by L. J. Woods
I’ve been avoiding her gaze from across the room, my back against a pool table leg, hers against a column. It’s like we’re in the middle of a horror movie, her wide brown eyes filled with fear and worry. While she’s the innocent Rowland, Willow has a stare almost as deadly as her sister’s.
Medusa. My Medusa.
“I’ll get you out of here,” I promise with a wince.
Looking up makes my head and neck hurt. The pain shooting through my ribs and abs tells me I already have bruises that’ll take more than a spa day to clear. There’s still a throb in my head from where that fucker knocked me out but I’m not leaving Willow to this greedy banshee. Jo will never forgive me. Dead or alive.
“How?” she asks, snorting back the snot dripping out her nose onto her hoodie.
Taking a look around the room again, I’m still looking for an answer. “Trust me.”
I’ve been saying that a lot but I’m not sure if she should. I don’t know what we’re up against. The only way out of this basement is a small window above the bar. Or the staircase leading upstairs where Aunt Crazy is.
As fucked up as it is, sitting here cuffed only reminds me of how I love having Jo all to my own.
Her body, those breaths, gasps and moans.
Willow’s smartwatch sits smashed on the floor, the last way I was able to hear her voice. I’ve been replaying her voice in my head, the only thing keeping me sane. I hate the way she sounded. Scared. Terrified. Like she was pleading for me not to go. But it’s kinda hard to talk when you’re about to get battered.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Someone’s coming down the stairs, my body tensing, jaw tightening with it. The round bald man that’s been roughing me up appears in the entrance.
“Did I hear talking?” He enters the room in a black sweater, dirty jeans. Turning to Willow, a creepy smile forms on his thin, sweaty lip. “Was that you, honey?”
“Hey!” I call as he approaches Willow, heavy boots thudding against the dark wood. “Stay away from her! Don’t you fucking—”
SLAP!
The back of his hand flies across her face, round cheeks erupting in red when her head whips to the right.
“You get off on slapping little girls, you sick fuck?” I yell, pushing off the floor like I’ll magically get out of these cuffs.
Those dark eyes whip right to me as he strokes at his thick, red beard, giving me a smirk almost as deadly as mine. When he lifts his fist, approaching me, I know what he’s about to do. My foot flies to his chest to push him back. He stumbles and I chuckle, loud enough for him to hear it.
“Pathetic,” I spit.
“You little shit!” he yells, steadying his stance before he’s hauling me up from the collar of my bloodied white shirt. The metal of the cuffs pulls against my skin, digging into my wrists but I won’t grimace in his face. No, I make sure to put on that devilish smirk he’s trying so hard to imitate.
“Do it,” I dare. “I bet it’s time for another sucker punch you big fat pus—”
CRACK!
Blood splatters on his nose when his knuckles connect with my jaw. Blurry dots in my vision make the room fuzzy as that stinging shock rings through my face.
Fucker can’t even fight like a man.
And that makes me laugh, the pain fuelling my manic roar. He doesn’t seem to like it as he gives me another blow to the gut. Heaving over, air forces out of my mouth as he drops me to the floor.
“Damien!” Willow gasps.
“Shut the fuck up!” he yells, chubby finger pointed at her. “Or you’re next.”
“Don’t worry,” I cough through my sneer, eyes falling to the gun sticking out of his belt. “You’re ten times the man this fuck will ever be, Willow. And not nearly as ugly.” I meet his gaze, my eyes lowering to slits so I can watch every bit of him squirm when I ask, “How does it feel taking orders from a dainty French psychopath? If I wasn’t cuffed up, your ass would be history and you know it.”
“Like you’re about to be?” He works his jaw and I know I hit a nerve. Offended by taking orders from a woman? He’s weaker than he appears.
Clack, clack, clack!
As if she knows she’s the topic of conversation, Marion enters the basement on silver thin heels, shoes sparkling like a goddamn disco ball.
“No more!” she yells, snapping her fingers at Baldy. She moves her greying hair out of her face with the red nail on her pinky. “If we are going to do this the right way, we cannot give him any more marks.”
“Do what the right way?” I ask. “You’re not getting away with this criminal mastermind bullshit, Marion.”
“Oh?” She walks towards me, Baldy moving to the side as she clacks my way. “Try to stop me.”
Her haughty laugh rips through me enough to lunge for her. She doesn’t move, cuffs bringing me right back to the ground again.
“Let us go!” Willow cries.
“You know,” Marion saunters over to Willow, crouching to her level. Willow gives her a look like she stinks, her nose and mouth twisted. “I thought I took the wrong girl but my nephew is more stupid with women than his father.” She points to me, rings sparkling on her fingers as she looks over her shoulder. “I should have done this sooner.”
She’s right. I should’ve made sure she was out of town for good or locked away forever. Instead, I was too concerned with doing the “right thing” for Jo. Look where that brought me.
“And where did it bring you, Marion? Upping your criminal record from statutory rapist to full-blown kidnapper?”
“Then murder is not a problem.” She shrugs, brushing off her skinny black skirt.
Marion’s been threatening to get rid of me since she picked me up on the way back to Eden. By “picked me up,” I mean Baldy rammed the back of the car until my driver pulled over. He wouldn’t have let them in if they hadn’t threatened him at gunpoint.
“You can’t get rid of me,” I chuckle, showing no sign of fear. But with where I am now, I’m not sure if I believe that. That’s why I let those three words slip. Jo had to know. I don’t know what Marion planned, but that look in her eyes foreshadows no good. “I haven’t given you shit!” She’s asked for account numbers, passwords and combinations. My reward for not giving it up? More fists from Baldy but I’m built like a titanium truck. “It’s gonna take more than a few blows to get what you want.”
“Is that what you tell silly girls who chase you?” Marion smiles as if she has nothing to worry about. And that bothers me. What the fuck is she planning? The only calm, cool and calculating guy left in this town is me. A melody chimes from the pocket of her tailored white blazer. “Ah,” she says, pulling out her phone. “This is everything I need. Right here. Oui?”
Willow looks at me, tears streaming down her face. She’s sobbing like she’ll never see the light of day again but I won’t let that happen. I won’t let Marion hurt her. I won’t let Marion hurt Jo. I’ve done that enough.
Marion speaks French but I catch what she’s saying. The words leaving her mouth make my skin grow colder than the look in her eyes. It’s true. I’m fucked.
“Merci monsieur,” she smiles, tapping on her phone. “It seems I do not need family anymore.”
“What the fuck did you do!?” I demand to know, pulling harder on the cuffs, begging them to break. “King Financial is mine! Our legacy. Not yours!”
She smiles, crouching down to meet my gaze, a smirk on her red lips. “Not anymore my dear, dear neveu.” When her long, witchy fingers come to my cheek, I pull away but not far enough, my pale skin in her hold. “The documents I am getting say that I will be the new CEO of King Financial after your death.” Her palm comes to my cold cheek. “If it takes getting rid of you to get what I deserve then I have more funerals to plan.”
My aunt is going to fucking kill me.
Snapping her fingers at Baldy, he approaches me.
“We need to be quicker,” she demands. “I have a date.”
“A date?” She really is psychotic. M
y back pressed against the thick wooden leg, I warn Baldy as he approaches me. “Get the fuck back!” It’s impossible to move away as he comes closer. I’m like seafood caught before dinner. Crabby and trapped. “Touch me and die!”
“Not today kid,” he says, reaching for the cuffs around my wrists. They feel weightless when he unlocks them and the minute he does, I lunge for his gun.
“Damien!” Willow screams, and it’s the last thing I hear before everything goes black.
When it does, she’s all I see on my lids.
Joelle.
That head of dark, curly hair. The side-shave that no other girl can pull off as sexy as she does. Those heart-shaped lips, that golden gaze. Hanging onto the images of her, the images of our bodies tangled together is all I want to do.
“Medusa.” My mutter surprises me when I hear my rocky voice, the feeling of my body hitting hard against wood. The pain comes and goes like my consciousness.
Trying to open my eyes is no use, when I do, everything is a dark, blurry haze, flashes of light doing nothing for my clarity. My arms feel like they’ll pull from my socket. Like someone is dragging me along the floor.
“This kid’s delusional.” That’s Baldy speaking, but where the fuck is he taking me?
“Wait!” Marion snips. “It will not look like it should if we are not careful. Stop hitting his head!”
“N-no,” I mutter but I’m already fading again like I’ve taken a baggie of pills to the dome. Jo returns to my head. The shape of her perfect, slender body. That long neck I want to sink my teeth into, that ass I want in my hands forever.
Those skinny wrists I want to bind together so I can make her mine again and again.
A chill takes over before there’s a smack on my face. “Damien.”
Everything hurts. The pain in my head shoots down my neck to my abs and everything between. My arms burn, ribs aching.
“Damien!” Marion yells with another stinging slap to my cheek.
When my eyes flicker open, it takes a second for the fuzziness to dissipate before Marion’s in clear view.
Bitch.
I lunge for her but I fall flat on my face, jaw against red stone when she takes a step back. Cuffs are back around my wrists but I’m no longer in the basement. Aiming my eyes up, I’m outside. The roof. “What the fuck are we doing?” I demand, face against the cold stone floor.
The rooftop tilts when Baldy lifts me off the floor, cold air blowing through the fabric of my slacks and the buttons on my shirt. It’s the dead of winter, the night wind coming with a bite that doesn’t usually get to me. But I’m not in control of this situation and that makes the chills in my bones rise to the surface.
Bottles of beer and my favourite scotch sit at the bottom of the rooftop balcony railing. So does an array of pill bottles, a baggie with a bit of blow, and a picture of him. My father.
“The fuck is this? A party?”
“Your funeral.” Marion looks over the rooftop railing, leaning against it with her elbows. “Your last day on earth, mon Dieu. My last day in the shadows.” She looks over at me, a stillness in her body, death in her eyes. “Now. Get up.”
“Fuck you!” I spit.
She snaps her fingers and Baldy does the job for her but I don’t make it easy. Pulling back against his hold and kicking at his chest.
“Don’t hit him!” she orders. “We do not need evidence of us. His suicide needs to be certain.”
My what?! This bitch is insane. “Get the fuck off me!” Swinging my shoulders from side to side, I’m fighting harder against his hold.
“Get on the rail,” Baldy demands.
“Eat a dic—”
Baldy cuts my words short when he pulls on the collar of my shirt, cutting off my air supply, fabric digging into my neck. Marion helps him drag me to the rail but she can hardly lift my tall, muscular build. They push me against the rail before Baldy takes out his gun, pointing it at my head.
“Go!” he demands.
Fuck.
Staring down the barrel, my heart drops to my stomach, my jaw as tight as my chest. This must have been how Dad felt when Jo pointed that gun at him. His last breath was just a trigger pull away. So is mine.
Jo.
If I’m gone from this earth, that means she’s gone from me too. So I’m not going down without a fight. Just like Pops.
Lifting a leg, my boot connects with the tip of his gun, but it’s not enough for him to falter or drop it. He’s got a grip tighter than a virgin and that cold metal comes right under my chin.
“If you don’t get up on that ledge I’ll blow your fucking brains out on this floor and we can all call it a day.”
“You wouldn’t. You can’t murder me if you’re trying to pull off a suicide, fucking idiot,” I laugh and I’m happy it hides my nerves. Tilting my head towards Marion, I’m attempting to bury the fear deep inside being who I’m known to be. A complete asshole. “Looks like you need a more competent henchman. What’s the matter, Baldy? Think if you do what she says she’ll let you fuck her? Here’s a spoiler. You’re too old for this whore.”
He cocks the gun. “Keep going and I’ll shoot.”
My heart feels like it slows, Baldy’s fingers twitching at that trigger like he can’t wait to drive a bullet in me.
“Promise me you won’t touch her,” I’m saying this to Marion. My final plea. “Jo. Promise me she’ll be okay and you’ll let Willow go and I’ll do whatever the fuck you ask. It’s the least you can do. What’re you gonna tell the cops when they find a girl tied up in the basement? You can’t kill her too, they’ll never believe that.”
“I am only after you.” Marion nods as if she’s making a business deal, pointing her chin to the ledge, the same one I saved Jo from. “You want a stupid promise? Fine. I promise.” She’s mocking me but for some reason that makes me feel better about plummeting to my death.
As I climb the railing, my boot slips against the snow and I hold my arms out for balance. Looking down at the driveway, I close my eyes, pushing a foot towards the edge.
This is for her. It’s always been for her since the day I met her. I knew she’d ruin me, but do I have any regrets?
Fuck no. Fuck regrets.
I’d take her tongue on mine, my body on hers again and again knowing I’d end up here.
Taking another step forward, I let out a breath.
They say your entire life flashes before you when you die. Guess this means Jo is exactly that. My entire life.
Her smile settles on my lids. That sexy little laugh. Her even sexier moan when I make her all mine. With her in my mind I can die happy, especially knowing I’ve said those three words.
“Any last words?” Marion asks, leaning against the rail with crossed arms like this is a casual meeting.
“Jo,” I say, sticking my foot out again. It hovers over nothing and the cold air starts to feel like a dream. “Joelle.”
Saying her name makes me fear this fall less and I want her name to be the last thing I say before I leave this earth forever.
“Damien!”
The sound of my name from her voice gives me the same feeling it always does. A deep twist in my abs, shortness of breath. But now, it’s blissful.
“Damien, stop!”
Wait.
That voice sounds way too clear to be a hallucination.
“How did she get here?” Marion yells.
“Damien King!” Jo calls, her voice sounding like it’s breaking. “Don’t you dare jump off that ledge!”
“Get her!” Marion screams.
“J-Jo?” When I turn around, my boot slips but with my arms out, I catch it.
“Damien!”
Jo runs towards me, that curly Medusa hair a mess on her head. Eyes red and clothes almost as messy as she is, but she still makes everything inside my body come alive. She has fire in her eyes, the same eyes that tell me to “fuck off” or “go to hell” and I know she’s here to fight. Except this time, she’s fighting for m
e.
With me.
My Medusa.
My angel.
Game’s on, Marion.
Three
Jo
“Stop!”
A pair of chunky arms stop my march, the smell of tobacco and fried food coming with it.
“Damien!” I scream for him again, my body buzzing, my fists clenched.
Kicking my feet doesn’t get me loose, neither does throwing my body from side to side, hair covering my vision of him.
Damien’s alive, though if I got here a second later, I’m not sure he would be.
His toned body looks rigid on that ledge, chest puffed out. He still has on the white dress shirt he left me in except now it’s all bloodied and crumpled. His slacks are a mess, dirty and falling off his waist. Yet, he still looks like a god. A beautiful king. And he’s not going anywhere.
The corner of his swollen lip lifts in a small smirk, that chiselled cheek bruised. All I want is for him to get off that ledge. My heart booms at the thought of him falling, chest tightening in.
Marion glares at me before she takes a step towards Damien, her hands out. She looks like she’s about to finish the job.
I scream, “No!”
Baldy’s rough palm comes to my mouth as he takes me in his grasp. That startles Damien out of his shock and he hops down before Marion can reach him. His hands come to her chest, his hard pecs taught as she’s pushed to the ground with one hard shove.
Seeing the fight in Damien fuels my fire and I pull the man’s hand down so I can sink my teeth into his skin with a hard, deep bite.
“Ow! Bitch!” he yells, hand dropping from my mouth but when I try to run for Damien, he grabs me by my hair.
“Get your hands off her, you dick-looking motherfucker!” Damien commands, approaching him. He takes quick long strides towards us, fists clenched tight enough to make his knuckles white.
THWACK!
His fist collides with the man’s face in a flash and while he’s stunned, I help push him to the ground. Damien’s on top of him the minute he falls, this sick, menacing look on his face.
Damien laughs as he wails at him. It’s rolling and sinister, ripping right through my gut as his fists pound in every direction.