Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (45 page)

“Sir, I’ve secured my chute. It’s good, Sir.” The young soldier shouted to confirm as I tightened the straps for a second time. The whir of the helicopter infiltrated my ears and the target came in to view.

“You ready for this, Private?”

“Yes, Sir. Let’s fucking do this.”

“Stay right behind me.”

Following hand signals, one after the other, we stepped out of the helicopter and into the open sky. The rush of adrenaline flew from my toes to my head. I pulled the cord and disengaged my chute just like my brothers did. We floated down through the dark until our feet touched the dry desert.

With our rifles tucked in close to our bodies, we jogged across the yard to the main entrance.

“Bang! Bang-bang-bang.” Consecutive gun shots and loud pops rocked the quiet neighborhood. The grenades exploded and lit up the pitch black sky. My eyes darted back and forth looking for him, the evil mastermind of terror.

A hard pat on my back startles me and I look up to see Eric standing there.

“Yo, you ready man? Let’s do this!”

I wipe the sweat from my brow and pull my hat down low. “Let’s do this.” I mumble as I stand, suppressing the memory from long ago.

Throughout the first quarter of the game, I search for her. The stadium is neutral territory so I’m not familiar with the layout. They score; we score. When one of our players takes a hard hit and lies still on the thirty yard line, I sprint out there with the trainers and drop to my knees beside him. The seventeen-year-old whose eyes are wide with fear and pain calls my name.

“Coach, I can’t breathe. He stammers, “I…I…I can’t. Help me, Coach.”

I reach for his hand and quiet him down as the memory of another young man, one I couldn’t save, surfaces.

“Now you listen to me, you are fine. I’m going to get your ass home to your wife. Okay! Do you fucking hear me?” I gritted my teeth and got in his face, praying that he would listen until help arrived.

The starting player eventually stands and waves to the crowd after having had the wind knocked out of him. With his head hung low, he whispers, “That was fucking embarrassing, Coach.”

“You were scared, kid. There’s nothing wrong with being scared.”

“I panicked like a little bitch. Who does that?”

Our eyes meet.

“Yo, my father’s going to be pissed at me.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Don’t worry about your dad. He wasn’t out there with you on the field. He didn’t know what you were going through. He didn’t know how you felt, did he?” I usher him to the bench and pat his helmet.

I walk over to the water jug, fill a paper cup and swallow down a tablet quickly. I crush the small cup and toss it in the garbage can. I continue to scan the crowd until I finally see her. Armed with a bright and genuine smile, she waves wildly; she seems really excited to be here. I wave back and then close my eyes briefly as I feel the tension in my body slowly dissipate. I can’t tell which is calming me: the medicine or her.

As the clocks ticks down to zero and our team runs out to the field to celebrate their victory, I am bombarded with high fives and celebratory hugs as gallons of red Gatorade are poured over our heads in victory. Dana, reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me hard on the mouth. Immediately, I push her away and wipe my lips. Before I have the opportunity to ask what the fuck she thinks she’s doing, she’s in Brandon’s arm, kissing him as if her life depends on it.

I fully expect Remy to join me on the field, but when after a few minutes she doesn’t, I look back to where she was in the stands. Only a few people remain as most have either left or are on the field, congratulating the team. I pull my phone out and call her. Voicemail. I call again. Same thing. Something isn’t right; I can feel it.

My frustration grows thicker each time I call her phone and am met immediately with her damn voicemail. Soaked and sticky, I make my way to the bus with my phone to my ear. I’ve texted and called her a hundred times since the game ended, but it goes straight to voicemail. She left without saying a word to me. The feeling of excitement for the boys is quickly replaced by confusion and anger. Why would she just leave without saying a word? Not even a text?

I climb aboard the bus to head back to school. I send her message after message, asking what happened and where she went. Fuck! I lower my head in defeat, realizing that she must have seen and misconstrued the brief interaction with psycho Dana.

After showering quickly in the locker room, I dress and call Jenna. I leave a brief message, asking her to call me.

I punch the steering wheel of my truck and slam the key in to start it. I toss my phone onto the seat, but reach for it immediately when it rings. Disappointment fills me when I see Eric’s name.

“Yo, we’re going to grab a couple of beers to celebrate. You in?”

Fuck! I don’t want to go for a couple of beers. I need to find out what the hell happened to my girl. This is the second time she’s pulled this shit and I don’t know how forgiving I’m going to be.

“Nah, I’m good.

“C’mon. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Did you, by any chance, see where Remy went?”

There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“Uh…dude, I don’t want to get in the middle of your shit.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I slam my foot on the brake, my body surges forward.

“I don’t know, man. Cathy said she saw her talking to two guys. One guy was standing next a motorcycle arguing with some other guy.”

“What were they arguing about?”

“I don’t know, man.”

I force myself to breathe. “What did they look like?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

I hear him ask his wife for a description of the two men.

Immediately I realize who one of the motherfuckers is. It’s Simon. And I’ll bet that fucking Purple Heart sitting on my bookshelf that he knows where Remy is.

I hang up without saying goodbye. I glance at the clock on the dash and decide it’s time to come face to face with this asshole. I head down to the The Tam where he seems to be on Friday nights.

My eyes scan every face, every corner of the streets of Boston as I drive slowly, looking for her. I know the enemy is lurking in the darkness.

My phone rings again and I answer it instantly.

An obviously inebriated Brandon tells me that they’re going for drinks at the Glass Slipper because his girl is back. His slurred words that I could use some new pussy only angers me even more. I can’t be held responsible for what I do to him when I smash his face in. No one disrespects the woman I love even if I am pissed at her.

Even after he apologized for his behavior after the last game, I still didn’t like him, Now I loathe him. I can’t tolerate him any longer.

I turn left then turn right, searching until I see what I’m looking for. I park my truck alongside a fire hydrant and hop out immediately, my eyes laser-focused on the black Suzuki motorcycle parked on the sidewalk outside The Glass Slipper.

I jump over the brown puddle, the remnant of all the melted snow from yesterday’s spike in the temperature. My fists and my jaw clench tighter with each step I take. The whizzing sounds of cars passing and horns honking can’t deter me from my intended target.

Walking up to the bouncer, I try to force my way in.

“Back up buddy. Line’s back there.”

I feel murderous as I tell him I need to get in there now.

“So do all these other horny motherfuckers. They’re all here for Jade, just like you are.”

“I’m not here for some dirty ass whore.”

I hear someone call my name. I turn just in time to see Brandon with a couple of other guys from work.

“What up, B?” the bouncer asks, leaning in to Brandon’s shoulder in greeting.

With narrowed eyes and devious grin, Brandon asks, “Is my dirty little slut here?”

“Don’t let her hear you call her that. That girl is crazy! She’ll jack your bony, white boy ass up!”

“I don’t give a fuck! I just want her to suck my dick. I’ve heard she’s fucking amazing.”

The anger rising in my veins is about to explode until the bouncer detaches the velvet rope and lets us in.

“Yo, pretty boy, you’re lucky B is my boy.”

My reply is an icy glare.

“Come on, boys. Let’s go see my girl.”

I follow Brandon into the room where some young woman has got her legs spread wide for the whole fucking world to see.

With every movement, my eyes move in search of Simon. I see a brunette slip through a back door and look out into the crowd. Jenna? Abruptly, she’s gone and the adrenaline spikes as I call Remy yet again.

Dancer after dancer, each girl fills the stage with sex appeal, slipping and sliding across the floor. Dollar bills are tossed at their feet in gratitude and worship.

Remy’s name appears across my phone followed by three pings. A total of three text messages come through consecutively.

“Come get me.”

“She OD’d.”

“Going home. Nothing feeling great. See you later. Love you.”

What the fuck? I stand up and feel the need to get out of this place and find my girl. Anger flares up when I think about whom she asked to get her and who the hell overdosed.” Of all three messages, I’m positive only the last was intended for me.

“Yo, here she is.” Brandon smiles like a kid in a candy store.

Her introduction is as I remember it. The lights shut off and the entire bar is completely cloaked in darkness until a strobe light flickers wildly, illuminating the center of stage to reveal a figure descending slowly. Whistles and cat calls come from every corner and seem to bounce off the walls, begging her to begin.

The petite woman methodically unbuttons her black trench coat, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a slim waist and flat stomach. With gloved fingers, she pulls the black hat low, shielding her face as she starts to move with the music. She sticks her leg straight out in front before she angles it back to grip the pole. In one swift motion, she’s around the pole, gripping it with both hands while her legs spread apart for our eyes. The woman with long, red hair commands the stage. She swings around and disengages from her position on the pole to straddle the floor before she crawls onto her hands and knees, keeping her lithe body close to the floor like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. The crowd goes wild when she turns around and circles her ass in the air; the thin, black string disappearing between her curves. Her hands roam all over her body, tempting and teasing us.

“She’s so fucking hot!”

Shouts for her to suck someone’s dick draw my attention away from the woman dancing on stage.

As if she didn’t hear them above the music, she continues her erotic performance. She pulls herself up on the pole and spreads her legs. She oozes of sex, creating a frenzied desire in all of us. Yes, I’m included and I hate myself for being turned on by this dirty stripper.

The flashing of the strobe light begins to fill the room and I look down, closing my eyes tightly. The dancer’s body seems to be in slow motion as the white lights flicker against her pale skin. I force myself to look up as if I’m being drawn into something on the stage.

Something
on
this girl.

My eyes follow the length of her neck, her perfect tits and her flat stomach down to her legs. Then I see it.

I fucking see it.

I narrow my eyes on the mark. The long purple bruise that runs along diagonally on her thigh forces me to stand up and rush forward.

Because the woman’s face is turned down as she runs her hand along the thin material covering her bare pussy, she seems oblivious to the animal clawing his way to her.Brandon, drunk and out of control, rushes past me and hurls himself on the stage, wrapping his hands around her ankle. He yanks hard and pulls her off the stage down to the dirty floor with a hard thud. He covers her naked body with his own as he laughs maniacally, kissing her and begging her to fuck him.

There’s a flurry of commotion as patrons crowd around to see what’s happening and bouncers race forward, tossing bodies out of the way. In one swift motion, I grab Brandon by the back of his neck and rip him off her, leaving the vulnerable naked woman even more exposed as people look on.

“What the fuck, asshole!” she yells as she pulls her gloves off with her teeth.

I squat down to help her.

“Shit,” the stripper mumbles as she struggles to stand.

My mind goes into overdrive when I reach out to help her.

“Thanks.” She places a small hand, soft and familiar, in mine and uses the other to lift the black feathered hat that’s fallen over her eyes.

My heart stops beating and the life of my soul expunged as I blink furiously, praying that what I see is not true. It cannot be true. I swallow hard and focus my eyes on the black mark, the symbol of strength etched on the woman’s tiny wrist.

“Shane!” A shocked voice breathes my name.

My world spins fast, wildly out of control, rotating and falling hard on its axis when I look down, into familiar green eyes. They are the eyes of the woman I love. The woman who I need more than anything.The woman I want to marry. The woman who is my reason for being. The woman who breathes life into me every day. The woman who chases the demons away.

The woman who is Jade.

“What the fuck is this?” I breathe as I let her hand slip through mine. It feels as though I’m drowning, being pulled under the icy water as reality of what this is becomes crystal clear.

“Shane!” Her panicked eyes are wide with shock and fear.

“What the fuck are you doing? What? Why?” Questions tumble out of my mouth as I stand. Onlookers watch as my world collapses before my very eyes.

She stands, her naked body visible to everyone, as she calls my name and reaches for me. Repulsed by the sight of her, I pull away and cause her to lose her footing. She falls again to the dirty floor. Struggling to get on her feet, she wobbles and falls again for a third time.

Green pools of hurt and remorse stare up at me as I tower above her. My body goes rigid as my heart turns to ice.