Hurt So Good: A Break So Soft Novel

by Black, Stasia

  Her face is still pained as she explains, “You found Dad in his home office. Which he put in Darren’s old room after he moved out and Dad had the heart attack. Dad always worked in his pajamas with those damn earphones on when he worked from home—remember how Darren gave them to all of us that Christmas, the noise cancelling kind? It was so Dad would never hear—”

  She breaks off but I still don’t understand.

  She’s quick to clarify. “Darren ran through the bathroom and was out the other door into the hallway before you ever got there. Dad had no idea about what was going on until he saw Darren run through the room. Then then you came in moments later screaming at him and beating him up.”

  I shake my head. “But— But then why didn’t he say? Or fucking do something about it?”

  Tears fall down her cheeks. “I think he might have threatened to once he connected the dots and realized what Darren had been doing.”

  I just stare at her, confused.

  “And I think Darren killed him for it. Poisoned him and made it look like a heart attack.”

  I blink, horrified. “Why didn’t you tell me?” To have carried all of this, by herself, after all the trauma she’d already been through at my brother’s hands. She’d only been seventeen for God’s sake.

  “I was terrified he would kill you, too.” She swipes at a tear. “So I never said. And then you two started the business together and I was so afraid. I was afraid all the time. I was so afraid of him, and you two were so close, I was afraid to contact you in case he found out and—”

  “Oh God.” I pull her into my arms and crush her tight to my chest. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Chloe. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t realize.”

  She nods against my chest, crying, and I hold her. Jesus, all these years I had it wrong. I had it all so wrong. Chloe didn’t blame me. She’d been afraid. And she was protecting me. How had all of this ended up so backwards?

  Darren.

  Darren was how all this had happened.

  Miranda was right.

  Maybe I wasn’t a monster, and my father might be dead, but there’s one devil still left breathing.

  I pull back from my sister and run my thumbs underneath her eyes to wipe away her tears. “Shh, shh, it’s all okay now. You never have to be afraid again. I swear it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  DYLAN

  Darren pushes open the door to his seedy hotel in Thailand with a woman on his arm, a prostitute by the look of her. The astonishment is clear on his face when he sees me.

  “Jesus, Dylan,” he says, grabbing his chest. “You scared the shit out of me!” He laughs and shoos the woman off. “I’ll see you another night, sweetheart.”

  She giggles but wobbles off in her four-inch plastic heels.

  Darren turns back to me, a wide grin on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” He strides forward and leans down to give me a big hug.

  I’m sitting on a stained couch in a hotel room that I’d say has seen better days except that nope, I’m pretty sure this place has always been the roach-infested quarter-star accommodations that I see before me.

  I clap him on the back, too.

  When Darren pulls away, though, his brows are scrunched together. “Are you all right? The lawyers called and said you were in jail for brawling? I told Jenkins to bail you out immediately and I was flying home later tonight to make sure you were okay.”

  He looks so sincere. One hundred percent sincere. If I hadn’t heard it from Chloe’s own mouth, it might even be enough to make me question everything Miranda told me.

  But I did hear it from Chloe and so I can only look on my brother and wonder how long I’ve lived with such a sociopath and not known it. Was he always this way or was he at one time genuinely the brother I loved?

  “No worries,” I say, holding out a glass of whisky. “We got it all sorted out. And a trip to Thailand sounded like exactly the kind of getaway I needed to escape all that shit back there. But brother, shit, couldn’t you afford nicer digs?”

  He takes the glass and laughs. “Right? I saw the place and thought the taxi-driver was shitting me. But then I thought, what the fuck, why not rough it like the locals for a night?”

  Then his face goes sober. “But man, I’m sorry about that girl. I know you really liked her. It’s just hard when you’re as high profile and powerful as we are to trust people. Everybody has an angle. Everybody wants something.”

  I nod and take a sip of the glass I’ve been nursing for over an hour while I waited for him to come back. “Well now I know better.”

  I lift my glass. “To knowing better.”

  Darren clinks his glass with mine. “To knowing better.”

  We both drink. Darren downs his, laughing and making a face when the glass is empty. “Whooeee, that burns.”

  I laugh. “No kidding. You want some more?” I hold up the bottle.

  “Hell yes.”

  I pour him another.

  “Bitches aren’t fucking worth it,” I say, slurring my words. “Bros before hoes.”

  Then I raise my glass again. “Bros before hoes!”

  He clinks his glass again, laughing at me and shouting, “Bros before hoes!”

  We both down our glasses.

  “Man I’ve missed this.” He relaxes back in a plastic lounge chair beside me, the least offensive looking piece of furniture in the room. “Us just relaxing and hanging out. Now I sort of wished I hadn’t sent the girl away cause the only thing that would make this better would be her sucking our dicks right now.”

  “Bros plus hoes?” I offer.

  He laughs and nods.

  I just shake my head though. “Women are too complicated. They’re needy and whiny.”

  Darren pours himself some more whisky. “True enough.”

  He holds out the bottle to me but I raise a hand to decline. “I had half the bottle before you got here. Had to relax after that long ass flight. Remind me again why we made our factory in the middle of fuck all nowhere Asia?”

  “Uh, cause the labor is cheap as shit? And the tax breaks are sick.”

  “And it doesn’t hurt that you get to come over here once a quarter and do whatever you want to girls in some shithole rat-infested motel and no one’s ever the wiser, huh?”

  “What?” Darren looks confused, the smile dimming a notch on his face.

  “Like that girl you were bringing back here.” I sit up a little straighter. “You were gonna what? Rape her and beat her within an inch of her life? Cause that’s what you get off on, right?”

  Darren sits up in his chair, the smile finally dropping from his face. “What the hell are you talking about. She was a prostitute. You can’t rape a prostitute. Jesus. You of all people should know that.”

  It’s a well-aimed barb but it’s not stopping me now that I’m on a role.

  “Why else would you be staying in this shithole?” I gesture to the room around us, “instead of one of the nice international hotels? You want a place where no one will care about who comes and goes. And a place where no one will notice the disappearance of just another cheap whore.”

  “What the fuck, Dylan?”

  Darren’s whole face is red as he jumps to his feet, indignant.

  “Her hair was the same color as Chloe’s. Do you find ones that look like our sister on purpose, you sick fuck?”

  Darren lunges for me but he stumbles after the first step and falls to his knees. He blinks and shakes his head, looking up at me with unfocused eyes. “Wha— you do to-me?” he asks sluggishly.

  “What?” I ask calmly. “I thought you liked to party. Chloe told me this is how you did it to her at the beginning so she couldn’t fight back. She was just fourteen at the time, wasn’t she?”

  I calmly stand up, taking with me the little tin box that I bought before getting in the private jet. You really can find anything on the streets of San Francisco.

  But before I pull the lid off the tin, I pull the gloves out of my
pocket and tug them on. Then I open the tin and fill the needle with the yellow liquid in the vial.

  Darren tries to get to his feet but only falls back down again. I didn’t scrimp on the dosage of GHB I put in the whisky bottle.

  I kick him in the ribs and he doubles over so I kick him in the back to get him straightened back out.

  Then I drop on top of him and yank his arm out, positioning the needle at the fattest vein.

  He just starts laughing.

  “She always was the best fuck. You’ve never known a tight cunt until you fuck our little sister. You should try it.”

  I believed Chloe and Miranda. I did. But still, seeing the true face of my brother for the first time…

  “She’d always cry when I snuck in her room at night to fuck her. You would’ve loved it.”

  My jaw tightens so hard I swear my teeth are going to crack. I know what he’s doing. Trying to rile me so I won’t inject him, or maybe so I’ll hit him instead and leave some DNA behind so this won’t just look like the tidy overdose I intend.

  But I have something that my brother never understood.

  Discipline.

  So I shove the needle in his arm and root around until I hit the vein. Then I depress the plunger.

  “You’re just like me,” he shouts. “You like it when they scream. Nothing makes you harder than when they fight you and you get to hurt them anyway. You love being a god just as much as I do, brother. We’re both our father’s son! We’re both—”

  He cuts off mid-sentence and his mouth shuts and then gapes open, shuts and opens as his eyes go distant.

  I move off him and sit beside the brother I loved my whole life and watch as the life drains from his eyes.

  Epilogue

  MIRANDA

  Things have been quiet since Dylan came back from Thailand. Quiet but good. We spend every night together in each other’s arms.

  He hasn’t told me exactly what happened but I read online about how his brother supposedly OD’d during his trip to Thailand.

  No one knows Dylan was there. He traveled by private jet and apparently bribed whatever local officials needed bribing. He told me that much so I wouldn’t worry.

  There was a funeral for his brother that he arranged and went to and looked appropriately grieved at. I couldn’t quite bring myself to go but I saw pictures. When I asked him later he said he was grieving. Grieving for the brother he’d lost, even if that person had never been real.

  But he didn’t grieve for long, because while he’d lost a fictional brother, he’d gained back a very real sister.

  Chloe had extended her visit and only gone back home to Austin a couple of days ago. Dylan became a different person with her around. He lit up, teasing her and joking with her. I could see what it must have been like with them growing up together. It was clear Chloe idolized him. I was so happy for him, having that.

  At night though, he still had nightmares.

  I woke him as gently as possible, and now, finally, he didn’t turn me away. He let me hold him. The last barriers between us were finally crumbling.

  We made love every night, sometimes in the mornings, too. I think Dylan will always need that with me—it’s like it’s the only way I can communicate with him that I really love him and trust him. With my body.

  We haven’t played since that awful night in the alley.

  The love-making is wonderful and I’ll be more than fulfilled if it’s all we ever have. But what I don’t like is the thought that Dylan is closing off a part of himself in order to be with me.

  I hate the thought that he still believes any part of himself is monstrous. I still see it in his eyes sometimes, though. The self-loathing. Not as often anymore but it’s still there.

  And it’s time once and for all for him to accept every part of himself as good and whole and wonderful.

  We were headed out on a date tonight and I was going to tell him all of this, but then I got a fucking flat tire.

  So now I’m stranded out on an abandoned backroad at nine-thirty with no cell-service. Frickin’ awesome.

  I’ve been looking for cars to flag down but I swear no one drives on this piddly little road my GPS directed me down on.

  I keep my eye on my rearview mirror.

  And finally, finally, I see headlights coming my way. I wait until the car parks behind mine and a man steps out. His lights are still on so he’s a tall, dark silhouette as he approaches.

  My heartbeat starts to ramp up.

  Even though I know he’s coming, I still jump when he raps on my window. I roll it down.

  “Do you need help, miss?”

  “I- I’ve got a flat and don’t have a spare in the trunk.”

  “I’m happy to help. Just step on out. I’ve got the gear in my van back here.”

  I bite my bottom lip nervously. “Are you sure?” I look up and down the road.

  “Done it a hundred times. I just need a little help getting the jack in place. We’ll get you back on the road in no time.”

  I glance up and down the road again. “Okay. Thanks. My cell phone doesn’t have any bars or I would have called triple A or my boyfriend.”

  I open the door and step out. My heels and glittery halter dress aren’t exactly tire-changing attire but I hope I can be of some help.

  “This way,” he says, gesturing me toward his van.

  I rub my arms, trying to stay warm in the chilly night air. “I’ll just wait here while you get the jack.”

  “Did I tell you to wait here?”

  Suddenly the cadence of the man’s voice has completely changed, from friendly to harsh. “I told you to come with me to the fucking van.”

  Oh shit.

  I try to run back to my car and the open door but he snatches me from behind around the waist.

  I start to scream but he clamps a hand over my mouth. It’s only seconds later that I’m being shoved in the van. He holds me down with his knees while he pulls the van door shut behind him.

  Trapping me in.

  Oh God, he’s got me trapped.

  He wastes no time, either.

  “That mouth’s so pretty,” he pants, straddling my body and scooting until his knees hold down my shoulders, his groin right in my face.

  The next thing I know he has his cock out.

  “You want this, don’t you, slut? I fuckin’ know you do. Saw it in your eyes you were begging for it right when I came up to you in your car. So now you’re gonna fuckin’ take it and take it all the way down your throat.”

  “No!” I scream but he pinches my nose so the only way I can breathe is by gasping, mouth open.

  He takes advantage and shoves his cock in, so far back that I choke.

  “That’s right. Oh fuck, yeah. Choke on it.” He shoves it even further, down my throat until I gag. Tears pour down my cheeks as I choke and gag around his cock.

  He pulls out and I gasp for air but it’s only a momentary reprieve because the next second he’s shoving it right back down again.

  I writhe underneath him, squirming and trying to shove him off but it’s no use, he’s too big.

  I don’t know how long he fucks my face for, long, agonizing minutes but finally he pulls out. I gag and choke in air, turning on my side. He gets up off me and I try to take my chance and scramble for the door.

  He grabs my ankle right before I can grab the handle, though, and yanks me roughly backwards.

  “Oh, I ain’t done with you, pretty girl. Not by a fuckin’ long shot.”

  I screech as he shoves me on my back and rips my skirt up. He roughly yanks my thong down and shoves my legs up to my chest.

  I know what comes next. My pussy is completely exposed to him and I cry when I feel him line up and shove inside me.

  “You’re wet for it, bitch.” He slaps my ass so hard I know I’ll feel it every time I sit down tomorrow. “You’re so fucking wet for it.”

  I weep harder, shoving at him uselessly with my hands.

  He�
�s too big.

  Too strong.

  He laughs at my struggles and just keeps fucking me ruthlessly. With hard, slamming thrusts that drive my back into the industrial carpet of the van’s floor. The beading on my gown digs into my back.

  “Wanna see them titties. Them fancy titties you hiding away in that fancy fuck dress.”

  He reaches down and grabs the front of my dress in both hands and rips it in two. It had a built in bra so now I’m completely exposed to him.

  “No!” I cry as he reaches for my breasts. He pinches one nipple, grabbing it and twisting it so hard I scream.

  He bows low over me and bites my bottom lip as his hips continue to pound me. “Cry for me.” He grabs my hair and yanks my head back while he continues twisting the first nipple. “Fucking cry for me!”

  The pain is excruciating. I feel him everywhere. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

  I couldn’t possibly feel more.

  But I’m wrong.

  Oh God, I’m so wrong.

  Because his hand slides down from my hair to my throat.

  Our eyes meet and hold. I suck in a quick breath.

  And then he starts to squeeze.

  He’s choking me.

  And it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever fucking experienced.

  The fact that he’s allowing himself to go this far, that he’s freeing himself this much, that he trusts me and trusts himself with me.

  I am so in love with Dylan Lennox.

  As his hand cinches tighter around my neck and I feel his command in every flex and sinew of his powerful body over me, the orgasm rises like a tsunami.

  He sees it—he knows me perfectly—and he releases both my throat and his iron grip on my nipple and the rush of oxygen and sensation— Oh God, I—

  I wail as I come and clench around every part of his body I can get at.

  I love him, love him, love him—

  Light bursts and sensation rushes outward from my center. Oh— Oh—

  Dylan’s lips smash down on me and I feel his cum spurt deep inside me. So fucking deep, uniting us, making us one.

  I ride the heavens with him by my side. Always by my side.