Let Me: New Adult Dark Romance (Vengeful Book 1)

by K. V. Rose

  “I can arrange that,” Benji says quietly beside me.

  For a moment, I forget what he’s talking about and I look up at him, brow furrowed.

  He holds my gaze and then I remember.

  Kill them both.

  I shake my head.

  “Neither of them are worth going to prison for.”

  Benji scoffs. “I don’t know. I’d say this would be worth it.”

  I shoot him a glare. I have work. I have an empire beneath me. I won’t throw it all away on that sick, unknown motherfucker and my brother’s ex-girlfriend. I won’t let them have that.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “You can’t let her get away with this.” Benji sounds impatient, like he’s itching to get his hands around one of their throats. I don’t blame him. I feel the same way. But what is there to do? Whenever I’m around her, I’m incapable of going through anything I planned to do. Anything to make her feel the pain I did with losing Jack. With that note he left behind.

  You took her.

  I wonder if he knew who it was.

  And now this.

  I stand up because I can’t sit still any longer.

  She deserves retribution. But what is there to do?

  “We need to find out who that is,” Benji continues. “We’ve let it go for far too long. We need to make her talk.”

  I walk to the edge of the pool, glance down at the still, dark waters, hands in my pockets. I wouldn’t mind drowning in that water right about now.

  “I know where she is,” Benji says quietly.

  I don’t ask how because I don’t want to know. I’m used to it by now, Benji’s strange ways. His snooping. Stalking.

  But what good would going after her do? I don’t say anything.

  “Do you want to try to find out another way first?”

  Another way.

  “Do you think my father knows who it is?” I look back at Benji, waiting, pulling my hands out of my pockets, flexing my fingers. If my father is fucking her now, despite what she did, despite that video, maybe he has an idea. Maybe she’s told him.

  Benji huffs out a laugh. “Do you really want to ask him?”

  No. I don’t want to see my father. Because if I do, I probably would kill him, despite what I’ve said to Benji. After all of the shit Riley has put us through, he’s still seeing her. Right under my mother’s nose.

  “Did you know when I was seven, Jack just a baby, he brought a puppy home for us? A golden lab, with fluffy ass fur. First, he stayed in my room.” I look down at my hands. “Then he got put outside, in the backyard, because of the shedding. My father’s complaint.” I squeeze my hands into fists, look at the veins on the back of them down my wrists. “Then one night, he’s going crazy. Rover, that’s what I named him.” I swallow, then force myself to keep talking. “A stupid name. Anyway, he’s barking his head off and I can hear it through the window of my room. I stuff a pillow over my head and fall back asleep. The perks of being a fucking kid.”

  I look up at Benji, who’s watching me, face unreadable.

  I can’t look at him as I keep talking. I glance at the pool. “The next morning, I run downstairs, ready to feed him. I see he’s still asleep, curled up on his side at the edge of the lawn, by the fence. I run over in bare feet, ready to pounce on him, to wake him up. His fur was nearly white, it was so blonde. It was so fucking soft, and it was blowing in the wind, like little yellow clouds. I fucking loved it. But when I get to him…he’s stiff. Cold.”

  I meet Benji’s eyes again. “My father comes up behind me, clamps a tight hand on my shoulder. He wouldn’t shut up, son,” I mimic in my father’s stern voice, “I just helped him sleep.”

  I laugh again, shaking my head, even though nothing is funny. “He killed him. He choked him to death because he wouldn’t stop barking.” I turn to face Benji fully. “So, no. I don’t want to deal with my father. He’ll get his, too, for what he’s doing. But not now. He doesn’t deserve a quick death.”

  Benji is quiet a moment, but he knows what I’ve not said by what I just answered him with. He blows out a long breath. Then he says, “Let’s go tonight.”

  I glance up at the overhead sky. There probably isn’t a flight tonight.

  “I’ve booked roundtrip.”

  I almost laugh, at how prepared he is.

  He loved Jack like his very own little brother. Without much family of his own, mine was his. At least I was, and Jack was. He doesn’t know what it was like to taste Riley, though. To be so wrapped up in her that I didn’t spare a thought for my own flesh and blood the night of his death.

  And he’s still ready to go to bat for me.

  I nod.

  “We’re not killing her,” I say, to make the lines very clear.

  “We won’t kill her,” he agrees, although I think he would if I hadn’t said that. “But she’s a monster, right? We’ll give her what she deserves. We’ll get her to talk.”

  I’m not exactly sure what he means by that, but I don’t ask any more questions. Because even though the thought of touching her should make me feel physically ill by now, instead, it makes me excited. To wrap my hands around her throat. To hurt her, in the way she enjoys. And I’m going to do it. And then I’m going to find out who that motherfucker is in that video, and I’m going after him, too.

  Thirty-Four

  Present

  Mom is asleep, and I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Benji didn’t text me again, and for that matter, neither did Rolland. Adam did, however, and he must have gotten the video too. He never knew.

  You’re fucking disgusting.

  I blocked his number.

  I didn’t find a new job yet, although I have a few leads. It was just impossible for me to have a coherent conversation with a potential employer after that video, so I didn’t go in anywhere. I came home, Mom and I ate TV dinners, and I told her nothing. There’s nothing she could do about it, and she knows nothing of what happened with me and Rolland. She knows nothing, even though it’s partially her fault. She should have protected me. She should have mothered me.

  But being angry at her for a past she can’t go back to will do neither of us any good.

  I toss and turn in bed and feel disgusted with myself. I deleted the video soon after I watched it, but the memory of it is burned into my brain. It has been for three long, miserable years.

  And remembering that I’ve spent those years being subject to Rolland’s beck and call, a puppet on a string, doing everything he asked…I want to tear my own skin off.

  I close my eyes tight, trying to forget. Trying to think of something else. Anything else. But there’s nothing.

  Nothing, and then what sounds like a knock on the door startles me.

  I sit up, staring at my bedroom door.

  The knock hadn’t come from outside of the apartment.

  And Mom never knocks.

  Hell, she never gets up in the middle of the night. She claims she can’t see well in the dark, so she’d rather wait ‘til light. Besides, I hear her gentle snores through the thin walls.

  I glance around the room, grab the lamp on my side table and get to my feet, my legs shaky. It was such a soft knock. Gentle, almost. My first thought is Rolland. If he’s here, I’ll do my best to kill him.

  Fear climbs its way down my spine, my breathing seems to have stopped.

  And there it is again.

  Too soft.

  My door is unlocked. Just like at Mom’s old place, the locks here don’t work anyway. But unlike there, I don’t have a pen in my hands. It and my journal are in my nightstand, and this lamp will hurt a hell of a lot more.

  I hold my breath, the lamp in my hands held like a baseball bat, but my legs are trembling. I try to reach for anger instead of fear. I think of Rolland Virani, and suddenly, I’m a little calmer. A little angrier, too.

  The knob of my door twists open; I can see the brass turning in the moonlight streaming in through my curtain
s.

  And then Benji Silva steps through, and I feel the floor tilt beneath me.

  I don’t lower the lamp, and he smirks at me in the darkness, his eyes gleaming.

  I can’t think of a single thing to say as he strides across my room, past the cracked floor-length mirror that shows his reflection, all dressed in black, broad shoulders, face carved from granite. And then he’s right in front of me and I don’t know if I should swing and hit him or listen to what he has to say.

  I glance behind him, and the only thing I can think to say is, “Caden?”

  At this, he laughs quietly and then he puts his finger over my lips.

  “Shh,” he croons, speaking softly. “If you come with me, your mom will be safe. If you don’t…” he trails his finger over my lips, my chin, down my throat, stopping just above my chest. I’m painfully aware that I’m wearing shorts and a tank top; I have far too much exposed skin.

  He glances down and my face heats. I tighten my grip on the lamp.

  He jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go, little girl.”

  My hands are sweaty on the lamp, and I feel like I can’t breathe. This is wrong.

  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

  “Caden.” I say his name again, and it leaves my lips like a prayer. But being with Benji right now might be better than being with Caden. I remember how Benji stepped between us, at Caden’s house.

  I remember, too, how they recorded me. Recorded us. Anger rushes through me again.

  Benji places his palm flat on my chest. “You’ll see him, baby. I promise you.”

  “Don’t you dare call me ‘baby’,” I hiss.

  He only smirks at me, and then he turns around and walks toward my door.

  Mom.

  I don’t know what Benji would do to her. But he’s already been to prison. He went, right after Jack. For two years. I don’t know what happened. But I know that he knows the consequences, and he doesn’t seem to care.

  Slowly, I put the lamp back on the bedside table. It nearly slips from my grip, nearly clatters to the floor, but I steady it, my heart pounding in my ears.

  I can’t think.

  I can barely stand.

  “Now,” Benji says softly by the door. He’s watching me. Waiting.

  I take a breath, and another, trying to steady myself. Finally, I nod, although it’s not for Benji’s sake. It’s for my own. If Caden is with him, maybe we can talk about this. Maybe I can explain. Maybe it’s not too late for that. Because what they did was wrong. But if they think I sent this latest clip, I can understand why they’re angry. Why they’re here.

  I walk to the armoire, pull out socks and put them on quickly.

  Then I go to the closet, intending to slip into jeans, but Benji clears his throat and instinctively, I look his way.

  “Like that,” he says, nodding toward me. “Come like that.” And then he rakes his eyes up and down my body.

  My throat feels tight.

  But I slip into my knock-off Vans, and with a last glance at my pitiful excuse of a room, I leave, trailing behind Benji.

  He made me leave a note, to my mom. In case, he said, she gets up in the night. I didn’t bother to tell him she doesn’t. There was no point. He wouldn’t have listened. I left my phone, too, because who, exactly, am I going to call? All I took was the key to my apartment. The door was still on its hinges. Nothing amiss. How Benji got in, I don’t want to know.

  Caden isn’t in the rental car.

  I sat in the front seat, after Benji steered me away with gentle hands from the back.

  He doesn’t say a word as we drive with the windows down, the sunroof open. Music plays softly through the speakers; so soft I don’t hear a word of it.

  I have no idea where we are going. Not into Raleigh, the closest city. It seems we’re headed deeper into the country, with nothing but pastures and the odd house here and there lining the dark roads. I swallow back my fear, and don’t ask a single question.

  Even though I’m scared, it reminds me of something. Of riding with Caden, windows down, music up, from that party in Grove. When he took me to the hotel, and I finally got close to him, only to have it come crashing down around me.

  And as I think about it, something turns in my gut. Something not like fear at all. I’m ashamed of it, but I can’t stop feeling it either. The lust. I wonder if I can starve it out of me. If I can purge Caden’s touch on me from my memory.

  Finally, Benji turns down a dirt road, trees lining either side of it, and I try to keep my hands from shaking. I can feel his eyes on me every now and then as he drives, but I don’t look at him. I don’t think he’ll hurt me. I believed him when he said I’d see Caden. But I still don’t want to look into his eyes, to see what he might be thinking. To see where this might end.

  He drives slowly over the gravel, the road twisting and turning, the only light that from the moon overhead. The warm breeze feels good over my bare legs, but I still have my arms wrapped around myself, as if I can hold myself together. As if I might be able to stop myself from breaking. Because whatever is coming, it’s going to hurt.

  Finally, I see a house ahead, a two-story brick home, another black car parked in front. There are no lights on that I can see, and beyond the house is a pond, which is unnerving. I don’t know what Benji plans to do to me.

  I realize, among all that fear, that I really want to see Caden, even though I have no idea what he plans to do to me either. This will be our final stand. We need this.

  We get out of the car, and Benji comes around to my side and wraps a possessive arm around me, tugging me close to his warm body. I know he can feel my rapid breaths, in and out like I’m wheezing, but he doesn’t say anything, only leads me up the front porch and to the door.

  He pulls a key from his pocket, his other hand still curled on my shoulder, and he lets us into the dark house.

  It’s cold inside, and I run my hands over my arms. Benji lets me go, locking the door behind us and pulling something I can’t quite see from his back pocket.

  The home is cozy enough, and I think it must be a rental for out-of-towners or something. It’s furnished, two couches placed around a wooden table, a TV in the far corner. There’s a ceiling fan spinning overhead in the high ceiling, and a staircase to my right. Straight ahead, I see white tile and what I assume is the kitchen. There are no photos of a family, but there’s a mirror beside me. Above it, a baseball bat is on a mount in the wall. I refuse to glance at my reflection in the mirror. To see my fear staring back at me.

  Below the mirror is a wooden table, and Benji places the keys to the car and the house down, and then he’s right behind me. Not touching me, but close enough I can feel his body heat.

  “Are you scared, little girl?” he whispers in my ear.

  I shiver as his breath caresses my skin, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.

  “No,” I lie.

  “Don’t lie to me, Riley. Haven’t you done enough of that?” Then his mouth is on my neck, and I don’t move. I can’t breathe. It’s soft, and warm, and sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Don’t move,” he says, and suddenly, there’s a blindfold over my eyes. What was in his hand. I tense, his chest brushing against my back as he ties it, tight.

  My hands stay down by my sides, and even I don’t know why.

  Walk out of here. My mind is screaming it to me so loud, I’m not sure how I can hear anything else.

  But he hasn’t hurt me.

  Surely, if he was going to, he wouldn’t take his time like this?

  A part of me realizes that’s a stupid thought.

  His hands take each of my upper arms, and he squeezes softly.

  “You’ve been a bad little girl,” he whispers in my ear again. “You know that, don’t you?”

  I don’t move. I don’t answer him, or nod, or otherwise acknowledge the question. My mind is spinning, and now I can’t see. But I hear something.

  Footsteps, coming down the stairs.
<
br />   “Caden,” I say, the word coming out hushed.

  Benji laughs against my neck. “No one is coming to save you, Riley.” His hands trail down my arms, uncrossing them for me, and when he gets to my wrists, his fingers move to my abdomen, up the thin material of my shirt, over my breasts. My nipples are hard, and he murmurs his approval into my ear. I step back, into him, my body betraying me.

  I’m equal parts scared and turned on and I’m frozen. I don’t know what to do, or to think, and the footsteps on the stairs have stopped. Maybe that was part of my imagination. Maybe Caden isn’t here at all. Maybe Benji flew here by himself. Maybe he plans to kill me here, throw me in the lake.

  Suddenly, I’m panicking, and I try to step away from him, my hands going to the blindfold.

  But Benji is faster. He wraps his arms around my front, pinning my own to my side.

  “Benji,” I say quietly, ashamed of the way my voice shakes, “let me go.”

  In response, he presses his lips to the back of my neck, nuzzling my hair away with his nose.

  “No,” he whispers against my skin.

  My heart is hammering in my chest.

  “Benji,” I try again, “you don’t want to do this.”

  If anyone was coming down the stairs, they would’ve been here by now. Caden isn’t here. I might die here.

  Benji smiles against my skin. “Ah,” he says, “but I do. I’ve always wondered what your pussy felt like, that two brothers would fight to the death over you.”

  I shake my head, and Benji squeezes me tighter.

  “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this unless Caden is here.” My voice is hoarse.

  There’s a moment of silence, and I think Benji loosens his hold on me, but I can’t be sure.

  “You mean if I am here, you want to?” It’s Caden.

  I let out a breath of relief, a half-sob escaping my throat. I let myself go limp in Benji’s arms, and he keeps me upright. Caden is here.

  Caden is here.

  “Answer me,” Caden says, voice cold.