Sparks Fly (Davis Brothers Book 1)

by Nicole Douglas

  “You always bring me the hottest ones, Max. I knew this one had to be yours.”

  “Max what’s going on?” My voice shakes.

  He’s looking down at his shoes, hands in his pockets. Shame is plain in his stance and expression.

  “Nothing-”

  “Oh, you didn’t tell her?” My heart crashes to the ground. Didn’t tell me? Tell me what? “Max and Chris bring me my girls. Girls that like to make me lots of money.”

  What? What the hell is going on? They bring him girls to…to….pimp out?

  “Max…Is that true?”

  Brad sneers. “It’s true, pretty girl.”

  Max completely ignores me and stays focused on his dad. “Get out.”

  Brad laughs softly to himself, appearing impervious. “I own this building. I own this condo. And I own you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Max moves in front of me protectively, just as he did the first night we met when David came after me. He seems more sure of himself today. More sure of the dangers that stood on the other side of him, gazing at me with ideas and fantasies playing out wildly in his mind.

  “Is that true, Max?” I repeat shakily, clutching his shirt to grab his attention.

  My eyes welled to the brim with hot tears. I hate that I’m about to cry but I’m on emotional overload and the betrayal is too much to handle. Too much to accept.

  How could he have kept something like that from me? We talked about his dad and what he did vaguely but he failed to mention the sick details or the role he played. And Chris too.

  Is that why Max was so unwavering about keeping Chris and I far apart when we first met? Is that why he stopped his car to talk to me that first night?

  This was all too much to take in.

  “Is that why you first talked to me? Were you following me to…to lure me back here? Is that why you started being my friend?”

  He turns from his dad and faces me. His eyes are filled with regret and sorrow. “No. Lacey, no. I loved being with you. I wanted to keep you away from this shit. Please believe that.”

  “Max...”

  I don’t know exactly what I mean to say but the words never come. He grabs my hand in his, lacing our fingers together and squeezing tight. Brad doesn’t miss a thing and looks amused by the display of affection, the pain and turmoil he was causing.

  Chris chimes in from the side of the room. “Dad, just let her go home. The three of us can talk when she’s gone.”

  “How much does she already know?” He asks conversationally.

  “Nothing. She knows nothing. Yet.” Chris says. “Let her go home so we can keep it that way.”

  “No. She’s not going anywhere just yet. Perhaps we should take a family boat trip for the day. I should get to know the girl my son loves.”

  Max visibly pales. His hand loosens in mine but doesn’t let go completely. I have to grip tighter to hold onto him.

  “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  “You think you’re better than us now son? You go off to college and meet this uppity little bitch and think you’re out of our life? You’re just like your mother. And you remember what happened to her. Don’t you?”

  Brad takes a threatening step in our direction and Chris instantly jumps between us. Max backs into me, forcing me to step back toward the bedroom. Everything happens all at once and seems to move in slow motion simultaneously.

  Brad grabs Chris by the shirt, enraged at his interference.

  Max shoves me around the two of them while they’re distracted and pushes me out the front door. Commotion comes from the other side of the door and I fight against the instinct to try to help them. My presence seemed to do nothing but make the situation worse.

  Time slows. In reality it’s probably only a few minutes that passes before the apartment falls quiet. I stand on the front steps, torn between checking if the guys are okay and just hauling ass back home.

  I’m terrified.

  Worried.

  Pissed off.

  How dare he drag me into this shit. For lying to me this whole time. For not telling me about his past and the vile things he had done to those other girls.

  He had mentioned what his father did. That he had criminal dealings and girls working for him on their backs. Never did he mention the role he played in the whole sordid process. He conveniently left that part out of his late night stories and confessions.

  I thought he had opened up to me. Wanted to share his childhood issues.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth. I can’t believe I didn’t ask more questions the times he brought it up. He was just as to blame as his dad. So was Chris.

  Did the two of them think I was stupid? Had I been a joke to them, trying to see how long it would take me to end up like all the other girls?

  The door opens and my heart is racing from anger.

  Fear.

  Anxiety.

  You name it, I felt it.

  Max walks out and quickly pulls the door shut behind him to block my view. Before it shuts I catch a glimpse of Brad laying on the living room floor and Chris standing over him. He looks winded.

  So does Max, on closer inspection. His chest expands as he inhales deeply.

  “Is he dead?” I screech.

  “Shh.” He snaps. “He’s not dead. He just out. He’s going to be waking up soon. We need to get you home.”

  “We aren’t doing shit.” He doesn’t meet my eyes. They’re downcast as he quietly accepts my hysterical rage. My voice grows shrill the more I talk and I hope the neighbors don’t call the cops for a domestic disturbance. “Is that why you offered to give me a ride that night? You saw me and I looked fucked up and vulnerable and you thought I was easy prey?”

  His gaze suddenly shoots up, his eyes so full of regret and pain it almost knocks the breath out of me. “What? No. Of course not.”

  “You thought you could convince me to be one of your whores?”

  “Lacey I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “Oh but you would do it to other girls? Just not me? I must be so special. You expect me to believe that?”

  “No.” He gives me a pleading look. His eyes are glassing over and mine fill with more tears, blurring my sight of him. “I love you.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “I do. I should’ve told you that before.”

  “You were right before. I am better off without you. You’re not who I thought you were. I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

  His eyes are on the ground, shoulders hunched slightly in shame. His confidence is gone and I can’t even find it in me to feel sorry for him. Not when I feel so sorry for myself and so pissed at him for making me feel any of this to begin with.

  “You are better off without me.”

  That’s all he says. Those six little words that reinforce what I’ve been thinking and feeling since standing on the outside of the door and listening to who the hell knew what happening on the other side.

  His words hurt even though I just threw them in his face first. There’s finality in his tone and I have enough dignity to walk down the flight of stairs, get in my car and leave the parking lot with my head held high.

  I pull over to the side of the road and let myself break down about two minutes into my drive. At least he can’t see what he’s done to me.

  My hands shake, my shoulders rack from sobs and my eyes burn.

  It had been over between me and Max for weeks. I knew that. I had even begun to cope with the loss. My counselor was probably sick as hell of hearing me talk about Max and steer our sessions off track from the trauma I suffered.

  Our breakup felt like trauma too.

  Yes, it was over. But hearing what he had done, what he might have planned for me when we first met made me sick. It opened the wound on my heart wide open and poured salt on it.

  The sting of it was overwhelming. How was my heart supposed to keep beating? How was I supposed to ever trust again?

  I manage to finish t
he drive home, exhausted when I finally get there. My arms feel heavy and I just want to go to bed and forget.

  Forget Max.

  Forget his family.

  Forget the way he made me feel and how it was nothing but a fabrication.

  Chapter 26

  Max

  I’ve been gutted. Disemboweled.

  I don’t stop Lacey from leaving even though it’s agonizing to watch her go. I saw everything between us, every last hope of reconciling, shatter before my eyes.

  The worst part is I knew it was coming from the beginning. I knew this would happen. It’s why I tried so hard to stay away. I didn’t want to feel this way. But after my first taste of her I was hooked.

  Like Chris and his heroin. She was my drug of choice.

  I let numbness wash over me. I have more pressing issues to deal with before I begin sorting through feelings and regret.

  For one, my dad will be waking any minute. And when he does he’s going to kill us. Quite literally if we give him the chance.

  The second Lacey was outside Chris and I overpowered him, holding him in a sloppy chokehold until he passed out on the living room floor. We were bigger than him now. Younger and stronger.

  The humiliation of being taken down by his sons so quickly would infuriate him though and the thought sent fresh fear crashing into me. He may not be able to take us both on himself, but he had plenty of guys working for him that would be happy to do the job.

  Chris gives me a sympathetic look when I walk back into the room. There’s no way he didn’t hear the entire argument, word for word. Lacey was screaming at the top of her lungs at some points during that conversation.

  I deserved it. But seeing my brother pitying me didn’t sit well. She hated me and now everyone in the apartment building knew it.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” I bark out, irritated at myself for earning the look in the first place.

  “What the fuck are we going to do?” He gestures toward Dad and paces across the living room, each step more anxious than the last.

  “We could call the cops.”

  “We could also kill him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “I can.”

  “It’s not that I can’t. I just…”

  He nods in understanding without me having to explain. “You can’t ruin your life. I get it.” He takes his belt off, loops it and looks me dead in the eye. “I’ll do it for both of us.”

  I yank the belt from his hands.

  “No the fuck you won’t. He isn’t going to ruin either one of our lives.”

  “He already has.”

  “No he hasn’t and I’m not visiting my brother in prison for the next fifty years.”

  Sometime while we were bickering and problem-solving Dad must have woken. The sound of his cackling makes Chris and I both jump out of our skin.

  “You boys planning to kill me now?” He laughs loudly again. It’s maniacal and I’ve never seen him so angry in my life. I ignore his taunting and pull my phone from my pocket. I manage to dial 9…1…and he knocks it out of my hand, sending it flying through the air and shattering against the kitchen wall.

  “I’m going to teach the two of you a little lesson about respect.”

  And then he did.

  ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

  By the end of the evening Dad was back in his mansion on the other side of town, very much alive. He knew he didn’t have to worry about us acting out again. We were subdued physically for at least a couple weeks.

  Mentally for a lot longer than that.

  He reminded us what happened when anyone went against him. Challenged him. Even his own sons weren’t exempt of that.

  Chris now sported a black eye, busted lip and a wrist so swollen I wondered if it was broken. He insisted it wasn’t, that is hardly even hurt. I called bullshit but didn’t have the will to argue.

  I had two black eyes which had swollen almost shut. I could hardly see shit and I hoped the effect wasn’t permanent. What if he beat me into blindness? I wouldn’t exactly be surprised.

  I bit my tongue when I was kicked in the ribs so hard I saw stars. I could taste the metallic blood on my tongue. And I was pretty sure those ribs were broken. At least a couple of them had to be if the sharp pain radiating down my side was any indication.

  The two of us lay side by side on the living room floor. Spots of blood speckled the tan carpet. Or at least it had looked like that before my eyes swelled so badly I could barely see a foot in front of my face.

  Shadows I could make out. Details like blood on the carpet? Not so much.

  Pain throbbed through my side with each breath. I tried not to move if I didn’t have to. My energy was spent. I wished Chris had some of his infamous morphine pills leftover because we could both use them right about now.

  I guess I fall asleep. Either that or I slip in and out of consciousness.

  It’s dark when I finally come to. Chris moved to the couch at some point and is flipping through channels on the TV. I see the flashing light from the screen but can’t make out what shows are on.

  “Ugh. Fuck.” I groan as I move to sit up. Pain slices through my ribs and I curl up on my uninjured side. “My ribs are broken.”

  This isn’t my first rodeo with Daddy Dearest. There’s nothing doctors can do for broken ribs besides wrap them and tell me to take it easy for a couple months while they heal.

  Movement stirs and I hear pills rattling in a bottle. Water running from the sink.

  “Here, take these.”

  He places three pills in my limp hand. I toss the pills in my mouth and reach out for the glass of tap water he’s holding. I wash down the pills and don’t even ask what they are. I don’t care as long as they weaken this pain.

  The stronger the better. Where was the morphine when I needed it? I realized how hypocritical that thought was since that was all Lacey had wanted too.

  “We need to wrap your ribs.”

  “I know.”

  I dread it. It’s going to hurt like hell and make the pain I’m currently in seem like a paper cut. But if I don’t wrap them they’ll heal fucked up and then I’ll have even bigger problems.

  I hear him digging around in my bathroom cabinets, looking for supplies. I have a fully stocked medicine cabinet ready for occasions like this. He comes out with Ace bandages and medical tape.

  I gingerly sit upright and attempt to lift my shirt over my head. When I let out a sharp exhale from the excruciating pain Chris helps me pull my shirt over my head without straining my torso.

  My brother expertly wraps my ribs, careful not to make the bandages too tight or too loose. It’s like a second skin by the time he’s done.

  I don’t bother putting my shirt back on. Doubt I could manage it even if I tried. The pain meds start to kick in and I feel groggy. My thoughts slow and although I still feel the pain in my ribs it dulls to a bearable level.

  I know I should probably shower off the sweat and blood caking my face and who even knows where else. But I can’t muster the strength to even think about climbing in the shower and going through that ordeal tonight.

  Instead I head straight for my bed and awkwardly lay on my back on top of the blankets. Sleep finds me quickly and provides me with a break from the pain.

  ✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

  I miss my classes the following Monday. There’s no way I can show my face there. Literally. I look like I got hit by a truck and that the asshole decided to back up and hit me a second time.

  My eyes are no longer swollen which helps me study. At least I can keep up with my course material and not fall behind. I’ve missed almost half the semester at this point and that can’t be good.

  The next exam is scheduled for the week after next. There was no chance of me getting A’s this semester but I would rejoice in passing grades. Hopefully I’ll have healed enough by then to make it.

  Unless Dad decides to come back and finish me off before then. One m
ore kick to the ribs and I think I would die solely from the pain.

  My soul felt like it matched my black and blue bruised up face and rib cage. The beating was a stark reminder of what he was capable of if we tried to cross him.

  It was all I could think about. I’m sure that was the intended effect.

  He had to be stopped.

  I knew if the police got involved Chris and I would have to answer for our own involvement. It would be like shooting a hole in a boat the three of us were all floating in. Yes, we would take him down. But we would have to sacrifice ourselves to make that happen.

  Chris ran out to get some groceries and run errands which I suspected meant buy some heroin. I didn’t have the energy to fight him on it. I had a lecture ready to spout off when I was back to my full strength.

  He tried to do his best to stay clean for a stretch of time. Then he would disappear for a full day, spiraling back into his addiction for days at a time. Then he would swear he was done with it for good. That he was in recovery. And he would do better for a while. Until something-or nothing at all-triggered him and he was back at it again.

  Repeat.

  A loud knock on the doors draws me out of my thoughts. I decide to ignore it. Not many people knew where I live. It’s probably a fucking Jehovah’s Witness as my luck would have it. Trying to save my already damned soul.

  Another round of knocking pounds on the door. It’s incessant and I realize it isn’t going to stop until I answer.

  So I do.

  Chapter 27

  Lacey

  How is it that I always find myself standing in front of this faded navy door? Always stare at the same spot under the peep hole where the paint fades from the sun as I silently will one of these Davis boys to open the door and hear my apology?

  I stand there knocking and waiting. Wondering if maybe he left the apartment with Chris and that’s why his car is still here.

  With the passing of the last three days I was able to clear my thoughts. I overreacted last time I was here. Just as drastically as he overreacted when he broke up with me last month. My emotions got the best of me and I had flipped clean out.