Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  “The fuck I can’t.” He gripped her hand. “I’ll do it as long as it takes.”

  ***

  Liv curled into a tight ball on the bed in her sister’s guest room. Even though she’d probably be safe at home, she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the face of Jennifer Muniz.

  She hadn’t been friends with the woman, but they’d spoken a few times in the faculty lounge. What she remembered most about her was the passionate speech the woman had given at a PTA meeting the year she disappeared.

  “These kids need us,” she’d said. “We could turn them toward a real future instead of a life slinging burgers or selling weed.”

  How could she have missed the connection when Tre brought her up?

  She shivered and pulled the nest of blankets tighter around herself. She had stood barely a few feet away from the man who extinguished the light in Jennifer’s eyes. The man who violated her and threw her away like garbage.

  “I’m so stupid,” she whimpered.

  She’d resolved to live bigger, make better choices. What a joke. Last year, she was planning her future by checking off boxes, and now she was doing the exact same thing. Except instead of picking Mr. Perfect or the right vacation spot, she marked boxes off a bucket list she didn’t even make…and still didn’t think about whether her choices would really make her life better. She only asked herself what Old Liv would do, then did the opposite.

  But there was no Old Liv—or new one for that matter. Only one Liv existed, and she was long overdue on facing reality.

  Surviving cancer didn’t make her invincible, but maybe a small part of her felt entitled to give danger the middle finger. She lived through her treatment when so many didn’t. But what did it prove? Carol had kicked cancer before, but beating death once didn’t guarantee you could beat it a second time.

  No more jumping out of planes.

  No more home visits in a terrible neighborhood.

  No more being reckless.

  She had to be smart. From now on, she would think things through, consider the end result, and commit to the path to get herself there.

  She wouldn’t keep taking Krav Maga to satisfy Izzy or prove she was tough; she would use it to learn to really protect herself. Starting tonight.

  And she wasn’t staying with Jonathan simply because he was so different than Ryan or because Carol put falling in love on the list. Not even because he made her heart race and her pulse pound. She wanted to be with him because he was a good man and she cared about him. He could make her happy.

  If she had been unsure at all about what a monster looked like before, thanks to Tre Lowry, she knew now.

  Jonathan’s hands may not be clean, but he wanted to change. He would change, and she’d be there with him to celebrate when he did.

  If her mistake with Tre hadn’t already sealed her fate.

  ***

  Two hours later, Liv faced her sister at the gym, warming up her muscles.

  She peeked over at Izzy as she dropped into a lunge. “I’m sorry you got stuck in the middle of all my drama.”

  Her sister sat on the floor with her legs spread, leaning over to hold her right foot. She sat up fully with Liv’s apology. “Are you kidding me? I’m your big sister. I want to help you with your problems. You’ve hardly talked to me at all since we lost Carol.”

  We. The word grated.

  Carol wasn’t your friend. She was mine.

  She almost said it aloud before she realized how awful it would sound. Her grief had consumed her so much, it never even occurred to her Iz considered Carol a friend too. Maybe not the same way, but her death affected every life she touched. “I’m sorry. It was too hard. It’s still too hard, really. I need you, though. I need you to help me be strong. Help me feel safe.”

  Iz resumed her stretching, her face carefully blank. “This Jonathan makes you feel safe?”

  “Someone would have to go through him to get to me. He’s always been worried about keeping me safe. So yeah. But I want to do the same for him. I get the idea no one has ever fought for him before. Hell, he doesn’t even think he’s worth fighting for, but he is.” She clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Maybe it sounds dumb, but Mom said love doesn’t always make sense.”

  Iz switched her stretch to the other side with a wistful smile. “Yes, she did.”

  Giving up any pretense of stretching, she squatted down to get eye level with her sister. “Even though I feel safe with him, Iz, I need to feel safe alone too. Will you help me?”

  Izzy completed her stretch, then gracefully came to her feet. “How about I start with showing you how to escape a chokehold from behind?” Her sister stepped behind her and locked a forearm against her throat.

  Instinctively, her hands reached up to pry it off. No matter how hard she struggled, Iz didn’t budge. When her sister finally let go, she did it because she chose to.

  “You’re never going to free yourself by thrashing around. In most cases, your attacker will be bigger than you. Stronger. You compensate by being smarter and faster.” Iz stood in front of her. “This time, you come behind me.”

  She wrapped her arm around Izzy’s neck the same way her sister had done to her, but in seconds, Iz had escaped her grasp. She had no idea how it happened.

  “We’ll do it again, but in slow motion.”

  She returned to her position behind Iz.

  “Start by bringing your hands up, on your attacker’s hand, the other on his forearm.” Slowly, Iz showed her where to put her hands. “Tuck your chin to the left. Then push your left shoulder into the guy’s chest. It’s going to put a little space between you.” Izzy’s body moved in time with her explanation. “Now step back around him with your left foot and duck out under his arm.”

  Like fucking Houdini, Iz got out.

  “Now you, Nugget.” They went through the steps three more times, until finally she managed to shimmy loose, and Iz called it a night.

  For the first time, she’d learned something at the gym that gave her hope she might be able to protect herself if she had to.

  Iz joined her as they headed for the door. “You said love a minute ago. Love doesn’t always make sense. Are you in love with Jonathan, Liv?”

  “I think I might be.” She hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “But one thing I know for sure—I’m not going to give up the chance to find out.”

  ***

  Brick

  The crowd at El Cabron swelled a little thicker on a Sunday night during football season. Not because many of the guys in Brick’s neighborhood were Falcons fans, but because most of them had a bet on the books over the point spread. Sucre took in as much cash making books as he did pushing drugs or loaning cash.

  Before Brick even settled in his regular chair, Sucre got down to business. “I need a cleanup on Lorenzo.”

  Did he hear Sucre right? Lorenzo was supposed to have one more day to pay off his debt.

  Sucre ran his hand over the lapel of his burgundy suit jacket. “He’s been running his mouth. And he pulled a gun on you.”

  “Yes, sir. I fucked up his wrist and his elbow for the disrespect.”

  “I want him dead. You and I both know he doesn’t have the money. He lost it all on the ponies. I want you to take Tre and make an example of Señor Carpenter.”

  His boss meant for him to leave a mess behind. This shit would never end. “Consider it done.” He returned to his feet, ready to get his dirty job started.

  Tre waited for him by the bar. “Dude is finally gonna get what’s coming to him.”

  “Yeah, but what you’ve got to take away from this is, Sucre made the call to pull the plug on this guy. It’s never our call. You kill somebody when it’s not ordered, and you set yourself up for a world of pain.”

  Tre nodded darkly. “Yeah. I got it.”

  It occurred to him Sucre hadn’t specified Tre’s role for the night. Maybe he could save himself a little more blackness
on his soul and channel the kid’s darker impulses at the same time. “Sucre said to make this one dirty. Seems to me, you might enjoy that sort of thing. You want to take the lead tonight?”

  The kid’s eyes darkened with excitement. “For real? Fuck yeah, man. I live for making things dirty.”

  ***

  Dirty didn’t begin to describe what Tre did to Lorenzo Carpenter. Brick was grateful he didn’t have to clean up the mess left behind. He let Tre run the whole operation. Watching it unfold was one of the most heinous things he’d ever witnessed.

  When Tre completed his task, blood coated his skin and clothes. He smiled at the carnage he’d made of what was once a man and smirked. “Now that’s what I call a lesson.”

  The kid pulled out his switchblade and sliced off Lorenzo’s index finger. “You got your tarp, man? I’ll roll him up.”

  True to his word, Tre did all the heavy lifting. They left Lorenzo’s door wide open. No one could doubt he’d died screaming. Even without a body, no one could miss the blood, gore, and other bodily fluids covering the floor.

  He drove to the backwoods property Sucre owned, where he kept drums of sulfuric acid. Tre heaved the wrapped body into one of the barrels, and laughed so loud, it echoed into the night. “I don’t know how to thank you, man. I needed to blow off some steam like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Holding onto the mask he’d perfected with Sucre all these years, he nodded. “Just keep it channeled on the job.” Stay away from my girl. “You don’t want to do anything to jeopardize Sucre’s operation. Follow the rules and this kind of job will come around every now and then.”

  Tre rubbed his hands together, the dried blood flaking off onto the ground. “Guess it would be too much to walk through the bar like this.”

  “Now you’re thinking.” Sick, sick fucker. “I’ll take you home to clean up before we report back in. You can take the lead, make sure you get the credit for the job.”

  Tre rode in the bed, as he had with the body. Brick sprayed it down and treated it with bleach, while Tre showered inside his apartment. It was almost eleven o’clock by the time they gave their report to Sucre, and he could finally head home.

  His security sweep showed no one had been inside. He wanted to fall into bed, but traces of blood dotted his skin, and even though exhaustion dragged him down, the reminder of the night’s brutality would keep him awake.

  He thought of Liv in the shower. He needed to be with her, to take a break from all this shit, even for one fucking day. How he felt about her was the only thing tethering him to his humanity these days. He needed a getaway—even a temporary one—and he needed it with her.

  Rust-colored water circled the drain as he scrubbed off the reminders of what had happened at Lorenzo’s apartment. He’d seen some brutal shit in his life, but what he’d witnessed tonight left him more convinced than ever Tre was a deeply disturbed motherfucker.

  And he would die before he let the sick bastard put one finger on his girl.

  Chapter 21

  Liv

  The smell of freshly cut grass mingled with the thicker scents of motor oil and exhaust, and Liv held back a sneeze. The bright sun, the loud rumble of the engines filling her ears…everything about the race track assaulted her senses.

  She surveyed the open space. Busy, huge, and raucous, Carol would have absolutely loved it.

  Jonathan stepped up beside her, his deep voice drowning out the noise. “I’ve got our helmets. They also sell something called head socks. I grabbed those too.” He held a bright blue racing helmet in each hand, the fabric from his additional purchase stuck inside.

  She accepted the headgear he offered, then threaded the fingers of her free hand with his. “You know where we’re going?”

  His palm radiated warmth; his fingers, strong against hers. Tugging her gently, he led her to the starting line. About a half-dozen other racers already waited to begin. She swallowed against the rising butterflies in her stomach and climbed into her go-kart. They’d chosen the single-seaters, though a few people sat in karts for two.

  He settled into the kart in front of her, then slid the fabric covering over his head, followed by his helmet. Lifting his arm in the air, he shot her a thumbs-up.

  The heat beat against her as she donned her own headgear. The backs of her legs stuck to the seat. But she had no time to give much thought to any discomfort, because suddenly, Jonathan’s kart moved, and the guy who worked there beckoned her forward and through the aisle created by a plastic guardrail on one side and a wall of tires on the other.

  Then she was moving. She couldn’t tell how fast she sped along the course, but she put her foot down hard on the pedal. The kart responded like a dream, zooming forward, beside Jonathan.

  His head turned slightly, taking her in, then he gunned ahead of her, and tried to hug the inside of the track as he took a curve. It didn’t quite work. His kart skidded to the very edge, but somehow, he stayed on the pavement.

  She eased off the accelerator long enough to take the turn, then darted back in front. Her heart raced, her grin so wide, her cheeks hurt. She wished she could feel the wind in her hair. The exhilaration pumped through her like a drug.

  She finished a hair’s breadth ahead of Jonathan, the ten minutes on the track passing more like ten seconds. He lifted his visor, revealing the laughter in his eyes. “Rematch,” he growled, as they got into position again.

  He beat her the second race. She won again in the third.

  Why had she never done this before?

  His face was flushed when he pulled his helmet off, then reached out his hand to help her out. “Holy shit. That rocked.”

  The cool air against her damp skin when she removed the helmet was the only reminder of how hot she’d been. She could smile forever. Once clear of the track, she threw herself against him in a tackle hug. “I loved it.”

  She felt more than heard his laughter as he indulged the embrace for a few seconds. “C’mon.” He pulled back and retook her hand. “I’m starving.”

  Me too. I could eat you alive. Adrenaline fueled her jacked-up libido. Now, she wanted to climb him like a tree.

  Two teenage boys streaked past them, howling like a pair of monkeys.

  Okay, obviously this wasn’t the place. She followed his lead back to the truck, forcing herself to calm her breathing and take in their tree-lined surroundings.

  A sub taught her fourth-period students at school right now. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d played hooky from work. Sure, she’d missed some days last year when she’d been sick, but she never blew off her classes.

  When Jonathan called her last night, though, there was something in his voice she couldn’t refuse. Besides, she didn’t want to say no. He’d promised her a real date, a day with only the two of them—no distractions. A day out of time. And she knew exactly what she wanted to do.

  He held open the door for her to climb in when they reached his truck, then he walked around the front before settling in behind the wheel.

  “Not bad for a first date.” The corners of his lips tugged up at the word date. “No girl’s ever asked me to take her to Motorsports Park before.”

  “Not what you expected, huh? You don’t mind, do you?” She searched for a sign he might be disappointed, but his expression gave no hint of displeasure.

  If anything, his eyes twinkled. “Do I look like I mind, sweetheart?” He winked, and her worry melted away. “You like ribs?”

  “Wha—? Uh, yeah. I like ribs.”

  He nodded toward the sign for a barbeque place, and within minutes, they had their orders wrapped up and back with them on the road. Though she did like ribs, she opted for the BLT. Easier to eat in the car.

  Jonathan must’ve been on the same wavelength because he got a burger on Texas toast. He ate it in four man-sized bites while he drove one-handed. Though not as fast as him, she polished off her sandwich in minutes. It had the perfect amount of mayo, enough to moisten the bread without makin
g a sloppy mess. They’d just finished their shared order of fries when they completed their fifteen-minute journey up Highway 183.

  Amicalola Falls boasted majestic views, hiking trails, and the state’s highest waterfall. It was too hot for a hike, but they got a parking spot near enough to the top they only had a short walk to view the falls.

  It took her breath away. The water trickled over the rocks going down, down, down. Trees lined either side, their foliage thick and green. People loitered along the wooden walkways, taking videos and selfies, but as Jonathan wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, they all disappeared.

  He kissed the side of her neck and goosebumps prickled her skin. She turned toward him, her lips seeking his. His mouth brushed hers, feather-light.

  “Don’t tease me.” She grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him closer, only for a second kiss as chaste as the first. “Please, Jonathan.”

  He pulled her away from the falls onto an almost-deserted trail, and this time when he kissed her, she got everything she wanted. Heat. Passion. Ownership. His tongue swept into her mouth and tangled with hers. God, how she wanted this man. All too soon, he pulled away and tucked a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. She liked him growing more comfortable with touching her.

  “You don’t have to call me that, you know.”

  She traced her fingers over her lips, still feeling the tingles left by his kiss. “Hmm?”

  “You can call me Brick. Everyone does.”

  “Do you want me to call you Brick?” she asked carefully.

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Good. I don’t want to call you that either. It’s not how I think of you. You’re Jonathan. In here.” She tapped her head, then slid down her hand down to rub her chest. “And here.”

  Covering her hand with his own, he grasped her fingers and slowly pulled them toward his mouth. His breath fanned hot over her skin as he kissed her palm.

  Something tightened low in her stomach. Her lips parted.