by Wild, Nikki
Almost an hour later, I was standing in that room again, but this time there were cops everywhere. They’d called in the big guns—bomb squad, for starters. The CSI team was there too, ready to start dusting for fingerprints once the other guys were done with the scene.
Gunner was beside me. He’d raced home as soon as he’d heard. It was because of him we were even let back in here at all. He wanted to know what was under that sheet. I did, too, but I guessed firemen had a bit more pull than strippers did.
“We’ll analyze the material in the vial and get back to you,” one of the officers was saying, “But I think I have an idea of what it is, based off this painting.”
Gunner shook his head in wonder. “Christ. It’s a fuckin’ mural.”
They were talking about what they’d found under the sheet, which was a massive, hastily-drawn scene, a collection of frantic strokes made in a hundred shades of red. There was a naked woman sitting on top of a man or beast, something with way too many heads, while little humans writhed and stretched before her.
I touched the side of my neck. The woman in the picture had a tattoo just like mine. In fact, it was mine.
“That’s the Whore of Babylon,” the officer said. “Mother of Prostitutes and Abominations of the Earth.” When he caught me staring, he shrugged. “I was an altar boy.”
“Great,” I muttered. “She’s got my tattoo.”
Gunner looked at me, then back at the painting. His hands were clenched into stark-white fists at his sides. “So this guy’s got a hard-on for you,” he gritted. “We gotta get you out of here, baby. Before he does something worse.”
I turned to the cop. “What do you think was in the vial?”
“Flash powder,” he said matter-of-factly. “If I had to guess, whatever your guy drew the mural with is flammable. Bomb squad says there’s a little device in there rigged to spark on impact. If you’d pulled that sheet down, the glass would’ve broke and the powder would’ve ignited. Boom! Wall goes up in flames.”
I shook my head, staring at the portrait. At myself, on the back of that_._._._thing. With seven heads that all looked like Gunner’s.
The cop said, “Did he take anything?”
“A picture,” Gunner told him. “From my room.”
The cop raised his brows. “Picture of what?”
“Her.” My stepbrother jerked his head toward me. “When she was a kid. Before I left home.”
For just a moment, Gunner’s eyes met mine, and I could see the sadness there behind them. Maybe he really had never stopped thinking about me. For all the good it did.
But still, knowing he’d kept my picture around, that he hadn’t just forgotten me_._._._
Slowly, the officer nodded. “Anything else?”
“I didn’t bring much with me,” I said. “When my apartment burned down_._._._” My eyes widened and I turned to Gunner. “Did you tell them? About the brick?”
“I did,” he assured me. “They’re taking it into evidence.”
“Gotta say I agree with your brother on this one,” the officer said, tucking his thumbs into his belt. “This guy’s goin’ for the throat. You should get out of town. Lay low for a while.”
I shook my head. “No. I’m staying here. I can’t let this bastard win. And besides, the way things are, I wouldn’t feel safe on my own.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” Gunner said, taking me by my shoulders. His touch was so warm, so gentle. My overstimulated nerve endings faded into a mere fizzle. “You’re not gonna go through this alone, baby. Not anymore. I’m here.”
“You’re a firefighter, Gunner,” I reminded him, desperately trying to steel my resolve. “I can’t ask you to give up your job. To just walk away_._._._”
But Gunner gripped me tighter. “You’re not. I’ve got vacation saved up… Besides, that’s a choice I’m making on my own. A choice I’ve made before.” His lips flattened into a grim, pale line and his eyes blazed. “Last time, I hurt you. This time, I’m gonna make sure I save you. I don’t care what it takes.”
Part of me wanted to pull away and tell him I didn’t need to be saved. That was the kid inside who remembered all the hurt his absence had brought me, all the wounds he had inflicted on my soul. And a grown-up part, too, who remembered a tender kiss that my stepbrother didn’t even want to acknowledge, let alone talk about.
How could I trust somebody like that to take care of me? I was better off saving myself.
But I also knew he’d pulled me out of a fire once already. And some other part of me knew he could do it again, if only I’d let him.
Feebly, I asked him, “What about Jax?”
Gunner brushed both thumbs over my collarbone. “He’s fine. Well_._._._not fine.” His eyes darkened. “Asshole put something in his food bowl. A sedative. Probably not lethal.”
It was the probably that bothered me the most. “Where’d they find him?”
“In his doghouse, dead asleep.”
I closed my eyes. “Just_._._._tell me he’s gonna be okay, Gunner.”
My stepbrother enveloped me in his arms. “He’s at the vet’s now.”
That really wasn’t the same thing as telling me Jax was okay, but it was a start. I sighed and pressed my forehead to Gunner’s thickly-muscled chest, still worrying my fingers across my tattoo.
“I’ll take care of everything,” Gunner murmured in my ear. He wove his hand through my curls the way he’d done the night we kissed. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll save you.”
I breathed him in, trying to ignore the fact that whatever Gunner said, he and I were running again. Maybe neither of us really knew how to stand and fight.
---THE FLAME---
I watched the comedy of errors unfold from across the street, standing in plain view yet knowing that nobody would see me.
That was nothing new. Nobody had ever seen me. I was invisible. Inconsequential. In their minds they were gods, and I was just an ant. I didn’t even show up on their radar.
They were stupid. Pitiful. Monstrosities of ignorance and clay. I was beautiful, the Lucifer to their clumsy gods. I was rebellion and forbidden knowledge. I was fire and brimstone.
I’d been hoping she would be just as clumsy as all the rest, that she’d pull down that sheet without even thinking and set her stepbrother’s house ablaze. I’d gotten hard just thinking about the flames and their colors, the smoke billowing toward the sky, blacking out the sun. A solar eclipse of my very own making. Yes, that would have done nicely.
I’d wanted to touch myself, but shame had gotten the better of me. I remembered the lessons I’d been taught. The sermons. I didn’t believe in them really, but I was Pavlov’s dog, taught to recoil in terror at the mere idea of bodily pleasure, what my mother had always referred to as sin.
Sin was what had brought me into her life. Sin was what drove our family apart. Sin was what I’d paid for in spades and what had left me with a collection of very deep scars.
Sometimes at night, just before I drifted off to sleep, I could feel them aching. Phantom pains from a time when I’d been weak and cowardly. Memories of when I was a child.
The more I stood and watched that house, waiting for it to burn, the more those demons boiled beneath my skin. They wanted out. They wanted the flames just as badly as I did. And when they didn’t come, I felt more than a little disappointed.
I felt rage.
Rage, because sometime between then and now, this whore had gotten smart. Rage, because she wasn’t supposed to do that. She wasn’t supposed to evolve.
She wasn’t even supposed to be alive!
I seethed when the bomb squad showed up. I stewed in my frustration when that stepbrother of hers swooped in, coming to her rescue. Again, I realized. He was coming to her rescue again.
First the apartment fire. Now this. He was ruining everything for me. Ruining all my plans.
Guys like him always did. He was the strong, mouthy type. Arrogant. Cocky. Muscular and ruggedly handsome. Shrewd,
in his own verminous way. He might even prove a bigger enemy than his stepsister would. He’d be the thorn in my paw that determined how well I could strike.
I didn’t like being hindered. And I didn’t like being fucked with. Not when I’d made such careful, beautiful plans.
If any of that was going to come to fruition, I was going to have to be a little smarter about this. A little sneakier. A little more persistent.
I decided right then and there that when she died, I was going to stick around and watch. There’d be no saving her next time.
Chapter 11
Gunner
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually stayed in a hotel before,” Tanya said, looking up at the tower as we drove to the covered entry way. Waiting for us was a sharply-dressed valet—not the stoner high school drop-out one usually pictures working that kind of gig.
“How have you never been in a hotel?” I asked her, eyebrow raised.
“Well, when your legal guardian is a raging alcoholic who blows all his all his money on cheap whiskey, some things need to be sacrificed.”
I sighed, shaking my head. As long as I lived, Tanya would never let me forget what I’d done to her. Nor would she understand that I did way worse to myself.
I stopped and the valet came around to my side as I opened the door. He gave the broken back window one quick glance before nodding as I handed over my keys. He probably felt the same pain I did whenever he saw that window. I still couldn’t understand how anyone could do that to a classic—the pinnacle of American engineering.
Burning down a building was one thing. But fuckin’ up a Mustang? Man, fuck this guy.
“Let’s get inside,” Tanya said, tugging on my shirt. When she clenched the fabric in her fingers, I had the sudden image of her pulling it off me. My abs shuddered and she bit her lip. Fuck. She’d noticed.
Wordlessly, we made our way past the front doors. They glided open, smooth and silent, like they were just an illusion and not really there at all. This whole place had that kind of ethereal vibe to it. I’d never brought a girl here, myself. It always seemed too much. Like maybe I’d given them the wrong idea.
But with Tanya, I wanted her to feel safe. Even special.
“Good evening, sir,” the concierge said with a practiced smile as I approached. Tanya was only a little farther behind. “Checking in?”
“Yes,” I said, flashing my own fake smile as I pulled my stepsister closer, wrapping her up in my arm. “My wife and I are looking to spend a few nights here.”
Tanya gave me a look, but didn’t budge. I returned her glare with one that pleaded with her to just go with it. When she sighed, I assumed she got the hint.
“I see,” he said, tapping a few keystrokes into the computer. “Normally our guests book in advance, but I believe we have a few rooms available.”
I felt Tanya’s arms snake around my waist as the man behind the front desk continued his typing. Just like that, she’d gone from cold to hot again. What was her deal?
“Make sure it’s a big room, baby,” she whispered just loud enough for the concierge to hear. “I don’t want to spend our honeymoon cramped in some tiny little suite.”
The way she looked up at me had my heart thumping. She’d made her eyes real big and was looking up at me through those thick, flirty lashes. I felt her fingers running up along my side.
Now I understood. This wasn’t real. This was payback. A chance to make me squirm.
Bitch, I thought, even if I couldn’t help but smile. Two could play at this game.
“Honeymooning, hm?” the man asked, a knowing smile creeping across his lips. “We just so happen to have our honeymoon suite available—and I can even throw in a discount for you, Mr. and Mrs.—?”
“Thompson,” I said quickly. I had an English teacher named Thompson once. “Honeymooners. That’s us.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” the man repeated, typing it into his computer. I casually glanced down at his nametag.
“We really appreciate this, Jerry.”
“Oh, no trouble at all. Always happy to help out a pair of newlyweds.”
We’d packed light, though Jerry was kind enough to offer us some assistance in the form of another staff member, which we politely refused. I had planned on having a talk with Tanya on the way up to the room, and having a nosy bellhop standing in the elevator wasn’t exactly going to make the conversation flow.
The thought of the kiss still burned through my brain, the way her lips felt against mine, how warm and soft they felt as they gave way against one another. I could feel my pulse quickening again just from the thought of it.
“The honeymoon suite, and I saved you some money,” Tanya said as the elevator doors closed.
“Yeah, but now we’re probably stuck with some heart shaped bathtub and pink wallpaper,” I replied.
“Sounds like you know the place. Do you take all the girls here?”
“Not all of them,” I said coolly.
I glanced over at her as we ascended. She was standing against one of the walls, her eyes trained on the digital display that flashed with every floor’s number as we passed them. We were near the top, just before the more expensive suites—the ones you had to pay top-dollar for. I’d never actually been to the honeymoon suite—mostly because I’d never been on my honeymoon. It seemed almost to imply something just from the very idea—it felt like a show of commitment. Maybe her little performance down in the lobby had saved us a few dollars, but now I was starting to think maybe I should have forced the issue and went with a normal room.
The elevator chirped when we reached our floor, its heavy, brass-plated doors sliding away to reveal a hallway with a few doors leading off to the side. Ours—of course—was at the very end and was promised to be the biggest on the floor. I guess I couldn’t be too upset about this. After what had happened these last few days, a little luxury sounded nice.
“Think they’ve got room service?” Tanya asked, and I couldn’t help but make a face.
“Of course they do, and we can order whatever we want.”
“Seriously? You’re actually going to let me order what I want?”
“What? Of course I am. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve forgot with the way you’ve been treating me lately_._._._”
I slid the keycard into the electronic lock on the door, watching the light shift from red to green before turning the knob and pushing it open.
The suite certainly did not disappoint. It was far from the gaudy image I had in my head. A small living area greeted us as we entered our temporary home-away-from-home. A large modern-looking couch and two matching arm chairs sat huddled around a low dark wooden coffee table, set with a perfect view of a forty-two inch plasma-screen television.
Past the living room rose a short set of steps leading up to a raised platform, upon which sat a massive California king-sized bed made up immaculately with what looked like the utmost care. Just past the bed, a door lead into what I could only assume was the bathroom.
Tanya let out a squeal of delight as she threw her bag down on the couch and rushed over to examine the bed. I turned my gaze toward the massive plasma-screen TV, imagining what channels I could get while we stayed.
“Oh, my God!” I heard my sister scream happily from somewhere behind me, turning back around just in time to see her exiting the bathroom with a look of pure joy lighting up her beautiful face. “They have a Jacuzzi in here!”
Before I could even say a word, Tanya’s shirt was coming off. My eyes opened wide, my face beginning to flush as she began shuffling out of her jeans until she was left in just her lacy red thong and a perfectly fitted matching bra.
“Tanya!” I said, trying to at least appear somewhat scandalized by the thought of my naked stepsister. Though after the last few days, I couldn’t deny that I’d been yearning to see exactly this, ever since that first night she’d spent at my house.
“C’mon, Gunne
r! You and I both need to relax after the couple of days we’ve been having,” she said, turning around as she began undoing her bra, letting it fall to the ground as she disappeared from view. “Besides, aren’t you on vacation?” she shouted.
Despite my protests, I followed after her into the bathroom, removing my shirt and dropping it where Tanya had left her own clothes. She was right, of course. After the time we’d been having, a little relaxation would probably do us some good.
As I turned the corner into the bathroom, I got my first look at the Jacuzzi, relief flooding over me as I saw that it was separated in the center into a sort of “his-and-hers” setup. At least there’d be one thing between me and my very naked stepsister.