by Jen Davis
The temptation to ignore it overwhelmed him, but if Sucre stood outside, it would be a bad idea to make him wait. He had already met his lifetime quota on bad ideas.
He abandoned the promise of a little alcohol-induced oblivion as the banging grew faster and louder. An apology died on his lips when he caught sight of Kane at the threshold. “What the fuck are you doing here, man?”
“Fine way to greet a friend.” Kane shouldered his way into the room.
He kept the door open behind him. “How did you even find me?” He shook himself. “Doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”
Kane brushed at some imaginary lint on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Some old bald guy at the gym pointed out the way. Apparently, he thinks I’m doing something to help you get laid.” He dropped the casual façade, his face turning to stone. “And I’m not leaving, so you can hang that shit up right now.”
The guy meant well, but Kane didn’t understand the kind of clusterfuck he was stepping into. Brick dropped his voice to a whisper. “I think my place is bugged, or there are cameras; I don’t know. It’s not safe.”
“Fine. Then take a ride with me. We need to talk. I’m not going without you.”
Growling, he followed Kane to his bike. “No way we’re both going to fit on there.”
Kane climbed on. “Just get behind me, asshole. I’m not trying to be your boyfriend. Let’s go.”
It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to balance on the seat. They drove several blocks to an empty playground with wooden benches. Playground wasn’t the right word. There were two swings and a single basketball hoop. A bent-up old baseball bat lay discarded in the grass.
He strode away from the bike and kicked over one of the heavy benches. “My whole life is fucked.” Bellowing into the open field, he channeled the hate, the shame, the hopelessness into a roar that sent the birds squawking into the cloudy sky.
Sitting on one of the benches still standing upright, Kane waited and watched.
He stomped the overturned bench again, then picked up the old bat and tore into the wood. All the while, he yelled at the top of his lungs. When he had no energy left, he slid to the ground. “He ruined the only good thing I’ve ever had.” It came out ragged. “No. I ruined it…before I ever even met her.”
Kane gave up the bench to sit next to him in the dirt. “I assume you’re talking about your girl. She says you’re not answering her calls.”
“She knows what I am now.” His stare drilled holes into the ground.
“She probably knows who you are better than you do, brother.” Kane sighed. “Tell me the whole story.”
“It was a test.” He laughed brokenly. “Sucre gave me a girl to make me prove I had no one special in my life. He was looking for a clue I had someone he could use against me.”
“And?”
“And I fucking failed. I couldn’t cheat on Olivia. I couldn’t.” He flexed his hands then shook them out. “I told him no, so he played his trump card. He showed her what I am.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Sucre fucking owns me. He’s owned me for years,” he gritted. “He tells me to kill somebody, I kill them. He tells me to fuck somebody, I fuck ’em.”
“Not this time.”
“No. Not this time, but enough times he has an arsenal to use against me whenever he needs a weapon. I knew he had videos of me on the job. I figured he’d use them to threaten me with the cops if I ever stepped out of line. I figured the videos he took in bed were just another way to break me down.”
Had he really just slipped his worst shame? Did it even matter anymore? No. He laughed darkly. “He says it always pays to have insurance. I guess it paid off for him this time.”
Kane gripped his shoulder. “You have to talk to her.”
“How could she possibly look me in the eye?” He buried his face in his hands. “You don’t know what was on the video she saw.”
Kane squeezed, then let go. “I have a pretty good idea. But as for your girl, I can’t say how it will go once you see her. I do know she’s looking for you, and she’s scared. And for what it’s worth, it sounds to me like you didn’t have much of a choice. About any of it.”
“I don’t think she’s going to see it the same way.”
Kane climbed to his feet and held out his hand. “There’s only one way to find out, brother. Let’s get back on the bike.”
Chapter 25
Liv
Liv gave up her attempts to marshal her thoughts into lesson plans as a knock came at her door. When she opened it up, Brick stood outside, his expression a blank mask.
“Can I come in?” His voice was stilted, formal.
She ushered him in and led him to the sofa. “I’ve been so worried. I was afraid to call you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to face you. I’m still not, but here I am.” He didn’t so much as glance at her while he spoke. His gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.
His dead stare looked so much like the one she’d seen at the beginning—and later—the end of the video. It was like he’d sealed himself off to what was happening; he’d resigned himself to his fate.
“I guess you know I’ve seen the videos.”
He nodded his head.
“You know what was on them?”
“Some of it. I’ve got a pretty good idea about the rest.” His fingers dug into the coarse denim covering his thighs. “I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was.” He never turned his gaze from the wall.
It only made the pressure on her lungs intensify. It hurt to breathe. “Look at me,” she whispered. When he ignored her, she spoke in a louder voice. “Look at me.”
“I can’t!” he roared, but his actions betrayed his words. His wide, frantic eyes swung to her face. “How can I look at you when you’ve seen—when you know?” There was so much anguish in his question. The blank expression replaced by something twisted and broken.
She fought the threatening tears. “I already knew what you did for him. The business parts.” Though nothing could have prepared her for seeing it. “You’ve been up front with me about the violence from day one.”
“But not the sex. I never told you I—” His big body shuddered.
She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.
With a deep sigh, Brick drew to his feet, then pushed his shoulders back. “I’ll go.”
No. Everything inside of her cried out in protest. If he walked out the door, he might never come back. “Wait.” She leapt off the sofa and grabbed his arm. Pain gripped her chest. She couldn’t shake the image of him in the bed with those women…and that man.
But he hadn’t wanted it—any sign of pleasure on his face in the video evaporated the moment Sucre touched him. Only the mask remained. He may not have let his misery show, but she had no doubt about what she’d seen. The idea of this breaking him, of it breaking them…
Not going to happen.
She shoved it all down. “Do you want to be with me?” Her voice sounded surprisingly level to her own ears.
He finally looked at her. His eyes were haunted. “More than anything. The worst part is I have no idea what kind of shit he’ll put me through next. I can’t ask you to live with that. I can barely live with it myself.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t want to give up on this.” Her hand slid down his arm to grip his palm. “I don’t want to give up on us.”
“I’m not worth it,” he whispered. His hopelessness strengthened her resolve.
“You’re wrong. Would you blame me if someone forced me into sex?”
His voice hardened. “It’s not the same.”
She tugged on his hand. “The hell it’s not. You don’t need my forgiveness, or my acceptance. You need to forgive yourself. He raped you.”
“Did you see a gun to my head?” he shouted. “I’m bigger. I’m stronger—”
“And he’s controlled you since you were a kid. He. Raped. You.�
�� She stepped toward him, and he stepped back.
“Don’t pity me,” he gritted out.
Slowly, she raised her hand and cupped his jaw. Her insides were flayed open, and her heart, bleeding. How much could one man take?
“It’s not pity. I hurt for your hurt. I want to take it away. I want you to feel how much you mean to me.” Her hand slid behind his neck. “Please don’t give up on us.”
He stared into her eyes for two heartbeats, then swept her into his arms. Crushing her against his chest, he murmured into her hair. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. But if you want me, I’m yours. For as long as you want, however you want, I am yours.”
She was starting to get light-headed when he finally eased his grip.
“I don’t know how we’re going to make this work,” he breathed, “but I swear I’ll do anything I can to find a way.”
He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.
Her mouth still tingled as he let himself out the front door.
***
Brick
Brick returned to work the next day, though he had some trouble holding on to his tools. His hands had come a long way since the fight Friday, but they still had some healing left to do. Kane quietly stepped in whenever he struggled.
He tried to call his grandma at lunch, but the nurse gave him the runaround with some bullshit about how the doctor would call him. It would have made him nervous if he hadn’t received a picture of her in her dressing gown taking a bite of what appeared to be oatmeal for breakfast. If he couldn’t get her on the phone, he’d go visit in a few days. As much as he hated those pictures, occasionally they were as much of a blessing as a curse.
Wednesday night, Sucre summoned him to El Cabron. He went with his heart in his throat, sure his bastard of a boss would have some other degrading hoop for him to jump through.
When he arrived, though, Sucre, missing his regular gaggle of girls, sat on his throne with Tre on one side and a younger guy on the other.
He only spared the kid a glance at first, but something pushed him to do a double-take. The boy looked eerily similar to Tre, but instead of projecting bravado, his face was very serious. No flashy clothes, he wore jeans and a dark hoodie and stared at the wall across the room.
Damn.
He would bet all the cash in his coffee table he was looking at Olivia’s missing student. Gaze focused back on his boss, he advanced toward the throne. “Sir.”
Sucre tossed him the phone he’d taken at the apartment. “Brick, I want to introduce you to the newest member of our little family.” He gestured to the teenager in the hoodie. “This is Devon. He’s going to be learning the ropes over the next few weeks.”
The kid flashed a look at him briefly, and Brick nodded his head. In his peripheral vision, he could make out Tre’s clenched fists and tight jaw.
“Young Devon is Tre’s brother by blood. I’m sure they’ll both be able to bring something special to the table.” Sucre turned to Tre. “You’ll welcome your little brother to the fold with open arms, won’t you?”
For a moment, he thought the fool would be crazy enough to tell Sucre no. Tre’s eyes drew to slits and his mouth, a thin line. Ultimately, though, he managed to grit out an unconvincing, “Yes, sir.”
Sucre clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Devon’s already been doing some small assignments for me. We’ll start revving things up a little later in the week. Brick, I want you to go over the outstanding accounts with Tre. His brother and I have some quality time we need to spend together now.”
Apparently, Sucre wasn’t going to say anything about the scene he’d made Saturday or the video he’d texted from his phone. Fine. But Brick wasn’t fool enough to think his boss had let it go.
As Sucre led Devon toward his office, Brick could only hope the man’s harem waited back there as a surprise for the boy. The alternative was too disheartening to consider. Either way, there was nothing he could do to affect the outcome.
He motioned Tre to the bar where the bartender was already popping open two longnecks. They sat on the old leather stools.
“Where are you on your collections?” he asked before taking a swig of his Budweiser.
Tre didn’t answer. His fingernails dug into the scuffed wood in front of them.
Brick cleared his throat. “I understand if you’re worried about your brother.”
“Worried?” Tre scoffed. “I’m not fucking worried. I’m pissed.” He gripped his beer and guzzled it down. “This is my gig. Last thing I need is perfect little D coming along and trying to do it better than me. He needs to stick to his own shit.”
“You think he wants to be here right now?”
“Why wouldn’t he? This job means good money, respect, and all the free pussy you could ever ask for. And it’s supposed to be mine.”
“There’s plenty of it all to go around,” he said quietly. “We’d better focus on those accounts, though, unless you want a different scenario to play out.”
Tre nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But brother or not, if Devon tries to take even a little of what’s mine, he won’t live to regret it.”
***
Liv
Liv had been uneasy all day, like someone had been watching her at work. She could’ve gone to Will’s construction site as she had been for more than a week, but instead she called Iz and met her for a sparring session. People packed the gym this time of day and all the other people gave her at least the illusion of safety.
Izzy linked arms with her as they walked into the gym. “I’m glad you called me. I like sparring with you, Nugget, even if you do still whine sometimes about the shiner I gave you once.”
Though it was true the black eye was still an occasional sore spot, at least practicing self-defense gave her a proactive thing to do. Her resolution about making good choices wasn’t bullshit. She would help herself by taking these lessons seriously, like she should have done from the start.
God knows she was flailing in every other part in her life. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw Devon. She’d lost him.
Then there was Jonathan. She was falling hard for the guy, and she was pretty sure he felt the same. Still, she felt as though she could lose him any second. What if his drug lord boss kept him in a fight too long? Or what if some junkie came at him with a gun? And she refused to even think about the possibility of Sucre putting his hands on him again.
Jonathan was so big and strong and capable, but even he had been a victim. Without training, what chance did she have?
She rubbed at her sternum. “I kind of hoped we could work on grappling holds and escape techniques.”
Izzy stopped a few feet into the building and cocked her head to the left. “Is there something you want to tell me about?”
Not even a little. “You wanted me to learn how to defend myself, right? I don’t need offensive techniques. I don’t even really need to deflect a punch, Iz. If anyone were to come at me, they’d grab me, right? What I need is to be able to get away. I liked the stuff where you showed me how to escape a hold from behind. I want to go over it again, and anything else you think would be good.”
Iz rubbed her hands together briskly as they faced off on the mat. “I’m not going to go easy on you.”
“You wouldn’t be helping me if you did.”
Over and over, they ran through the drills. The first half hour they did only attacks from behind. They must have done it twenty times. When the arm came around Liv’s neck, she’d tuck her chin and push out her shoulder, step out and duck under it. Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
Determined to get it right, she pushed herself.
Soon, her muscles responded without thought.
Tuck. Push. Step. Duck.
She pulled the elastic band from her hair to reform her ponytail. The hair framing her face and neck was damp with sweat. “What do I do once I get out of the hold?”
“Hurt him. Then run.�
��
“Like, kick him in the junk?”
Izzy shook her head. “It’s not always as easy as it sounds. I’d jab him in the throat if you can. Don’t make a fist. Keep your fingers extended.” Her sister gave a quick demonstration, then gave her a chance to try it herself. “If you have something sharp, go for an eye, but you can’t be squeamish. What was it Carol liked to say? Go big or go home.”
The idea of popping someone’s eye turned her stomach. She frowned. “I don’t know if I could pop somebody’s eye.”
“Then punch him in the ear or slam the heel of your hand up into his nose. Either one will hurt like a motherfucker. Strike hard, then run fast.”
They never did get around to front-facing grappling attacks, but she felt a lot more confident walking out than she did walking in. “You have time for dinner with your now-badass little sister? My treat.”
“As long as it’s not Chipotle.”
“Spoilsport.”
***
The next day at work, Liv’s nagging feeling came back, and it followed her all day long. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what bothered her, but her sister had told her a hundred times never to ignore an instinct.
Getting backup would be the smart approach.
It only took a few minutes to find Dave, the school resource officer/security guard, to walk her out. Even with him right there, her stomach did a slow flip when she spotted her car. There were key-marks scratched in either side, footprints and a deep crater caved in on the hood, and all four tires were flat. Someone had attacked her little Corolla.
She whipped her head around the parking lot, searching for clues to the perpetrator, but deep in her heart, she knew who to blame. She’d let herself believe Devon’s brother had forgotten about her. Obviously, it was too much to hope for.
“You have someone you can call, Ms. Turner? A husband? Your father?” Dave asked sympathetically. “I could help you file a report.”