by Chloe Walsh
“We are family,” Amelia corrected, tone gentle. Reaching out, she patted her mattress again. “This is your home now, Mercedes.”
No.
It wasn’t.
This place would never be my home.
Politely declining, I said goodnight to Amelia and closed her bedroom door behind me. I needed some time to digest everything.
Deciding to scope out the beach and get some fresh air, I slipped into the back yard and walked down the steep steps at the back of the house that led to a gate that separated the property from the beach, passing an impressive outdoor pool on my way.
The moment I was on the other side of the gate, I felt a thrum of excitement spark to life inside of me.
The beach was empty.
I had it all to myself.
Reaching down, I kicked off my Converse and socks before picking them up. The sand was grainy and warm and felt delicious against my feet. Wiggling my toes, I exhaled heavily and soaked up the sensations I was feeling.
The ocean was calling to me, seducing me with every wave and moonlit shimmer. Without thinking, I found myself moving towards the shore, drawn to the immerse beauty of freedom.
My hands moved to the hem of my shirt almost instinctively. Whipping it over my head, I tossed the flimsy fabric on the sand beneath me and moved my attention to my jeans. Shrugging them off, I kicked free, leaving them strewn beside my shirt on the sand. The night air nipped at my body, peppering my pale skin with a thin layer of goosebumps.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply and took a step forward. Foaming water crushed against my ankles, rising further up my body with every step I took. Soon, I was chest deep and grinning from ear to ear. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here. I had the beach on my doorstep, the water, the sensations around me, and freedom in my cusp.
Exhaling loudly, I lay on my back and used my arms to tread the water as I allowed myself to float on the surface with my eyes clenched shut. Blocking out everything else in my life, I immersed myself in the tranquility of the moment.
Tomorrow, I was going to take a look around Ocean Bay. I still had a whole bunch of resumes tucked away in my backpack. Maybe I’d hand them out to the local restaurants and diners; see if anyone was hiring. I would need my own money. My pride refused to allow me to ask Gabe for handouts.
“Trying to kill yourself already?” A deep voice said from close by. “Damn. Figured it would take more than one conversation to break you down, Six. I’m kinda disappointed.”
My eyes flew open at the sound of that name. Bastard. Couldn’t give me an ounce of peace.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I growled as I waded back to the shoreline to where Rourke was standing with my clothes in his hands. “Your childish bullshit doesn’t bother me.”
Dammit, Rourke was sickeningly good looking. He was all broad shoulders, ripped stomach muscles, and sexily disheveled brown hair as he stood a good five inches above me. It was disturbing. And those deep dimples in his cheeks? Yeah, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stab them with a knife or my tongue…
“Is that so?” he shot back with a cocky grin. “Guess I’m gonna have to up my game then, huh?” He watched my every move as I walked towards him. “Nice bathing suit, Six. Where’d you get the panties – in the geriatric section of K-mart?”
“They’re called underwear, asshole,” I hissed as I stared up at the handsome bastard who was dressed now only in a pair of black board shorts. I forced myself not to cover my body. I had nothing to be ashamed of. My black bra and panties were perfectly fine – albeit a little generic.
“They’re called granny panties,” he shot back mockingly.
“What are you even doing out here?” I sneered, changing the subject. “Are you one of those sick freaks that get off on creeping around beaches at night?” Dropping my hands on my hips, I forced myself to keep eye contact when I taunted, “Let me guess, this is how you pick up girls? By stalking them and stealing their clothes?”
Rourke threw his head back and laughed. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but I was out for a run, and I don’t need to chase pussy, Six. It comes to me.” The loud gasp of breath that escaped my lips only seemed to encourage him. “And even if I did.” He cocked a brow as his gaze slowly moved down my body and then back up to my face. “Trust me, you’d be the last girl I’d fuck.”
“I didn’t mean me!” Ugh. “Whatever.” I huffed, holding my hand out, ignoring the way his words stung and prickled at my self-esteem. “Give me my clothes.”
“Say please,” Rourke taunted, smirking down at me with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Six.”
“I don’t beg,” I shot back, flustered and infuriated. “Prick.”
“Oh, you’ll beg me,” he replied cockily as he held my clothes hostage above his head. “Sooner or later.”
“What’s your problem?” I demanded, losing what little was left of my self-restraint.
Rourke didn’t even take a moment to think about my question before stating “you” in an angry tone. “I don’t like you,” he added unapologetically as he took a threatening step closer. “I don’t trust you.” He moved closer again and I had to crane my neck up to keep eye contact with him. “And I sure as hell don’t want you in my house. Or my town.”
“Your town?” Now I was the one to laugh, though it was forced. “Could you be any more self-absorbed?”
“My town, my rules,” Rourke shot back, smirking cruelly. “I say jump, you say how high.”
“You’re delusional,” I shot back, raging.
“And you’re a money hungry bitch,” he countered airily.
“Don’t put a label on me,” I warned him. “I am nothing like what you’re thinking.”
“And you know what I’m thinking?” He cocked a brow and stepped closer. “Six?”
“Six?” I felt like screaming at him. “Is that supposed to stand for something?”
“Yeah.” Smirking cruelly, Rourke trailed his finger across my collarbone. “It’s what I like to name my father’s latest kids. You’re the sixth, but not for long, Six.”
“Awh,” I sighed dramatically. “A cute pet name. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t think you’re anything special,” he shot back cruelly. “The next one will be seven. The one after that; eight.”
“And Amelia?” I mocked. “What’s she? Two?”
“She’s my sister.” His tone was flat and cold. “Something you will never be.”
“Half,” I muttered under my breath.
“She’s my sister,” he repeated, emphasizing the word sister. “No halves, quarters, or fucking tenths about it.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, feeling oddly offended as I desperately fought down the urge to shiver in pleasure, my traitorous body enjoying his touch far too much. “This is getting old.” I shivered as the cool night air nipped at my bare skin, the weight of his stare on me entirely too much to handle. “I’m cold and I want to go to bed.”
Rourke looked down at me and smirked cruelly, his blue eyes dark and full of anger. “You know what you have to do.”
I balked. “You’re not serious.”
His grin darkened. “Say it.”
“Drop dead.”
“Okay then.” He turned to leave.
“Please.” I almost choked on the word as it came out of my mouth. I didn’t want to ask this asshole for anything, but I was colder than my pride. “Please, Rourke, can I have my clothes back?”
“Well of course you can,” he shot back with a smile before reaching back and tossing them into the water. “Go fish.”
“Bastard!” I yelled as I dove into the water to retrieve my clothes, the sound of his laughter causing my skin to burn with rage. I only had one pair of Converse and that prick had tossed them in the ocean.
“You’re going to pay for this, asshole!” I called out from the water as I battled to capture my stuff.
“Looking forward to it.” Rourke laughed once more before turning around and walking back to the hou
se.
Oh yeah, he was laughing now, but I would be the one that laughed last. I didn’t give a shit about his issues. Rourke Owens was going down.
I WAS SOAKED TO the skin and shaking all over by the time I reached the house. Dropping my bundle of wet clothes on the floor outside my bedroom door, I made a beeline for Rourke’s bedroom door and kicked it open.
Ignoring the pain in my foot from where I’d kicked his door, I quickly scoped out the layout of his room. Amongst the posters of football players and semi-naked women that usually ordained a teenage boy’s room, were pictures of random buildings. Weirdo.
Like a raging lunatic, I stalked towards his closet, still only in my bra and panties, before pulling open the door and grabbing a handful of clothes.
Furious, I walked into his ensuite bathroom and tossed them on the floor of his shower before switching on the water.
Unsatisfied with my vandalism, I returned to his room and looked around to find what I could use around here to hurt him. What would really piss him off? Dammit, what did teenage boys love most?
Sex.
Grinning evilly, I stomped over to his bed and yanked open the drawer of his nightstand before rummaging inside. A worn leather traveler’s notebook? Boring. Some gum? Nope. A stash of random keys? Not really. A porno magazine? Ugh, was he serious? Continuing to snoop, my eyes landed on the twelve pack of condoms laying open inside the drawer. Bingo. I quickly scooped them up. That would do. Rourke could consider it a little payback/delayed gratification for throwing my clothes in the ocean tonight.
On my way out of his room, I stopped in front of the huge shelving unit that looked like a makeshift shrine to his beloved game. Row upon row of trophies ordained the shelves, several of which held the title MVP. Huh. So, Rourke Owens was valuable on a football field? I bet he was. Dick. Grabbing the biggest trophy I could find, I tucked it under my arm before knocking the rest onto the floor and retreating to my bedroom. Even though it was childish as hell, I went to bed that night with a shit eating grin on my face.
Mercedes
I WOKE SEVERAL HOURS later to the feel of being dragged out of my bed. Startled, I kicked and flailed my arms out in a desperate attempt to free myself from the clutches of pure evil.
“Omigod, Rourke! What are you gonna do?” a female voice squealed out.
“I’m gonna teach her a lesson,” he shot back as he carried me over his shoulder, “not to touch my shit.” So this was payback for messing with his room?
“If you don’t put me down, I’ll scream,” I warned him as I banged my fists against his lower back in my feeble attempt to free myself.
“Oh, you’re gonna scream, Six,” he promised darkly. “I can guarantee you that.”
“Jesus Christ, Rourke!” I had to close my eyes then; the sensation of being carried down the stairs upside down was too much to handle. “Let me down!”
“What is he doing?” yet another female voice called out. This bitch was laughing though.
“Dude!” a male voice hollered out when we reached the bottom of the stairs. “What the fu–”
“Stay out of it, D,” Rourke snarled, still moving through the house with me tossed over his shoulder.
I felt the cool sting of the night air moments before I was thrown from Rourke’s arms and engulfed in a huge swell of water. Panic stricken, I pushed towards the surface.
“You bastard!” I spluttered when I broke the surface. “You could have drowned me!”
He was standing at the edge of the swimming pool in the back yard with his hands on his hips, glaring down at me with a murderous expression. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” Rourke shot back. “Mores the fucking pity. You think that’s funny? Stealing my condoms? Fucking with my stuff?”
“Seeing as you’re all worked up, then I’d say yes!” I snarled as I swam over to where he was standing. From where I was standing, I could see no other way around this. If I didn’t push back, Rourke Owens would bury me, and I refused to go down like that. Springing up out of the water, I knotted my fist in his shirt and dragged him roughly into the water. “No sex for you tonight, Asshole.”
“Damn, Rourke!” the same guy as earlier laughed. He was huge, bigger than Rourke, and he was standing at the edge of the pool beside two stunningly beautiful blonde girls, and grinning like an idiot at the pair of us. “Sissy’s got spunk.”
“She’s not my sister,” Rourke snarled, treading the water, cold blue eyes locked on my eyes. “Ya hear that? You are not my fucking family.”
Here I was; being punished for my mother’s decisions again. Fuck this. “I don’t want to be your family,” I practically screamed, splashing him. “I can’t stand the sight of you!”
“Then leave!” he roared in my face. “Take your whore of a mom and get the fuck out of my town…”
Rourke didn’t finish his sentence; I don’t suppose he could when my fist was crunched into the side of his jaw. “Don’t,” I warned, breathing harshly as I lunged at the big bastard, “call my mom a whore again.”
He shook off my punch like I was a mildly annoying bumble bee buzzing around his face. “You’re a fucking lunatic,” he snarled, getting in my face.
“Yeah,” I shot back, pushing against his chest. “I’d have to be to move into a house with a deranged psychopath like you.”
“You think I’m a psychopath?”
“Oh, I know you’re a psychopath.”
My reaction to Rourke’s cruel words only caused the other guy to laugh harder. “This is priceless,” he chuckled, thoroughly enjoying himself at my expense. “Ash, Britt; you need to film this shit. The guys on the team are gonna piss themselves when they watch Rourke getting schooled by her.”
“Don’t fucking dare, Ashley,” Rourke spat. “Or you, Brittany.” He turned his attention to me once more and hissed, “Stay out of my room, Six. You don’t wanna make an enemy out of me.”
“Really?” Hauling myself out of the water, I glared down at him. “I thought we already were.”
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the other guy said with a chuckle as he sauntered towards me. “I’m Daryl King.” He held his hand out to me. “And I apologize for my friend’s manhandling.”
Good looking guy, I thought to myself seconds before I pushed his ass in the pool to join his friend. “The next time you see someone doing something you know is wrong, do something to stop it instead of apologizing after it’s done,” I hissed before stalking into the house.
Rourke
BLOOD WAS DRIPPING from my knuckles; the punching bag in my best friend’s garage the victim of my latest burst of aggression.
God fucking dammit.
He really did it.
Dad really brought another woman and her brat into our goddamn home.
“You got it out of your system yet?” Daryl asked, wiping the corner of his mouth, as he observed me from a safe distance. He was my best friend, had been since pre-k, and at 6’3” was as tall as me in height, but he knew better than anyone not to try and stop me when I was in this kind of mood. A homicidal mood.
“Not even close,” I growled, continuing to pound my bare fists into the bag.
With intelligent green eyes, Daryl studied me with a concerned frowned etched on his face. “Mind taking care of those hands, buddy?” he tossed out, folding his arms across his chest. “Kinda need you in one piece this season.”
He would say that. Daryl King – or King Daryl, as he was known by his teammates – was our team’s first string quarterback and Ocean Bay Academy’s answer to Tom Brady. We’d been playing together since Daryl was old enough to throw a football and I was fast enough to go long and catch it, and he needed me. I was the number one ranked high school wide receiver in the state and a fucking bullet on the field. But the mood I was in right now, I didn’t give two shits if I fucked my wrists or not. All I could think about was history repeating itself a-fucking-gain.
I guess you could say I’d been in denial since the wedding, hopi
ng and praying this was some sick joke. But when my new Mommy and her spawn showed up on our doorstep yesterday, reality had hit me like a wrecking ball.
“Dude,” Daryl hissed. “I need a wide receiver out there with hands that can actually catch my damn passes.”
“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” I shot back, uncaring. You’d think all the damn double sessions we’d been doing in preparation for the new season would have helped me work my frustrations out, but nope. I was burning with furious energy.
“You’re just all riled up because you’ve got a hard on for those thick hips.” My frown deepened and Daryl’s smile widened. “I’m right, aint I?” He threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Step sissy’s got an ass you wanna tap.”
“Don’t,” I warned “go there.” I was having a hard-enough time trying to block the memory of Six’s body from my mind. She had a figure that was built for cruel intentions. She looked like the sort of girl a guy lost his mind over. A dangerous fucking female with a beautiful face and even more beautiful body. Bad fucking combination…
“Hey, man. I ain’t judging you.” Daryl held his hands up in retreat. “I saw her too; almost naked in the swimming pool, remember? Lord have mercy on that ass!”
He was right about that.
Six had one hell of an ass. Fuck me, the memory of her tits spilling out of her bra, that tiny waist and thick hips, not to mention the long, glossy black hair, still haunted me.
“I don’t need this shit, D!” I snarled, heart hammering against my ribcage. My rage was swallowing me up. “I’m so fucking done this time, man.”
So what if the girl was good looking and so fucking what if she was curved like a dream? I still hated her and all she represented to my family.
“Fuck!” I roared, throwing my head back in pure anger. “He’s no kind of father,” I snarled, biting out the words. “If he gave a shit, he wouldn’t go there again.”
“You don’t really believe that, man,” Daryl shot back calmly. “Hell, I know all about parents being assholes and hating their children, but Gabe not caring about you and Amelia?” Daryl shook his head. “Nah, dude. That’s bull crap and you know it.”