Another Stroke of Fate (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 2)

by LW Barefoot

  I watch him as he talks on the phone and I always obsess over who it is on the other line. When Mae calls, we both speak with her, same with Jamie. But when he makes excuses to distance himself to speak with Evan, it hurts. He hasn’t called me, hasn’t once asked to speak with me. In his mind, we’re over and I can’t allow myself to have any kind of closure because it’s all a lie.

  Hours tick by as I force myself to read, if not, I will start people watching and then I won’t stop.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  I look up as a man sits on the lounger next to mine.

  “You must be mistaken,” I say, as I force a smile and turn back to reading my book.

  “No, you’re exactly who I’ve been looking for,” the stranger continues.

  I’m the exact opposite of the women prancing around this beautiful place.

  “Does this usually work? I mean, do women actually fall for that?” I ask him and sit up, tugging down my coverup and placing my feet in my flip-flops.

  My question surprises him and he laughs. I want him to go away. Tan skin and a handsome face only makes me miss Evan more. I’m trying not to think about him or how long it’s been since I’ve seen him, but it’s been two weeks to the day since we left Louisiana. That line of thought will then turn to touch, taste, tease, and so on because whatever words I come up with it’s been too damn long since any of those have taken place with him.

  “Please allow me to explain, myself,” the stranger tries again.

  “Honestly, I don’t need an explanation, but if you don’t mind, I’m busy,” I insist.

  The longer I look at him the more his features remind me of someone else and they’re nothing alike.

  “Do you know what else I like about you?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “You have no idea who I am,” he smirks triumphantly.

  I look at him but all I see is my reflection in his sunglasses. I’m the only woman here not wearing a bikini with stilettos and advertising my assets. I stand and his palm runs up my thigh. I slap his hand away as Brad’s shadow looms over us. The stranger’s grip on my leg tightens.

  “Listen, buddy, hands off,” Brad demands, but his jaw clenches in time with his grip before releasing me.

  “My apologies, friends. Allow me to buy you drinks,” he smirks. The smug look on his face makes it obvious that he’s not sorry at all.

  “We’re good, friend,” Brad says to the handsome, over-stepping stranger.

  “Harper, gather your things. We’ll meet Grayson back at the condo.”

  “You know Grayson?” handsome asks, his head tilts to the side as he studies us both over.

  “Yes, why?” Brad inquires.

  “He’s the reason I’m here. We’re supposed to be meeting soon.”

  This is the connection, the reason we’re here in the first place.

  “Come, I have a cabana, we can get out of the sun. I’m Anthony, by the way.”

  Brad extends his arm and the two of them shake hands.

  “I’m Brad and this is Harper.”

  Anthony smirks when he hears my name again.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harper.”

  His latin accent makes the pronunciation of the two ‘r’s sharper than normal. Anthony’s shaded canopy is crowded when we walk over, filled with fashionable people.

  “Order whatever you like,” he says to us, his charming, friendly mood remains, but the atmosphere changed in the group when he took a seat. Brad and I sit next to each other on a vacated couch.

  “How do you two know Grayson, if you don’t mind me asking?” Anthony asks.

  And I would like to know how Brad would describe our situation. Anthony’s question hushes the people around us. I hadn’t noticed when we sat down, but there’s an armed guard standing close by each corner of the cabana.

  “We’re friends of Grayson’s,” Brad says, his constant, easy-going nature is long gone.

  “From New Orleans?” Anthony asks. The flirty tone in his rich voice is vacant, he’s all business now.

  “Yes, we’re from New Orleans.”

  “I wish I knew Grayson was in town before this week. I was just there on business.”

  Grayson didn’t want to alarm Anthony when we arrived two weeks ahead of schedule.

  Brad and I look at each other and I wish Grayson would show up already. If Anthony was in New Orleans on business that means he met with Joe Hawthorne. Grayson described how Anthony’s family controlled the drug distribution in the Southern ports.

  I accept a mojito from a waitress and Brad and I sit back and wait for Grayson to show up.

  Anthony’s guards and entourage make sense now. He’s the drug lord of Miami. He needs protection. One of the guards catches my attention because he’s the same man I saw on the dock the day we took Jamie out on the Gulf to fish. I shiver remembering his silent threat as the boat pulled away from the marina.

  Grayson shows up within the hour, shaking hands with Anthony. Anthony’s wide smile is warm and friendly when he looks at Grayson. Anthony clears out the cabana telling everyone to leave and not one of them tries to stay. I lean down to pick up my bag and Brad grabs it from me.

  “Oh no, Harper, you’re staying,” Anthony smirks.

  Grayson watches the exchange. If I wasn’t leaving, Brad wasn’t either.

  “I have to admit I recognized you, Brad. I’m rather cross with your boss. And why in the world would Evan have his plaything in Miami when he’s back in New Orleans?”

  I feel my face flush. I want to say, ‘I’m not his plaything.’ I’m so much more than that, but that’s not really true. Anthony knew who we were before he approached me.

  Grayson steps in and says, “Anthony, we need to talk about Joe, that’s why I came.”

  “Someone brought to my attention Evan’s now in charge of Hawthorne Holdings. Joe tried to point out that this is unimportant and I can’t trust him now. So you see, I need to talk about Evan and your intentions for being here Grayson because our friendship is being put to the test. Be honest with me. I need answers,” Anthony’s response shocks us all.

  “Did you happen to meet with Evan when you were in town?” Grayson asks.

  “You could say that. I went to one of his parties, as famous as they are, I couldn’t pass it up. Your replacement, Harper, pales in comparison, I must say.”

  I’m thankful I left my sunglasses on because I don’t want to be shocked by his words but I am. Brad squeezes my shoulder, attempting to lessen the blow.

  I want to hope that I have a decoy or someone who could be mistaken for me. But then why would it be needed? Evan and I weren’t public.

  I sit stock still and refuse to let Anthony’s words hurt me. It would take me seeing Evan with someone else with my own eyes. He doesn’t know that while Sarah and Evan were broadcasting their engagement to society, Evan and I were falling in love. So no, once the initial shock wears off, I square my shoulders and smile back at Anthony.

  “Not that it matters but Evan and I were a well-kept secret. How do you know about us?” I ask Anthony, the dark lenses hide our eyes, but his jaw ticks before he answers.

  “Do you see all this?” he outstretches his arms and motions around as if encompassing the city or empire he’s referring to.

  “I need to protect myself and by doing so, I need to know my connections better than I know myself. Evan wouldn’t send the two men he considers brothers, one by blood, the other by love, to escort his fuck-toy to lay around on the beach while he takes over his father’s company.”

  I want to slap him because that’s twice he’s insulted me, but past my anger is the honesty of his statement.

  “Evan wants to set up a meeting with you, Anthony, here in Miami. Joe has eyes everywhere in New Orleans. You could have the protection you desire. The FBI is working to take down Joe’s operations. He’s using the port to bring more than just drugs into the U.S. You get full immunity for cooperating and a blind eye when it
comes to your business dealings.” Grayson’s statement makes Anthony laugh, he throws his head back and roars.

  “You fucking traitor.” His insult carries over his laughter, humor accompanies the offense. Grayson actually starts laughing along with him. Brad and I look at each other in confusion.

  “Grayson, tell me, how does it feel to get back at your father?” Anthony asks, still laughing.

  “It’s the best damn feeling in the world,” Grayson exclaims.

  Their friendship isn’t a front or the happiness that revenge is about to be served. They share something we don’t understand.

  Finally, Brad and I stand to leave. Wanting to let the two of them flesh out the details. Anthony’s once handsome face sets into a grim line.

  “I have one request before you leave, Harper,” his accent purrs the syllables of my name. “Meet me tonight.”

  I’m just a fuck-toy and plaything but I won’t be his.

  “Not a chance,” I spit at him.

  “Then my meeting with Evan has been canceled.”

  I stop moving and I don’t know what to say. I shouldn’t have come today. I shouldn’t even be involved in any of this, but here I am left without a choice.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Let’s just say Evan took something that was mine. I would like for him to know what it feels like.”

  He smiles showing his perfect white teeth. There is nothing kind in the expression.

  “I don’t go anywhere without Brad,” I say and it’s true.

  He laughs and pats Grayson on the shoulder.

  “That’s the point, my love, for this to get back to Evan.”

  The Sculptor

  If Sarah wasn’t a soulless bitch, I would admire her. She’s taken everything I’ve thrown at her and thanked me for it when it was over, regardless of whether or not she’s broken. There’s nothing sexual about the way we are together. Just two detracting magnets that circle and compete for the same space.

  I could paint an entire collection from the pain and desperation in her eyes alone. I’ve already named it ‘willing abandonment.’ I’ve had her for weeks and not a single mention of her disappearance has appeared in the media. The night I found her I was prepared to get to the point. But I can’t match up the Roman numeral in which to express just how many flaws I’ve found, I’ve lost count. The witch should have started her countdown at infinity and she would have been more accurate.

  I look up from my laptop and take a moment before I push play. This video is going to force Joe to fulfill his promise of covering up my past crimes. It’s almost comical how easy it was to connect everything back to him. This is how he planned on clearing my name and gifting Casey to me. Wrapping up the problem he has with his son, getting his company and family back under control.

  I watch as the redheaded young woman is being seduced by none other than Joe himself. Everything looks consensual, she’s moaning as he’s fingering her. He looks over his shoulder and motions for someone. Sarah strolls into the frame and starts joining in on the scene. Kissing the woman and holding her down for Joe to use. This poor girl had no idea what she was getting herself into.

  The sex edges on violence when Joe’s hits become harder and Sarah smiles as he delivers the blows. She never loosens her grip on the now struggling girl in the film. Covering her mouth to conceal her screams until Joe’s hands wrap around her throat and before long it’s over. I don’t miss the sick fascination that floats over his face from not only release but also watching the light leave his victim’s eyes. I know that feeling better than I know anything in this world.

  They release her now that she stopped moving. Joe straightens himself and takes Sarah’s hand and helps her off the bed. They proceed to talk in hushed voices as another man moves toward the dead girl’s body. Joe instructs him to mark her like they talked about and the man does a piss poor job of mimicking me.

  Once the video stops, I look up to catch Sarah’s stare.

  “I take it this first bit wasn’t supposed to be part of the evidence?” I ask.

  I already know her answer, but I want to see how comfortable she can lie about it.

  “I was only instructed to get Pete cutting into the girl.”

  “Did he know your plans were to incriminate him?” I ask, not believing that anyone would just go along with it.

  “No, but this wasn’t the first time Pete’s done something like that. He never questions Joe.”

  “Why the played up sex? Why not get straight to the point and kill the girl outright?” I ask.

  “He liked her, she looks like Harper, and he wanted to pretend he was fucking her instead. It also needed to be believable for the police.”

  I school my reaction to Casey’s false name and the thought of anyone other than me doing that to her. I didn’t care if he was a fan or not, I didn’t commit those crimes on a whim or vendetta. I was nothing if not passionate about removing manipulative filth. Casey was the only selfish thing I’ve ever done for myself and not for my art.

  I swallow back the acid creeping up my throat and ask the question I detest.

  “He later got the chance to do anything he wanted to Casey, so why didn’t he?”

  Sarah laughs as if any of this is funny. She finally schools herself when she realizes this isn’t a laughing matter.

  “You have to appreciate the irony that your scars saved Harper from Joe.”

  Her smile ticks slightly. She’s such a convincing sociopath. She has no emotions for playing a role in someone’s death.

  “He didn’t like my work?” I push.

  “She disgusted and infuriated him,” she says and I find that interesting.

  I had my suspicions about Joe’s relationship with Evan and now it makes sense. It must be terrifying to find yourself aging and in competition with your own son. Taking Evan’s women away as if they were toys and he was teaching him a lesson.

  The whole scenario was messy. There was no finesse. Only a disheveled attempt to copy me. Joe didn’t like my work because he focused on the wrong part, just like everyone else. The act, the preparation, and hard work were long hours leading up to the final canvas and it had nothing to do with violent sex.

  My mouth waters as I think about the time I had Casey, allowing myself to memorize the fear in her eyes and the tears streaming down her face. My fists clench thinking about the way her throat felt under my hands. Destroying her innocence was the most life-changing moment I’ve ever had. Stripping her down and exposing the most raw soul I’ve ever seen. Untouched and so fucking perfect I couldn’t hold myself back. I tried to model her the way I needed her to be. Sculpt her into a vessel for all my pent-up rage. And my blood boils as I picture my precious piece of flesh being devoured by Joe.

  I create depth from empty souls. Making something that could last longer than any of my victim’s mortality. Soon, so very soon, I will make a perfect example of Sarah.

  I finish compiling the video and save it to a flash drive. I eject the USB and slip it into my pocket. Mindful not to touch it and leave my fingerprints. I edited it to only include the last part of the video with the blond haired sucker that cut into the dead girl’s body. The mask he wears in the video is similar to the one I left on Casey’s bed.

  The time is coming to include Joe and Sarah’s interactions with the victim but I’m not ready to play that card yet. I still require a few more tasks for Sarah to participate in and knowledge of the people who have tried to play me.

  As I walk out of the building I find myself searching for the blind witch. Wanting to catch a glimpse of her in daylight, but every time I walk through the streets, I don’t see her.

  I’m beginning to believe she doesn’t exist in the first place.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you for continuing Harper and Evan’s story!

  Thank you to all the readers, bloggers, reviewers, and supporters!

  For my Moon & Stars- There are no words.
You. Are. Everything.

  Jessica D- I’m serious about our coffee date! I truly can’t thank you enough for everything!

  Alicia, Moon, Lisa, Heidi, Kim aka BookJunkie- Thank you for reviewing Another Brush Stroke and being among the first people to express how you felt about the first book.

  I hope this latest installment meets your expectations! The third book is on its way, I promise!

  Grief- I’m still learning how to navigate with your never ending presence that has become an intricately woven thread in every facet of my life.

  Playlist for Another Stroke of Fate

  “Music is to the soul what words are to the mind.” -Modest Mouse

  My playlists are one of the most intimate things I can share with you.

  *Now available on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/lwbarefoot/playlist/00XOGBjntnTTf1hTdFdlpL

  *Come Find Me- Emile Haynie, Lykke Li, Romy

  *Taken- Young Summer

  *Haunting- Halsey

  *Slip- Elliot Moss

  *I Don’t Wanna Be In Love- Dark Waves

  *The Enemy- Andrew Belle

  *Stranger Ways- Anberlin

  *Wildest Moments- Jessie Ware

  *Still- The Japanese House

  *Losing You- Aquilo

  *Here With Me- Susie Suh, Robot Koch

  *Always- Panama

  *Lost- Liza Anne

  *Broken Over You- Grace Mitchell