“You should have run farther,” Damon says as he lets Jake fall.
“I tried to be nice, gave you extra time to run but you dug your heels in here. It was clear you thought you were a big shot and were happy to make us look bad. Hell, you even bragged about it...I have people everywhere and they were more than happy to report what you said.”
Damon was talking as he walked into the darkness, returning with Jake’s gun in his hand. Shoving it into his waistband, he turns back to Jake and pulls something out of his pocket. I see a flash of silver but I can’t be sure what I am looking at.
Stop him, my mind screams at me but I am frozen. I know what he is going to do with an awful clarity and I want to scream again so he hears me this time. I want to tell him to stop so I can believe that he is a good person and not this monster before me. And the other part of me wants to run away and forget that all of this is happening.
“I would ask you where the money is but I know its spent or hiding offshore. Don’t worry, I will have my numbers guy track it down, if there is any left, and get it back.” Damon says as he kneels down behind Jake.
I can hear him crying and the soft, sobs of his pleas. I want to shove my hands against my ears and block out the sound of it. I want to close my eyes and not see it but I can’t.
“So really, there isn’t much else I can do but solve the problem you created for me.”
Jake’s scream is cut short as Damon wraps the silver material around Jake’s throat and begins to tighten it. Jake’s hands scramble at the silver garrotte and he flails his body around in an effort to break free.
Damon tightens his hold and he thrusts his knee into Jake’s back to anchor himself to the man, who isn’t much smaller than Damon. My hand clutches my neck as my other palm is pressed against my lips to keep from screaming.
Tears stream down my face and I fight the vomit that is trying to make its way up my throat. All I can look at is Damon’s face, the cold anger radiating from his expression as Jake’s struggles and slumps to the ground.
Standing up when Jake is obviously passed out, Damon searches Jake’s pockets, pulls out his wallet and tucks it into his pocket. He grabs the limp man and drags him down the dock to the point that is the deepest and I watch as leaves him there.
Damon watches him and then turns towards the parking lot...towards me. He stops instantly, his eyes widening in surprise and he yells, “Mia!”
And that is all I need to hear to send me in motion, fleeing back to my car.
Chapter Seven
Slamming the door behind me, I lock it and race towards my bedroom and my phone. “Stupid, stupid Mia,” I shout at myself, “You forgot your damn phone!”
Seeing it on the nightstand, I race towards it and pick the phone up as I hear him at the door. My hands shake as I try to type in the password to unlock it. My eyes blurry with tears as I scream.
“Come on, come on Mia, get it together. You are going to be alright.”
And then he is there, knocking the phone out of my hands. I scream and throw myself onto the bed, crawling over it to get to the other side where I stand up and face him. Swiping away the tears, I stare at the phone, the nine flashing clearly on the screen. Two numbers, I cry silently, I just needed two numbers!
“Mia¸” Damon says, his voice and his expression careful, “You need to let me explain what happened.”
I laugh and the sound is harsh in my ears, “Let you explain. Explain what? Did he happen to just fall and strangle himself...You killed a man Damon. Killed him. One minute he was alive and then you came along and he wasn’t anymore.”
Sobs wrack my body and I bury my face in my hands...no longer terrified that he will kill me. He already destroyed some part of me and I feel dead inside. I have no idea what to do with this. I know I should call the police but he is family...and maybe even more.
“Why did you do this?” I ask.
“Kill him?”
“Yes,” I say before quickly adding, “No...maybe. I don’t know. Why did you come and stay with me? Why did you throw my world completely upset down? And yes, God yes! Why did you kill him?”
His eyes are full of regret and sorrow when I look into them and it only makes it worse, causing me to sob harder.
“I killed him because he stole from my gang and I. He was a bad man Mia, trust me on that, before he even came to work for us, he had done time for assaulting a kid. I hated him but my partners saw his ability to cook books and his preferences as a way to use him and control him.”
I shake my head trying to take in all the information that Damon was feeding me. “What do you mean, cook books?”
Sitting down on the bed, he turns and faces me.
“Look Mia, I don’t want to lie to you anymore. I run with a biker gang in California. Actually, I am really high up in the organization and the gang relies on me to keep it safe from certain things and people. Jake was one of those people. When he stole from the club, he had to be taken care of. If we let one person do it, they all will because we are weak.”
“To be honest, I’m glad he stole. The guy was a sicko and the club turned a blind eye to it because of what he could do for us. In my mind, I was just freeing the world of another low life pedophile.”
“You...you can’t use that as a righteous excuse,” I say, “You still killed someone.”
Damon shrugs as if it is nothing, “Yes, I did. It isn’t an excuse Mia. I would have killed Jake even if he had been a pillar of society that volunteered as his son’s Cub scout leader. If the club put a hit on him, I deal with it. The fact that he was a sick fuck just makes it easier to do.”
Ice fills my veins at the cavalier attitude that he has and I don’t know whether to be terrified, devastated or furious that he was that way. I glare at him, deciding to be that latter, “What the fuck does that mean? You would have killed him anyway! What the hell are you?”
Damon stands up and takes a step towards me so I take a step back, bumping into my nightstand.
“I take care of problems. If you need to give it a word, I’m a hit man. I deal with the trash, make them disappear and solve that problem for my gang.”
Shaking my head, I want to scream at him that he is just telling me lies. The boy I used to know wouldn’t do this...or would he, the voice snakes through me and the sight of Derek, a bloody mess at my feet, flashes through my mind.
“How many people have you killed?”
“I don’t know,” he says and looks towards the window. I know he is lying.
“Tell me you bastard. Tell me right now or get the fuck out of my life!”
“Eighteen.”
The air whooshes over my head and I feel lightheaded. I slump against the nightstand, fresh tears filling my eyes. My voice is weak as I say, “Eighteen! You killed eighteen people. Were they all criminals like you?”
His eyes are haunted.
“Most of them. No children and only one woman. That line, no women, no children is bullshit; there are some women who are deadlier than I am. You do what you can to stay alive.”
I glance at his arm and it all clicks into place, “You’re angel you don’t want to forget.”
Nodding, he says, “Yes, she taught me everything I know. She was good at it, killing, made it personal but then she fucked up and I had to deal with it before she killed everyone in the club, including me. And I did. She had already made her way through a half dozen hits before I found her.”
I double over on the fact, and shudder at the realization of just how deadly he is. That he killed a woman he wanted to remember for the rest of his life.
“Was she your first?”
He shakes his head and my heart sinks. It would have been easier for me if it was his first. That it was a life and death situation. Him or her. God! Why am I rationalizing this; murder is wrong...no matter what!
“Who was your first?” I ask.
His gaze drops to the floor and I feel a niggling of truth playing at me. He doesn’t say anyth
ing and I ask again, fearing I know the answer, “Who was the first?”
“You know,” he says quietly. “You know but you don’t want to believe it.”
I shake my head as Derek pops into it. He died so suddenly, it was always considered strange. Took a bunch of prescription drugs with alcohol and then drove his car off a seven hundred foot cliff.
“No, I don’t believe it...he killed himself.”
“No, he didn’t.”
And there it was, the admission. Derek wasn’t bad, he was just stupid and Damon killed him for what...all because he humiliated me. What was Damon going to do, kill everyone who caused me a little discomfort?
“I heard him talking at a bar one night. He was in there with a fake ID and he was bragging about the hot ass he was going to fuck really soon. Said he was going to convince you to fuck him. I was already getting involved with the club by this point and I had a buddy go and offer him a roofie, see if he would take it or if he was all talk.”
“The bastard took it eagerly. Then, a few days later, you came home and said that Derek wanted to go for coffee to talk. To apologize for what happened, I knew what the bastard was planning to do.”
“So I had a friend call him and invite him over for some drinks. She was pretty hot so he jumped at it. She slipped him the roofie, I took care of the rest when I sent him over the cliff in his car. It was too easy and it kept you safe.”
This time, the anger that swells inside me is so unbearable, I actually scream in rage.
“Why the fuck did you do that? I never asked you to do that. I never asked you to take care of me or protect me. You killed an innocent man when all you had to do was tell me what he was planning. I would have stayed away from him!”
“I couldn’t take that chance so I took care of him. I didn’t want to worry about you when I left.”
Tears burn at my eyes, “You didn’t want to worry so you killed a man. Do you know how fucked up that is?”
He takes another step towards me and I grab clumsily for the lamp on my nightstand, “Get the fuck out of my house. Don’t ever come back or I will call the police on you.”
I hurl the lamp at him and he easily deflects it, sending it shattering into the wall. And before I know it, he is scooping me up. His arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls me into him.
His eyes are filled with a strange mixture of anger and desire and I slap at him until he traps my hands between our chests.
“Get out,” I scream in his face and then his lips are on mine, swallowing my anger with a kiss that sends heat and electricity crackling through me.
Tears fall down my cheeks as I kiss him and the emotions war inside me. I shouldn’t be kissing a murderer but my body reacts to him as if it has a will of its own. I slide my hands free of his chest and wrap them around his neck before plunging my fingers into his hair.
At the action, he deepens the kiss and his tongue plays around my lips, enticing me to open them. When I do, he chases my tongue inside my mouth.
The taste of him excites me, my nipples hardening as they rub against his chest, each motion sending tremors of desire down to my clit. I want him...I know that now and I give in to the heat of our embrace as his hands slides down to my ass.
Squeezing my ass cheeks, he pulls me against his hard shaft and I moan into his mouth. I grind against it, trying to find some way to pleasure myself against him. He groans and the sound of his desire ignites a new fire within me.
And just like that...the desire is doused with one single thought...He’s your stepbrother!
Crying out, I wrench my mouth free and push him away. He lets me but his eyes are full of confusion when I finally look at him. Holding my mouth as if I am trying to wipe the taste of him out of it, I say, “We can’t do this. It’s wrong and...and...it’s just wrong.”
Tears fill my eyes and I feel ready to break down in hysterics if he says anything. But he doesn’t, instead, he nods and turns away. Walking out of the bedroom, I collapse to the floor and listen as he walks through the apartment and leaves.
When the door clicks shut, I succumb to the sobs I was holding in. Despite all the horrors of tonight, the one that will stay with me forever is the utter look of devastation he gave me when I rejected him.
Chapter Eight
Struggling with the grocery bags, I don’t notice the man standing outside my apartment door until I almost stumble into him. Taking a step back, I glance up into steel gray eyes that are hard and assessing. They match perfectly with the salt and pepper black hair that is cut short.
“Can I help you?” I ask as I reach him.
He smiles at me but there is very little warmth in it. “Miss. Sinclair?”
“Yes,” I nod as he pulls out a badge and presents it towards me. My heart skips a beat in trepidation as I read the badge number.
“I’m Detective Thomas. I was wondering if you could spare a few moments of your time. This is in regards to your brother.”
“My stepbrother,” I correct him. “What has Damon done now?”
I struggle with the door so the detective takes my bags for me. Turning to face the lock, I school my features to hide the emotion.
“Well, Miss. We aren’t sure if he has done anything but we are looking for his associate, a Mr. Jake Turner.”
I shoot him a questioning glance as I push the door open, “Who?”
“I don’t expect you to know him, he is a pretty bad guy. Been in and out of jail for various charges but your brother...”
“Step,” I say automatically.
“Stepbrother...knew him pretty well. They were business associates from our understanding.”
“And why would you want to speak to Damon?”
Indicating the kitchen counter for the bags, I start unloading my groceries as he leans against the counter.
“Well, they were involved with a biker gang in California. Then Mr. Turner disappeared and Damon left town shortly after. There was some rumours that both of them were in town so we are just trying to find them. Mr. Turner is wanted for several outstanding warrants and we figured Damon could tell us where he was.”
“I see,” I say, “Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I haven’t seen Damon in about three weeks now.”
His eyes gleam with interest and I wonder, for a second, if I said the wrong thing. “So you have seen him recently?”
Deciding that staying as close to the truth as possible was the best course of action, I nod. It was the truth. I hadn’t seen Damon since that last night after the lake. I had thought about him constantly and I had thought about Jake Turner...although before this moment, I didn’t know his full identity.
Damon wasn’t lying; the guy was no innocent but I still had dreams of him alive under the lake, struggling against the chain wrapped around him.
“Yes, I did. So did my mom and his dad. They went to lunch with him several times when he was here.” I offer.
He nods. “Yes, we spoke to your parents. They said he was staying at a motel off of Route Six but your concierge said you had a young man staying with you for a few weeks.”
My cheeks fill with heat. I wonder what the neighbours think of me now. I never introduced him to anyone, even in passing. “Yes, he did. We didn’t want Frank to think he was putting me out in any way while he was visiting so we didn’t tell them.”
“Did he tell you why he was in town?”
I shook my head, “No. I mean, he said he needed a break from California and decided to come home to see everyone. It’s been over two years since we last saw him. He stayed with me for three weeks and then said he was due back at work in California so he had to go.”
“Are you sure that is all he said? Did he tell you where he worked?”
I stare at him, deliberating on how much I should say. Damon didn’t really tell me where he worked. I mean, he didn’t tell me who his gang was or who the boss was who hired him to kill Jake...maybe Damon was the boss, but what could I say besides I don’t know.
<
br /> “He didn’t really talk about work. Said it was his vacation and the only thing was that he was doing well.”
The detective arms cross and I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me. “Did you know your stepbrother has ties to organized crime?”
The surprise that flashes on my face is legitimate but it isn’t the fact that Damon is linked to the underworld, it is the fact that the police know he is.
“Are you sure?” I finally manage to ask. “I mean, Damon had a few years of running wild when his parents first split up but by the time I met him, he was on the Dean’s list in college.”
“Well, I guess a lot of things have changed since you last saw Damon. He has been linked to organized crime for several years now and he has been investigated for murder.”
I laugh and it sounds forced to me.
“I think you have the wrong guy, my stepbrother couldn’t hurt anyone.”
Except Derek...and Jake...and those sixteen other people. I feel ill from the lies that are pouring out of my lips and I wonder why. Now would be the perfect time to come clean and tell them I witnessed a murder.
“So then your stepbrother didn’t talk to you about his life in California?”
“Outside of the weather was great, no he didn’t.”
“And you have no idea where he is now? Outside of going home.”
“Like I said, I haven’t seen him in three weeks.”
Shrugging, I grab the coffee pot and fill it with water, “Would you like a coffee Detective?”
“Sure, I would love one.”
As the coffee is brewing, I watch as he wanders around my apartment and looks at everything. “Have you lived here long?”
“About a year,” I say, “How do you take your coffee?”
“Black is fine. Rent or own?”
Tension fills the air and I wonder if he is asking because he is trying to intimidate me. I feel stupid for offering him the coffee as I hand it to him.
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