Not My Heart to Break (Merciless World Book 3)

by W. Winters

  A faint smile wobbles on his lips and the bastard starts to cry. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Who stole your car?” I scream the question in his face, feeling the rage tear its way up my throat.

  Luke lets out a sick laugh and looks away to tell me, “I don’t know.”

  Cursing, I step back, shoving Luke’s chair when I do although he doesn’t topple over. I believe him. And that’s a big fucking problem.

  Doubt and insecurity crawl their way up my spine.

  “You better think of something,” Connor tells the henchman. “I don’t think my boss is too happy about the current situation.”

  “I thought it was a stupid fucking kid who’d figured out it was mine and got wise.”

  “Care to elaborate?” Derrick asks. I keep my back to Luke all the while, listening, trying to piece everything together.

  “Someone stole it while I was collecting dues. I was pissed.”

  “You file a police report?” Connor asks with a smirk on his face. He’s fucking with him. Men like us don’t call the cops. Luke sneers at him.

  “Boss,” Derrick interrupts me when my phone starts vibrating against the metal. It’s still sitting on the steel chair. Turning from where I stand, I wait for him to tell me who it is. “Fletcher.”

  I shake my head no, and Derrick drops the phone. The vibrations get louder.

  “How did you get it back?” I question Luke.

  “I didn’t. Whoever it was, parked it on Fifth and Rodney. I figured they learned it was my car and what I’d do to them. They didn’t touch it. Not a scratch.”

  Luke’s expression looks hopeful although his eyes are a well of despair.

  “Call him back, put him on speaker.” I give the command to Derrick. “If you want to live, you’ll be quiet until I tell you to speak.”

  “Do you believe me? You have to believe me.”

  “I don’t trust anyone anymore,” I answer him. That bit of hope he has falls. I see it, I recognize it. “I mean what I say. Don’t speak until I call for you.”

  “Don’t have to call his boss,” Derrick says. The second he lifts the phone, it’s vibrating again. I watch him tap the screen and then nod.

  “Fletcher.” I answer the call on speaker and Fletcher’s voice is quiet on the other end, but it still fills the large empty room.

  “King.” It’s quiet as I listen to my heart pound. “It seems there are some misunderstandings.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it?” I ask Fletcher and I can hear him huff into his phone. Short and humorless.

  “I don’t believe it was you,” Fletcher tells me and my gaze lifts to Derrick’s. I can see Luke in my periphery, looking between the three of us. He’s tense, and I’m sure he’s aware that his life depends on this call.

  “We took your man,” I say, speaking clearly. I need him to know, to show him my cards.

  “Because you believed it was me,” he surmises.

  “I believed it was him,” I answer honestly.

  “Because she told you—”

  “She stays out of it,” I say, cutting him off. For the first time, anger slips into the conversation and I stare at Luke, who’s eager to scream out, but he’s silent. “She stays out of it,” I repeat. Calmer, with more control.

  The air is tense and hot. It suffocates me.

  “She stays out of it,” Fletcher agrees. “Someone is playing us, King, and I don’t like it. I don’t care for the fact that you played into their hand.”

  “It has to be Mathews,” I speak and close my eyes, trusting my gut. Gut instincts get you everywhere in this life.

  “He stole my stash the way you stole his. He stole my right-hand man’s car to set me up. He played us, pitting us against one another.

  “He’s done it before,” Fletcher continues. “It’s how he’s able to grow as fast as he does. Everyone who doesn’t deal with him finds themselves at war with someone else.”

  He’s waiting on a response from me, but all I can think is how much I’ve fucked up. How bad this shit has gotten. Everything is fucked.

  “Did you kill him?” Fletcher asks when I don’t say a damn word. I tilt my head toward Luke, giving him the permission he’s been dying for.

  “I’m here, Boss,” Luke tells him. His eyes dart between all of us as if he expects us to kill him as he’s speaking to Fletcher. I stand still, not knowing what will happen next.

  It’s a cardinal sin to break trust in this way of life. It’s paper thin to begin with and I shot a cannon through it.

  “What would you have done?” I ask, knowing where I stand. He thought it was us. His first instinct when his warehouse was robbed, was that it was us. I’m not the only one who made that judgment, but I’m the one who acted first.

  All I can hear is the heavy breathing to my left from Luke, whose wild eyes tell me he thinks he’s done for. Fletcher takes his time answering.

  “I can’t answer that,” he finally speaks and his answer pisses me off.

  Stepping closer to the phone, and feeling the anger write itself on my face, I question him, “And why is that?”

  Derrick watches me closely. I can feel his eyes boring into me, but he doesn’t say a damn word.

  “Because I don’t love anyone,” he answers. “I have no wife; I have no kids. You love Laura.”

  I can hear Derrick swallow, and then his hand is on my shoulder. We fucked up. We never should have touched Luke.

  “I can make you a promise right now that before I question your men, if that time were to ever arise, I’ll speak to you first.”

  “That’s all I can do.”

  “It would be wise to let her go. You’re good at what you do, but not when it comes to her.”

  “Untie him,” I tell Connor in a murmur and instead of engaging Fletcher and his romantic advice, I move the conversation to what matters. “Mathews needs to pay for this.”

  “We need more men,” he says and Fletcher’s voice is easier now, closer to the way it was just the other night.

  “We have them; I have the money. I’ve got the cash to give to the crews down south.”

  “I want to be clear that I am loyal to you, King. But if you do something this stupid again, I will kill you.”

  “I hear your threat loud and clear.” I did what I had to do. I did what any man would have done. If he tries to kill me, I’ll happily kill him first. There is no love lost between Fletcher and me. I will use him, and he will use me. That’s all this is. We trust that the other is needed, and when that need no longer exists, one of us will kill the other. I can already see it playing out before my eyes.

  “It’s a promise, not a threat.”

  “Boss,” Luke speaks up as the rage rings in my blood. “His address.” Luke pushes out the words as if they’ll stop a bomb from going off.

  “Fuck,” Fletcher hisses into the phone. “Mathews had his car.”

  My stomach churns and I don’t know why.

  “And?” I question.

  “I had to check you out. You can’t be pissed.” His preface to this confession sits uneasily in the pit of my gut. “We’re still cool and that’s how we’re going to stay,” he states firmly.

  “What did you do?” I ask and the contempt is clear in my voice.

  “If someone from Mathews’s crew was in my car, he could have your home address.”

  The room tilts and spins. “Laura,” I breathe.

  I end the call instantly, texting her not to go home, but she’s already messaged me. She said I have to come home. That was an hour ago.

  Laura

  It was supposed to be me. It should have been me.

  The thoughts don’t stop as I rock on the floor, staring at Cami. With a trembling bottom lip, I try to say her name again, but my throat is raw.

  At first I thought I should run, in case whoever had been here was waiting for me. I can’t leave Cami though. I can’t leave her. Not like this.

  I want to touch her, but instead
I shove my hands into my lap. Her skin is already cold. She’s been dead for hours now. I bet she came to drive me. She liked to do that, surprise me with coffee that’s probably sitting in her car this very second.

  She came to be a friend, and it got her killed. I got her killed. I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

  The carpet is harsh on my legs as I crawl backward, trying to keep myself from returning to her side. Every few minutes I think it’s not real. She’s not actually dead. I’m wrong, I’m seeing things, this is all a bad joke.

  And then I touch her, I cry out her name. I shook her once and the clots on her throat gave way, letting a small trickle run down to her shoulders and onto my hand.

  Her blood. Cami’s blood.

  She’s really dead.

  My hands are shaking. Even when I grip them together as tight as I can, feeling the blood rushing inside of them, they don’t stop shaking.

  I should have been the one who was here. It should be me who was tied up. The gouges around her wrists are so deep. Like they used wire to do it.

  I can’t stop staring at her. Every inch of her. Every bit of evidence showing what they did to her.

  And I know damn well it was supposed to be me.

  The taste of salt from my tears is overwhelming, as is the heat on my face. Everything is hot and I can barely breathe; I’m suffocating, waiting in the bedroom for Seth to answer me.

  My eyes flick from the black screen back to Cami as I turn it on and wait, but there’s no response.

  Heaving in a breath, I have to use the cold wall to stand upright, but my legs are too shaky. That’s when the tears start again. Heavy, hard sobs.

  She’s dead.

  This life costs more than I’m willing to give.

  My inhale is shaky until I hear a bump outside. I freeze, even with dizzy vision, I go stone-still. I’ve been here long enough for whoever did this to her to come get me if they wanted. Maybe they wanted to see my heart shatter before they killed me too.

  Silence, followed by more silence. It was something crashing against the house. I know I heard it.

  Thump. Again I hear the sound and this time it’s accompanied by the muted howl of the night wind. It’s just the trash can hitting the back of the house.

  It’s just the trash can hitting the back of the house. I tell myself again, hoping it will calm me down but it doesn’t. The wind screams and the plastic can bangs against the back of the house again.

  With my eyes closed, I breathe in and out. It’s okay. I’m okay.

  “Please answer me, Seth.” I whisper the words, only to open my eyes and see no response and Cami’s dead body on the floor.

  Her skin is so pale.

  It takes everything in me to lean down. Even as bile rises in the back of my throat, I carry through with it, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. It’s easier to close her eyes than I thought it would be. Her thick lashes feel wet beneath my fingers and I don’t know if it’s from my clammy hands or tears that had gathered there.

  I don’t say goodbye to her, but I know it’s the last time I’ll see her when I lift my hand and her eyes are closed.

  My steps are hurried and loud as I make my way to the bathroom, turning the faucet up as hot as it’ll go and viciously rubbing my hands clean.

  It’s too loud. The water is so loud I can’t hear anything that could be going on around me, so I’m quick to shut it off even though I don’t feel clean enough.

  My back hits the bathroom wall as I stand there, staring at myself in the mirror. Disheveled hair, wild eyes, and hot pink cheeks. It’s obvious I’ve been crying. It’s obvious I’m lost.

  It’s obvious I can’t stay here.

  I have nowhere else to go, though. Nowhere around here is safe. I’m not safe. Jackson was right. I have to save myself.

  Time slows as the next thoughts come to me. The clicks of the ever-present clock seeming to tick longer with pauses between each one, punctuating each moment of clarity.

  The money is in the safe. A safe that couldn’t be opened by Cami because she didn’t know the code. That’s why they tied her up. They wanted the code; they wanted the money.

  Tick.

  The money they killed her trying to get.

  Tock.

  The money meant for a better life according to Seth, and it cost my best friend her last breath.

  Tick.

  Money Seth will use for guns, drugs, gambling.

  Tock.

  Money I need to get the hell out of here.

  Tick.

  It’s over just like that.

  Maybe five seconds have passed. But it feels like an eternity. It feels like the weight of the world. It feels like the end.

  I’m still shaking when I hear the rapid beeps as I enter the code into the keypad. The click of the lock unlatching and the ease with which the heavy metal door opens only brings a new pain.

  If only I had told Cami the code.

  If I could go back in time and tell it to her, let it slide that the code was our anniversary date, I would have even though she never would have asked. Maybe she would have been in less pain. Maybe it would have been faster if she could have just told them the code.

  With cloudy vision, I try to shut down the visuals of what happened to her hours ago.

  I don’t know how much money is here. I’ve never asked and I don’t count now.

  There are stacks and stacks of cash neatly arranged into bundles that are easy to grab by the fistful. I have to back away for a moment, questioning myself but the question is gone as quickly as it came.

  I can’t wait for next time.

  I can’t keep going like this.

  There’s a backpack, one I’d planned to take to nursing school if I ever got into one, in the far corner of the closet. I know it’s there and the memory of it forces me to move quickly on these insecure legs. I unzip it on my way back to the safe, and dump its contents, unused notebooks and packs of pens, onto the safe floor.

  I take a stack of cash and then another.

  I have my car, money, and enough fear to push me far away from here.

  Seth’s face is there every time I close my eyes. The hurt, the disappointment. Picturing his sad eyes makes me waver, but only enough that I pause. I don’t stop packing.

  I’ve begged him. I’ve told him I can’t stay.

  Another stack and the backpack is full. It’s six large stacks in total and a little more than a quarter of what was in here.

  I have trouble zipping it up. The little metal zipper slips from my fingers and then snags on the bills the next time I try.

  I’m a hell of a mess. Scared and damaged. In raw pain from losing Cami, but also from knowing how I’m leaving Seth right now.

  I won’t wait for him anymore. With that thought, I shut the safe door, leaning my back against it as I heave in oxygen, praying for it to calm me down enough to drive away. I’m faster packing a bag, grabbing everything I can without bothering to remove the hangers. I shove it all in, eager to get the hell out of here.

  A small voice whispers to wait. It begs me to check my phone again, to give Seth one more chance.

  Oh, how my body bends to that will. I wish he would have texted. I wish he would have been waiting for me right then and there. To stop me from going alone. I want him to come with me.

  I need him to. Or in this last moment of weakness, to force me to stay. I wish he were here now to shove me in the safe, like he said he would. Because I don’t want to leave. Even now, I’m so aware I don’t want to leave.

  But Seth isn’t here. He didn’t text me back. And he isn’t going to leave this life. He’ll never leave it.

  This life is who he is. I know that it is.

  My swallow is harsh and ragged, like broken glass slicing its way down when I get to the front door.

  My hands are so cold now, they’re numb. My entire body is by this point.

  I stare at the red door, envisioning Seth walking through it. I wait for one beat o
f my heart and then it’s followed by another fucked-up beat that skips all over. But he doesn’t come.

  I would have been dead for hours and hours, and then what? What would he do “next time?”

  The bookbag drops to the tile floor with a thud as I walk around the counter, pull out the junk drawer in the kitchen and grab a small pad of paper and a pen.

  I have to scribble the pen for a moment to get the ink flowing, so I move to the second sheet. Letting the tears flow, I take out another clean sheet to write down my last words to him.

  He’ll never forgive me. I already know that.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself either.

  The clean sheet is stained by a fallen tear before the tip of the pen can mar the perfectly white paper with a slash of black.

  I’ll always love you.

  I write that line first but the others aren’t good enough. Please forgive me. I think that thought every other line, but I never write it. I had to. I don’t have to, I’m choosing to and I know it. He knows it too.

  The only truth I can bear to give him is that I’ll always love him.

  Then I write my final thought.

  Even if you hate me, I’ll always love you.

  There can’t be any blood in my hands or face; they’re cold and numb. I know that much from the pricks that travel along my icy flesh. It’s all drained from me. I don’t know how long I stand there, wishing for better words that don’t come.

  Wishing it wasn’t over, but knowing that it is.

  It’s over.

  I’m leaving him.

  The resolution gives me enough strength to move, but I still linger at the door, gripping the edge of it as I whisper, “I’m sorry, babe,” to Cami. “I love you.”

  I think about her as I wipe my face and drive away in the dark night. The headlights shine ahead of me, two yellow streaks in a sea of nothing.

  It’s my fault. I knew who Seth was, I just never thought that there wouldn’t be a way for our lives to fit together. It was always so perfect, so easy. He was my everything.