Drowning (Tears of Sin Series) (24 page)

He drops back and covers the red seeping down his chin. I glare at him. “Don’t ever touch me again. I’ve lived my entire life with no one. No one. Now you?”
“I only meant—”
“No. You don’t get to take their side.” I stab a finger into his chest. “You? You were supposed to have my back. I trusted you with it, Seth.”
He stands, grabs a dishtowel, and dabs at his lip. “What do you want me to say? Should I lie and say I don’t get it?” He waits until the blood is a slow trickle. I’m standing and squared off with him. “You want me to tell you that it’s fucked up? It is. It’s fucked to all hours of the night. It’s the kind of fucked that gets you killed. It’s the kind of fucked that doesn’t leave your soul even after you die, but that doesn’t change anything.”
I can’t listen to this. I won’t. Seth’s anguished blue eyes have me questioning why we’re fighting, but then I remember. It’s just me. I can only count on me. I’ll only ever just count on me.
He follows me to my apartment, past Molly’s weeping form sprawled across the couch, and to her room. The drives are all scattered on Molly’s bed, and I grab one and run into my room for my laptop. I jam one in the port, pull up the file, and hit play. Maybe he’s forgotten just how bad my life was. Maybe he needs a good dose of reality. The noise of my begging and pleading at seven years old hardens my heart. I take the laptop to the kitchen and shove it in his arms. “Watch.”
His eyes bore into mine. “No.”
“Mother fucker, you’re going to watch what that man did to me. Then you’re going to tell me that it’s okay that she did this.”
He glances down, and I know what’s happening. My father picks up a scalpel and makes a neat incision on the bottom of my foot. Just barely missing tendons and ligaments. I still have the rough scar there to remember it by. I walked funny for a week.
The blade moves up.
“Not her fault?” I run back into the bedroom and grab another drive. I change the USBs and watch his face as a more recent clip comes on. It is the last one. The one that made me stop him. The blade splits me from chest bone to navel. My screams are loud when he pours salt in the open wound. I pass out and come to to my father’s finger digging into the salty wound, shredding the skin so that the scar will be massive and ugly. I rub at my sternum, touching the memory’s evidence. How can he look at that and not hate them all?
Seth smashes the laptop against the wall, and we’re now both breathing heavy. I rip open my shirt and unsnap my bra. The scar a wicked reminder of the show we’d just watched. “This is what I am. This is me. That was them. You’re either with me or them, Seth. Never in the middle. Never understand their shit. It’s fucked. Right and wrong. Only.”
Molly wails louder. I don't care that she can hear me. I want her to understand my pain.
He grabs me, and we are wrapped in a twist of frantic arms and legs. His need for me pushes us both on, but I’m in this for more. I need to erase the ugly scenes from my mind. I need to remember what it’s like to live. To be free.
He lifts me to the counter and devours my mouth. His tongue is a hot poker stabbing at my flames. I bite the open wound on his mouth, and he groans. “Alice.”
“Fuck me and make me forget that shit.”
He pulls back and hooks my wrists in one hand and pulls them over his neck. His forehead lands against mine. “I’m with you. Only you. I’m sorry, baby.”
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries us down the hall to my bedroom. We land hard on the bed, and I’m at a loss of breath.
“Fuck, did I hurt you?” I shake my head and bite his neck. He groans, “Fuck, do it again.”
I bite harder and rake my teeth down the taut tendons. I’m on top of him, holding his body down with my thighs. “Do you trust me, Seth?”
“Yeah, baby. With my fucking life.”
I take his hands and lift them over his head. “Under the pillow. Don’t move.”
He knots the pillow in his fist and nods. I rip open his button-down shirt and kiss a trail down his hard chest. His skin is salty, but good. So fucking good.
When I suck on his nipple, his hips jerk against me. “Holy shit.”
The muscles in his stomach are rippling and sending little flutters through my clit. “Seth.”
He leans up, hands still wrapped beneath the pillow, and tries to kiss me. I pull back, and he grins. “Tease.”
“You have no idea.” I enjoy this—being in control for once in my life.
The button on his fly is hitting me in the perfect spot, and I take a moment to grind against him. His eyes roll back, and his back arches, hips thrusting on the end. Oh man, that feels good.
I scoot down on his lap, resting just above his knees, and pop the button that gave me so much pleasure a minute ago. Seth’s eyes catch mine while I pull down his zipper. “Alice.”
I lose him again when I tug down his boxers and trail a finger from base to tip. He gets harder if that’s possible. “You want me here.”
His eyes widen. “Yes.”
“My mouth here?” I’m lost to the power. I want him to want me beyond reason. Only me.
His nostrils flare. “Fuck, yeah, but only if you want to.”
I did want to, but I also want his attention. His chin drops toward his chest, and he tugs the pillow down to support his neck. I love that he hasn’t taken his hands from beneath it. He’s doing this for me as much as for the pleasure he’ll receive.
My lips plump up with the thought of doing this. “I’ve only done this once before.”
“It’s okay, baby. If you let me use my hands, I’ll help you.”
The man definitely makes teasing hard. I want to control this, but if I goof up, he might laugh. Fuck it. I’m going to do this like I do everything else in my life—balls to the wall.
I wrap my lip over my bottom teeth and slide over the tip. He hisses, and everything tightens—in both of us. My mouth barely wraps completely around him, so I relax and slide down…and down.
“Fuck, Alice. So fucking deep.” His hips buck softly, and I wiggle my tongue against him. I’m still deep, but I want more. “Oh god, baby. Oh shit.” He curls up, almost sitting. I made this beautiful man lose control. “Stop. If you don’t stop, I’m going to blow. Never…never had it so fast.”
He doesn’t even have a chance to finish the next thrust and I taste him. Salty and sweet. His hands are on me, and he’s pulling me back and off of him. He leaves my mouth with a wet pop and shudders.
Seth’s chest is heaving, and he’s staring at me like I just hung the moon. I roll off of him and leave him lying in bed, boxers cradling his balls. “You with me or are you with them?”
There’s a coldness that replaces the blue of his eyes, and he pulls up his jeans. With a deep sigh, he stands and walks past me. I’ve fucked up, but I think he got my point.
No one will ever stand on both sides of the fence with me. I want him to be with me, but if he can’t stand at my side, then I’ll let him go. It’ll hurt like crazy, but I am used to pain. It is much more comfortable than the new sense of love.
My front door opens, slams shut, and that’s my answer.

G
ABE IS ON MY COUCH
when I get back. A bottle of whiskey tucked against him and tumbler in his hands. “Fucked-up bullshit.”
I stop and watch him for a minute. He’s hurting, but so am I. Alice just gave me the blow job of a lifetime, but she did it to prove a point. Or to tempt me to “her side,” whatever the fuck that means.
Gabe hands me the bottle, and I take a huge chug from the rim. “Molly isn’t completely wrong.”
“Not wrong?” Gabe stands. “She fucked up. She should have taken that shit to the police.”
“Listen, little bro. You don’t know what it’s like. Being the oldest is hard shit. You got to watch out for your family and your friends, and it takes everything from you.” I point the bottle at him. “Every last fucking ounce of energy.”
“That what I am? A fucking drain of energy?” Gabe finishes off the amber in his glass, tosses me the tumbler, and heads for the door. “Don’t fucking waste any more of your time on me. I never asked you to be my big brother.” He stops at the door and turns back. “You think it wasn’t hard for me? Dad always hoped for you. Always. With me, I was just the tag along. I’m a millionaire, by my own right, and he’d never even claim it. I took my trust fund, invested it, and made a nest egg I’ll never run out of all before I hit twenty-one. But you, you’re the hope. The fucking gem of his empire.”
I’m at a loss for words. I never doubted that Gabe’s genius would eventually make him a rich man. I’m proud of him. I open my mouth to tell him, but he leaves and slams the door. A lot of that going on lately.
I glance at my door. Sitting here moping isn’t going to help me. I need some action. Something to take my mind off all the bad permeating my air.
I text Deacon.
Need to go out.
Pick you up in ten.
We enter a dive bar and head for the beer. I need to drown the shit with Alice and forget that Gabe just fucking walked out on me. I’m not sure which hurts more.
Deacon hasn’t asked any questions, but they’re coming. “Hey beautiful, how ‘bout two Millers.” The pretty blonde behind the bar swishes her high ponytail back and forth and winks at Deacon. He grins back. “Might hit that later.”
“Yeah.” I scan the bar. Nothing else looks good when the love of my life is at home hating me at this very moment. There are plenty of beautiful girls, if you’re looking for a case of crabs and a baby momma. “Not really feeling it.”
Deacon swivels on his stool and watches me. I feel his eyes on the side of my face. “Gabe called me. Ranting about you taking sides with a sick fuck. What is up with that?”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Alice was tortured by her father for a long…long time. Molly had videos of it.” Deacon’s brows shoot up to his hairline, and he grimaces. “Yeah, but she didn’t know it was Alice. She thought she was protecting her mother by having some kind of leverage over him. I don’t know man, it all got fucked up.”
Deacon punches me in the arm and gets a warning look from the bouncer. “Dude.”
I rub at the frogged muscle and grimace. “I know.”
“Fuck. Alice?” He raises his hand to chest level. “Sweet, tiny little Alice?”
The woman I fucking love. “Yeah. I tried to make them see that Molly was just as much of a victim to that sick fuck. I mean I get why she did it.”
“No. There’s not reason on earth strong enough not to turn someone like that in.”
“You don’t get it either.” I’d never felt so alone.
“No, I know you, so I know what you’re thinking. But, dude, no. Alice has about the biggest fucking heart on this earth and right now, knowing that shit, I want to find her dad and murder him. So, if Molly had the means to destroy that sick bastard, then she should have done it.”
I shake my head. “She’s blind. She didn’t know it was Alice.”
“Doesn’t matter. She knew. Alice’s voice is distinct. Like warm honey over whiskey.”
He’s right, and I shudder. I remember the wails. The screams. I knew who it was before I had even made it into Molly’s bedroom. With Molly’s sensitive hearing, how could she have not picked out those tones? That voice breaking in pain. I drop my head to the bar. “I fucked up. So fucking bad.”
I order three shots of whiskey and down them all in succession. The blonde leans against the bar. “Slow down, sugar, you’re going to be crawlin’ out of here.”
I growl at her. “Keep ‘em coming.”
She glances at Deacon, and he nods. “I got him.”
Burn after burn turns into a fucking good buzz. Deacon helps me off the stool and hauls my sorry ass to the car. We’re driving down dark highways, but not toward the apartment. It isn’t until the trees drape the highway that I come out of my whiskey coma to realize he’s taking me home.
“Nah, man.” I rub some of the redness from my eyes. “My dad is going to shit.”
“Shut up. You need to deal with this, and Alice will be too much of a temptation.” Deacon doesn’t turn toward me. I think if he does, he’ll cave. He’s not the greatest at holding strong to his decisions.
She’s right next door. I can lean across the hall and touch her place. I need to touch her. I need to be close to her, even if she doesn't let me in. “I want to go to the condo.”
“No.”
“Deacon.” I’ve never wanted to punch him in anger, but he’s getting really close to taking five across the chin.
“No. You’re drunk. She’s hurting because of you. You’ll only make it worse.”
After the fifth shot, I spilled all the nasty words we’d said. How I’d basically given Molly the okay to know about her dad and not share it. Saying it now, I can see where I totally screwed up. What the fuck was I thinking? I’m not much better than the filth of her family.
Deacon throws an arm around my neck and guides me to the front door. I still have a key somewhere on my ring, but I’m fumbling through it. The door opens, and the front porch light illuminates my dad’s face.
“Hey, Dad.” There are three of him, and they are swaying in the wind.
“Son.” He reaches out to me and helps hold me up as I stagger into the house. “Deacon, thanks for bringing him here.”
We settle in the den, and Deacon throws himself in one of the recliners while my dad makes himself a drink. “I wasn’t prepared for company, or I’d have had the cook make us a light dinner.”
“I’ll have one of those.” I nod at his glass.
“You’ve had enough.” Deacon and Dad shout in unison.
I’m not sure when I’ll be a man in my dad’s presence. “But I don’t want food.”
My dad takes a long shot of the bourbon. “You’ll have to get shitfaced somewhere else. Gabe has already been here, and you and I need to talk.”
Fuck. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yes. I taught you better than that, Seth.” He grips his belt and squares his shoulders. “Why would you ever make that poor woman think that she didn’t deserve the right to have someone take her side?”
I stand up—swaying. “That’s not exactly how it was.”
The room is spinning.
“Then how was it?” Dad brushes a hand through his normally styled hair, ruffling the dark strands into disarray.
“Molly didn’t know.” If I keep telling myself that, the lie might be easier to swallow.
“They’re sisters, Seth. She knew. Just like I knew your mother wasn’t right. Just like I knew that you were carrying the burden of raising Gabe.” My dad sloshes back the rest of his drink. “We all know. It’s what we do with that knowledge that matters.”
He’s right, and I fucked up. I jump up out of the chair and rush to the front door. Deacon’s right on my heels. He slams the driver’s door shut before I can hop in. “If we’re going somewhere, dude, I’m driving.”
“Fine, but you better haul ass!”
My dad waves from the front porch. “I’m so pissed. Gabe coming over here ratting me out. Dad always knowing what to say to get me in the right direction.” I glance at Deac’s face, glowing from the lit dials on the dash. “Most of all, I’m pissed at me. How could I be so fucking stupid?”
“That’s why we came here. You’ve always listened to him. I knew he’d make you see shit right.”
It’s after midnight, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. The road leading away from my house is black on black night. But the headlights coming toward the car worry me. We don’t normally get visitors out here, and I doubt Gabe would be coming back home this early.
“Seth?”
“Just slow down and let them pass.” It’ll be a tight squeeze down the narrow, onelane road.
Deacon lets off the accelerator and pulls the car as close to the shoulder as he can without spilling us over the short ditch. The car centers in the road and stays right in line with us. “Dude.”
Deacon stops and throws the car in reverse. The car in front of us speeds up and does a rammer on our front end. If we hadn't already been reversed, it would have been bad. I grab onto the oh-shit handle and brace against Deacon’s seat back. “Fuck.”
There's a second car following the first. The bright headlights in our face grow bigger as the car takes another go at us, but this time clips the front corner and sends Deacon's car into a spin. We fishtail backward and slam into one of the large oaks lining the road. Deacon is still and I'm stunned.
“Deac. Deacon.” He doesn't move. I scramble out of my seatbelt and unlatch his. He leans toward me and moans. Thank fuck. “Deacon, wake up.” We need to get out of here before whoever is after us makes it to the car. Deacon isn't moving very fast and his pupils are dilated. Concussion. “Man, we have to go.”
“What the fuck happened?” He holds his head. “Fucking feels like I shoved a tree through my temple.” Blood is seeping from an open cut over his brow.
“We got to go.” My door is yanked open, and a dude that's huge and packing reaches inside and grabs my shirt. He drags me out of the car and throws me to the ground. I’m not a small guy, but he’s manhandling me like I’m Tiny Tim.
The other guy leans against the car with a pistol pulled. “Sorry you had to be here.”
Two shots are fired, and the blasts from the gun spark through the car. “No!” I roll to my knees and take a foot to the chin.
I shake my head, clearing the ringing from my ears. I can’t go down.
“Deacon!” I'm scrambling across the ground with blood hanging from my busted lip. Another foot meets my ribs, and I black out for a moment before remembering to roll up on myself to protect my sore ribs. The kick comes again, but this time I'm ready, and I grab the guy's foot and yank.
He falls on his ass, but recovers and aims his gun at me. “Don't fucking move, kid.”
Deacon is dead. I'm about to die. I can't die. Who will protect Alice? She's all alone because of me. Broken and sad behind that tough little shell she puts on. I raise my hands over my head and lock my grip behind my neck. “I'll do whatever you want. Just please, call him an ambulance.”
“The boss wants you to suffer. He's dead. You'll suffer.” They grab my arms and handcuff them behind my back, then lift me by my thumbs until the pressure brings me to my feet. I scramble behind one of them with the other leading me and am thrown into the back of their car. My shoulders are aching from the tight cuffs, but my heart is mourning the loss of my friend. There's never not been a time when Deacon wasn't there for me. And this time, I got him killed.
We back up and they turn in the road, heading back to the freeway. We drive over an hour and meet another secluded dirt road. We wind down the trail, and my eyes are heavy from the emotions of losing my best friend. I still can't believe he's dead. And I’m probably only a few hours from falling beside him.
The car stops, and E. Harrison strolls out of the cabin. He's wearing a crisp white shirt with stupid fucking cuff links at his wrist. The two in the front seat get out and open the back door.
I'm hauled to my feet, and Harrison steps forward. “I told you to stay away from her.” I don't respond. “Your friend would be alive, if you had just listened.” He's right, and we both know it. “So now we have a problem.”
I’m past caring about anything beyond seeing Alice one more time. I sneer at him. “What's that?”
“I still don't have my movies, you didn't stay away, and now there's a body to dispose of.”
He glances to the guy on my left, and the dick with the gun takes off. The other dude pushes me forward, and I follow Harrison. I'm pretty sure he's about to do some really crappy shit to me, but if Alice can endure it, then I can too. This is for her. I can't do anything to help Deacon, but I'll do anything for her.
“This doesn't get your movies back.”
“No, you're right. But I find that all of this frustration has taken its toll. I need a stress reliever. And since that ungrateful bastard I sired won't take it like she's supposed to, I'll make do with you.”
My knuckles crack under the pressure in my fisted hands. “You stay the fuck away from her.”
“Or what?”
“I mean it, Harrison. Alice is innocent and doesn't deserve all of this.” He laughs. I wish my hands weren't cuffed so I could squeeze the life from his throat.
“I know that she is. Or was. Until you. I have her followed regularly. I'm not sure why she gave it up to you, but that really only sealed her worth to me.” He picks up a set of pliers from the table by the cot in the middle of the room. “I loved her mother. Did she tell you that?”
I don't answer.
“Best fucking lay I ever had. She screamed every time I pushed inside her.” He's lost in his thoughts, and I get a glimpse of the real sickness behind his eyes. “She wanted to abort Alice. Wanted to cut her out of her stomach. I tried to help her with that, but the bitch almost died on me. Had to get her to a hospital. But that was a long time ago, when I was weak and still couldn't stand the thought of losing my Lolita.”
He puts the pliers down and squeezes a pair of brass knuckles over his fingers. “We're not going to play like I do with my girls. No, you and I are going to go like men.”
“Then untie me and face me like a real man. Or what? Only helpless children make you feel manly.”
I'm shoved into a wooden chair. My hands and ankles are strapped to the legs. The first punch hits me in the temple, and everything is woozy after that.
“You. Will. Find. My. Films.” He’s pounding into my face and upper body, adding bruise after aching bruise. My breathing is labored. It won’t be long, and I’ll pass out. Hopefully.