Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8)

by Allison White

  Sure, I make fists and scare guys off when they look at her for a beat too long. I also drag her into a long, passionate kiss whenever she even innocently glances at the people around her. But it’s because I want to mark her, make everyone surrounding us know that she is mine and mine alone. Not because I have this scorching need to see blood and take it to the next level.

  I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don’t notice I’m pouring way too much milk in the bowl until I feel the cold substance on my toes. I quickly right the nearly empty gallon of milk and curse my muddled mind. I wipe up the mess and pour out some of the milk before setting the bowls and glasses on the kitchen island. I briefly look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the condo. Rain is falling relentlessly.

  “Rach?” I call out and move to wake her up, but I stop when I see her padding out of the hallway, rubbing her big eyes. She’s dressed in one of my dress shirts and basketball shorts. I couldn’t leave her in that itchy-looking dress. “Hey, sunshine. Sleep well?”

  She grumbles; not a morning person, this one.

  I smile softly and nudge her bowl to her. “Your favorite…I think.” It’s Froot Loops.

  She smiles strangely, and I’m sure she doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t comment, just picks up the spoon in the bowl and takes a bite full. I look away guiltily and begin to put back the cereal box and milk.

  “Here.” I reach for the Advil bottle and begin to shake two pills out. “You have to take these. I would have left them next to your bed, but you need to eat first.” I hand them to her, and she hesitantly takes them and washes them down with her cup of orange juice.

  I watch her eat for a long while, trying to decipher what’s going on in her head. She has never been this quiet around me before. Does she hate me? I know I didn’t physically hurt her—I never would, nor would I hurt another woman—but it was my girlfriend that did.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble and reach for my own bowl. I spoon a large amount of Cocoa Puffs—Red’s favorite. I grip the spoon and barely stifle a groan upon the mention of her name, even if it was my own doing. I miss her, and I’m more worried than I am angry. Okay, I am raging, but I’m still concerned about her. It isn’t exactly safe for her to be out and about.

  Thinking about that break in at her old apartment causes a wave of nausea to crash inside of my chest. I have to put down the cereal and gulp down my orange juice. I pull out my phone and text her.

  Noah: Are you okay? We need to talk. Just tell me you’re fine. Please. Come back home.

  “Noah?” Rachel says, and I look at her, slipping my phone in my pocket.

  “Yeah?” I frown at her. She’s biting her lip and toying with a curly mess of her hair. Why does she look so guilty? “What is it?”

  “I may have left out a detail after you found me on the grass,” she says, and I instantly feel guilty before she even continues.

  “What did you do, Rachel?” I croak and grip the edge of the counter to stay stable. I screamed at Red, demanded she leave me alone. And she looked so hurt, and now Rachel is telling me what she did was possibly…justified?

  She hangs her head down, too guilty to look me in the eyes. “I—just ask her who Eddie Manson is,” she says.

  “Who is that?” I ask her. She obviously knows, and whoever he is, he must have hurt Red or done something horrendous enough to cause Red to just slap Rachel the way she did. And the anger and how frantic she looked…“Who is he?” I snap when she takes too long to say anything. I hate that even she is prolonging secrets. I am so sick of it all. I want the truth, not damn heartbreak.

  “He…he’s someone from Red’s past,” she utters, and I’m confused.

  “How do you know about him then?”

  She finally looks up at me. “Remember that file I gave you?”

  “Oh, Jesus.” I pinch my nose bridge. That freaking file caused damage. But of course Rachel rifled through it before giving it to me. Tears bundle in my eyes before I know it. I’m just so confused and frustrated, and I need some freaking clarity. I didn’t know loving Red could be this damn hard.

  A blaring ringtone I immediately recognize as mine rips through the air, and I practically growl as I dig in my pocket and whip out my phone. “Hello?” my voice rasps, thick with tears.

  “This is a collect call from Baltimore Central Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice answers.

  I stiffen, ready to hit decline, but a tugging in my chest answers for me. “Yes.” There’s a crackle, a pause, then her voice.

  “Hello…Noah?”

  “Red?”

  What the hell is she doing in jail?

  My head pounds.

  “What’s wrong?” I’m on my feet running toward the front door before she can even answer. I yell at Rachel to sit tight before grabbing my sneakers and slamming the door behind me. Good thing I’m dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans.

  “I messed up, bad,” she croaks, and there’s a slamming metal sound behind her. But she doesn’t sound afraid, even though she’s in jail for some reason. If anything, she sounds tearful, sad. And I want to believe it’s because she regrets what she did last night and wants to explain everything to me, but that part of me is too exhausted to be hopeful.

  “I’ll be there soon,” I tell her in a monotone voice. I end the call despite wanting to talk to her longer, find out why she’s in jail in just a few short hours. I guess that’s Red for you—totally and utterly unpredictable, and just so goddamn dangerous I should stay away, I think bitterly as I’m driving. Yet here I am, speeding my way over to bail her out.

  The rain has picked up and covers me from head to toe on my way into the massive brick building. The air is musty, and the light is flickering, most likely from the storm. I want to get in and out with her as fast as possible. The line for bail is short, and after I post hers, I sit in one of the plastic chairs.

  I successfully fought off the nerves and questions rumbling in my head, but they all flood out of my mouth when she’s escorted out by a police officer.

  “What could you have possibly done to be arrested, Red? You drive me freaking nuts already, and you do whatever it is you do, and—why is your lip busted?” I stop ranting when I notice her appearance. She sucks her lip into her mouth and shrugs, looking away from my worried gaze.

  “Drop the BS. I’m too exhausted,” I huff and grab her chin. I tilt her head back and pull her lower lip out. Just like I thought, it’s busted and has a scab over it. And there’s a slash above her right eyebrow with a scab covering it too. “Who did this to you?” My voice is low.

  “Some asshole, but I attacked him first,” she says. “He was being a racist, homophobic ass, and he called Maj a nasty name, and I couldn’t help it. Okay? I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stand by and let it happen. I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry,” I tell her calmly, fisting my hands at my side. But I can’t stop thinking about a man hitting her. Putting his hands on her. Disrespecting Maj. Admittedly, I would have done the exact same thing. I can’t even believe this world anymore. Why is it so offensive to anyone what someone’s religion or who their lover is? It’s none of anyone’s goddamn business!

  “Well, I am, because I dragged you all the way out here,” she breathes, and I nod, avoiding her eyes. She’s searching for something she doesn’t deserve to find or even seek.

  “Where’s Maj?” I ask.

  “She got scared and went to the frat house.”

  “What?” Maj would never just leave Red like that. She’s the most loyal person I know.

  “She—she said she was afraid of getting deported,” she painfully grits through her teeth.

  “Oh…I fucking hate this world.” She shouldn’t worry about being shipped off to a country she never grew up in; she wasn’t born here, but she’d lived in Washington since she was a baby.

  She nods, frowning. “Probably bawling her eyes out. She gets sensitive when a piece of shit dirtbag calls her a towel-
head. I wish I could just…” She grits her teeth and closes her eyes to calm herself down.

  Towel-head? Holy fuck, I don’t think I can calm down. I need to punch something, and the desire scares me. I’m never this violent, but tell that to my bleeding fist. I want to find that asshole and throw his ass in jail. Red shouldn’t be here just because she was standing up for her friend.

  I barely take two steps out of the building when she grabs my hand, pulling me to the side. “What?” I look down at her. The relentless rain has picked up and coats her hair and face in water.

  “I’m sorry for…for slapping your friend last night,” she shouts over the thunder. I search her eyes for sincerity and find it there, deep down, but it is there. I sigh in relief. At least she’s sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that she did it…and all because of some guy I’ve never heard of.

  “Who’s Eddie Manson?” I ask. I’m afraid she didn’t hear me over the harsh rain, but her body stiffens, and her eyes widen like I’m a ghost. Obviously, this man has some significance. I’ve never seen her look this petrified before.

  She turns away from me, and I pull at her shoulder, thinking she’s trying to avoid answering, but then I notice her phone at her ear. Her phone rang. The sky is cracking out thunder and heavier rain pellets; I hope I can get us home safely.

  When she faces me, she’s no longer shocked but pissed off.

  “What is it?” I ask curiously.

  “My sister…I have to go Washington,” she says, and I lose my breath.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Red

  He doesn’t hesitate to book two airplane tickets for Washington. But he does hesitate to look me in the eyes again after he confirmed with the airline. He’s upset with me; I can feel it with every burning gaze he throws at me as we pack for a day. That’s all Harley will get. She is such a fucking rebel, but she does it too much and hurts my brain sometimes just worrying about her, which I do quite frequently. But who am I to say that? I just got bailed out of jail.

  I never wanted Noah to do something like that. I never meant for him to see how violent I can get. I used to land in jail for random things, like picking fights at parties, drinking in public, possession of drugs—all of the petty shit. I was a cruel and sick individual, but that was before I knew him. Before I knew how purely good a person can be. I never thought I could be good, not after all the shit I’d been through.

  But then I met him, and. Every. Thing. Changed.

  He showed me that there is light in everyone. That no one is too dark for it to be found. You just have to be willing to venture out into the cold darkness, even if it’s for a snippet of a gleam.

  But Noah is more than a gleam—he is the entire galaxy of brilliant stars.

  And now I’ve hurt him again. As freaking usual. I don’t ever have the intention of hurting him…yet I do.

  “I’ll get a cab,” he says and disappears into the small crowd outside of the airport. I barely had any time to respond. He walks quickly, adjusting his backpack. My heart lurches at the plain tone in his voice. He really hates me, and I don’t blame him.

  The plane ride here lasted about six hours, and the sun is taking its lazy time watering down in the sky. I had plenty of time to be disappointed—but not that much since she is my sister—that I had to come all the way from Maryland to Washington because she can’t keep out of trouble. I know I literally just got bailed out of jail, but I didn’t think I’d be doing the same for my sister!

  Yes, you heard that right. My lovely, darling sister ended up in jail for drunk driving. Thankfully no one got hurt; she got a little banged up, but luckily nothing too serious. I don’t even know how since she doesn’t own a car. She’s not even old enough to watch a fucking R-rated movie, yet she’s drunk and riding around in one of her fake-ass, rich friends’ Mercedes.

  They of course got off waving around their daddy’s black card, while my sister had handcuffs slapped on her wrist and thrown into a police car. This is the most significant crime on her record, but one of many.

  I have tried many, many, many freaking times to calm her down. I’ve tried calling her and just talking to her, about how school is and what boy she has a crush on—fail. I’ve tried giving her space and letting her do her thing, no reprimanding—huge fucking fail. And I even spent four fucking months with Grandpa and her when she came home on the weekends—the biggest fail ever.

  There is no saving that girl. I’ve realized this over the years. She hasn’t listened to my lectures, my concerns—I’ve tried everything, but she is so damn adamant on being a bad-ass. In reality, she’s a goddamn pain in my ass! That’s what the hell she is.

  “You all right?” Noah asks and touches my hand when I slide into the cab next to him. My skin jumps, and I stare into his eyes, smiling appreciatively. He could hate my guts for a billion years and still ask if I’m okay. He is so kind, so compassionate, so…not me.

  “No, I’m not,” I huff and turn to the cab driver. “Jefferson County Jail, please.” He nods in return and turns up his music—disco. Ugh.

  “Jail?” Noah gasps and smiles cheekily. “What shall I do to land in the slammer next?”

  “Stay cute. It’s pretty illegal here,” I play along.

  “How did you escape then?” he asks, and I frown.

  “Escape?”

  He grins. “Prison for being ultra-out-of-this-world adorable,” he says, and my heart feels too liquid to function.

  “You deserve to be in solitary for a lifetime just for saying that.” I point an accusatory finger at him, and he smiles a dimpled smile and looks out the window. I don’t stop smiling as I stare at him.

  I feel a lot better that he’s joking around with me. He’s still pissed, but at least he’s warming up to me. I stare at him from the other side of the cab and wish I’d feel his warmth next to me. I also wish he would be temporarily blinded by his adoration for me and scoot over, let me intertwine our fingers together.

  But he doesn’t.

  And I don’t blame him.

  The jail is just as cold and depressing and harsh as I remember. I oddly feel nostalgic as I post bail for my little sister. A memory of being hauled in here, bloody and laughing maniacally, coldly, after I’d just gotten into a fight with two guys from the nearby dive bar, crosses my mind as I sit in one of the hard, colorful plastic chairs.

  It creaks under my weight, and another memory flashes by: it’s me sitting in this very chair, waiting for Maj to be released from police custody. She’d been taken into custody for investigation of her visa. Wanna know the fucked-up part? We were just fifteen and leaving a mall; I’d bought her a shit ton of jewelry and shoes and ice cream, and some fat-ass greasy cop took her in because she looked…suspicious.

  “Prick,” I mutter under my breath at the shitty memory. I wonder if that fat prick still works here. I tried reporting him for discrimination and a hate crime, but nothing ever happened as a result. She was so sad and terrified to step outside of her home; Ty and I had to bring her the classwork she would miss for the two weeks she stayed in bed, crying her eyes out at the unfairness of it all, of the world.

  “What?” I’m sucked out of my mind when I feel his hand on mine—Noah. He looks confused but overall concerned. His thumb wanders, and I smile and give him an assuring shake of my head.

  “I’m fine. Just thinking to myself,” I tell him passively. Even I don’t believe me, but he’s too much of a kind person to push any further.

  Moments later, Harley comes stomping out of the cell-block area with a tall guard yanking on her arm extra hard. She must have smart-mouthed him, because she doesn’t even look the least bit resentful. There’s my sister for you—low-key fucking psychopath. But she’s also a spitting image of me, appearance and personality-wise, so I guess that makes me one too.

  I get up in her face when she’s close enough. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  A wicked smile slithers onto her face. “Well, it’s nice seeing you
too, sis.” She pats my shoulder casually before brushing past me and leaving the police station. I stand frozen for a few moments before the rage and frustration take over.

  “Come on.” I grab Noah’s hand, ignoring his innocent confusion, and drag him out of the station. I instantly find Harley walking through the parking lot. I storm past two cops, and they nearly shit their pants with how fast and angry I am walking. Dropping Noah’s hand, I round Harley and get in her face again.

  “Do they not teach you personal boundaries in your fancy college?” she coughs out through a massive puff of gray smoke…smoke. She is smoking a fucking cigarette! This girl makes me want to rip out her curvy blonde hair.

  “Smoking? Really?” I gesture to the stick between her leather-gloved hands.

  She shrugs and blows a thin stream in my face. “You do it all the time. What’s the big deal?” The. Fucking. Nerve.

  I grab the end of the stick and toss it to the ground. “I do it because I’m old enough to buy them.” I stomp on the long stick with my feet, never darting my eyes from hers. “And the deal is you should be gossiping about who likes the head of the basketball team in your dorm room with your prissy little rich fuck roommates, not smoking outside of a goddamn police station after I bail you out.”

  She narrows her eyes and grits her teeth. “I guess I never took after you that way, huh? Or did you gossip and watch chick flicks after Grandma bailed you out for fighting and smoking pot and—”

  “Shut up, you spoiled brat!” I shout. “I give you money every few weeks. You live in a goddamn pretty pink dorm room and go for joyrides in your friends’ Lambos. You have nothing to complain about or a reason to rebel, yet you do just to be a fucking pain my ass.”

  “I don’t do anything to annoy you. You aren’t worth that much trouble,” she spits offensively.