Hopelessly Yours (13 page)

I went to stick my tongue out at him, but cried out in agony instead when my tongue hit my battered lip. I tasted something coppery and raw.

A busted lip.

I inhaled sharply, but it didn't feel right. A broken nose?

What had he done to me?

More images came back to me. Words were muffled like they were coming from under water. The man with the squirrelly face and the dead eyes slithering up beside Macone. Manners. Rape. Then I called the old lady who'd spit on Jace a bitch. Then blinding pain made me gasp as I relived the punch. Macone’s fist was a cinderblock that slammed into my skull—and then there was nothing.

I drew my fingers to my face, gingerly touching my lips, my jaw, my nose, terrified that at any moment it would all crumble in my hands if I touched it too hard.

He let out a rumbling sigh. "Please accept my apologies for what I did to your face. I don't enjoy hitting women."

I summoned every ounce of strength I had and pulled myself to a seated position. I wanted to roll my eyes at him, spit, but all I could manage was a grunt of disbelief. I saw the truth shining in the eyes that were all but cackling with glee. He loved hurting people, period.

He lowered his muscular frame into his seat, tightening his tie like he was ready to get down to business. "You strike me as a young woman who doesn't like to mince words or bullshit, so I'll extend you the same courtesy." It was almost like he knew I was drawing a steadying breath, swallowing my fear as best I could. He waited until he had my full and undivided attention. "I'm aware that you stumbled upon my business. Terrible stuff, someone such as yourself seeing the dark shit that goes on in this town. In the shadows. Someone has to crawl in the muck, supply the oil that keeps the gears grinding." His cruel lips pulled into a tight smile. "Without men like me, your mother would be out of a job."

I was flabbergasted, almost dropping my jaw in disbelief until I remembered that any movement besides a grimace brought a shockwave of pain. Was he making a joke right now? Like this was comedy night at Rick's instead of my last night on Earth?

The thought of my imminent death should have made me sick, terrified, but I was just stating facts. Despite the theatrics, I knew there was no way he'd let me walk away. He'd be an idiot to let me leave alive. I'd say just about anything to get out, then the first chance I got, I'd tell Mom everything; from the color of the assassin’s eyes back at the gas station to the color of Macone's cuff links. They glittered like broken teeth in the dim light.

So this was it. Eighteen and a half years, with so much life stretching out in front of me. The only thing that made me want to cry was what hell Macone would put Jace through before he killed him. Jace’s only sin was that he loved me, that he tried to help me. Was he in a room like this one, writhing in a pool of his own blood? Would they cut and slice at him until the sounds he made were more animal than human?

I squeezed my eyes shut, like that would banish the thoughts from my mind.

"You're thinking about the kid, aren't you? Jace?"

My eyes flew open. "Don't you dare say his name!" Or what? He had the power here. I could barely move. Macone was the reason I could barely move. But I couldn't stop thinking about Jace's face as he told me about his family and why he got tangled up with Macone. "You were like a father to him. And now, you're doing God knows what to him and—"

"I'm not doing anything to him," Macone interrupted smoothly.

I couldn't read his face or discern if he was lying. My bangs obstructed my view, and I bit back a groan as I pushed them back out of my eyes. I wasn't sure what he had to gain from lying, but I didn't trust him one bit.

"I don't believe you."

Macone shrugged a shoulder. "I get it. You don't trust me. But trust this—I'd carve him up in pieces and feed him to you, chunk by chunk, if I thought that would ensure that you got amnesia and forgot what you saw. But I think that would just piss you off. You'd let me beat you to death before you swore to keep quiet." His voice darkened. "But if I keep him around, letting you hold the key to his survival, now
that
makes things interesting."

I blinked, digesting what he was saying. "He's okay?"

"For now."

My heart leapt in my chest, but I tamped it back down. "And if I don't believe you?"

"Tough shit," Macone said brusquely, his eyes taking on the unnerving gleam that it did in the split second after I called his mother a bitch. He smoothed a hand over his oil black hair, flipping a switch inside. He almost looked normal. Like he should be sitting in a boardroom instead of some makeshift interrogation room. "I assure you that the kid will be unharmed if you can forget all that has transpired today and what you heard and witnessed my men doing."

I gestured at my face. "And what do I say about this?"

"Use your imagination."

I guess in the grand scheme of things, assault was easier to beat than a murder with an eyewitness.

He let the proposition hang in the stale air, seemingly waiting patiently, but I saw the nerve ticking in his temple. He was itching to get this over and done with, dying to end the game. It must have been frustrating for him to even engage in a conversation at all. I could imagine most people that found themselves on this floor spent most of their time sobbing, pleading for their lives. But not me.

I wasn't a robot, it would take nothing at all to make me crumble. And I didn't want to die. But something inside me wouldn't let him see a single tear.

I remembered my mother, coming home during a particularly horrific case where the defendant had kidnapped a six-year-old girl, raped and killed her, then attempted to eat her remains.

It had rocked our small town to its very core. Things like that didn't happen here. The whole world was locked on the court proceedings and I remembered watching my mother, stoic and strong as she showed the jury pictures of the happy, smiling little girl and the bits and pieces of her that were left when the monster was through.

It had given me nightmares and I decided to ask her a hard question, hoping some closure would put an end to the dreams.

"How do you do it, Mom?"

"Do what?"

"See the darkest, ugliest side of humanity and not break?"

"Because I have to stay strong for the victim, Victoria. I check my pain at the door because their justice is worth more than my tears."

Justice is worth more than tears.

I held my head high, hardening my face to stone. I couldn't give him what he wanted. Even if I was naive enough to believe he'd let Jace go, Jace would carry the guilt of this until it devoured his soul. Justice was more important than either one of us.

Macone cleared his throat. "Do you need confirmation of the kid's condition?" He didn't wait for my answer, pulling his cell from his jacket pocket and holding it to his ear. His forehead wrinkled, his lips melting into a scowl of displeasure. Someone would pay dearly for every ring. He finally pulled it away, his eyes bulging with disbelief. He lowered the phone, face down, like he was ashamed for me to see it. "I'm sure they're busy making him as comfortable as possible."

My heart punched in my chest, but I kept my poker face. "Or maybe they have crappy reception."

He lurched to his feet, his chair collapsing to the floor. There was no one else to take his frustrations out on.

I drew the short straw.

His foot collided with my stomach, and a familiar agony bled into my bones. The next pounded my ribs. I curled into a fetal position, but the blows kept coming. I wanted to cry out for God, for my mother, but I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, muffling the cries. I had nothing down here but my dignity, and I'd hold onto it as long as I could.

A thunderclap sounded up ahead and the blows stopped. I stayed in the same position, the truth of the sound making me gasp for air. Not thunder. The explosive boom of gunfire.

I smiled weakly. "Jace."

Macone had his phone out again, frantically dialing, cursing. If I hadn't used all of my energy to whisper Jace's name, I might've laughed at the boulder of a man, alone and showing he was nothing more than human. The king of nothing but blood and corpses.

A door above squeaked open, an ominous whine that turned Macone's complexion chalk white.

Feet descended on the stairs and I wanted to leap up and into his arms, but I couldn't move. My body felt completely and utterly broken.

Macone was doing enough moving for us both, pacing back and forth, gun shaking in his hand.

I could have sobbed when Jace's voice flooded my ears.

"Give it up, Macone! It's over."

A second voice tried to diffuse the situation. "Put the gun down and we might let you walk out of here."

The voice ran over me like gravel, and I gasped. It took me back to the gas station. The single word that shocked me out of my terrified stupor when I was face to face with the Grim Reaper. The brown eyes that nearly matched Jace's to a T.

I squinted into the light. Two guns were trained on Macone. Jace clutched one, his uncle had the second.

"Where is Victoria?" Jace snarled. "I want to see her."

Macone let out a low chuckle that made me shrink back like he was going to strike me again. "She's in this very room." He turned his arm with the gun and stopped when Jace and his uncle cried out, ready to blow him away. "Do you want to see her or not?"

Jace's face fell. He understood.

Macone gripped the light and shined it in the shadows. I moaned as I brought a hand up to shield my eyes from the brightness. I looked down at myself and gagged. My clothing was covered in blood. Bruises littered my skin, along with burn marks like someone had used my legs as an ash tray.

"You son of a bitch!" Jace roared.

His uncle stood in his path, the voice of reason as I lay curled up on the floor, wanting to disappear. Not wanting Jace to see me this way.

"Be cool, Jace," his uncle said, even though he looked ready to shoot Macone in the head himself. "The cops are on their way."

That made the smile fall right off Macone's face. "Cops?"

"That's right, you piece of shit," Jace spat. His voice was cold as he let out a laugh of his own. A laugh that made me shiver. "What? You thought you were going out in a blaze of glory? Nah, that's too good for you. You don't get the easy way out. You're going to rot in a jail cell."

The fear returned to Macone's face, bursting at the seams. "So you're not just a traitor, you're a fucking rat. A fucking rat family."

His words bounced right off my two heroes, Jace looking like he was the one that took the beating as he scanned my body. "He's going to pay for what he did to you, Vix. What he's done to everyone."

"What I did to her?" Macone's eyes were wide and crazed as he backed up toward me. "Oh, I'm not done with her yet."

I let out a scream that ripped out my insides as his foot connected with my head and he sank to his knees, wrapping his fingers around my neck.

I heard Jace hollering in the distance. My ears exploded as a gun went off and warm blood sprayed me. The room went hazy...then disappeared altogether.

N
othing mattered except Victoria.

She was the only thing I saw, curled up in the darkness like some animal that was used to being beat, recoiling from the light like she didn't deserve it. I barely recognized her, bloodied and folding into herself.

The asshole had lunged at her. Kicked her, even got his hands around her throat before I got a couple of rounds into his back. The man was a fucking beast and if Uncle Tommy hadn't been there, shooting him in the shoulder, then the leg, I would have shot Macone in the head.

The police had stormed the room like roaches but I didn't notice, clutching Victoria to me. Trying to shake her awake. The EMT wanted to check her vitals, but I couldn't let her go. The last time I let her go, I'd failed her. I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and Macone made me a liar.

It wasn't until Uncle Tommy put a hand on my shoulder and told me that they could help her that I stepped to the side. Not even God himself could have kept me from riding in the ambulance. And even though her mother had cussed me out when she met us at the hospital, I didn't leave. I wouldn't leave until I talked to Victoria. This time, I wouldn't go unless she wanted me to.

I was surrounded by people as anxious as I was. The waiting room was a purgatory of fear and nerves until the nurses walked in and told you your loved one’s fate. We all jerked our heads from our cell phones, biting our nails every time we heard the squeak of the double doors opening.

When I looked over at the doorway, there was no weary nurse looking back at me. It was Mrs. Johnston, staring back at me with Victoria's eyes and a hate so strong it curdled the blood in my veins.

She didn't say a word, cocking her head towards the hall. I guess we were making progress. She had no problem telling the world just how big a fuck up I was the last time she saw me.

I followed her to a deserted side corridor. The only other thing in the hall was an empty hospital bed, an IV cart beside it. It was almost like the patient had just run to take a leak and would be right back.

They're probably dead. A cold shell, rotting in the morgue.

My heart locked tight, Victoria's bloodied face flashing before my eyes.

But not Vix. Vix is gonna be okay.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

Mrs. Johnston’s voice snatched me from my worse case scenario, face to face with the woman that brought my girl into this world and clearly wished she could purchase me a one-way ticket out of it.

Other than the sky blue eyes and the heart-shaped mouth, she was nothing like Victoria. Victoria shone like she had the sun beaming from inside her. Not even Macone could make that go away. But Mrs. Johnston wore every case, every bout with darkness all over her face. There was a poison lurking there that might've been terrifying if I had any room to be afraid of anything other than losing Vix.

I'd gotten defensive during our last exchange, but I tried to grip my anger tight. She had every right to be pissed at me. "Look, I know that this is my fault. There's nothing you can do to me, say to me, that I haven't done or said to myself." My nostrils flared, emotions getting the best of me. "She'd be okay if she never ran into me at that party. She'd be giving tennis lessons to underprivileged kids or interning at her dad's office or at the beach instead of..." I couldn't finish. Mrs. Johnston didn't have that problem.