with you?”

  “I’m alone. In the parking lot of the school I work for.”

  “Stay there. Don’t move. Don’t touch anything. We’ll be right there.” The line goes dead.

  Dumbfounded, I pull the phone from my ear and gape at the screen. He hung up on me. I told him I murdered someone, and he acted like it’s no big deal. It’s then I realize he didn’t even ask where I work. How is he going to find me?

  I don’t know how long I sit here, but it feels like an eternity. My eyes are trained on the cracked glass in front of me, counting each line just to have something to do.

  I’m about to call him back when I see headlights approaching. They’re like a beacon in the otherwise dark night.

  The car pulls in three parking spots down from where I am, and for a few seconds, I panic. What if that’s not them?

  Relief overcomes me when the door swings open and both Cash and Kane appear. I can’t actually tell who is who now that they are wearing different clothes. Then the backdoor opens, and someone else climbs out. At first glance, I think it’s Archer with them, but as they approach, I realize it’s not.

  The twins are by my side in a blink of an eye, one of them rapping his knuckles against my window. “Open up, Payton.” He pulls on the door, but it doesn’t give. I push the unlock button, and the door flies open, making me jump in my seat.

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Now that I can hear his voice clearly, I know it’s Cash running his hands over my head and body like he is checking for injuries. “You’re gonna be fine. Let’s get you out of here.”

  “I… I didn’t mean to.” I point over my shoulder to where Matthew is lying on the ground.

  “Don’t worry about him. We’ll take care of it. This never happened, okay?”

  Never happened?

  I shake my head, ready to tell him it was a mistake to call him, but he is already pulling me from my car and leading me to his. The unknown man is standing behind my car with his phone pressed against his ear, and I have no idea who in the world he would be calling.

  Kane walks over to us with an unreadable expression on his face. He lifts his hand and rubs it over my arm in an oddly comforting manner.

  “Myles—our brother—is taking care of this. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

  “My car?” I ask as if that was the worst of my concerns right now.

  “We’ll take care of that too. Why don’t you come back to our place and stay the night? You shouldn’t be alone, and tomorrow we’ll talk about what’s going to happen next.”

  Oh god, what did I get myself into? They are taking me home with them. They are going to expect payment for helping me just like Matthew did. I should have called the cops. No, I should have just made a run for it.

  Now I have the Hale family to worry about, and that might be worse than being in jail.

  6

  Cash

  My conscience is gnawing on me to tell her, but as always, I chose to ignore that little voice in the back of my mind. I know I should tell her that she didn’t kill that guy, but I won’t. Why? Because I’m a bastard, and I like the way she is dependent on us right now.

  She didn’t kill him, but Myles is taking care of it as we speak. He wasn’t happy about being dragged out for an unplanned job, but he’ll get over it.

  I didn’t think I would ever see her again, and I definitely didn’t think she would be the one initiating it. This little incident is the only reason we have the pleasure of being close to her again, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.

  We’re in the back of our SUV, Kane is driving, and I have the urge to pull Payton into my lap, but every time I glance over at her, I change my mind. Her body is rigid, her eyes wide, and her grip on her purse is so tight she might tear off the strap soon.

  She looks scared, really scared. Not the timid nervosity from the other night, but real bone-crushing fear. The only question is, what exactly is she afraid of? Does she think we’ll rat her out to the cop or that she’ll owe us now?

  “I didn’t know who else to call,” Payton whispers so softly I almost miss it.

  “It’s okay. You did the right thing. We’ll take care of you.”

  Her shoulders relax just a little, but not enough for my liking. Once we get her home, we’ll make sure she forgets about everything. I’ll make sure her mind is busy.

  Most people are impressed when they pull up to our place for the first time, but Payton simply stares ahead, her eyes unfocused.

  Kane kills the engine, and we both get out of the car at the same time. Payton still hasn’t moved an inch when we walk around and open her door.

  “I think she’s in shock,” Kane points out the obvious.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Kane rolls his eyes at me before unbuckling Payton. She remains still until he tries to lift her out of the car, and she snaps out of it.

  “I can walk,” she defends, shoving his arms away.

  Kane backs up, smirking but showing her his palms in surrender. We watch her climb out of the car on shaky legs, but she manages to straighten up and lift her chin.

  We lead her to the front door, where one of our guards opens the door for us.

  Payton doesn’t seem surprised by our wealth or security. Of course, she did call us when she thought she killed someone, which means she already knows who we are. However, I am curious to find out just how much she knows. Furthermore, why did she call me and not the police?

  She pauses in the center of the foyer, just standing there like she is waiting for instruction.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I coo. “Maybe take a bath…” At the thought of her naked in my bathtub, my cock strains against my zipper. I place my hand on her lower back and gently lead her toward the stairs.

  With Kane on her other side, we lead her to my bedroom. When she sees my bed, she briefly stops, her eyes flashing with apprehension, which tells me she is thinking about bolting.

  Kane moves past us into the bathroom and turns on the water.

  “It’s okay, let’s just take a bath,” I assure her, but the mistrust in her gaze remains.

  In an effort to get away, she leans back against my hand. I give her a gentle push, overpowering her with ease.

  With a huff, she walks into the bathroom. “I’m not getting undressed in front of you guys,” she announces, planting her feet in the center of the large luxurious space.

  “We can’t leave you alone, Payton. So stop fighting and get out of these clothes.”

  She spins around, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “Is that why you are helping me? So I owe you? Let me guess, you want me to pay you back with my body?”

  “What?” Not that I’m opposed to the idea in general, but I wasn’t planning
on fucking her right now.

  “I shouldn’t have called you. It was such a mistake. You’re just like him! You’re just like Matthew!”

  “Who the fuck is Matthew?” Kane pipes up behind her, ignoring every accusation she made against us and going straight to what we both want to know.

  “Who is Matthew?” I echo my brother.

  “The guy… the guy I k-killed.” She barely gets out the last word. It’s almost like it physically hurts her to say it out loud. Another nip at my conscience I have to ignore because we have a pressing matter to discuss.

  “What did Matthew do to you?” When we got to Payton, she said I didn’t mean to hit him. I assumed it was an accident, but now, the more I think about it, the more that doesn’t make sense. There was no other car in the parking lot.

  “What happened?” Kane presses, equally as agitated as me.

  “He… he waived the fee for me to dance at the studio. I should have known better, but he seemed so nice at first…” she trails off, her arms tightening around herself. Her eyes are trained on the floor, almost like she is ashamed of something.

  “Tell us what happened,” I demand. I can’t explain the protectiveness I feel for her, but just the thought of someone hurting her makes me want to bring this Matthew guy back to life just so I can kill him again.

  “He told me he was going to take payment in other ways.”

  I clench my fists at her words. She doesn’t need to explain the other ways of payments to me.

  “Did he touch you?” I do my best to keep my voice even and low, but it still comes out strained.

  “He tried, but I got away both times.”

  “First off, don’t ever compare us to that fucker again. Second, we don’t expect you to pay us back at all. Third, we need you to get naked, so we can get you clean and relaxed. Fourth, we’re not leaving you alone because you have a huge bump on your forehead which means you might have a concussion,” I half lie. She does have a huge bump on her head, but her pupils look fine. I don’t think she actually has a concussion.

  She spins until she faces the mirror, her hands come up to the bump on her forehead, her tiny fingers prod at the bump, and she winces. It’s like she thought I was lying until she saw and felt it for herself.

  “Do you believe me now?”

  There’s still distrust in her eyes when they meet mine in the mirror, but it’s less than before. Like the shock has worn off enough for her to see the truth of what we’ve been trying to tell her. “I shouldn’t have compared you to him.” Her voice is softer now, too. Heavy with guilt.

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” I know the brief smile I try to give her comes off more like a grimace, but it’s the best I can do. That piece of shit, no wonder she doesn’t trust us.

  Then again, most people don’t.

  “I’m sorry.” Her gaze flits back and forth between my brother and me. “I owe you my thanks, not my mistrust.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far.” There’s a tightness to Kane’s voice, and I know where it’s coming from. I can hardly control myself, either. Twins have a mental connection, or so they say. I might not be able to read my brother’s mind, and he might not be able to read mine, but there’ve been times when we’ve both been able to pick up on each other’s feelings. Just brief impressions, nothing solid. When he’s really pissed, I feel it. When I’m enraged and close to the breaking point, he knows to step in and cool me off before things go to shit.

  We’re both on the edge right now. I know it pisses him off just as much as it does me, imagining this angelic thing getting harassed and threatened. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say he wishes just as much as I do that we could get our hands on that piece of shit and make him pay dearly.

  Payton’s hands linger at the hem of her thin sweater. It’s old, I notice for the first time, a little worn. She can’t make much money, and I already know she lives in a shithole. This is more evidence that the girl needs help—and not just the kind we gave her tonight.

  “Go on.” There’s no mistaking my brother’s tone. Nobody goes against him when he sounds like that.

  She eyes the tub, the water coming from the faucet. Small, even teeth dig into her bottom lip, and her brows knit together, but she doesn’t say a word. Fighting with herself. Finally, once the tub’s half full, she tugs at her sweater and lifts it over her head.

  My eyes widen without meaning to. Her tits are surprisingly large for a girl her size—the baggy sweater hid them, like the jacket she wore over her leotard when we first met. My mouth goes dry, and blood surges to my cock.

  “Can you please not watch me do this?”

  Kane shakes his head before turning off the water before the tub overfills. Steam billows up, filling the room. “We’re going to see you, either way. In the tub or out of it.”

  She lowers her head before pushing down her jeans, kicking off a pair of worn flats before letting the denim pool around her ankles. She’s in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and a white bra. Innocence personified.

  Innocence with a sinful body.

  She strips off the last layer all at once and practically jumps into the tub, but not fast enough to hide her body from me—a peach of an ass, nipples that are pink and tempting. She lowers herself into the water with a soft sigh while I fight the urge to get in with her.

  “That wasn’t so tough.” I take a washcloth from the shelf and lower myself to one knee beside the tub.

  “Wh-what—?” She’s ready to bolt again, but that would mean getting up and revealing herself. She’s trapped, and she knows it.

  “Would you relax? For fuck’s sake, what do we have to do to convince you we don’t mean you any harm?” I soap up the cloth while Kane sits on the edge of the tub, closer to Payton’s feet.

  “You must spend a lot of time on your feet all day,” he muses, looking down at them. “Between teaching and dancing, they must hurt.”

  “They do, sometimes,” she admits in a soft voice.

  “Let me help you with that.” He plunges a hand into the water and takes one of her ankles, pulling it out of the water, resting her heel on his thigh. His fingers begin working the sole of her foot before she can protest as I begin sliding the cloth over her neck, her shoulders.

  “How’s that feel?” Kane asks, pressing his thumbs to her flesh while I gently but forcefully unwrap her arms from over her chest. When my hand makes contact with her full, heavy breast, her sharp intake of breath tells me more than she’s willing to admit.

  Taking my chance, I run the cloth over her tits and stroke her nipple tenderly. Her back arches, pushing her breasts into my hand.

  “You like that?” I do it again, then switch to the other side and lavish more attention there. Her cheeks go red, but I don’t think it’s the heat of the water doing it. She bites her lip again, eyes sliding shut.

  “I think she likes it a lot.” Kane’s hands slide up her leg, further and further over her slick skin while I move further south. We work without saying a word or even looking at each other. Watching her reactions, listening to her gasps and whimpers, is enough.

  When I ditch the cloth in favor of using my hand between her thighs, she hesitates for a moment—then opens her legs to me. “Mmm…” She tries to muffle a moan, like she doesn’t want to react, but she can’t help it any more than either my brother or I can help what’s happening. The absolute need to touch her is overwhelming.

  My cock is rock hard as I begin stroking her clit in short little circles. Her breathing is harsh, rasping, filling the room before she goes stiff, and her head falls back. “Oh, my God!”

  It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Watching her come undone, watching her face take on an otherworldly glow once she’s finished. It’s almost enough to make me come here and now without laying a finger on myself.

  It takes her a few minutes before her eyes flutter back open, looking at me tired but sated.

  “So tired…” she murmurs, her head lullin
g to the side.

  “Let’s get you out and to bed then.”

  While I grab a white, fluffy towel, Kane helps her out of the tub, water cascading down her body, exposing every slick curve. I groan, my cock straining at the zipper painfully. Fuck, I don’t remember the last time I was this horny, sixteen, maybe?

  Instead of taking things further, I hold out a towel and wrap it around her once she’s standing. We dry her without saying a word, and she allows it—either because she trusts us now or because she’s had a taste of honey and wonders whether there’s more to come.

  There isn’t—not now, anyway. Kane leads her to my bedroom.

  She stiffens again on seeing the bed, but I place a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. What you need now is sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.” I doubt she believes me or even fully hears me as I lead her into the room.

  “If you think I might have a concussion, shouldn’t I stay awake then?”

  “We might have overexaggerated your injury a little, but aren’t you glad we did? It looked and sounded like you enjoyed having us in the bath with you.”

  “I should have known.” She shakes her head.

  When we move to climb in with her, she moans, dismayed. “Quit worrying.” Kane’s patience is thinner than mine. “We like to sleep, too.”

  Yes, but we don’t normally share a bed. This is different. We both want to be with her—no, we have to be with her. And if she wakes in the middle of the night with fresh memories of what she went through tonight before calling me, she’ll need comfort.

  I intend to make sure she has it.

  Which is why I lie down next to her naked body, still wearing my jeans, because I don’t trust myself enough to let too much skin touch hers. There’s a limit to a man’s self-control, and she has me using more than I possess.

  It’s a good thing I’m so tired and can’t think of much else besides sleep when my head hits the pillow.

  7

  Payton

  I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck. Literally, everything hurts. There is a very distinct throbbing behind my eyes, but that pain somehow radiates throughout my entire body. My limbs are stiff, and a groan passes between my lips when I try to move.