Black Promises: A Dark New Adult Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  But would killing fix anything?

  And if I dragged Jarrod into this situation, would that damn us both and bind me to him forever?

  He might never let me go. Once he got his night, he might want more, and what could I do? If we killed together, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn that same deadly hunger on me.

  Was I walking into a hell of my own making?

  None of it mattered. I grabbed a meal from the cafeteria, then hurried to the stadium. Robyn had said practice got off at six and had only seemed somewhat suspicious about why I’d been asking. I lingered near the entrance, feeling like an idiot, like an imposter, and the evening stretched on. People wandered past, guys and girls in groups, laughing and talking with each other, some of them with headphones on, their backpacks pulled up tight.

  Normal people in their normal lives. I’d never been like them and never would be, not until I excised the demons that tore at my heart.

  Not until I bathed in Dr. Silver’s blood.

  Several loud voices pulled my attention. Jarred came toward me along with Addler, Des, and Calvin. Those idiots were always together, and I bristled a little bit.

  Why would Jarrod bring his buddies to a meeting about murder?

  “What’s this fine young thing doing here?” Des asked, spotting me.

  I wished I could shrink away.

  “Easy there. I don’t think poor Cora’s too into your shit, man.” Addler nudged Des.

  Des shoved him back. “Everyone’s into my shit. I’ve got the best shit around.”

  “Shut up, both of you.” Jarrod’s voice was a growl. He approached me and glanced back at his group.

  Des was beaming. “You gonna choke her this time, big guy? Go ahead, nobody’s stopping you.”

  Addler looked uncomfortable. Calvin raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s here to tutor me.” Jarrod crossed his arms and glared at his friends. “Is that a fucking problem?”

  Addler burst out laughing. Jarrod didn’t like that, but he didn’t say anything. The laughter died down, and the boys moved past him.

  “Enjoy the nerd session,” Des called out. “Make sure you don’t get kicked off the team. Otherwise, what the hell are you gonna do with yourself?”

  Jarrod grunted as they kept on wandering down the path and toward the cafeteria.

  I let out a breath. “Some friends. Are they always like that?”

  Jarrod didn’t look at me. “Don’t act like you know me, freak. Now come on.” He walked toward the empty classrooms. There were a few night sessions, but only a few.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere private. I have something for you to sign.”

  “Sign? What the hell?”

  But Jarrod was done talking. I had to almost jog to keep up with his long strides, and I scurried along in his wake like a tiny sea creature swimming after a massive ancient whale.

  I noticed the way people looked at him. There were stares of fascination, of fear, of lust, of excitement. He seemed totally unaware of the effect he had on the people around him—but wherever he went, he left an anxious excitement behind.

  It was fascinating. When I walked around, people barely looked at me once, let alone stared with their mouths hanging open.

  Jarrod was a spectacle. He was famous.

  That made doing this with him all the more dangerous.

  We entered the Crane building. He took me to the second floor, down a narrow hallway lined with classrooms, and ducked into the final room before the far staircase. “Sit down,” he said.

  I took a seat at the table. It’d been set up in a big square.

  He shut the door, grabbed a chair, and sat across from me. He unzipped his backpack—it was mostly empty, which wasn’t a surprise, while mine was packed with books and notes—and took out two pieces of paper.

  He put them side by side and turned them to face me.

  I stared at them, furrowed my brow, then laughed.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s a contract. One copy for you and one for me.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  He didn’t seem fazed. “We both sign.”

  “This sort of shit is how we end up in prison. Are you insane? If we get investigated and we have this floating around—”

  “Sign the paper.”

  I took a frustrated breath.

  The contract was simple. It definitely wasn’t legal or binding in any way, but it was very incriminating.

  It said, very simply, Cora Boyle swears to offer her body for one night of carnal pleasure in payment for the murder of Dr. Silver by Jarrod Hale. Jarrod and Cora both swear to never speak of this act to anyone, and will die before they give up their accomplice.

  Below that, a space for both of our names, already signed with Jarrod’s tight scrawl.

  “He’s not really a doctor.”

  Jarrod narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “Dannis Silver. He’s a chiropractor. He’s not a real doctor, even if he goes by Dr. Silver.”

  “That’s not important.”

  “You want a stupid contract, you should get it right.”

  He stared at me, then took a pen from his bag and scribbled out the Dr. on both copies. “Better?”

  “Much better. Only I thought we were supposed to trust each other.”

  “Fuck trust. Put it on paper.” He jabbed a finger at the table. “We each get a copy. If the other person tries to do something stupid, we’ll have this. Mutually assured destruction.”

  “Great idea. Really smart.”

  “Worked for the US and the Soviets.”

  “I’m shocked you even know that.”

  “I’m not as dumb as I seem.” Jarrod's jaw twitched. “Sign the paper if you want to do this.”

  I glared at him. I was already losing control of this situation and hated it. Years of meticulous planning thrown off course by one pushy jock.

  I grabbed the one from his hand and signed both copies. I shoved it back at him when I finished.

  “Happy?”

  “Not at all.” He took one copy and put it in his bag.

  I took the other. I didn’t know where I’d keep it. I considered burning the damn thing, but if he kept his—

  God, he was right. Trust wasn’t going to be easy to come by.

  Maybe the contract was a good idea.

  Mutually assured destruction.

  He leaned back in his chair and studied me.

  “All right then, freak. I’m officially a part of this hit. What’s the plan?”

  I let out a snort and shoved the paper away in my bag. “You ready to get started already?”

  “I don’t see a reason to draw this out. From what I can tell, you’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I bet you know how you want to do it?”

  I nodded slowly. He was so right about that.

  I’d fantasized about killing Dr. Silver again and again. When the nights were hard and I was deep in rock bottom, I closed my eyes and pictured stomping on his skull until it snapped like a soft melon.

  Definitely losing my mind.

  Definitely long gone.

  “He’s single,” I said slowly. “Lives alone in a nice house. He’s got a dog, though, which is going to be a problem, and I’m guessing a serious security system.”

  “What about his practice? He ever alone?”

  “Not there, no. It’s full of staff and patients.”

  “What about hobbies? Does he go to the gym?”

  I shifted in my chair. “I don’t know.”

  His eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I’ve been studying him, but I have a life too.”

  “Do you?” He looked away, seemingly distracted. “His house then. We’ll have to do some research and case out the place.”

  “I’ve been there. I know where to find it.”

  “Good. We’ll go again.” He looked back at me. “How am I going to d
o it?”

  My mouth opened and my jaw worked for a long beat.

  The moment had arrived. I’d considered so many different methods of execution: hanging, dismemberment, drowning, knives, clubs, poison. But I kept coming back to a gun, simple and clean and easy.

  “I want you to shoot him in the face after he gets a good look at me and I remind him about what he did.”

  Jarrod grunted. “I can get a gun. That’ll be fine. I was wondering if you’d prefer something slower.”

  I blanched then as the reality of what I was doing threatened to break into my homicidal fantasy. “No, thanks.”

  “Whatever you want, freak.” He shoved back from the table. “We’ll talk more details tomorrow. Put together everything you know on the guy and come prepared.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I’m fucking starving.” He walked to the door.

  I jumped to my feet. “Hold on a second. That piece of paper you have in your bag. How do I know you won’t just use it to fuck me?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. It’s called trust, freak.”

  “Mutually assured destruction isn’t trust. It’s just a standoff.”

  “Either way.” He pulled open the door and left.

  I sank back into my head and stared at the ceiling.

  The rational side of my brain was screaming for me to back out before it was too late. I could give Jarrod the money for his silence and walk away. I hadn’t crossed the line yet—my life wasn’t over.

  I still had a future.

  But the rest of me knew the rational side of my brain was a fucking moron.

  Whatever was left of me was a broken, withered husk. I knew killing Dr. Silver wouldn’t fix me, but at the very least, it might break my spell of obsession. Without justice to fixate on, maybe I’d be able to find a way to move on with my life.

  I’d have work to do. I was a mess, after all.

  But there’d be a chance if I didn’t have the knowledge of his continued existence hanging over my head.

  If he was dead, I didn’t have to constantly wonder—

  Was he doing it to someone else?

  Right now, this very second, was he doing something unspeakable to another little girl or boy?

  That was why I couldn’t walk away.

  The cops wouldn’t do anything. My parents thought I was a liar.

  But Jarrod was sick enough to go along with my plan, and I was broken enough to use him as needed.

  There was no future. Not for me, not until Dr. Silver was a blood smear and a stain in the past.

  5

  Jarrod

  I got home late after practice with thoughts of Cora still buzzing through my head.

  The folded contract was like fire in my backpack. It had the potential to destroy everything and drag her down with me—and the thrill of the risk made my blood sing with excitement.

  I liked living on the edge. It was one of the few things that made me feel alive. There was a reason I’d dragged Cora down to the quarry and made her stand there above a three-hundred-foot drop with cold, empty air and balance the only thing between the two of us and final oblivion.

  I’d wanted to see if she’d flinch.

  She had, but not in the way I’d expected.

  This was serious for her. At first, I’d thought it was some kind of game. Maybe it was a prank or a sorority thing. But the more I’d thought about it, the more I’d realized Cora wasn’t playing.

  She’d never spoken to me for longer than necessary before that party. We’d been around each other for years, ever since she’d become best friends with my cousin, but she’d never bothered talking to me for more than a few sentences. Probably because she hated me, and with good reason—from her perspective, I was nothing but a monster to Robyn.

  If only that were the case, life would be easier.

  I stepped in through the back door and lingered in the mudroom. Laundry was piled on top of the dryer—I’d forgotten to unload my clothes again. I heard only silence, and I thought I might be safe as I began to shove my clean stuff into a basket, but an angry shout made me pause on the threshold of the kitchen.

  I strained to hear. Muffled voices, movement upstairs. The floorboards creaked.

  Robyn’s room.

  Another angry shout. I sighed and began the trek upstairs.

  Aunt Genni sat in the living room with a martini glass and a thousand-yard stare. She glanced over as I tried to sneak past, her wrinkled face pulled down in a sick frown, her skin the color of rotten milk.

  “He’s at it again,” she said softly. “You’d better stay down here.”

  “And leave Robyn? No thanks.”

  “You know how he gets when you’re involved.”

  I snorted and looked away. I knew exactly how he got. I’d been dealing with it ever since I’d come to live with these people. Genni had more control over these situations than she realized, and yet all she ever did was sit on that couch, drink herself stupid, and pretend like everything would be fine once her husband’s rage cooled off.

  Nothing was fine and hadn’t been for a long time.

  I headed upstairs. I heard Aunt Genni sigh, but she didn’t try to stop me.

  Sometimes I wondered if she enjoyed the spectacle.

  I dropped my laundry basket in my room. I heard a whispered argument leaking through Robyn’s door. I couldn’t understand everything, but I caught the general feeling.

  Uncle Bernard was pissed that Robyn had been late getting home from campus, which was probably my fault since she’d waited to drive Cora.

  I walked to the door and took a deep breath.

  I knew how this went. If I ignored it and hoped it passed, Uncle Bernard’s rage would only grow hotter until he inevitably exploded on Robyn. That could take the form of loud screaming and cursing, or he could slap her across the face repeatedly.

  He’d done both and worse in the years I’d known him.

  But he hadn’t touched her in a while. I wouldn’t let him go there.

  I knocked twice. The argument stopped as I stepped inside.

  Robyn sat at her desk, face pale with fright. Uncle Bernard stood over her, looming like a bully, pink nostrils flared, tiny eyes wide. He looked back at me, and his jaw tightened as his rage peaked.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here, castoff?”

  “I wanted to check up on you two. Sounds like you’re having another one of your classic discussions.” I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.

  Uncle Bernard was a big guy. Back when I’d first come to live with him, I’d thought he was a giant. His rages had scared me blind back then, and there had been nothing I could do when he went on a rampage. I’d had to take the abuse, the beatings, the constant tirades, the incessant blaming and hatred. I’d been the reason everything had gone bad for him. I’d been the root of all evil, at least according to him. If I’d ever tried to speak up, he’d be quick to remind me that the only reason I wasn’t living in some hellhole foster home was his kindness.

  Kindness. That was the word he’d used.

  The piece of shit. Sometimes I wondered if a foster home would’ve been better.

  Now, though, I was taller than him, stronger than him, and a hell of a lot younger. He knew my reputation—he saw the bruises and the cuts. He came to the football games and watched me pummel opponents for fun.

  He couldn’t hurt me anymore.

  And yet the little kid locked deep inside still cringed every time he turned his attention my way. I wondered if that would ever go away and figured probably not.

  “This has nothing to do with you, castoff. This is between me and my daughter.”

  “We both know how this goes. You yell and scream at her, she apologizes over and over, and eventually you smack the shit out of her anyway. Why don’t we skip the abusive asshole shit for tonight?”

  His face turned blood red. He took a step toward me, hands tightened into fists, and I knew what he
wanted.

  He wanted to hurt.

  I understood him better than I liked to admit.

  I pushed off the wall and squared up, daring him to make a move.

  We stared each other down. Sometimes, he took the bait and vented his frustration out on me. I let him do it, although we both knew I could break his neck any time I wanted.

  Mostly, though, he backed down.

  Tonight looked like one of those nights as he took a breath and slowly let it out.

  “Remember why you’re here, castoff. Without my help, you’d be in some crack den snorting heroin and dying before your twentieth birthday. I can take all this away the second I want to.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I stepped aside and gestured at the hallway. “Whenever you’re done.”

  He looked back at his daughter. “Don’t be late again.”

  “Okay, Dad. I won’t.”

  He stormed past me. I didn’t move to stop him. It was always better to let him walk away and cool off, even if sometimes I wanted to smash his skull into small pieces.

  The problem with that was that Genni and Robyn still loved the vindictive piece of shit. And he held all the power in this family.

  So there wasn’t much to be gained from killing him.

  Still, it was tempting.

  “Thanks,” Robyn said, leaning her head back against her chair and closing her eyes. “He was going to escalate tonight.”

  “I know. I heard it in his voice.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, looking at me and smiling.

  “Probably get your ass beaten more often.” I smiled back, though.

  I didn’t know why I treated her like shit in public. It was probably the same impulse that drove me to fight. All those dark feelings, the blackest aspects of my personality, the rotten bits of my soul, they pushed me into pain and violence and degradation. The same reason I liked to get punched in the face was the same reason I liked to torture Robyn at school.

  It made me feel something.

  Anything at all.

  “So what’s the deal with you and Cora?” She spoke so casually that I almost answered truthfully.