Devil You Know
Page 24
The more I look at his dad, the more I can see the resemblance. Oddly enough, they have near on identical stress lines around their eyes, and the same weary looks on their faces. Like father, like son. Seems the past few years have been equally as harsh on both of them.
“Are you assholes going to talk any time soon?” Bronx asks.
Malice’s dad shrugs. “It’s up to him.”
Holy hell, the man’s voice is deep.
“What do you think I’m going to say, huh?” Malice sneers.
“Do you still blame me?” his dad asks.
All eyes are on Malice. Blame him for what?
“I’d be a dumb fuck to blame you for her death, wouldn’t I?” he leers. “But yeah, I still blame you for the fact I left, for what happened after that.”
“What did happen?” His father leans forward, and I feel myself shrink back, despite the fact I’m half a room away. “If you’d bothered to keep in touch I might have known.”
“And done what? You didn’t give two shits about your only child, you asshole. What would you have done, huh? You tell me.”
“I don’t know, but we sure as fuck wont find out like this.”
“You still as selfish, and fucking in denial as you were back then?” Malice tips his chin up in defiance.
The air in the room crackles with the building anger between the two. Ty readies his stance, for who knows what, but it doesn’t look good.
“Pot, kettle isn’t it, Son? Who’s in denial now?”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m your fucking father,” he roars. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you little prick.”
“Fuck. You. Dad.”
Chairs fly, the table teeters, and the two of them go head to head like a pair of crazed dogs. Hands fist in shirts, and teeth are bared. Rocco goes mental at the back door, and I move to ease him.
“Cut it out!” Bronx yells. “This sure isn’t going to sort anything.”
Malice’s dad releases his grip, and pushes his son back with an unnecessary flick of the wrists. Malice stumbles, and looks set to have another go when Ty wraps his arms around him.
Rocco settles as Malice’s dad paces the room. He runs his hands though his hair, and shakes his head. “Losing the love of your life isn’t something I hope you’ll ever understand, boy. Fuck, for all I know you’ve been there.” He throws his hands in the air. “But shit, kid. She was my world. She was my everything, and she got fucking taken from me without so much as a goodbye. You know what cuts me up the most?”
Malice still glares.
“She went in terror. Your mom was scared out of her fucking mind, and I wasn’t there to protect her. I wasn’t there to tell her she’d be okay, to keep her from pain, to put myself in harm’s way instead of her. I tortured myself over that for years.”
Malice’s face softens, and he looks somewhat subdued. My heart aches hearing the pain in his father’s voice, and I wonder how he can remain so stoic though it all.
“Yes, I should have done more for you, been there for you, put you before me. But damn, Alice, all I wanted was to die so I could be with her again. Even today, I wish like hell I could hold her one more time, tell her I love her, show her the man her son’s grown up to be. But at least now I can keep those feelings in check, think of her without losing my mind.” He draws a deep breath, and fiddles with a loose thread on the bottom of his shirt.
“It hurts, and I regret everything I did from the day she died to the day you left. But I moved on. We all need to move on. I found a place that I felt welcome, and people who picked me up when I fell into the bottom of a bourbon bottle, hoping to drown. I found a new home.”
“So why are you here if you have a ‘new home’?” Malice still frowns, but he looks genuinely curious at the same time.
I think the whole room is waiting to hear what he says.
“Because I still don’t have it all. I don’t have my son; my blood. And that hurts more than waking every day to find your mother is still dead, and it’s not a nightmare. I can’t change what happened to her, but I can change this.” He gestures between them, and watches Malice for an answer.
Ty lets go, and steps back. Malice eyes the floor, silence shrouding the room.
“I don’t know.”
I can see it. He’s shutting down, blocking it out, and pushing his father away. Not again. He can’t keep doing this to himself. I cross the room, and feel his father’s eyes on me as I step up to Malice and take his head in my hands.
“Don’t punish yourself,” I whisper.
His hands cover mine, and he nods slowly. A deep sigh lifts his shoulders, and he hums. “I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t for you.”
“I want you to be happy, and holding this grudge will only bring you down.” I let go, and step back. The outcome is up to him, and all I can hope is that he chooses the right one.
Malice lifts his head, and pins his father with a look that screams ‘last chance’. “You still haven’t said the one thing I wanted to hear from you back then.”
His father looks to each of us, and then settles his gaze on Malice. He frowns, and you can see the cogs working. After a minute or so of torturous silence, a light shines in his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all it would have taken,” Malice utters.
The two stare each other down, but with each passing second their expressions go from hatred to weariness once more. Malice’s father steps forward, and extends his hand. I watch as the man I love takes the offer, and locks fists. They pull into an awkward embrace, and pat each other on the back before breaking free.
“Thank you,” his father says.
“Like a beer?”
I shake my head, and laugh at Malice’s response.
Everything will be right. It will take time, but I’m certain that everything will be okay.
FIVE DAYS later, and Malice and I stand on the doorstep of our new home together. Rented, but shared, all the same. This is our place; our future. This is our chance at the dreams we thought we’d never see come true.
Today comes loaded with so many milestones. Not only have we officially been handed the keys to our house, but I took a call while we were at the realtor’s to tell me I have a new job that starts next Monday. Okay, so it’s only a part-time position filing documents at a lawyer’s office, but Malice and I had to compromise. He didn’t want me working at all, and I didn’t want to be driven crazy with cabin fever. So, we decided that the eighteen hours a week they offered was reasonable, and I took the job.
Malice’s dad, Vince, returned home the day after he arrived, but has promised to visit soon. I must admit: I’m looking forward to it. Although he’d never say it, I think Malice is quietly happy his dad is back in touch, and that they have a chance to sort things out.
At times I wonder if somebody is looking out for us. Everything is . . . happening.
Malice pockets his phone, and takes my hand in his. “The moving guys will be here in ten. Ty said the idiot wasn’t there when they went in to get my stuff.”
We agreed that it would be best to ask Ty to oversee the removal of Malice’s things, to ensure the process goes without a hitch. I voiced my concern that Dylan would see what was going on, and would follow the moving truck to where we live. Malice didn’t think it would be a problem, but I insisted that we had eyes, and ears on stand by. It feels far too good to be true that Dylan wasn’t home after all, but I trust Ty.
A motorcycle tears up the street, and slows at our front yard. I look to Malice to see him smile. The rider pulls his helmet off to reveal his face, and I smile too. Bronx. I never knew the guy owned a superbike—I’d always seen him in Ty’s car until now. Bronx jogs up to the front porch where we stand, and locks hands with Malice.
“You got the drinks unpacked yet?”
“You’re early.” Malice laughs. “Nothing’s here yet.”
“Good thing I brought this then.” He pulls a flask of whis
key from his jacket, and grins.
The boys celebrate with a drink as I unlock the door, and push it wide. The smell of clean fabric and freshly polished floors fills my nostrils. I walk into the over-sized living area, and slowly turn around, taking it all in.
Our house.
Strong arms encircle my waist, and the best sound in the world fills my ears. “I love you, Jane. Welcome home.”
“I love you, too.” I turn and capture his lips with my own.
“Get a room,” Bronx calls out. His footsteps echo down the hallway. “Oh, whoa. You’ve got a few to choose from!”
Malice chuckles, and I place my cheek against his chest. The moment is perfect, too perfect, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly is about to go wrong. Nothing good lasts . . . ever.
Especially not for me.
Jane sits on the floor of what will be our room, legs crossed, looking out the large glass door to the garden filled with all the fading colors of fall. I stand in the doorway for a moment, taking her in, trying to get my head around the fact she’s mine. I never thought she would be.
We’re far from out of the woods, but the path at least has an end in sight. A few more weeks here in our own home, and a few more appointments with her therapist and I reckon she’ll have this about beaten.
And then it’ll be my turn to shake the demons. Especially the rather large one that I added to my collection last week.
“I got the heating going. The boys have headed off to take care of some work stuff. It’s only us here now, babe.”
She turns her head, and the smile she places on her beautiful lips is tainted with the ugliness of deception. “Thank you.”
I make my way over and sit beside her. Rocco pads around the room, sniffing the corners.
“What’s wrong?”
She shrugs, and fidgets with the carpet. “I just wonder how long I can dodge Dylan, you know?”
“You don’t need to worry about him,” I say.
She looks to me, and frowns. “What have you done?”
I hold her gaze, and answer in earnest. “Taken care of it, Jane. He won’t be hurting you again.”
I reach out, and tug her to me. She settles between my legs, and leans into my chest. I cross my arms over her front, and hold her to me.
“I’ll still need to work out how I’m going to request a divorce from him. I’ll need to have contact with him for that, even if it’s through a third party.”
“Why stress yourself over it?” I say. “Let it lie, and maybe after time he won’t be as likely to contest it.” If only I could tell her the truth.
“Maybe. I guess there’s no rush.”
“Babe, you need to learn to take it one day at a time. Nobody can predict the future. You need to roll with the punches, worry about the bad stuff when it actually happens.”
“I know. Old habits—”
“—will die hard,” I finish.
She sighs when I kiss her head. “I’m sorry I keep dragging us down.”
I squeeze her tighter. “Jane, today is the happiest day I’ve had since . . . fuck, since my mom was alive. You know how long that is?” She nods. “So don’t say you’re dragging me down—just try to enjoy it with me.”
She turns her head, and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “I will.”
“I know you still have doubts, and fears, babe. But fuck, woman, you have to take a step back sometimes and see how far you’ve come.”
She nods, and her chest heaves with a drawn out breath. “I do. But worrying is as much a part of me as your preference not to share things can be a part of you.”
Ouch.
I lose myself, imagining what it might be like to sit here in a month’s time, a year. Will I feel more settled? Will I shake the worry that what I do is going to catch up with Jane? Will I ever feel deserving of what I’ve found with her?
The only thing I know for sure, as I look down at her gazing out the window at Rocco, is that I love this woman. She’s been through so much, and yet here she sits, happy to be a part of my life, to know my friends, to live with me.
And the longer she’s around, the more I can feel myself relaxing.
The more I feel home.
“It’s weird you know,” she says out of the blue.
“What is?” I ask.
“When I thought about leaving him, I always imagined returning to the person I was before we married. But you know what? It was never possible. As much as the time with him was hard, and I’d never want to do it again, it shaped me, you know? How can I be the same person I was then when I know what I do now? I was always going to be somebody new. I need to be comfortable enough to discover who.”
“Being somebody new isn’t that bad.” I shrug. “I love her.”
She smiles, and pushes her head firmer into my chest. This tiny woman has the strength of an army in her when it comes to the way she holds my heart. She has the power to lift me up, as much as she has the power to crush me.
“I love the new you, too.”
She laughs.
And I soar.
BANJAXED SERIES
Pistol
Loaded
Recoil
OTHERWORLD DESIRES (Paranormal)
Battle to Become
Methods for Mayhem
Book six and it’s still all you, babe. Without your support, and your unbelievable belief in what I do, I wouldn’t work anywhere near as hard as I do. You push me when I need a kick in the ass, you encourage me when I feel down, and you tell me that the sky’s the limit . . . until we figure out how to crack that, too. I love you, Boo, and all I hope is that you reap the rewards more than I ever do.
My beautiful boys. I know Mummy spends a lot of time in her office some days, but it makes those moments we have together to do puzzles, and draw all the sweeter. Never stop coming to me for ‘cuddles’, or ‘kiss’. If I could type as fast with you on my lap, I would. Love you, my minions, more than you’ll ever know. You two are proof that my best creations will never be ones I write.
To the amazing Indie authors who are there every damn day for me. One day, I swear, one day I’ll be able to meet you all in person, but until then our online chats will have to do. There are so many of you who have helped in your own special way, but I have to give a special shout out to a few who have done more than they know for me:
River – lady, I am inspired by your selflessness, and your natural ability to help those around you bloom. Your words are ah-maz-ing, and I know if I ever need a good emotional read to spark my inner muse, your work is a go-to.
Lili – you nudged me from the start, and told me that the only thing dictating my success—however that is to be defined—is me. You’ve helped me out with so many things, that to you are probably nothing, but to me they have meant the world. Thank you.
Nina – jeeze woman, you’re a fountain of knowledge. If I ever doubt what can be achieved from a computer, and a will to prove my self-worth, I look to you. You inspire me to keep charging on, and to never doubt my potential.
The ladies of TGNAFN – well, the year started out rocky, huh. But you know what? We’re still there, still rocking it, and don’t fuckin’ forget . . . #2015rocks. This is our year.
Michael, and Lance – guys. I mean, come on. Without that image on my cover, I don’t know what I could have had that would capture the angst of this story so perfectly. A snap of the camera, and a story is born. Thank you both for being such open, genuine guys to work with.
My readers – you guys. Sheesh. A little over a year ago I was adamant that I would be that author who only sold a few books a month and ticked away in the background for decades, waiting to be discovered. But you guys picked up my stories, and you loved my characters as much as I did. Your messages, and posts telling me the parts that resonated with you mean the world to me. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that a story I wrote could be loved like it is. Thank you—for everything.
Originally born and bred in Canterb
ury, New Zealand, Max now resides with her family in beautiful and sunny Queensland, Australia.
Life with two young children can be hectic at times, and although she may not write as often as she would like, Max wouldn’t change a thing.
In her down time, Max can be found at her local gym, brain-storming through a session with the weights. Or, she may be out bumping, and jostling her way along a dirt track with the family in hubby’s 4WD.
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Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Also by Max
Acknowledgements
About the Author