by Nashoda Rose
“Like Mom.”
He put his head in his hands. He knew. Our mother would get high then have sex with whoever was at the house. Most of the time I never saw who the men were as I stayed hidden.
I nodded to the closet then to the dresser where the gun lay. “I can do it,” I whispered. “You have to leave. Olaf will find you and kill you if you do it.”
Olaf hated Ream. I wasn’t sure why, maybe because he saw the threat in Ream. But this was our only chance. The path we were on had changed and the only way out was to kill Gerard. But I had to be the one to do it, not Ream. I’d never let him carry that with him.
But my brother dove for the closet like he was flying through the air, and there was no gravity. “You disgusting piece of filth. I’ll kill you.”
Gerard moved fast for his size as he ducked under Ream’s fist then kicked out, sending Ream crashing into the hangers, then to the floor. Gerard’s feet thudded like drums across the bedroom and I knew where he was headed.
“Ream, the gun.”
“She’s worthless, just like you are. Garbage.” Gerard had bulk, but it was fat bulk, and Ream was lean and toned, although he was only sixteen and still lanky. I grabbed the bedpost, using it for steadiness as the dream-like euphoria mixed with the reality of what was going down. Fear churned when I saw Gerard’s intent and panic slammed into my head.
“No. No.” I scrambled from the bed and landed hard on my knees. The sensation was like I’d fallen right through the floor and bounced back up.
Gun.
Gun.
Gun.
I didn’t know if I said the words aloud, but they were screaming inside my head over and over again.
Gerard dove for the dresser, but Ream had gained his feet and was right on top of him. His fist connected with the side of Gerard’s head. His body went down like a rock and a loud thump vibrated through the room. I attempted to climb to my feet, uncertain what I was going to do, but knowing I had to move. I had to get to the gun.
“You’re dead. You’re fuckin’ dead.” Ream didn’t go for the gun that had slid off the dresser onto the floor; instead, he grabbed with both hands the solid stone statue that we had found in the trash on our way home from school a few months earlier. It was heavy, too heavy for me to lift, but Ream had carried it all the way home because I said I liked it.
“Ream!” Fear skidded into me as he raised the stone gargoyle above his head. He straddled Gerard, who was laying on the floor with his hand to his head as if dazed. The consequence of killing Gerard was death. Olaf wouldn’t allow my brother to live.
Ream’s face was a mask of red, lips tight, brows dangerously low over his piercing dark eyes. “Ream. No.” I had to be the one. This was my fault.
I crawled through the quicksand, making my way to the gun on the floor while tears streamed down my face. Ream didn’t look at me. It was as if he didn’t see anything except Gerard.
“You’re dead, kid.” Gerard tried to push to his feet.
Ream slammed the statue down on his skull. I heard a sickening crack then a thump as Gerard’s body slumped back to the floor.
“Ream! No. You can’t.” It had to be me. I had to be the one to do it. But it was too late as I watched him raise the statue above his head again then smash it into Gerard’s head.
Blood splattered the faded and torn flowered wallpaper, my mind playing havoc with me seeing the beauty in the mist of red. But somewhere inside, I knew it wasn’t beauty but ugliness and this was going to be the end, not only of Gerard but of Ream and me. Yet the meaning of the end, I couldn’t decipher.
My cries were lost to the crushing sound of the statue connecting with bone. I curled up on the floor, the drug and what I witnessed too much for my mind to handle as I trembled and shook. Warm tears slid down my cheeks, feeling like heated wax as they dried and stuck to my skin, then new ones glided overtop.
I had no perception of time, but eventually, the blows stopped. I squeezed my eyes shut, arms hugging my legs to my chest.
“Angel.” Ream’s voice was a strangled cry of despair. “Fuck. Angel.” His hand stroked my head, pushing my hair back from my face. I heard the slight catch in his throat and it tore into me like a knife. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Leave. We have to leave.” I was too screwed up to say anything more, but I opened my eyes briefly and saw blood speckled across his face like spray paint. I quickly shut them again, trying to block out what was happening, what all this meant for my brother.
“I know.” Ream lifted me off the floor into his arms. My head hung limply over the back of his arm, and I was too weak to pull it back up. He shifted me in his arms until I was cradled against his chest, my head resting on his shoulder.
I choked on a sob that was lodged in my tightened throat. We had nowhere to go and no money, and I was a mess. I couldn’t go two days anymore without being completely strung out, needing Gerard and the drugs he brought with him.
Trapped in a vicious cycle there was no escape from.
Just like my mother.
But even in my drugged-up state, I knew the consequences of what Ream had done for me. We had no choice.
We had to run.
As he ran with me, I caught a glimpse of Alexa standing at my bedroom door.
WHAT THE HELL was that? She’d freaked out, pale, shivering . . . like in the cafeteria but worse. The flip in my stomach wasn’t a good one. It was knotted and churning with the frothy beer. I was no psychologist, but this shit she was fighting was going to blow up in her face. I knew it. I saw it coming. I told her it would months earlier, yet we texted and she appeared as if she was getting better, even joking with me.
But the moment I heard her scream, my heart jammed up into my throat and lodged there like a fuckin’ rock. I hadn’t moved that fast in . . . maybe ever. I flew over the back of the couch, charged up the stairs and into her room. Kite right behind me.
Haven was an ice angel, strong and untouchable. But since being back . . . her ice cracked twice and what scared me was I hadn’t been around to see how often this was happening. None of us had. Luke hadn’t either, which meant if shit like this was happening, she hid it well. The excessive running she couldn’t hide, but Luke had seen something haunted in her face when she went for that three-hour run, and that was why he’d called me.
I yanked on a fresh pair of jeans then hopped on one foot as the end caught on my heel. It finally gave and I did up the buttons and grabbed a black t-shirt from the dresser.
Tonight was going to be fucked up. I knew it. I told Kite and he swore numerous times under his breath then suggested we call Luke back in as he’d gone home for a few days. Luke had two of his guys with Logan and Ream in Vancouver still.
I reached for my baseball cap then tossed it aside. “Fuck it.” We weren’t escaping notice, and in certain situations, it was better not to try to hide because that was when the shit usually hit the fan.
I chugged back the rest of my beer while Kite and I waited for the girls. We sat on the couch taking turns flicking elastic bands across the room trying to topple over the empty beer bottle I placed on the shelf under the television.
“She needs help,” Kite said and shot his elastic, hitting the base of the beer bottle.
“Ream and Kat tried. She doesn’t want it. Her choice.” I squinted and pulled back on the rubber then let it fly. It hit the bottle and it wobbled but didn’t fall over.
“Sometimes, people need a push. You flirted with Kat to push Ream into making his move on getting her back.”
And it landed us in a shitload of fights with Ream hating me until he finally picked up his balls and claimed his chick like he should’ve done from the beginning. “This is different. Whatever went down with her for the last twelve years . . .” I ran my hand through my messy strands that I’d given up trying to tame way back in high school. Plus I discovered the chicks liked a disheveled look. “Fuck, man, that Alexa chick was a sadist from the look of Ream’s back wh
en they escaped that shit storm six months ago. That bitch was crazy.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad Haven shot her.”
Kite looked at me and after a second nodded.
We were silent for a minute, neither of us shooting elastic bands.
“You want to tell me exactly what a sadist does? You know . . . in the bedroom,” I asked.
Kite flicked the elastic at my head. “Don’t go there. I’m not a fuckin’ sadist.”
I knew he didn’t give a crap what I said about his sex life. Kite had his own pleasure-pain that rivalled on a little fucked-up for my tastes. But it was consensual.
“And why the fuck would you let any guy hold your dick and jab a needle through it? What the hell, man?”
Kite hit me in the chest with his fist this time. “It was a chick and I’ve never had any complaints about it.”
“Yeah, because by the time they see it, you have them tied up with a whip in your hand.”
“Don’t do that at home. Ropes. That’s it. All else is at the club.”
I did know that. He’d told me once that his tastes involved trust and he was never with a girl long enough to get that, so instead, he went to the club. It was a safe place for those interested in that lifestyle.
I shot my elastic again. “She does need help, but she needs our trust more.” Haven may never tell anyone what hell she’d been through. But regardless, it was her right to refuse.
Kite didn’t say anything and he wasn’t taking his turn so I looked at him. He was looking at me, eyes narrowed—assessing.
“What?” I punched him in the chest then threw my handful of elastic into the bowl on the coffee table and stood.
The floorboards at the top of the stairs creaked and stole my attention. Haven stood with her hand on the railing, her hair falling in soft blonde tresses over one shoulder and her legs . . . shit, she’d changed out of the jeans. It was the first time I’d ever seen her naked legs. Even when I jumped in the water with her, she was wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt.
My breath locked down. My heart did the opposite and thumped wildly, which propelled my blood through my veins like a raging river right down to my cock. I went hard as a fuckin’ rock. Shit, no it was harder . . . like iron. She wore shiny black pumps and even from here, I could see her toes curled in the open toe on her right foot that was tipped forward about to make the first step downstairs.
The mid-thigh length black dress gripped every curve of her body like cling wrap, sweet hips, slimming into a tight abdomen and waist. But it was her thighs I kept going back to, muscled and toned from the running, smooth silk that begged me to caress and grab and have wrapped around my waist.
Screw the nun fantasy.
I was the man-whore with every part of me at the sight of her, because sure as fuck, I wanted to drag her to my room and fuck her until she screamed my name over and over again and I didn’t care if she hated me in the morning as long as I got to taste her.
Well, that was where my head was, all in my cock with no blood feeding my brain. Because I did care if she hated me and not just in the morning.
My eyes trailed to her breasts, not big, but would fit nicely cupped in my hands. Her neck was bare, no jewelry, no material to hide her collarbone that I imagined sliding my tongue across and leaving little red marks as I nipped her skin up the gentle curve of her neck.
When my eyes finally made it up to hers, she was glaring, mouth tight and brows low. Haven certainly wouldn’t like being looked at like she was something to eat. But she fuckin’ was. I’d lick every inch of her then taste the sweetness between her legs.
But that wasn’t happening. Shit, I didn’t want to ruin anything we had and she was too screwed up to be with a guy like me. My loyalty track record with chicks was zero and I lost interest as soon as I had a taste. I liked what we had and I was determined not to screw it up by thinking with my cock.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t look and jerk off later to that image of her standing at the top of the stairs looking like a hard-ass angel that could cut off my dick with her teeth or stroke it with the velvet touch of her tongue.
Kite punched me in the shoulder and knocked me off-balance. “Ream’s sister. And your mom wants her in the family, not running for her life.”
“Don’t fuckin’ mention my mom when I’m looking at a hot chick. Jesus.” It was like a pinprick to my inflated cock. As she approached, my mouth dried up and I had trouble forming a single sane thought, because all that was raging through me was the desire to grab her, throw her down and sink into her while I crushed her mouth with mine.
“Snap out of it.” Kite shoved me and I staggered sideways into the coffee table. I was seeing a face plant any second and took a large leap with one leg to the other side so I was straddling it.
Kite shook his head at me then looked at Haven. “You look good.” He smiled at her, then grabbed the car keys and went outside, the screen door clanging behind him.
“Wow, Ice. You look smokin’ hot.” I jumped forward to get away from straddling the table. She frowned and that wasn’t the reaction I was searching for. Embarrassment, a little heat in the cheeks, fuck, a smile would be good enough. A guy tells a girl she looks smokin’ hot, you’d expect her to be happy. But Haven wasn’t just some girl. She was . . . distinctive.
She walked up to me and looked me up and down. “You wearing that?”
I looked down at myself frowning. What the hell was wrong with . . . I glanced back at her and saw the slight upward curve of her shiny pink glossed lips. Nice. She was teasing me and teasing from Haven was fuckin’ special as hell. “Oh, baby, I could wear a snow suit and the chicks would still flock to me.”
She bit her lip but I saw her eyes flicker in the direction of my cock. “Flock South, you mean.”
I laughed, then stepped closer to her. It kind of sucked that instead of a chick wilting and getting all mushy when I came toward her, Haven stiffened.
God, she was breathtaking. Literally, breathtaking. I reached out and cupped her chin to make sure she kept her eyes on me. “You’re striking, Haven.” Her grey eyes flickered and there was a hint of warmth in them. I hadn’t meant to keep going, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Something to treasure and never touch.” And that right there was the reality. I couldn’t touch. And I wanted to, because fuck, if I didn’t care more for her than I probably should.
Her eyes widened and her long thick lashes lowered over her eyes and for the first time, I saw a slight pink hue on her cheeks. Suddenly, I wondered if she ever got that when we texted.
She raised her chin and met my eyes. “Thanks,” she whispered.
One word and it was as if she’d handed me a piece of her that no one ever saw. Everything in that one word was her letting me in. It was Haven trusting what I said to be the truth and not some bullshit coming out of my mouth. And it was fuckin’ precious.
“So, is Kite seeing anyone?” Dana pranced down the stairs and did a little hop to land next to Haven.
I thought about it for a second then slowly a smirk formed. Payback for the beer. Haven must have noticed my expression change and subtly shook her head.
“Nope,” I said. “But he was talking about you earlier.”
“He was?” Her pitch went up.
She blushed and excitement danced in her eyes. Well, at least the chick was pretty. I was probably doing Kite a favor more than anything, except that he was particular about his women.
“Sure. He’s a little standoffish, but just keep on him and he’ll come around.” I turned the dig a little more. “He said you were hot.” He did say she was cute, same thing.
She squealed and I chuckled, avoiding looking at Haven, but I felt her glower. “I call front seat,” Dana said as she dashed out the door.
“Liar,” Haven muttered as she went for her purse.
“No gun, Haven.”
Her hand stilled on the black leather bag for a few seconds before she foll
owed Dana out the door . . . without her purse, thank fuck. I didn’t know why she needed it. I was told about the scumbag Olaf being ‘looked after’ by Vic. But for Haven, that gun was her safety and if I had it my way, I was changing that. I was making myself her safety.
A horn honked and I pressed the alarm to ‘Away’ and followed Haven out the door.
Even though the farm had yet to be exposed to the media, we had issues when Logan’s past came back to bite him in the ass. So, we had the security system put in by Deck’s team. State-of-the-art, he’d told us.
The old guy, Hank, wouldn’t notice if anyone was lurking. He was responsible for the care of the horses, which Kat and Emily rescued from meat auctions.
I’d never really paid much attention to the beasts, but after seeing Emily work her horse whispering magic, it was majestic. I gained a huge respect for her ability. She could take a completely freaked-out, crazy stallion and within a half-hour, have him walk up to her and place his muzzle on her shoulder.
Respect, trust and love. That was what she always said. He couldn’t love you if he couldn’t respect you, and he couldn’t trust for the same reason. But you gained a horse’s respect, then gained his trust and you’d have a bond for life.
My step faltered as it hit me. I shoved the keys in my front jean pocket and stared at the cobblestone path. Did Haven respect me? How could I ask her to trust me if she didn’t?
I ran my hand through my hair . . . I wanted her respect. I never gave a crap with other chicks, but I didn’t want her seeing me as a man-whore with a guitar in his hand. Some rock star who could only stroke his guitar and a chick’s pussy. Didn’t help my case that I had this obsessed chick hanging over me.
The fucked-up part of it was . . . that playboy status had been in limbo for months. Fuckin’ months. Logan asked me a few weeks ago if I’d caught crabs and that was why I was laying off the chicks. But the truth was I was tired of chicks who didn’t even know my real name. Sure, it was easy pussy and got me off, but . . . I glanced over at Haven sliding into the back seat. I’d rather lie in bed and text Haven than fuck some random chick.