So, me being the bitch I am; I turn around silently and walk back toward their little group. All four girls stare at me like I’m nothing more than spit on the bottom of their shoes.
I square up with Alessandra.
I grin.
Then throw all of my weight into a punch that clips her already busted nose. Her shrill scream of pain echoes around the room. The queen bees take a collective step away from her, preventing the gushing blood from getting on them as it streams from her nose. Her eyes water heavily. A gasping sob flies from her lips as her chest heaves up and down.
“Yeah, I changed my mind. It’ll always be my choice.”
Without another word, I turn away from her. A smile tugs at my lips as I make my way out of the door. The sound of it shutting reverberates behind me, taking with it Alessandra’s reign of terror.
CHAPTER 25
Karma: Is there something you need to tell me?
My heart leaps with a nervous flutter.
It’s been weeks since she’s even texted me, and now here she is, demanding something. I’m more nervous over her one sentence, then I was when confronting Alessandra. It’s a loaded question, and not one I know the answer to. There is so much I should tell her but finding the correct spot to begin would require a lot of work.
She could get hurt during all this, and Karma getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me. At least, not if I can help it. She will already hurt enough when she finds out what Davis did to her; how he cheated. What will make matters ever worse is when she finds out the only reason he stepped out on her was to protect me.
He’s her boyfriend, her lover. But because of me he had to betray her.
Then, there’s the whole “loss of reign” thing with Alessandra, Asher going missing, Mr. T being my stalker/rapist, Coach Rice getting arrested, then released, then hugging my father in the precinct. The list could really go on and on until I’m out of breath and blue in the face.
What do you tell your ride or die bitch when you find yourself stuck in a situation like this? Especially, if that ride or die bitch hasn’t exactly been present or as forthcoming with her attention until now.
Nothing.
It pains my heart to deceive her this way, but I would rather her hate me than end up a debilitated, emotionless shell. She has so much to look forward to, so much life to live. Things may be fractured between us, but I still consider her my best friend. Only someone who has balls will stand up and get into your face, even after you threaten them.
If you find a person like that, then you need to hold on to them. Not find things to push them away with. And all my faults—all my problems I’m going through right now—will only push her away. She may seem strong to others, but I know she’s a fragile soul.
Plus, getting time to spend with her is almost impossible. She went from being there for me twenty-four seven, to a ghost that sometimes creeps through my life. Quinn said he heard Davis and her in Davis’ room that night, getting their freak on, but that’s the closest I’ve been to Karma in months.
As sad as it is, usually, when we’re at school, she makes excuses that she has to be somewhere. I say nothing, because I know how hard she’s working to get into college. She needs all the extra studying she can get. But, now that I am taking a moment to stop and think about everything that’s happened, I can’t kick the feeling something isn’t totally right with her.
Maybe she already knows what happened between Davis and Gia, and this is her way of getting me to spill the beans. She knows he and I are living in the same house together, so it would be plausible for me to know who he’s been with.
There are just so many things she could be asking about, and I’m not the one to put my foot in my mouth when it comes to her. If she wants to know something, she will have to flat out ask me what she wants to know.
With a sigh, my fingers pause on the keyboard. I bite my bottom lip nervously.
Me: What do you mean?
Simple enough, right? It’s vague, yet gives the opening for her to ask what she really wants to know the answer to.
Karma: Cut. The. Shit.
Cut the shit about what? Okay. So, it looks like I’m dealing with a feisty Karma. This should be good.
Me: You’ll have to be a bit more specific, my friend.
Karma: Fine! I’m talking about Mr. T! Wtf!
I cringe, peering down at my screen. It could be a lot worse, I suppose. She could want to know about Davis, and that’s not my cup of tea to spill. I have too much shit going on to worry about her boyfriend problems. But this … I can deal with.
I just can’t tell her the whole story. Especially not the part about him being my stalker/rapist.
Me: He and I fucked a few times. It’s not a big deal.
Placing my phone onto the kitchen counter, I turn toward the refrigerator and open the door. Scanning the contents, I nearly groan when the only thing I spy is healthy shit. I could really go for something a bit on the salty/fatty side. There are just sometimes when you need to eat junk and wallow in self-pity.
Don’t judge. People do it all the time.
With a huff, I grab the bowl of strawberries out and slam the door. Turning around, I nearly drop the dish and scream when I spy Davis just on the other side of the island, shooting a deadly glare toward me.
“Um, can I help you?”
If the stare wasn’t my first clue from Davis, then the second is the fact he sits down on a stool and starts tapping his fingers on the granite countertop. His eyes never once leave mine as his scowls worsens. The daggers shooting toward me hit their mark every single second, and I have this insane urge to shift in my spot.
He doesn’t even blink.
I don’t even think he breathes.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
“Can I freaking help you?” I ask again.
“You know—”
He clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, before taking his bottom lip between his teeth hard. It’s the calm before the storm. I know this look well enough. But I don’t have enough time to compute what’s happening before everything blows up in my face.
“It would have been fucking nice if you’d told me Karma was fucking Mr. T the entire goddamn time we were together!” he yells, the vein in the side of his neck protruding from anger.
Wait, what?
“Excuse me?” I quirk a brow. “Why would you think I’d know something like that?”
He narrows his eyes, practically vibrating with rage. “Oh, I don’t fucking know. Maybe because you all are best fucking friends!” He shoots up from his seat. “I told her today, you know. You said I needed to tell her what went down with Gia, and guess fucking what—I told her. I did the right thing. And you want to know what I got? Come on, just taking a wild guess, Jess!”
“Um, what did you get?”
“She told me she wasn’t even fucking interested in me,” he snarls. “The only reason we were together is because I caught her in the front office when she was really there to see fucking Thompson! I was her fucking cover!”
Oh, shit.
“But she seemed so happy with you, and she said you made the first move.”
He scoffs. “I may be many things, Jessalyn, but I’m not some horny little fucker that can’t wait until he gets out of school to get off.”
Okay, that comment hurt a little. I know he’s not meaning it toward me, but it feels kind of personal.
“Ouch.”
His eyes soften at my response before he sighs out his frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jess.”
I can’t even imagine what he’s going through right now. To find out the girl you’re dating has been cheating on you the entire time … I’d be devastated if I were him.
“I know you didn’t.”
He slumps down in the stool, placing his face in his upturned hands. His entire body is stiff with tension, like he’ll snap any moment. Running his fingers t
hrough his hair, he grips the strands tightly, saying, “I loved that girl. Shit, man …” He releases a raspy chuckle. “I probably look like a goddamn fool.”
My phone buzzes on the counter. I disregard it, giving Davis a tight smile as I reach across the counter and take his hand in mine. “You’re not a fool,” I say, looking deep into his eyes. “You opened yourself up and got hurt. I could smack the shit out of Karma for doing what she did, but it still won’t change the fact that it happened. She cheated. You cheated. But in the end, both of you were wrong.”
My phone buzzes again. My eyes briefly drift over to the offending object. Davis smiles while pulling his hand away. “You better get that. I can only guess who it could be.”
It’s probably Karma, but I don’t want to tell him that. He’ll probably be a little sore at me mentioning her, and I don’t want to cause him anymore pain. I just never expected Karma to do something like that to someone. She knows how torn up I was over the whole debacle with Callum our freshman year.
She sat with me many a night, consoling me. I can still remember everything she told me, about keeping my heart on my sleeve but not loose enough for it to be ripped to shreds. I wish someone had told Davis that before he got involved with my best friend.
Physically and emotionally, it hurt to think all these years that Callum cheated on me. Karma was right there, by my side, living it with me. She saw my ups and downs, my mood swings—my anger, grief, and pain. She stood by me the entire time being the friend I needed and asked for nothing in return. But for her to turn around and do the same thing to someone, it just makes little sense.
Maybe I’m looking too much into it. Many things have happened, but what Davis just told me doesn’t sound like Karma at all. She’s not the type of person who would tear someone else down just to make herself feel better. She’s not the type of person to use someone as a scapegoat for her illicit activities. She owns her shit.
Then again, maybe I don’t know my best friend as well as I thought I did.
Once again, my phone buzzes against the counter. Of all the days for my phone to be popular, it just has to be today. I can tell Davis wants me to talk with him, but I can’t do that because of this offensive piece of technology.
Davis chuckles sadly, then gestures with his hand for me to answer it. Sighing, I grab a strawberry from the bowl, then take a big bite while reaching for my phone. A flood of flavor bursts along my palate. It’s sweet, juicy, and besides being healthy, tastes downright amazing when famished.
“Who is it?”
Always the nosy one, that Davis boy. He’s been like this for as long as I can remember him. Whenever things would happen and he didn’t know the details, he’d always get this little shimmer in his eyes—like a doe-eyed girl—and sit up for gossip. He’s a man’s man, but he loves talking smack about people.
Flicking my phone on, I half-ass pay attention as I click on the text notification at the top of my screen. However, when I notice it’s not Karma that texts me, I start feeling a little ill. The bite of strawberry churns in my stomach as I read the contents. The laughter falling off my face like the Summer heat giving away into a chilly Autumn morning. It debilitates me. Unnerves me. It rocks me to my core
Unknown: Oh, little girl, I think it’s time we play. [image attachment]
CHAPTER 26
Before I can stop myself, I press the icon to load the picture. My heart hammers inside my chest a thousand miles an hour, wondering just what the sick son of a bitch has done this time. Usually, he never sends pictures. And I can only guess why he’s chosen to now. He has something over my head, something I hold most dear.
But what confuses me the most is the fact he’s supposed to be strapped to a table. Mr. T should have cuffs around his wrists and detectives barking in his ear. There’s no way he should have access to a cell phone. There’s also no possibility he should even have a means to be contacting me. Untraceable cell phone or not. I know it’s him. It’s easy to put two and two together.
I subtly shift back and forth, overwhelmed and confused. As soon as the picture loads, my stomach turns. It feels like the floor will open up and swallow me whole. Oh, my God.
A wave of alarm washes over me as I spy a grainy picture of Asher chained to a chair. His hair is matted, looks to be soaked with dried blood, and he has cuts and bruises marring his beautiful, tanned, toned flesh. His head is slumped forward, lifeless. I wish with everything in me it was a video and not a photo, so I can make sure he’s breathing.
Unknown: You really thought you had me, didn’t you? So naïve.
This isn’t happening. Ever since that night, the guys haven’t acted like anything has been wrong. Every time I asked about Asher, they blew me off and gave me the same excuse they always do: this is just something he does. It’s normal. He’ll come around when he’s ready.
Horse piss!
Yeah, possibly beforehand. Not when we were waiting at the precinct, needing that paperwork he and I took from Debra’s. They may think I’m dense, but I’m not. I always knew something was wrong, and now I have fucking proof. I’m going to be sick.
Unknown: Be here in two hours, or your little boyfriend will come back to you in pieces. Come alone.
One more follow up text comes through, and it’s the address of a place down by the Gentlemen’s club I frequented a few months ago. It’s nondescript, off anyone’s radar, so it’s the perfect place for a psychopathic murderer to bunk down in. No one usually goes out there. Not since all the kids stopped partying at the old warehouse a few years ago. Now, it’s all businessmen and strippers that like to get their jollies off after a hard day at work.
There will be no witnesses. No one to stop this man from killing both Asher and me. He’d have free rein to do with the both of us as he pleases. And I’m not about to leave Asher there, no matter how terrified I am of the outcome. I know if I tried to alert anyone, he’ll kill Asher on the spot. Just the vague memories I have dancing around my mind of Debra are enough to turn my stomach.
This guy, he’s used to taking lives. He doesn’t have a conscious, and something tells me that his demands are always met.
Trying to appear nonchalant, I ask, “Mr. T is still in custody, right?”
“Last I checked. But that was this morning. What’s up?”
I steady my breathing, then try my best to remove the panic from my face when I peer back toward Davis. “Nothing. I was just wondering.”
“That bastard needs to stay in jail if he knows what’s good for him,” he fumes.
I quickly add, “No shit.”
I mull over what to do when the front door opens, then slams with a resounding thud. When I peer toward the opening in the kitchen, the people arriving stop in the mouth of the doorway, causing my heart to jump into my chest. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
My father and Coach Rice stand side by side, matching smiles on their face. They look as cool as cucumbers in their daily wear. My father in his impeccable suit, with shoes shined to perfection. There’s not a stitch out of place as he regards me with a critical eye. Coach Rice rests easily by his side, wearing—what I’ve now come to know as—his trademark Khakis and polo and a striking smile that seems to light up his face.
It’s still not something I’m used to, seeing him with a smile on his face. I’m still not used to seeing him outside of practice, nor in the hallways at school, either. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
They charged this guy with the murder of Debra, whether they had evidence or not. It’s not very smart to have him around the widower and the victim’s child. Not smart at all. There has to be rules against that or something, right?
My father smirks. “Um, dear daughter, he’s working. What else do you think he’s doing?”
Working? “Explain. Now.” I cross my arms over my chest.
My father sighs, as if he’s simply exacerbated with the whole ordeal. Coach Rice slaps him on the back, then makes his way toward the counter. “You have a
pistol for a daughter, my man.”
“Don’t I know it.” My father smirks at that, bringing his attention back to me. “You see, I had to have a person I trusted to watch over you until I could get someone set up and ready. I didn’t entrust your mother to do it, so I had the head of my personal security do it until then.”
Coach Rice has been my coach for several years. He’s never once, not one time, pretended as if I was his charge. Hell, he doesn’t even look like a fucking bodyguard. He looks like one of those people that drink coffee on Sundays and go golfing with his buddies.
“You lost me,” I release, narrowing my eyes. Then, something about what he said strikes a chord in me. “Head of personal security? How long have you been with the Empire, dad?”
He appears aloof, leaning against the doorframe. Scratching the scruff on his jaw, he regards me with a shrug. “Since you were in diapers, baby girl.”
I jerk back away from him. “What?”
“It was a need to know, and at the time, you didn’t need to know. No one did. I was a silent investor. Then, when you were twelve, I became an open partner.”
“But where did you get the money?”
He’s just barely old enough to tap into his inheritance from my grandparents. Before that, he didn’t have two pennies to slide together that wasn’t invested in his business. A business, I’m now gathering, probably didn’t even exist.
He tilts his head to the side, flashing a wolfish grin. “Again. It’s a need to know.”
I hate it when he gets all cryptic and shit. My father knows better than anyone I hate secrets. For my entire life, he’s hidden a whopper of one. One that could have had deadly consequences if someone were to find out before the founding families were ready.
I try to go over all the conversations we’ve had regarding the Empire. Nothing of substance stands out, at least to my recollection. During my youth, my father was always there, even when running his business. He didn’t make it seem like he was juggling his attention toward me and toward a multi-million-dollar business.
Love Me, Baby: A High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 3) Page 19