Dark Cherries

by Eve Bradley

  “The Young brothers want you dead.”

  My chest tightens.

  “So why am I not dead?” I whisper, lost in his severity.

  His jaw twitches again and he tilts his head a bit, giving me a clear view of just how angular his face is.

  “Here’s the thing. I had you play Penny because he wanted to know that you were a real person. I told him that Penny has offshore accounts that I can get access to. They’re really mine. I promise him that his money will be safe there, except the government gets ahold of the accounts overnight and locks them down. I’ll compensate him a fraction of the amount, and he takes a major blow to his business. Not only this, but I’ll have his account information and my hackers can do their work to take down his other businesses from the inside.”

  I’m nearly sputtering by the end of his explanation. I feel like I’m in a James Bond movie. So I was the bait.

  “You get the government involved?” I question.

  “Not really. I don’t like to get involved with…that side of things. But I have people who know how to make it look like that’s what happened.”

  “So you want to ruin him,” I say, nearly in shock.

  “Precisely,” he nods once and lets out a sharp sigh through his nose.

  “But now he wants me dead,” I suddenly realize what he’s saying. I have a target on my back. A target thanks to playing fake just like Penny’s fake money. It’s all a scam.

  “That’s why I need to keep you in the hotel,” Shawn reroutes the conversation and runs a hand through his short blond hair. “I’ll need everything locked down before you can go…anywhere.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I stand, temper rising as I slide up just in front of him. He stands even taller as if testing me, lifting his chin just a notch.

  “You had to know bringing me would end like this,” I snap, balling my fists. “You knew they’d want me dead. And why wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t want anyone tampering with the account.”

  Shawn looks like he’s going to grab ahold of me and move me away from his face. I dare him to. I dare him to touch me. I’m not afraid of him. I’ll never be afraid because this life has been far too cruel. I’ve dealt with much worse than Shawn Van Doren.

  “I thought they’d be fine with the promise that Penny wouldn’t have access to the accounts. Now we’re here. I would have just let you go, but they’d find you right away, and I didn’t want that. Neither did Alexi and Rhett,” he says.

  “Why not? You already fucked me over once,” I laugh coldly. “Who would care about a homeless girl? I’m the perfect candidate. My family hasn’t heard from me in years. No one even knows I’m alive. No one would miss me.”

  Shawn seems undeterred and peers down at me, as austere as ever.

  “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?” he asks, and his tone sends shockwaves through my belly.

  “I don’t know,” I huff.

  “We don’t want you dead,” he says, and I see his mouth soften slightly. “I don’t want you dead. You’re…unique. When I discovered your past, you became that much more intriguing.”

  “Oh, so I’m a toy that caught your interest?” I snicker and push his chest. He hardly moves. “I’m not going to let you use me again. I don’t care if you think it’s “interesting” that I tried to kill my stepfather. I don’t want…” I shake my head, furious. But I do want. I want him like a vampire wants blood. I’m hot for all of them, not that I’d ever admit it. I’d never let him win.

  “I don’t want to be stuck in a fucking hotel for days on end,” I finish.

  “Weeks,” he corrects.

  “Weeks?” I balk.

  “That’s how long I’m guessing it’ll take for me to close the deal,” he explains, and a breeze wafts through the garden, shoving his delicious cologne into my face. I inhale it fully and shake my head in disbelief.

  “We’ll keep you quite comfortable.”

  The way he smirks, a half-smile that reminds me of a tiger about to consume its meal, puts my body into a frenzy. Half of me thinks I should run for it. I’ve done it once and I can do it again. I traveled across the country, in the winter, no less, to escape my family. I could dye my hair and the Young brothers wouldn’t even know who I was if I passed them on the street. The other half of me is locked into this place with the assurance of being taken care of.

  “Just let me go. I’m good at blending in. I’ve done it for two years at least,” I say, voice cracking.

  “You’ll just go back to the homeless camp. Believe me, the Young brothers would find you no matter what. If they found you and knew the truth, it would cause more problems for me than I want to deal with. Not only this, but it could tear down the good standing I have with all the other guys I’m in contact with. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to risk it. You’re better off with us, anyway.”

  I maneuver myself back against my chair, and plop down. The wine hits my lips as quick as lightning, and I begin guzzling the glass. I don’t need to go slow anymore. I understand perfectly.

  “I’m your prisoner,” I say, once I’ve downed my wine. The warmth trickles through my shoulder muscles instantly.

  “Prisoner sounds so dark,” he says and walks till he’s standing just behind my chair. I struggle to breathe normally.

  “This is dark. This is some twisted ass shit,” I snap at him.

  My skin nearly peels back on my face when I feel his fingers glide along my jawbone. Oh my god, what is he doing? My panties grow uncomfortably warm and my heart flutters in my chest. I hate that I love this. I hate it so much I could slap myself. Shouldn’t I? This is wrong. The man’s just told me that he got me involved in some psycho crime ring and has set me up as his bait. I shouldn’t want him to reach for my throat and pin me down and fuck me. I shouldn’t desire his pulsing cock and his dominating face leaning over me telling me what to do. But the images that flood my mind are utterly delicious. I don’t know where they come from. Maybe they’re his, and he’s hypnotizing me with his big dick energy.

  “Allie,” his voice is velvet. “I want to give you a present.”

  I’m nearly dazed by the small amount of physical attention he’s given me and let out the breath that I’ve been holding. No. I’m not going to fall prey to anyone, no matter how they look. In truth, the pretty ones are always the most dangerous. I’m the only one who will stand up for me. He just doesn’t want me fucking up his plans, this he’s made extremely obvious. He doesn’t really care, and neither do Rhett or Alexi. I’m just some random bitch.

  “I don-”

  “Allie,” he says, and the way he says my name reminds me that he’s in control and he knows it. Or perhaps he’s just so used to being in control that it’s never a question of if I’ll listen, but when.

  He reaches his hand out to help me out of my chair, and I take it for stability. I can’t help my mind from wandering to my family in Illinois. If my stepdad is still alive, does that mean he’s been tormenting my mom and Emily this whole time? Does that mean I went into hiding for no reason? Hatefully I have to admit that I was foolish to go so far away. I could have gone back…I could have done so many things differently. I sigh as he draws me to my feet in one graceful movement, and I follow him inside.

  I think I finally spot Anita, his housekeeper. She’s a plump middle-aged woman with crows feet at her eyes and smile lines around a pert mouth. She wears a crisp white apron while she slaves over the gas stove. From the stove comes the most delectable scents I’ve ever smelled. It’s like scores of butter are melting all over my body, and the succulent braised beef is already heavy on my tongue. In another pan, there are green beans and other vegetables that I don’t even really know the names of.

  Shawn clears his throat and she turns around, and her face lighting when she sees us. “Allie, this is Anita. Anita, this is Allie.”

  “Oh Shawn!” she smacks him on the chest. “You didn’t tell me how cute she was! You, my dear, look like an absolute sweetheart!
I hope Shawn is behaving.”

  I shoot Shawn a dark smirk and then smile at her. Her warmth is tangible. She seems like the type of woman anyone could know and love. I love her already and I don’t even know her. But you know how you get a snapshot of what someone is like in the first few seconds you see them? I can tell that she’s nonjudgmental, motherly, and unconditionally loving. She’s like that friend’s mom who’s just happy to have her kids home so she makes them all the snacks and gets them ice cream at midnight.

  “Yeah, he is,” I say with a small giggle.

  “Well,” she gives me a sly wink. “This dinner is almost finished up. Let me know when you’re ready for it!”

  “Thank you. That’s so nice of you,” I say, hoping I don’t sound too blubbery.

  Shawn smiles and then places a hand on my back and leads me down the first-floor hall. The halls are spacious with clean-cut lines. Gray runners are spaced out over the cream tiles. I hold myself because now the air is chilled, and being alone with Shawn makes my skin prickle. When we finally reach the door he wants, he opens it and allows me first entry.

  I admit I’m shocked when I come through the door. It’s not what I expected. Not from him, at least. But everything here is in disarray. Even though the gray and white theme is consistent, everything here is way less organized, way more used. It actually looks like someone lives here. But what’s most surprising is that the walls are filled with books. Essentially, it’s a library. There’s even a fucking ladder that he can climb to get up to the top of his fifteen-foot ceiling to those hard to reach books. There’s also a gray desk with a computer and a giant window overlooking the gardens and pool outside.

  “What’s this place, your man cave?” I say, trying not to sound impressed.

  In truth, I think this makes him a thousand times more interesting. A man can be hot, but that doesn’t carry much weight if his mind is empty. A hot man with a reading habit…definitely sexy. And that much more mysterious.

  He’s standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed. He observes me as I walk and twirl around, taking in the scene, and I try not to worry about where his eyes are. There’s a nice lounge chair in the corner that looks worn, like a shoe you walk around in every day, it becomes that much more conformed to your shape.

  “My office,” he offers, tone stiff.

  “And…Anita?” I ask, letting my fingers run over the sharp edge of his glossy modern desk. “How long has she worked for you?”

  Shawn draws in a breath and I can almost physically feel his discomfort.

  “She was my nanny when I was a child. She’s known me my whole life,” he says.

  This is surprising to me. I almost want to walk back out there and ask her why he is who he is, what he was like as a child, and if I can trust him. If he wasn’t a good man, would she still work for him?

  “Does she know everything that you do?”

  “Not all of it,” he stands tall and drops his arms so that they rest in his pants pockets. With his chin tilted back a bit, I can see the tense edges of his jaw, the short stubble dappling his tan skin, and the curiousness of his light eyes.

  “And you don’t want her to know?” I press.

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t have wanted you to know either. But considering what’s happened…” he shrugs. “People don’t always have to know what you’re doing behind closed doors.”

  I nod slowly as I process what he’s saying and lean my arms back on his desk.

  “Isn’t that a little like…I don’t know, lying?”

  “Everyone has their secrets,” he says, and then starts walking towards me. I lift my chin indignantly, hating how just the budging of his dress shoes on the carpet makes my stomach flip. His gaze is so direct that I can hardly find the words that I was going to slap back at him.

  “If Anita knew some of the things I’ve done, she’d worry herself out of her skin. She wouldn’t leave either, she’d stay and give herself a heart attack fussing over me.”

  “Aren’t you worried about her then?” I blurt, genuinely curious. “You obviously care about her a lot. What if something, someday, goes south, and an angry mafia member comes to your house while she’s here alone?”

  Shawn clenches his jaw and stops his predatory walk.

  “I’ve taken precautions,” he nearly growls.

  “Yeah? What kind?” I ask, and in his silence, I turn and let my eyes dance over the books. There are so many, but what’s surprising is that they’re all organized by genre. Some are self-help, others philosophical, and another scientific. I’m stunned and loosen my grip on the desk because I want to go and explore them. There’s no way he’s not a fucking genius if he’s read all of these. But, I guess in a sense, he is. He’s the owner of a billion-dollar hotel chain and cons more millions at night.

  “None of your business, Allie,” he says, and the edge to his voice causes me to swallow.

  “Do you want to know why I brought you here?” he adds as if to cover up his outburst.

  “Um, yes. I do.”

  Shawn goes around to the back of the desk and digs in some drawers. When he finds it, he draws it out. It’s just a manila envelope, but for some reason, my heart lurches in my chest as he comes back around and stands right in front of me.

  “Go ahead,” he lifts it so that the envelope is right in front of my rosy-pink sheerly dressed boobs. “Open it.”

  For some reason, my hands shake when I go to grab it. I try to grasp it firmly, hoping that I can slow my heart rate just by focusing. But as I open it, adrenaline shoots through every cell in my body.

  Mom? Emily?

  There’s a stack of photos here and the first one is of them getting into their crappy 1998 Mazda 626. But…they’re alive. Mom looks just as sick, just as haggard. Dark circles live under her eyes; bruises that never heal. A beanie covers her thin hair. Emily is driving. God. I left when Emily was fifteen. Now she’s driving. She looks so much older. She’s got the same face shape and mouth as me, but her eyes are different, and she has longer, blonder hair. If she were a little older people might think we were twins. What’s unsettling is that they both look gray. Like the life has been drained out of them and with every day that passes a little more of their life force is sucked out and the grim reaper is just a corner away.

  My tears are locked in my throat. I file to the next picture, my fingers gripping the thick edges of the waxy photo. Mom and Emily in their house, in the same ragged old trailer. I was raised in that trailer in mouse shit and mold. Some of my earliest memories are of that place, playing with Emily, laughing with her, hiding with her, crying with her. As I trace mom’s face with a finger, I feel the tears start to leak. I’m trying not to break, but seeing them is like lighting a match on my skin when my entire body is gasoline.

  “They’re safe,” Shawn says, and I wipe the tears from my eyes angrily.

  “Why did you give me these?” I file through more of them, my hand holding my mouth as I struggle against the waves of emotion. They look so lost. So sad. So defeated. It’s so unfair the life that they’ve been doomed to live.

  “I wanted you to know that they’re safe.”

  I stagger to a crouch and then arrange myself on the floor. I hang my head over the photos, spreading them out so that I can see them all. I touch them fondly, wishing that they were here and that I could hug them. There are so many memories. So many horrible things and so many “light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel” moments that we shared.

  “I abandoned them,” I wheeze the words out, utterly hating myself.

  “You did what you had to do to survive. The police would have put you in jail. They still would if they found you,” Shawn crouches down in front of me, his dress pants bunching up over his muscular thighs.

  “I could have-- I could have stayed closer. I could have checked in on them,” I admit to him as the tears stream in violent rivers down my cheeks.

  “Why didn’t you?” he asks me calmly.

  This is the quest
ion that’s been haunting me ever since he told me that my stepdad was still alive. It’s the question I’ve always asked myself in the confines of my mind. The question that I never have an answer to. But now, I think I do.

  “I didn’t want that life…” I exhale hard and then cover my face. The embarrassment racks my body, along with a thousand tons of guilt and mortifying realization. I didn’t want to live in that trailer forever. I didn’t want to be that poor girl suffering from abuse. The further I got from Illinois, the freer I felt from the burden of who I was and every depressing thing that went along with it. On the streets, I was numb. At least I wasn’t being screamed at or beaten.

  “Allie.”

  Suddenly Shawn’s arms are around me, his massive muscles forming a circle around my shoulders. His cologne drugs my senses, and the closeness and his warmth are instantly soothing. My head rests on his chest and the tears slowly, ever so slowly, begin to taper to a halt. I blink away the last of them, and then latch my arms around him too, hooking my fingers into his flesh.

  We stay connected like this for a few long minutes, breathing quietly, and then he releases me.

  “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. I think going back would have been a bad idea. Investigators don’t give up easily on assault charges. They’ll still be looking for you,” he says and his large hands cup my face.

  “You think?” I nearly choke out. With his hands on my face like this and the sweetheart, he nearly looks loving. The way he’s holding me gives me butterflies. However, butterflies and grief don’t mix well, and I feel nausea rising like a tide in my stomach.

  He nods once firmly and then lets me go, staring down at his feet. I notice he’s clenching one hand tightly, and for a second I feel like he actually wanted to kiss me. Could that even be true? He did seem drunk on our closeness, and I know I would have given in then and there. In my insecure state, I feel like I’d let him do anything to me. I brush the remaining tears away and reassemble myself, hoping he can’t feel what I’m thinking.