Jagged Pill (Broken Lives Book 3)

by Marita A. Hansen

  My sister snorted out a laugh, drawing my attention back to her. “I didn’t think you were his boyfriend. I told the egg my bro loves chicks not dicks.” She leaned over, giving me a big hug. “Didn’t think you were gonna make it through, bro,” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Make it through what? And why am I in hospital?”

  She pulled back, her smile gone. She looked so much like me it was crazy, just a younger, female version, with long, wavy brown hair that reached her thighs. She also had a tattoo on her face, the chick equivalent of my moko. Her lips were tattooed green, while a curvilinear design decorated her chin, representing our whakapapa—our ancestry, like my facial tattoo did.

  “You OD’d,” she said, her tone now biting, obviously blaming me for it.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t take any fuckin’ drugs,” I snapped, pushing up into a sitting position. Groaning, I flopped back down, feeling too weak to keep upright.

  “I told her, but she refused to listen,” Killer said, throwing Val a glare. “It wuz Sierra Craven. I caught that bitch and her pretend doctor shooting you up. I confronted her ’bout it. She tried to put the blame on me, telling the prez I did it to rape you.” His expression turned earnest, almost as if he thought I’d believe Sierra. “I would never do that to you, Tane. I’d rather die than hurt you.”

  I started rubbing my face. “I know. I’d take your word over that bitch’s any day.”

  “Wish the prez thought the same way.”

  I instantly stopped rubbing my face. “Why wouldn’t he?”

  “He didn’t believe me at first.”

  “Why the hell not?” I snapped, angry with Milan.

  Killer flinched, obviously taking my reaction the wrong way.

  “I’m not pissed off with you, Killer, I’m pissed off that Milan took that cunt’s word over yours, and I wanna know why.”

  Killer glanced at Val, almost embarrassed. “Cos he walked in on us right after we’d fucked. He practically ripped me offa you.”

  My eyes widened. “You’re having me on, you hafta be having me on. That didn’t happen, you’re having me on,” I babbled, shocked by what he’d said. I looked at my sister, who had a smirk on her face. “I’m straight, you know I’m straight. You even said so.”

  “I’ve had quite a few straight guys fuck me,” Killer said. “And it did happen.”

  I shook my head, not wanting to believe him, plus I didn’t remember... I went still, an image forming in my head. A memory.

  I was on top of Killer, my cock buried deep inside of him. His legs were on my shoulders, his beautiful face enraptured, staring at me with love.

  “I wouldn’t have done that.” My panicked gaze went to my sister. “I wouldn’t have done that!”

  Even though I knew I would’ve.

  Had done that before.

  “Take it easy, bro,” Val said, placing a hand on my arm, her smirk now gone, worry replacing it.

  “No!” I yelled, glaring at Killer. “I don’t remember you being on top of me.” I remember being on top of you.

  He grimaced. “Cos you were off your head. I didn’t realise it at the time, thought you were lucid. You came onto me strong, basically grabbed me and fucked my brains out. Of course I let you. I wanted it, but the prez and Sierra walked in on us. She lied to him, told him I’d injected you with drugs so I could rape you. The prez went apeshit at me. I tried to tell him it wuz mutual, that we’d fucked before, to ask Rafael. I just didn’t count on that lying sonofabitch denying it. He offered to keep me in his room, to guard me. Fucker tried to make me his prisoner.”

  I looked at my sister, who was shaking her head.

  “What are you shaking your goddamned head at, woman?”

  She smiled at me. “So, you’re a Marmite miner now, are ya?”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “You like drilling male arse.”

  “Shut your mouth!”

  She laughed. “You gonna come on a pride parade with me, then?”

  “No!”

  She laughed louder, probably greatly amused that the guy who’d ragged on about her having girlfriends had fucked a guy.

  “Renni is so gonna flip over this,” she said, mentioning our younger sister.

  “Don’t you dare tell her!”

  “So, it’s true, you fucked pretty boy here?” she said, indicating to Killer.

  I grunted.

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Okay, I fucked him, but I only remember doin’ him once, not this second time. And he looks like a chick, so I ain’t no fag.”

  “He does not, otherwise I’d be on him.”

  I grunted at her again, the bitch enjoying this far too much.

  She grinned back, her dark eyes sparkling. “Now we can gang up on Renni. Two homos against one straighty.”

  “Shut your gob, I ain’t no homo. I’ve fucked hundreds more women than you.”

  She sniggered, taking great pleasure over my literal cock up.

  I shot her a glare, then turned it on Killer. “You’re a right wanker for outing me. Fuck off!”

  “That’s not anyway to talk to your new boyfriend,” Val teased.

  “He’s not my boyfriend!”

  “Fuck buddies, then.”

  “Fuck off, Val, I’ve had enough of you. Go bloody home.”

  “Nah, bro, I wanna stay with you. Wuz wrecked to hear you’re back on drugs again. You almost died, you stupid egg.”

  “I didn’t take any bloody drugs!”

  “So, this bitch really did shoot you up without your permission? Cos that’s hard to believe with your history.”

  “Yeah, I’m an addict, but I still didn’t do it.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Killer cut in, sounding frustrated with her. “Sierra wuz using him.”

  “For what?” Val asked.

  “Sex. He went into manic depression after my brother’s funeral. Couldn’t whore for her, so she shot him up to force him to fuck.”

  I swore, the look on Val’s face horrified.

  “You’re whoring?” she said.

  I didn’t reply, Killer having dumped me in the shitter with that one word. I preferred him outing me to the gang, than have my sisters find out I was whoring like our mother had.

  Val pushed to her feet, her dark eyes blazing at me. “You know what it did to Mum!” she hollered. “And you’re doin’ the exact same thing?”

  “It’s not the same,” I pushed out.

  “It’s is! It may not have been drugs that killed her, but she drank to whore, then whored to drink, and what do I hear with you? You shoot up to whore, then whore to shoot up.”

  “I may have whored myself, but I didn’t take those drugs. If I have any in my system, it’s not on me.”

  “Yeah, so quit blaming Tane,” Killer snapped at Val. “He wuz used. If that bitch Sierra didn’t run, the gang would’ve topped her.”

  I turned my head to him. “So, they believed you in the end?”

  He nodded. “Rafael the prick finally fessed up when some of the crew came for me. They were gonna kill me, but instead took to him after he confessed. They only stopped when his twin arrived. Matheus went berserk and stabbed one of them. It wuz damn lucky no one died.”

  I grumbled under my breath, wishing that Rafael had.

  “What did you say?” Killer asked.

  “Where’s Sierra?” I grunted instead.

  “She’s hiding out at her uncle’s so we can’t get to her. Apparently, Craven isn’t happy with her, but still told the gang he’ll wipe us out if she’s touched.” He smiled. “Though, we trashed her house, fuckin’ laid into it, the prez taking the lead. I’d gamble a million bucks that she’s regretting the day she let us through her door.”

  “What did Craven say ’bout that?”

  “He’s accepted it as retribution, but still cut ties with us, won’t help us anymore with the Devil’s Crew. He also got a bit touchy after Reaper killed
some of his men, one gruesomely. Totally shredded the guy.”

  “Which is why I didn’t want you near Reaper. So, I’m guessing the psycho’s still out there?”

  “Yeah, we’ve caught all but Reaper and Jonah and one other bloke that left the country. We’ve got some connections lookin’ for him in the Gold Coast.”

  “Who?”

  “Liam Papua. Though, the prez is considering letting him walk.”

  “Why the fuck for? He’s DC through and through.”

  “Not after his crew bashed him and his li’l bro for some cock up. He also had nuthin’ to do with the attack on our club, wuz in hospital at the time. Fabian checked the records, looks legit. Liam even sent a message to Milan, sayin’ he hopes we catch Jonah, that he’d even slit the bastard’s throat if he could.”

  “Hah! Never would’ve thought Liam could turn on his club, but then again, I don’t blame him if they hurt his li’l bro. I’d want retribution, too.”

  Killer nodded. “There wuz also this other bloke, but Milan found out he wuz an undercover cop, so we didn’t touch him. And get this, Reaper’s woman is an undercover cop too. By the way, she went missing the day after the attack. The cops think Reaper’s kidnapped her. He isn’t just on the run from us, the cops are after him as well.”

  “They got any leads?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, his family won’t talk. The prez took some crew around to their place, tried to scare them into giving up Reaper’s location, but they refused. Fabian lost his cool and pulled a knife on Reaper’s father, but the old dude screamed at Fabian, asking for death. Apparently, Craven’s men killed one of Reaper’s brothers even though he wuzn’t in the Devil’s Crew. The prez wuz gutted. You know he hates family bein’ touched. He told the old man that we had no part in it, that he would never kill family. You should’ve heard him screaming into the phone at Craven afterwards. I think the prez’s regretting taking Craven’s help.”

  I grunted. “I did warn him, but no one fuckin’ listens to me. And whoever killed Reaper’s brother signed their own death warrants. Reaper wuz in the special ops. He’ll find out who it is and track the bastards down, making them suffer.” I swore again, worried about Dante. Worried he would never be safe with Reaper out there. “How the fuck am I s’posed to protect Dante and Jasper if that bastard isn’t brought down?”

  “’Bout Dante,” Val said.

  My head shot to her, the sudden movement hurting it. “What ’bout him?”

  Her face went sombre.

  “Where’s Dante?” I asked, terrified that Reaper had finished what Mutt couldn’t.

  “Hospital.”

  “Patient or visitor?”

  “Patient.”

  “Is he all right?” I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “And which room is he in?”

  She placed a hand on my leg. “Not this hospital. He wuz flown by helicopter to the North Shore one.”

  Goosebumps ran up my arm. “What happened?”

  “He wuz in a car accident.”

  “How bad?” I asked, my outside calm not reflecting what I was feeling inside, panic bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

  “He’s in a coma. They say he may not come out of it.”

  16

  Clara

  Everyone turned in their seats as I walked into the courtroom. I stopped in my tracks, feeling even more exposed than I did outside. Walking through a crowd of reporters hadn’t been as hard as the accusing stares thrown my way once I was inside. My trial had taken New Zealand by storm. Headlines such as Teacher Seduces Student filled the pages. They didn’t care that I loved Dante, or that he wasn’t a small boy like they were imagining, his identity having been withheld. They also didn’t care that the accident wasn’t mine or his fault, the car that had hit us fully to blame for our injuries. Although they couldn’t see it, I had burn scars on my arms, my long-sleeved lilac blouse covering them. But my injuries were nowhere near as bad as Dante’s. He was still in a coma, the possibility he wouldn’t wake up a real fear. I swallowed hard at the thought, the pain it caused welling up again, threatening to spill over, which was something I couldn’t allow right now. I just needed to get through the trial.

  My lawyer placed a gentle hand on my back. “Come on, Clara. You can do this,” he said.

  I sucked in a shaky breath and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other, doing my best not to look at the people filling the seats, even though I caught glimpses of them. Phelia Lamar was sitting a few rows from the front, glaring at me, probably blaming me for what had happened to Dante.

  And I did blame myself.

  The accident may not have been my fault, but if I hadn’t gotten involved with him, he wouldn’t have been in the car with me, driving home in a panic to see his father.

  I sucked in another breath, hurting so bad without him. I hadn’t seen him in three months. It felt like the authorities had ripped my heart out, keeping it from me. And that was what Dante was.

  My heart.

  I took the seat next to my lawyer, glancing back at my father in the galley. He gave me a reassuring smile. His American-Vietnamese partner was sitting next to him, Sinh, beautiful as ever. His jet-black hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him. It was pulled back into a tight ponytail, highlighting his high cheekbones and stunning features. My father had told me that Sinh was modelling now, a talent agent having approached him while they were out shopping.

  More people entered the courtroom, the seats filling up fast. A line of leather and jean-clad men filed in at the back, their rough appearance telling me they were gang members. One with long, greasy-looking hair narrowed his eyes at me, sending shivers down my spine. He elbowed a tall man with a largish nose, pointing at me. The man’s eyes moved to me, the murderous glare he gave me making me spin in my seat, my heart thumping like crazy.

  The judge arrived through the back of the courtroom, dressed in her robes. We were told to rise for her. Once she was settled in her seat, she addressed the courtroom. After that, I didn’t remember much, her words all a blur, and everyone else’s a blur too...

  ...until the first witness was called.

  Mr. Isaac Sao.

  My previous boss, Wera High’s principal, approached the stand. The tall Samoan man lifted his right hand to take the oath, the dark rings under his eyes making him appear tired. But not as tired as I felt. My nights were constantly broken by nightmares of the car crash, of seeing Dante strapped into his seat, unconscious, with blood on his head. The worst one was where I couldn’t get him out, the car exploding with him in it.

  Principal Sao settled behind the stand, his tired eyes going to me. He looked slimmer than the last time I saw him, his cheeks a bit gaunt. I dropped my gaze, unable to hold his accusing stare. And his testimony was just as damning, his words painting me as a liar.

  “She pretended that Dante kissed her without permission,” he answered the prosecutor, a sharply dressed man in his fifties, the black cape over his suit not hiding its quality. “She tried to hide what she did, allowing me to think the worst of the poor boy. I’d already reported him to the police for assault before finding out she’d lied.” His following answers to the prosecutor’s questions were just as bad.

  Then my lawyer stood up. He walked around the table and headed for Principal Sao, the man as sharply dressed as the prosecutor. He was a touch younger, in his forties, with a resume full of high profile cases.

  “Did the defendant not leave a message on your phone?” my lawyer asked, his tone almost snide, giving the impression that Principal Sao was withholding information.

  “Yes, I just said—”

  My lawyer cut him off, “Where she admitted to Dante being innocent of the assault you accused the boy of.”

  “I didn’t accuse Dante of it, I was going on what I was told and—”

  My lawyer held up his hand, cutting the principal off again. “I would like to play the voice message,” he said to the judge.

/>   My eyes widened, what he was saying not good for me, proving what I’d done.

  The recording started, everyone going silent for it:

  “This is Clara. Dante didn’t assault me; the kiss was mutual. You can’t let CYFS take him away from his father. You can’t expel him either. This is all my fault. I allowed it to happen.”

  I blinked, surprised at how young I sounded. I also sounded terrified, my voice breaking at times, the fact I’d been crying evident.

  My lawyer stopped the recording and turned back to the principal. “Even though it was in my client’s best interest to deny responsibility, she still told you it was her fault, knowing it could lead her—” He swept his arm out, “—here.”

  Principal Sao’s jaw clenched, anger firing up his brown eyes. “She had ample opportunity to tell me at school. I expelled Dante right in front of her. Where was her confession then? Where was it when he took the fall, not saying a word against her, while she stood back, making excuses for his behaviour, not hers?”

  “My client was in shock. But when she came to her senses, she made that call. On the same day.”

  “It doesn’t matter when she admitted to it, the issue is she had a sexual affair with an underage boy, who—”

  The lawyer cut him off yet again, “That has not been proven, and I’m finished with my questioning.”

  Principal Sao opened his mouth, looking like he was going to say something far worse, but instead he threw me an angry glare.

  The next person called to the stand was Beverly Torino, my colleague’s chocolate-brown eyes just as accusing as the principal’s. Like Principal Sao, she’d lost weight, though she looked slim not gaunt, since she’d previously been overweight. She was also dressed more conservatively. It was as though she was a different person, my quirky friend replaced by a stern, disapproving woman, someone I could no longer call a friend. She painted me as having a soft spot for Dante, constantly defending his actions.

  Paul Aston took the stand after her, the ex-head of Drama reaffirming Beverly’s words. He brought up the time I’d defended Dante when he was drunk, also stating that I’d showed favouritism towards him when casting Othello. I clenched my hands at that remark, Dante having deserved that role.