Fatal (Portland Street Kings Book 2)

by Evie Harper

  “I don’t want to talk about this shit anymore. We’re here for a clean slate, Dell… a new beginning. We’re going to wash away all our regrets.”

  My eyes widen at Rex’s words.

  A new beginning?

  I’m almost too afraid to believe what I just heard.

  Trying not to spook him I calmly ask, “How do we have a new beginning—” The sound of a horn in the distance cuts off the rest of my words. I glance over my shoulder to the bend as I recognize the sound and vibration of the earth. A train is coming.

  “It’s going to be beautiful, Dell, us together, a new beginning. Leaving all this bullshit behind.”

  I twist my head back to Rex and my brow furrows as I take in his words and try to understand them. We’re only about a meter away from the tracks, so I begin shuffling sideways. My sole concern right now is to move far away from the large oncoming train that won’t see us until it’s around the bend.

  I turn my back to Rex and inhale the fresh woods scent and feel a cool breeze against my skin from the wind blowing through the trees. All of those beautiful sensations disappear when two strong hands grip my biceps from behind and begin to drag me back towards the train tracks. My eyes pop open and an icy sensation runs through me.

  Fear grips me. I knew it. My heart knew what we are really doing here, but my mind still fought for supremacy, for hope in a man who I will always love, in my memories. Cocking my knees, I begin kicking at Rex behind me. I wriggle my shoulders violently and as a result, a sharp pain shoots up my neck, but Rex doesn’t release his hold on me, his grip only becomes tighter.

  “Rex,” I say in a warning tone. “Let me go.”

  I sense Rex shake his head. “You and I, Dell, we’re starting over. We’re leaving this world behind. We’ll wash away our regrets and sins and try again.”

  Oh my god. He’s unhinged. This isn’t Rex. This is a mad man.

  I continue to thrash my body around, desperate for Rex to weaken. “No, don’t do this. Rex, this isn’t you. Please.” I’m not ashamed to admit I’m whimpering, but my pleas go unheard as Rex shoves his arm under my right bicep and across my ribs, his hand digging into my left hip painfully.

  He then lifts my feet off the ground and carries me over the metal rails and onto the sleepers, stopping us exactly in the middle of the tracks. The vibration from the train tracks travels all through my body. So much so, I can’t tell if it’s my shaking body or the oncoming train.

  The train turns the bend and the driver sounds the horn once, twice, three times.

  My heart, blood and pulse all freeze in fear.

  My sight is glued to the large metallic machine—the insignificant piece of metal, which has the ability to take my life from me. To splatter my past, present, and now my lost future all over the place.

  The horn sounds repeatedly, but it’s useless, no horn is going to stop a madman. I lose it. I’m like a feral cat, extending my claws and scratching him wherever my hands can reach. I put all my body weight on his arm trying to bend forward to tip Rex over, and when that doesn’t work I kick my legs out, striking him harshly over and over again.

  Rexs’ grunts of pain prove I’m hurting him, but I’m still not moving him or lessening his resolve. My heart is close to exploding; each breath is harder to take. My vision begins to blur, but I can still see. I’m watching as death comes straight for me.

  “I beg you, Rex, beg you!” My voice becomes hysterical. “Don’t do this. Death is forever, there’s no coming back from this.”

  His hold does not falter at my words; he stays strong like a cement wall.

  “You don’t see it now, but I do. Trust me this is for the best.”

  He’s fucking crazy.

  I scream. It’s high-pitched, long and unwavering, praying for anyone nearby who might help me, knowing that hope is impossible. I’m breathless, I can’t catch my breath fast enough to keep shouting for help.

  The train’s brakes activate and the squeal causes my eyes to clench closed for a brief second from the pain in my ears. Unexpectedly, a shriek, laced with so much agony and desperation fills the air. I look to the right and find my family and Brett running down from my car, toward me. Lana stays frozen.

  Rex twists his head toward her. “Fuck. I didn’t want Lana to see this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Rex grates into my hair.

  Seeing my family gives me renewed strength, I throw my head back hoping to strike his face or nose. Rex’s fingers dig into my skin firmer than I ever thought humanly possible and I whimper still fighting through the pain.

  The train is upon us, mere meters away, I glance quickly to my right and watch my family running toward me, my heart shattering that the last thing I’ll see on their faces when I leave this earth is fear and pain.

  My gaze darts to Brett as he’s sprinting toward me, and I see the shock and desperation as he realizes he’s not going to get to me in time. I mouth I love you. His eyes widen and even though it should be impossible, I see him move faster, pumping his arms harder and breathing quicker.

  My heart squeezes and twists. This isn’t what I wanted for him or for me. I wanted my end to be different from my beginning. Less violent, more love.

  I hear an anguished moan come from Rex. Wetness hits my shoulder.

  “My head hurts, Dell. I’ve done a lot of bad, but hurting you was never something I wanted to do. I’m sorry I dragged you down with me.”

  Rex’s sincere tone and sudden honest words come too late. The heat burns my skin, so much so that my eyes widen from the pain and screams rip from my dry throat.

  Rex twists my shoulders to brace for the hit. The first crack of pain I feel from the impact is in my wrist as it shatters, along with my life.

  Chapter One

  Mackson King and Lana Scavello

  A map of their beginning and disastrous end.

  Year 2003

  Mackson - Sixteen Years Old

  Lana - Fifteen Years Old

  Lana

  Embarrassed. Mortified.

  I race out of my house, my father’s yells echo through the back door, his words spear my back like sharp arrows. Racing through my side gate and out onto the road, I look left and right, desperate for a way out. I hate this place.

  My dad isn’t what you’d ever describe as father of the year, he’s not even close. I’m pretty sure he hates me. He always says I look too much like my mother. I have her white blonde hair and dark brown eyes. My father stares into them sometimes, lost, more adrift than his usual absent glare.

  My father has never looked upon me before and actually seen his daughter. My mother is all he sees and he doesn’t bother to think past her or the fact that she left him, us. I’m the one who’s paid the penance for her not sticking around.

  I peer up the dead-end street and into a field, it’s filled with nothingness, just like this town. I imagine one day driving straight out of here and never turning back. Not having to live with a parent who doesn’t want me or regrets having to feed me. I wish I had the strength inside myself to keep walking. But what would I do for food and shelter, how would I survive?

  You little bitch. Always thinking you’re the best, the prettiest, and the smartest. You’re none of those things.

  I take a step onto the road and start walking to the field, my father’s cruel words driving me farther away.

  And the funny thing is, I don’t believe I am pretty or smart, so I don’t flaunt myself the way my father says I do. I’m the exact opposite. I hate being looked at, and I don’t have any funny comebacks or cool remarks. I’m nothing special and even if I thought I could be, my father has made damn sure that spark would never light to a fierce fire. I’m pretty sure my spark is broken, just like me.

  Rain begins to sprinkle down over me. I lift my hands. Story of my life, everything always gets worse.

  The cold distracts my thoughts, but then I lick my lips and taste the salt from my tears, not even the rain can hide my pain.

  Heavy, wet pou
nding footsteps come from behind me and I glance over my shoulder to find Mackson running toward me. I face forward again, lowering my chin and closing my eyes tight.

  Mack has heard it all before, this isn’t the first time my father has put me in my place with other people around. Embarrassed me in front of the boy I secretly crush on. Sensing Mack stop at my back, I can hear his heavy breaths along with the pounding rain on the cement road.

  If it weren’t for the strange crackling energy that’s always present when I’m near him, I wouldn’t think Mack was still standing behind me. However, I know he is and I’m afraid to turn around, to see the pity in his eyes. Does he believe my father’s words? Has he already seen how worthless I am?

  Someone who runs away when things get hard, just like my mother.

  “Lana.”

  I clench my eyes closed when I hear the sympathy in his voice. I don’t want Mackson to feel sorry for me. I don’t need to see the pain in my heart written on someone else’s face.

  Pressing my lips together firmly, I shake my head. Fisting my hands, I continue to walk straight ahead. I can’t bear to turn around and see Mackson—a boy who lives on the streets, who has to steal to eat, a boy who has nothing—look at me with pity. I don’t deserve it. I have everything; a home, a brother who somewhat takes care of me, and a father who may not like me, but does feed me. I go to school and I have good clothes. I’m being selfish and I don’t want Mack to see me this way. Self-centered and wishing away what I’m sure he would kill to have.

  I sense footsteps behind me. My heart begins to thump wildly. He’s following me? All of a sudden a wet, cold hand grasps my arm and I’m spun around. My eyes find Mack’s and there it is, the pain he feels for me, the pain I don’t deserve.

  God, my father is right. I only ever think about myself.

  “I’m fine, Mack. What are you doing out here? Go inside, I’m just being stupid.”

  “Stop that,” he admonishes. “You’re not stupid. Your father is an asshole and I came out here to tell you he’s wrong. You are pretty… the most beautiful girl inside and out.” My breath whooshes out of me from his words. “I see you Lana, who you really are. You take good care of your brother and father. You cook and clean and your smile, if only you could see the people around you when you smile. The guys, your brother’s friends, all of them stare at you especially when you smile. You laugh at lame jokes and you listen, you truly listen when people talk to you. Your father is wrong about you. You’re one of a kind, not just a pretty girl, but a good person too. You’re going to get out of here and fly away, just like a dove. Because you deserve better.”

  Mack peers downward at his shoes and then back up to me. He pushes his wet hair out of his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. His eyes pierce mine, telling me something, but I’m unsure exactly what it is. “Don’t let him win, Lana. Take it from me. Other peoples’ sins don’t have to be your downfall.”

  Breathing becomes impossible, each inhale a struggle as I try to hold back my emotions. If I exhale, I fear I’ll crumble and show how badly broken I am to the boy of my dreams.

  I always fantasize that Mackson King will ask me out, to the park, a walk maybe. But this is something else entirely. He’s observing me, truly looking at me and seeing who I am. Who I always wanted to be, who I constantly felt I was but kept questioning, kept wondering if it was my vision which was distorted and not my father’s.

  Before I can even fathom a reply Mack turns around and walks back toward my house, but he doesn’t turn into my yard, he keeps going and I stand here staring at his back until he disappears into the dark of the night.

  With the rain easing, I look up into the night sky and search out into the vast universe feeling my lips tip up into a smile. My heart feels lighter and suddenly my future looks a little bit brighter.

  2004

  Playing basketball with the guys today, my hand touched Mackson’s, twice. The first time he was surprised and quickly moved it. The second time he held it still a moment longer than he needed to. My heart thumped wildly, and for the first time ever, I thought it would jump right out of my chest.

  2005

  I kneel beside my house, threading the chain through my bike, locking it up for the day. Hearing leaves crunching behind me, I glance over my shoulder to see Mack walking over to me, his head down, hands in his pockets.

  I adore his presence. He’s not like the other guys who hang around my brother; they’re always loud and bossy. Mack is quiet, yet when he speaks everyone stops and listens to him. He’s the type of guy who doesn’t try too hard to get noticed because it’s natural for him.

  I lock my chain and stand to turn toward Mack.

  He stops close and looks up at me quickly before glancing away and inquiring, “I heard Corey asked you out?”

  My heart stutters and I try hard to mask the evidence of my surprise and joy.

  He’s interested about a boy who asked me out?

  “Yes,” I cough after my one-word answer, trying to give myself time to come up with something better. “Yep, he sure did.”

  Mack’s eyes meet mine, but this time they stay fixed on me. “What are you gonna say?”

  He wants to know what I’m going to say?

  I say nothing for a long moment thinking over the reasons why Mackson wants to know what my answer to Corey will be. Does he want me to say no, so he can ask me out? Is he only curious? When enough time passes, I know I need to say something so, I decide to just be honest.

  “I’m going to say no. I don’t like Corey that way.”

  Please ask me out, please.

  Mack nods his head slowly, glances around the yard awkwardly and then says, “Well, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I release a heavy sigh and my shoulders slump in disappointment.

  Mackson walks off quickly, out of my yard and onto the road toward Portland, toward one of his homes. I’m not sure which one they’re in at the moment. I’ve heard it’s either boxes in a park or abandoned houses and factories. Rex won’t let me go with him when he visits them; he says it’s dangerous, that there are too many other homeless people who are bad. So instead, I’m left at home with a father who berates me every chance he gets, but at least, he’s the kind of bad I know I can handle.

  2008

  I run into my house, tears cascading down my cheeks. I hiccup as I pass my father getting a drink from the fridge. Slamming my bedroom door closed, I throw my college bag down on the ground.

  A burst of air hits the back of my neck as my bedroom door suddenly swings open. “Don’t you fucking dare slam the doors in my house! You got that, Lana?” my father grates out in an angry drunken slur.

  I don’t answer him. I wait to see if his stare flickers over my red-rimmed eyes or the sadness still falling down his daughter’s face.

  “Just because you’re a lazy bitch who thinks reading at college is better than actual real work. I had to fucking work hard for this house, so don’t think you can come in here and slam my goddamn fucking doors.”

  I nod. Knowing any indication that I heard him will have him leaving my presence.

  Growing up with my dad, I can understand why my mother left. What I can’t fathom is why she didn’t take her children with her. My dad shreds my confidence day in and day out, but I hate my mother more.

  He turns his back on me, grumbles something and walks down the hall. The next sound I hear is the front door slamming closed and his Ford pickup start and screech down the road.

  Please hit a tree. I wipe the thought from my mind, desperate to forget that I’ve wished for my father’s death.

  I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and know it’s the person I was just running from. I close my bedroom door quickly and lean on it with all my strength. He’ll come barreling through here at any moment. As I place my feet against the leg of my bed, my door handle rattles and the door opens slightly and then slams closed quickly with the weight of my body

  �
�Lana, open the damn door,” my brother demands.

  If my father were home now, he’d ignore all this. He knows exactly when to catch me on my own to throw his hateful words.

  “Get lost, Rex,” I say through the door.

  Suddenly the door opens again and slams closed. Repeatedly, my brother pushes while I desperately try to seal it shut. Nevertheless, I’m not strong enough when my bed begins to slide along the carpet. I growl in frustration and let the door go and Rex rushes in with another giant push.

  I turn with my feet apart and hands clenched. “Why can’t you and everyone else just leave me alone and stay out of my personal life?” I ask in a frustrated tone.

  “He deserved that beating, Lana. Mack saw him Saturday night at a party with another chick. He was making out with her in front of everyone, disrespecting you.”

  I groan. “I know, Rex. Mack came and told me yesterday. I already talked to Brad. He said it was a mistake, he apologized and said it wouldn’t ever happen again.”

  Rex steps back as if I hit him. I know why, respect. It’s everything to him, to all the guys. It’s like their bible, their code, it’s going to send them all to jail one day.

  “You fucking believe the slimy cunt wouldn’t do that to you again? Lana, once a cheater always a cheater, fucking trust me. I know how guys’ minds work. I’m not asking, I’m telling you to stay the fuck away from him or he’s gonna get worse next time.”

  And with that, Rex leaves the room, like the hand of God just laid down the rules. I’ve been given my orders and they aren’t to be taken lightly.

  Rex, Corey, and Kodi are now the Parkland Poison Boys and they’re called that for a reason. They aren’t kids anymore. Currently, they’re Parkland’s most feared gang. I don’t know what they’re into, but I know it’s bad and I know they all take it very seriously. I hear about break-ins, fights, and my friends talk about seeing them run through their backyards right before the police come knocking, asking if they’ve seen any young men around the streets.