Losing Streak (The Lane)

by Kristine Wyllys

  Suddenly he moved, so fast, so unexpected, that he was little more than a blur of motion, and I was against the door, its steel cool against my back. Rice’s breath, in comparison, felt burning hot against my cheek. One of his hands held both of my wrists pinned behind me, his tight grip biting into their tender flesh. Something like a snarl escaped from my lips, and his responding laugh was cold and humorless.

  “I could tell him, you know. Right now. Call up King and tell him everything. What would he do, you think? Probably something fucked up, right?” He laughed again, harder this time. There was just a hint of a hysterical edge to it.

  I jerked hard when I felt the skin of his free palm slide against the patch of skin just below my belly button. His humid, heavy breath came faster, fanning against my face in sick, excited puffs. I jerked again, but he held fast, pressing his lower half against mine to hold me in place as he slid his hand farther, my shirt riding up with it.

  “I could be persuaded, though,” he whispered against my cheek, nuzzling, before he grabbed a handful of my breast, pulling a noise between a yelp and a growl from my throat. I thrashed against him as my stomach lurched painfully. “Yeah.” I felt, rather than saw, his grin as he pressed into me further to still my movements, making me acutely aware of the hard bulge too close to the last place it was welcome. “You could definitely talk me into keeping some things quiet.”

  My eyes closed of their own accord and I went almost slack in his grasp. Everything around me blurred and muted, and a buzzing white noise filled my ears. From somewhere far away, and red hot with the waves of my anger, I became aware that he must have thought I was giving in, buying his silence, because my hands were suddenly free and his previously occupied one pushed frantically at my shirt. The back of my bra cut into my back as he yanked at it from the front all while grinding into me with an increased fervor.

  The fool.

  In one swift motion, I snapped back and had him by his throat and his nuts as I slammed my foot down onto his instep. Then I twisted that sac that only moments before had been against me.

  “I could have you killed for this,” I growled, laughing manically when he yelped as the pressure on his nuts increased. “Do you understand that? I could have your throat slit from ear to ear with one phone call. That’s all it would take. One phone call and you’d cease to exist.”

  “You think I’m scared of him?” he managed to choke out, voice both unsteady and unnaturally high. “I’ve faced off against Turner. I’m not scared of that punk bitch Williams.”

  I laughed again. I couldn’t help it. My grip on his family jewels tightened. I thought I saw tears spring to his eyes.

  “You survived Luke Turner. Barely. Wound up in ICU for your troubles too, didn’t you? Don’t throw that at me like it’s an accomplishment when I know better. That was nothing more than luck and a competent medical team. You had nothing to do with it.” Using my grip on him, as if he were a puppet, I were the puppet master, and his nuts were the string I used to control him, I jerked him around and slammed him into the door, the thud some of the sweetest music I’d ever heard. “I’m not talking about Brandon, motherfucker. Though you’re a fool for not being scared of him. He’s a good guy who’s been dealt a bad hand. Always fear that man, Rice. You can’t predict what they’ll do out of desperation.”

  “Fuck Williams. Fuck him and fuck you and your fucking bad hand.”

  I wasn’t squeezing hard enough if he was still able to talk. I rectified that, smiling when he let out an unearthly wail.

  “Fool.” I grinned wider, my face feeling like it would split with it, and wondered if it looked as crazy and out of control as I felt. “I was talking about Joshua, for the record. You think he wouldn’t believe me over you? You think he wouldn’t order your death as soon as I hung up the phone after telling him what you just tried with me?” Rice’s eyes widened slightly and I nodded. “Of course you know it. And you know there would be nothing you could say that would prevent it. He’d never believe you. Not over me. Never over me. Hell, he might even make you kill yourself. And you’d do it too, wouldn’t you? Because you’re that much of a fucking loyal idiot.”

  I leaned closer, our noses almost touching.

  “But I’ll tell you a secret. I’m the one you really need to be afraid of. Because I promise you, motherfucker, if you so much as think about fucking us over? I will end you. And I won’t need anyone else to do the job for me.”

  With a final squeeze, I released him, shoving him forcefully to the side as he wheezed and clutched himself. I fished my keys out of my purse to open the back door. Before stepping in, I turned and gave him one final look.

  “Oh, yeah. If I find out you’ve ever, ever pulled that shit with someone else? I’ll make damned sure you don’t have hands to ever do it again. Got it?”

  The last thing I saw was his frantic nod before the door swung shut between us.

  Chapter Twenty

  I knew I’d effectively gotten my point across to Rice when there was no word the next morning from Joshua about anything. Not that he didn’t have words for me. He had plenty of those that he was all too willing to share.

  “I don’t understand the holdup, Rosemary.” He stood from behind his study desk and paced the length of his office. “You promised MacBain was under control. And yet it’s been another week and nothing. You’ve talked to him, correct?”

  I nodded. “Numerous times.”

  “Told him the stakes?”

  “Without going into exact details, yes.”

  “And Chief Daniels?”

  “Stopped in and alluded to the charges that could appear if he didn’t comply.”

  “Have you blacklisted him?”

  “For a fair few days now.”

  “Then what is the issue? What aren’t you doing?” He stopped pacing long enough to point a finger accusingly at me. “I need this deal handled. I need this done. You’re not fulfilling your end!”

  There was no warning. One minute I was sitting there, calmly answering his questions and the next, I felt something in me snap violently and splinter into pieces.

  “I’m doing everything I can! I can’t help it if Charlie MacBain is a stubborn son of a bitch. I’ve tried. I’m still trying. Stop acting like I’m not just as invested in this as you. I’m probably more invested than you! You own the entire fucking Lane save for Molly’s. I have nothing. So, yeah. I’m trying, okay? I’m trying and I’d really fucking appreciate it if you didn’t act like I’m not.”

  I think my outburst surprised both of us, maybe him more so than me, judging by the way his eyes widened and his nostrils flared as he gaped at me.

  I almost believed, for a second, that I was going to get away with it too.

  He moved, a blur of motion that I could barely track, and before I realized what was happening, he was in front of me, leaning into my space, face close to mine and his expression dangerous.

  “Do not get sassy with me,” he snarled, his cheeks an instant and alarming shade of red. “I have allowed you to get away with much, but if you can’t behave yourself with the freedoms you’ve been given, they can easily be taken away.”

  “The freedoms I’ve been given?” I scoffed, despite my precarious position and how far I was leaning back in my seat away from him. “Yes. Let’s talk about the things I’ve been given. You said it yourself, I’ve had to work my ass off for everything. They weren’t gifts. Don’t act like they were gifts. And don’t act like every single one of them hasn’t come with strings and threats attached.”

  His pale eyes crinkled to slits as he started to pull away and I raised my chin, defiance working its way into my shoulders, squaring them.

  Damn straight, you’re going to back off, I thought viciously at him. You know I’m right.

  He drew back, his arm an angry, baffling slash that flew to
ward me. Before I could turn away from it or shield myself in any way, his palm collided sharply with my cheek.

  “You will not talk back to me, you ungrateful little bitch,” he said in a low, menacing voice. The skin of my cheek seemed to throb in time to it. “I have given you everything. I have allowed you to do whatever your gold-digging little heart desires, and this is how you repay me? You were given a job, a simple job, and you have failed me. Have you even tried? Were you laughing at me? You were. You were laughing at me while you went and fucked off, completely disregarding your responsibilities. I won’t stand for it, Rosemary. I will not stand for it.”

  He stepped back just as suddenly, straightening his clothes. I raised a hand to my face, cradling heated and tender skin against my palm.

  “I regret that,” was all he said. Not sorry. Not even, “I shouldn’t have done that.” No. “I regret that,” as if he was discussing eating too late or missing his favorite show.

  I gaped at him. I couldn’t help it. In all the time since I’d come to work for him, not once had anything like that been directed at me. I knew he was ruthless, of course. I knew what he was capable of—or rather, what he was capable of ordering others to do—but never had that cruel streak ever turned on me personally. Threats against mine, sure. But not me. Not like this.

  I almost felt betrayed, which was stupid. I’d known the dog was rabid, was forever seeing the proof of that, and yet I was shocked it had turned on me. As though I truly believed I’d never get bit.

  “Clearly we’re in need of a renegotiation,” he murmured as he moved around to sit behind his desk. He didn’t even have the decency to look at me. Instead, he fixed his eyes on his hands folded in front of him. “Of course, considering the circumstances, it will not be nearly as generous. Unfortunate, of course, but unavoidable. But you have been mostly an asset to me over time and I am not so unfair that I won’t take that into consideration.”

  I knew the expression on my face was a dumb one, but I couldn’t erase it. Instead, I sat there staring at him, mouth hanging open, eyes squinted as if it would help me see things more clearly. He continued to ignore it and me, staring hard at his porcelain-colored fingers as they strummed against the dark wood of his desk, lost in thought. Finally, he stopped, a grin slowly overtaking his features.

  “Five grand.”

  I blinked once, my hand falling away from my cheek to land in my lap.

  “Excuse me?” My voice was grainy, foreign even to my own ears.

  “Five grand. Not as much as my original offer of thirty-five but still fair. More than fair, actually. Nearly charitable. You may keep your car and I’ll allow your mother to stay in her house at a reasonable price as my tenant. You will still be free to walk if you so choose.”

  “The catch?”

  “You and your preoccupation with catches. No catches. No strings. I will send in someone to give Charles MacBain a message. If you can manage to go in immediately following and close the deal once and for all, you will walk with what we’ve just agreed on.”

  I nodded slowly, thinking, my discomfort momentarily forgotten as I considered how far five grand would get us. Not very. Nothing like the thirty-five would have. But with the car and the house, I could probably make it work long enough to get another job and float us. Of course, I’d have to move back in with Mama for the meantime, but considering the circumstances of her health, that probably would have been unavoidable anyway.

  “Fine. Who will you send?”

  “Oh, I have someone in mind,” he replied vaguely, waving the question off. “Of course, I’ll need you to schedule Carmen for Chief Daniels again. You know, as an incentive for him to look the other way. A thank-you in advance.”

  I suddenly realized what he was implying.

  “Wait. What kind of message? You’re not going to send in, I don’t know, Jared to talk to him?”

  He shot me a droll look.

  “I think the time for talking has passed, don’t you? After all, you admitted to trying that route already. Must I really spell it out?”

  No. No, he didn’t. Not when he put it that way.

  “It’s all up to you, obviously,” he continued. “If you don’t agree with the, let’s say, terms and conditions, then this all means nothing. Just talk. A brainstorming session.”

  “And if I don’t? Agree, I mean.”

  He shrugged but it was too calculated. Too casual.

  “All bets are off the table.”

  My heart sank. Of course it’d come down to this.

  I’d done a lot that I wasn’t entirely proud of. I’d stood by and let things happen, allowed things to play out when I probably could have stepped in to stop them. It’d been easy to turn a blind eye to it, though. Because it was them or mine, and mine always came first. But I’d never, not once, outright condoned the harm of an innocent person. It was my one redeeming quality on a résumé full of awful skills and accomplishments.

  But it was Mama. It was Mama and probably Jackson, or MacBain. I could risk myself, if I had to. If it had been me that harm would come to, I could say no and let the cards fall where they may. But not with them. Never with them.

  “Charlie MacBain’s a big man,” I said, meeting Joshua’s eyes straight on. “You’ll need someone big to get the job done.”

  He chuckled and it was dark, so dark, and genuinely amused.

  “Oh, Rosemary. Sometimes I don’t know if you play dumb to make yourself feel better or if you’re genuinely that naive. No. I won’t need someone to match Charles MacBain’s size and power. I’m thinking a smaller scale, if you catch my meaning.”

  Fuck. Fuck, of course I did. And I’d known it, hadn’t I? He was right. I’d been playing dumb. Purposefully dumb. He wouldn’t go after MacBain. That wasn’t his M.O. at all. No. He’d put the target on a smaller back. One sure to hurt MacBain more than his own bones being broken would.

  A line in the sand had been drawn in front of me and crossing it held consequences I wasn’t entirely sure of. Hell, maybe. I wasn’t sure I even believed in hell, though Mama did and was scared of it. Life seemed a little too hell-like for me to believe that another, worse one was waiting beyond. But if it existed, surely agreeing to something like this would buy my ticket straight there. Was I willing to risk that?

  My throat was raw and thick with regret. I wasn’t even sure what that regret was for. Maybe my body was reacting to what it knew my mind would decide.

  I looked Joshua King in the eye, who might have been the devil himself, and I bought and paid for those tickets with my nod.

  “Make the call.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joshua hadn’t stuck around for much longer after that, citing some kind of meeting he had to get to. Not a meeting I had known about. Not one that I had seen scheduled anywhere. But I nodded once and once more when he reminded me to call Carmen and promised to be in touch soon. Then he was gone and I was alone.

  I didn’t call Carmen, though. Not right away. Instead, I spent the next few hours pacing the length of the penthouse, pausing occasionally to stare out a window and rub at my aching cheek. At one point I caught sight of my reflection and I startled, taken aback to see such a vibrant red standing out against my pale skin.

  Bastard.

  Guilt tried reaching for me whenever I did stop moving. Its long, hard arms tried to wrap themselves around my chest and squeeze, but I batted them away and took to pacing again. What was done was done, and while it was a horrible, unforgivable evil, it’d been a necessary one. Mrs. MacBain had been right all along. I was a wolf. And like a wolf, I didn’t allow myself to mourn the prey.

  I’d completed yet another pass when my phone suddenly rang out, cutting through the silence, causing my heart rate to spike. I hurried over to the end table and snatched it up, something close to a relieved sob escaping when I
saw “Unavailable” on the screen. Brandon, then. Probably.

  “Hello?”

  “Motherfucking cocksucking son of a bitch!”

  I almost giggled because I was obviously broken, but I managed to catch it before it bubbled out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What the hell isn’t wrong? Goddamn it!” He swore loudly and I heard a crack that sounded suspiciously like something being punched. “Guess who the fuck I just got off the phone with? Don’t bother guessing. It was King.”

  “What?” I shook my head as if he could see, my heart plummeting somewhere around my knees, judging by the sensation. “No.”

  “Yes. Wants me to go see Mrs. MacBain. ‘Be persuasive,’ this fucker says. ‘Forty-eight hours.’ And then he just hangs the fuck up.”

  “But—but he never said—”

  “What? That he was going to do this shit? Guess he figured you needed the help and because he’s a mean bastard he picks me to do the dirty work.”

  Without thinking, I replied, “No. No. He never said you.”

  I was met with silence.

  “So you knew then? That he was planning something like this?” He didn’t sound judgmental and yet I knew. I knew he was thinking something and that something wasn’t pleasant.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah.”

  “Well, fuck.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he threaten you with?” And just like that, something inside my chest eased. Because even though he might not have approved, he understood. There was something in that, at least.

  “The usual.”

  He was quiet for a minute, quiet enough that I’d wondered if he hung up, but then he sighed and it sounded a lot like, “Fuck.”