Ravage (Civil Corruption Book 4)

by Jessica Prince

  Sliding as carefully as I could out from under his arm, I kicked my legs over the mattress and climbed out of bed. Padding on silent feet around the room, I used the scant light peeking in from the living area to guide my way through finding my clothes and getting dressed.

  A dull headache thrummed behind my eyes thanks to the whiskey from the night before, but I pushed it out of my mind as I located my purse and quietly snuck out of Mace’s hotel room.

  I knew I was the worst kind of coward for sneaking out the way I was, but I was already a piece of shit for doing what I’d done.

  I’d used my brother’s best friend in an effort to forget about my broken heart, if only for a little while. I’d used him with no thought of how it would affect him whatsoever. But worst of all, I’d let myself be selfish enough to forget.

  Forget the loss.

  Forget the debilitating pain.

  Forget that my brother, my best friend in all the world, was gone. And he was never coming back.

  Will wasn’t even in the ground yet. What kind of heartless bitch did that make me? My brother deserved better than a sister who’d allow herself to forget him only days after he was gone.

  I’d made a mistake. But the only thing I could do now was learn from it and not make it again.

  And for that reason, I needed to get the hell out of there.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mace

  When I woke up alone in my hotel bed, I thought maybe Lyla was in the restroom. It wasn’t until I searched the suite that I realized the damn woman had bailed on me before the sun came up.

  A razor-sharp barb pierced my chest right above my heart. I tried not to let my anger get the best of me as my fingers flew along the keypad of my phone, but for every voice mail and text I left her that went unanswered, the more pissed I got. I paced the whole suite, dialing and redialing. Each time my call went straight to voice mail.

  “Goddamn it,” I hissed, tossing my cell on the dining table Lyla and I had eaten together at last night. I caught sight of the liquor bottle we’d shared from and picked it up, taking a huge glug, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat just as my abandoned cell rang. Thinking it was finally Lyla returning one of my numerous calls, I snatched it up and answered without looking.

  “Seriously? What the fuck? You better have a good reason—”

  “Got plenty of reason,” Killian’s voice said through the line. “I’m callin’ to make sure your ass is up and not lying drunk in a ditch somewhere. We got somewhere to be.”

  “Fuck me.” Will’s funeral. Christ, that was the last goddamn thing I wanted to do ever. “I’m up. Getting ready now. Meet you downstairs in a few.”

  I was going to have to watch as my best friend was being lowered into the ground. The best man I’d ever known. My brother. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to pick up my phone and call him whenever the mood struck. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to get through it, but there was one thing I knew for fucking certain.

  It was going to require a lot of goddamn booze.

  Lyla

  “But we must not forget that death isn’t a goodbye. It’s not the end…”

  Is this guy kidding?

  How was it that people actually thought trite sayings like that would help those grieving the loss of a loved one? We didn’t want to hear it, true or not. We also didn’t want to hear the person was in a better place either, which was something the minister had already said. It was complete and total bullshit.

  Better place? He didn’t know Will for shit, or the fact that Will loved the life he’d built for himself. He loved his friends, his family. He loved the backbreaking work that made it possible to own his own garage outright. He loved getting his hands dirty, covered in grease and motor oil, knowing he made a living doing his dream job. He loved his little sister, and football on Sundays. He loved life in general, soaking up every single drop he could until he was full to the brim with happiness.

  So screw this guy and his better place. Will’s place was here. I didn’t want to meet Will in a better place one day. I wanted him here now.

  Unable to listen to another word, I tuned out, allowing the well-meaning but no less hurtful minister’s voice become background noise as I searched for anything else to drown out what I didn’t want to hear.

  “Goddamn it,” Declan growled, drawing my attention to the pew directly behind mine where the guys sat. “Get your shit together, asshole.”

  My ears perked up, but I kept my focus to the front as I eavesdropped on the argument happening in angry, hushed whispers. I wasn’t sure who Deck was talking to until Mace’s voice came to me. “Fuck off. I need this to get through today.”

  What the…?

  “No, what you need is to pull your head outta your ass and put the goddamn flask away.” Flask? Jesus Christ, Mace was drinking in the middle of a funeral? Was that some kind of sick joke? “Lyla deserves better than to have to deal with your drunken bullshit the same day she puts her brother in the ground,” he continued, making my blood run cold.

  Oh my god. Mace was drunk. During my brother’s funeral.

  I’d seen pictures and stories of him in the media, reporters talking about ‘Wild Man’ Mace Keller’s latest antics, but I’d never thought much of it. I tried not to pay too much attention to all things Mace after he’d broken my heart, then again as a self-preservation tactic when I was married to Daniel. But avoiding him completely had been impossible, so I’d seen and heard things. I just chose to take them with a grain of salt, seeing as the media had a tendency to embellish. But hearing Declan, it sounded like this was more than just an occasional problem, and that knowledge left a rancid, vile taste in my mouth.

  Alcohol had taken too much from me already, and finding out Mace had a drinking problem set that numbness in my chest on fire.

  “Sorry,” Mace grumbled in a quiet voice. “I’ll get my shit together.”

  At that point I chose to tune them out as well. I made it through the funeral and graveside service only by the grace of God, my body running on autopilot the whole time. I recalled watching as the casket containing my once lively brother began to lower into the ground, and thinking I was about to have panic attack.

  Thankfully that was when my father took mine and my mother’s hands and guided us back to the car.

  That was then, now we were all back at my parents’ house, so many people coming to pay their respects and remember my brother that it felt like we were packed in like sardines. It was enough to make anyone claustrophobic.

  To keep from crumbling into a sobbing, blubbering mess, I stayed busy. I cleared empty casserole dishes brought by well-wishers and replaced them with new ones. I kept the water and ice tea pitchers topped off. I cleaned up plastic cups and paper plates, anything to keep the reality of the day at bay for as long as humanly possible.

  I met Garrett’s girlfriend and the mother of his child, Gwen, and I managed to feel a smidge of happiness when I thought of how happy I was for my sweet, humongous Viking friend.

  Then Tate finally arrived and my calm resolve shattered as we embraced and whispered kind, loving words to each other.

  I’d been so focused on my goal of zoning out and numbing myself that I hadn’t stopped to realize this was the first time in a decade that Tate had been in the same room with Declan after their breakup.

  Until he spoke her name.

  “Tatum.”

  Oh shit.

  I couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. Standing there and watching two people I loved suffer because of each other after having said my final goodbye to Will was just too damn much. I didn’t care if it made me a coward, I was escaping while I could.

  “I, um, need to get to the kitchen. We’re almost out of finger sandwiches.”

  I turned to make a run for it just as Mace’s voice sounded. “I’ll help.” A second later his hand hit the small of my back, searing me like a brand as he guided us into t
he privacy of the kitchen.

  I walked faster, trying to avoid his touch, and used the island as a buffer between us, rounding it and placing my palms against the cool, smooth granite. Dropping my head, I let out a long exhale and slammed my eyes closed.

  “Ly.”

  Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.

  “Ly, goddamn it. Will you look at me, please?”

  My head felt like it weighed a ton as I slowly lifted it and met his unflinching blue eyes. “I can’t do this with you right now, Mace,” I stated before he could say a word. “Not today. Please.”

  “Shoulda thought about that before you pulled a hit-and-run while it was still dark outside,” he growled.

  My eyebrows dipped and my head cocked to the side. “Hit-and-run?”

  “Yeah. We fucked, then you bailed without so much as a word. Gotta say, Goldie, didn’t expect that from you.”

  I hadn’t thought it humanly possible to feel even shitter than I already did, but Mace had just proved me wrong in a second flat. “I’m sorry,” I croaked as tears welled in my eyes and blurred my vision. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position last night. I took advantage, and for that—”

  “Is that a fuckin’ joke?” he boomed, causing me to jump in place. “Took advantage?”

  “Mace, please. I’m trying to apolo—”

  That was all I managed to get out before he rounded the island freakishly fast and yanked me hard against him.

  “You apologize for what happened last night and I’ll tan your ass.”

  My lips parted on a gasp and he took full advantage, slamming his mouth down on mine, his tongue immediately invading and stroking. It was carnal and vicious, and oh so perfect. My brain glitched thanks to his magnificent kissing skills. At least until I noticed it—whiskey, clear as day on his breath.

  I wrenched away, my stomach revolting at the taste of it. My sudden movement surprised him enough to let me go so I could move a few feet back.

  It was then that I really studied him, taking in every facet of his appearance that I’d been too overcome with sorrow to notice before.

  His once beautiful blue eyes were dull and bloodshot. His normally tanned skin was slightly paler. A shadow long past five-o’clock covered his jawline, and his hair was in disarray.

  He was drunk. He was just exceptionally good at hiding it. Enough so that unless someone examined him as acutely as I just had, they’d have never known.

  “Oh my God,” I breathed, placing my hand on my chest. “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

  “Goldie.”

  “Jesus, you are!” I snapped, losing control. “We just buried my brother, and you’re fucking drunk!”

  “I’m not drunk,” he lied. Just like Daniel had all those times. “I just had a couple drinks, that’s all. I needed it to get through.”

  “Will was killed by a drunk driver, you inconsiderate asshole! What were you thinking?”

  He took a step closer, his pale cheeks turning pink with anger. “I was thinking that, like you just said, we were putting my brother in the goddamn ground! I was thinking that I just spent the best night of my fucking life with the woman who’s been buried so deep beneath my skin for years that I can’t dig her out no matter how hard I try, and then I was thinking how that same woman pulled a runner on me before the fuckin’ sun came up. So cut me some goddamn slack!”

  I pushed the comment about me being under his skin to the back of my mind. I had to for self-preservation’s sake. “How often do you drink?”

  “What?”

  “How. Often. Do you drink?” I repeated. “Once a month, a week, a day? What is it?”

  “What’s it fuckin’ matter?”

  “What’s it matter?” I asked quietly as my heart threatened to burst through my chest. “It matters because a drunk took my brother away from me, and another took—” I caught myself before I accidentally shared about the abuse I’d suffered at Daniel’s hands. That wasn’t any of his business.

  “Another took what?” he asked when I ended my sentence abruptly.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. “It’s not your concern. Now answer the goddamn question. How often do you drink?”

  Something intense and important drifted off him in waves, hitting me with a force that nearly sucked the air from my lungs. “You’re keeping something from me,” he stated.

  “No I’m not.”

  “You are,” he argued. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re hiding something.”

  “Mace—”

  “What is it?”

  “I said it’s nothing.”

  “And I know that’s bullshit. Stop lying to me, Lyla.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” I bellowed, losing the tenuous hold I’d had on my control.

  “The fuck it doesn’t! If it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t be trying so goddamn hard to keep it from me.”

  “Fine,” I conceded. “It matters. You’re right. It’s the whole damn point! So tell me, Mace. Before today, when was the last time you got drunk?”

  His jaw ticked violently as he stared, his eyed glinting and nostrils flaring. That was answer enough, but when he said, “It’s not like I have a problem,” I knew all I needed to know.

  “We’re done,” I sighed, deflating like an old balloon. “We’re so done, Mace. You’re deluded if you think you don’t have a problem, and I’m not letting another drunk asshole take anything else from me. This ends now.”

  With that, I turned on my heels and stomped out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lyla

  Four months later

  I was tired.

  God, I was so tired I couldn’t even see straight.

  The computer began to blur, the numbers on the spreadsheet I was entering looking like blotchy watermarks. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not today. Not when the garage was the closest thing I had to Will.

  “Jesus Christ, dollface. You keep squintin’ at the screen like that, you’re gonna go blind.”

  My head shot up and around to find Stone standing in the doorway of my office, leaning one shoulder casually against the frame as he scrubbed at it hands with what used to be a white rag but was now covered in a multitude of grease stains.

  “Too late,” I said with a grin. “Think blindness is already setting in. Don’t be surprised if I walk in here with Coke-bottle glasses tomorrow.”

  “Think you just managed to kill the sexy librarian gig for me, sweetheart.”

  I laughed. And it was shocking that I’d be able to do so on a day like today. Then again, when it came to Stone, I laughed a whole hell of a lot. He’d always had a knack for making me laugh, no matter my mood.

  Gavin “Stone” Hendrix had been at the garage even longer than Will had, and when Will eventually took the place over, he’d offered Stone an extortionate pay hike to stay on. My brother had some serious skill when it came to cars, but to hear him tell it, Stone had a talent when it came to anything with an engine that made Will’s look like a kid playing with Legos. My brother’s words.

  In the years they’d worked together, they became close, so close in fact that Will held him in almost as high a regard as he did the guys in the band, which was really saying something.

  Over the years, Stone had become another piece of our family, attending Christmases and Thanksgiving dinners at my folks’ house. It was hilarious seeing him at our table, what with his abundance of tattoos, the silver adorning his fingers, and the Harley he rode around town every single day no matter the weather. He was the antithesis to my carefree, all-American brother. Where Will was soft, Stone was hard as a rock, hence the nickname he claimed to have had for as long as he could remember.

  He made the guys in Civil Corruption look like they were just playing at being bad boys, because Stone was the very definition of it.

  But Will easily saw through the hard, callused layers to the hardcore loyalty beneath, and the two of them became brothers. That was why when Will died, he did
n’t give me the garage outright. He split it evenly between both Stone and me with the stipulation that if either of us ever wanted out, full ownership was to be transferred to the other. Keep it in the family was what Will’s wish had been. And knowing exactly how much Stone cared for my brother, and how he’d always, always handled me with care, I didn’t have a single problem with that.

  “Sorry to have destroyed that for you,” I replied with a giggle. “But if it makes you feel better, you’ve still got the schoolgirl fantasy to fall back on.”

  His rough voice echoing through the room as he said, “Thirty-seven years old, dollface. Moved past girls and onto women a long fuckin’ time ago. Even in my fantasies.”

  “College co-ed, then?” He gave me a look, and I quickly amended, “Sexy, badass biker babes in leather?”

  “Now you’re talkin’.”

  My head fell back on loud laugh. I’d been doing that a lot more lately. Laughing, that was. Right after Will passed I hadn’t thought it would ever be possible, but with time and acceptance, I was finally starting to look back at all the good memories with fondness instead of sadness.

  “Don’t know if you noticed, darlin’, but the sun went down a long time ago. What the hell are you still doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be home by now?”

  Home. My life had been in complete disarray lately, but my lack of home was the issue at the forefront of my mind just then.

  I’d eventually grown tired of my parents’ constant hovering and decided I couldn’t stay there any longer. But I couldn’t go back to Will’s. That was something I’d never be able to do. We ended up hiring a company to pack up all of his stuff and moved it into storage. Once my mother was strong enough, she’d eventually put the house on the market, but I couldn’t live there any longer. Not without him. I’d crashed with Tate for a while but got tired of sleeping on her couch—thanks to her place only having one bedroom—and decided it was time for me to get an apartment of my own. Especially after she’d announced she was moving to Seattle to become the guys’ new manager since a major drama recently caused them to fire both their old one and their personal assistant.