Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (22 page)

Hello again,

I was so happy to find that you decided to respond to my first letter. The one where I mentioned there were things you needed to know. If Marlie hadn’t told you, which I’m sure she hasn’t, then by now you should know, given my forwarding address that I am in prison. There are things that I have done that I am not proud of and as part of my treatment here in this fine correctional facility, I am to make amends. I am not allowed to write to Marlie. So hopefully writing to you will help me right my wrongs. The whole reason I am in prison is because Marlie sent me here. I did something terrible to her and now I am paying for it…

Letter after letter is him describing to dad all the shit we had done. What I have done. The way he has twisted his words makes it seem like he is trying confess his sins, but he is also confessing mine. The things I had done while I was with him. Things I have been trying to forget since I realized the kind of life I was starting live.

All this time my dad knew the shit I had done and never uttered a single word and it baffles me. So many questions I have for him but I can’t ask him now or ever. None of that matters now as I read the last line of the very last letter sent to my dad sent from a different address. An address I know all too well, his uncle Olin’s warehouse.

I am excited to come see you next week…

I look for a date on the letter but there isn’t one. There are dates on all the other letters, but not this one. I wonder when this last one was sent and if he did indeed, come and visit my dad? The one thing I do know, is that Carter has been out of prison for all of two fucking seconds. It’s definitely recent, but how recent? My mind is spinning with all sorts of thoughts. There is no way this all a coincidence. I feel sick to my stomach right now. Did Carter visit my dad? Could he have? No. I can’t even form that question in my head. All I know is no one can see these letters until I find out if he did come and see him and if he did… when?

T
HE CAB HAS JUST
dropped us off at the curb of my store and apartment. I am home. I have been waiting to come home since I got the call about my father, because I didn’t want any of it to be real. But now, I don’t feel so great being here. In fact, I dread it. Knowing what I know now, about the letters Carter sent my father, has had me anxious about coming home. I read and re-read the letters constantly. So much so, that every word is ingrained into my head. He’s planning something. I just know it.

Gemma and I grab our bags and bring them up the stairs to our apartment. Once we get to the landing I notice a box. I shove it off to the side and open my door and drop my bags. Then I go back for the box.

“What is it?” Gemma ask as she’s walking down towards the hallway with her bags.

“Not sure yet.”

I grab the box cutter I have sitting in one of my kitchen drawers and open it. I scream at what’s inside.

Rats.

Dead ones.

I step back with my hands clamped over my mouth and nose. It fucking smells.

“What the fuck?” Gemma asks, now seeing what I’m seeing.

“Carter.”

“Clearly.”

I stand here frozen looking at the box of dead rats. This is obviously him saying I’m a rat and I’m a dead one since I put him in prison. I don’t see why else I would be sent this.

Gemma grabs the box and tapes it back up. She walks out the door and comes back a few minutes later.

“Sick fucker,” she mutters, and then begins to unpack like that didn’t just happen.

Meanwhile, I feel frozen. Like, what. The. Fuck? I hate him. I hate him because I know what he’s doing. He’s slowly torturing me. Any thoughts I had of him not coming after me and him having changed, yeah, they just went out the window.

Eventually my nerves calm down and I get around to unpacking my things, when I hear a knock at the door. I walk to the door to answer, but Gemma beats me to it. She looks through the peephole of our new steel door we had installed, and then makes quick work with all the locks we added as well. As soon as I get a chance, I am installing the best security system I can find. I already have one for the store and have had it since we opened it, but not one for our place. She opens the door and there is a man standing with a clipboard.

“Marlie Edwards?” the man asks Gemma.

I step forward an answer before Gemma can speak. I sign the clipboard and he hands me beautiful bouquet of flowers. I shut the door and set arrangement on the table and grab the card. In typed letters it says sorry for your loss and nothing else.

“Who’s it from?” Gemma asks grabbing the card from me.

“I have no idea. Doesn’t say.” I honestly have no clue who it could be from.

Gemma places the card down on the table and further inspects the flowers. “I bet they’re from Wes.”

“Doubt it. I haven’t spoken to him in two weeks. Why would he send them to me and how would he know?”

Gemma seems to ponder what I said for a moment “True, but it is Wes. He does tend to know things without being told. Maybe it’s his way of saying sorry for when he walked out and hasn’t talked to you?”

I’m not going to argue with her over this. I know that Wes doesn’t want anything to do with me. So I just let her go ahead and think the flowers are from him.

SIXTEEN

T
ODAY IS MY TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY AND
I don’t feel much like celebrating. I have thrown myself back into work harder than ever. I put a hold on the Chicago visit for now. The timing isn’t right. I can’t be focused on that when my life feels like it’s falling apart. Not to mention, I know I’ll be facing Carter, his uncle, and everything else that comes with them next month, or before. I am really starting to hate my life. I have been doing the only thing to keep my wondering thoughts at bay; I have been working my ass off and only focusing on that. It’s just like it was before Gemma’s birthday when I had decided to take it easy and work a little less. But now that it’s my birthday, Gemma insists on me getting out, even for a little bit. I don’t want to. She had all these plans for us to go and stay in a cabin in Idaho Springs and party, but since my dad died, the letters from Carter and Wes not being around, I don’t feel like doing shit. However, with Gemma’s persistence and telling me it would be good for me to get out, I gave in.

So here we are, checking out this new bar that has opened up within the last couple of weeks. She’s perky and me… not so much. The only plus side to us going out to this bar is the booze. I’ll just drink my little heart out and love every numbing second of it. It’s a Thursday so I had hoped that it wouldn’t be busy, but I was wrong. It’s not as packed as Evo usually is, but it has enough people to make me want to curl up and hide.

Growing up I had never really been much of a social person. I have out grown it somewhat, but now, I am back to being Antisocial Annie. I don’t want to deal with people.

“Ooh, this place looks decent,” Gemma says, scanning the new bar.

I agree and we find a table. I guess tonight is karaoke night.
Lucky me
. I’m sure Gemma will try and get me to sing too.

After about an hour of being here and listening Gem ramble on about practically anything to try and get my spirits up, my heart starts to skip when I look up from my drink that I have been sipping heavily since I got it a few minutes ago, and see Wes at the bar. I don’t know what to do, but stare and wish I wasn’t here at this exact moment, or at all. Gemma sees him too and she goes to raise her hand to wave him over, but stops when she and I both notice he is not
alone
.

Perfect
.
Good for him
.

I carefully watch as a tall, almost too skinny blonde, slides right up next to him, putting her arm around his waist then slowly removing it and inches her hand from his kneecap to his… uh yeah, his dick. I almost choke on my drink seeing that. Her platinum blonde hair is pin straight and reaches almost all the way to her ass. She is in a skin tight, florescent green dress. Something I’m positive she found in the kids section, since her tits look like they are one sneeze away from popping out and greeting the world; which, I’m sure are fake. Even from this distance they look rock solid.

I watch as he leans in closer to her, which by the way, I don’t know how it’s possible, she’s practically dry humping him as it is. He whispers something in her ear and she giggles relentlessly at whatever it is he had just said.

Slut.

I look down at my purse and begin to dig into it.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for my shades.”
Bingo!

“Why? We’re in bar and its dark outside.”

“Because all of a sudden, it became bright as hell in here.”

Just as I am about to place them on my face, Gemma knocks them out of my hand, causing them to land on the table and clink against my glass. “Oh, you stop it, Marlie!” she yells at me, but her voice is filled with laughter.

I smirk at her. “What? I can’t help it if her dress is probably causing me permanent blindness. It’s for my safety really.”

She laughs at me some more and not so discretely coughs out a, “Jealous,” at me.

“I am
not
jealous of
that
,” I tell her referring to blondie.

“Whatever you say, sweet cheeks.”

I ignore her comment and look at them, still seeing the same thing. I want to throw up.

I close my eyes and try to breathe. This isn’t happening. Here he is, the only guy since Carter, that has made me feel something, and I’ve gone and screwed it all up with my fuckedupness. Now I get to sit and witness him and Blondie pretty much screw on the barstool right in front of me.

I open my eyes back up and it’s in that moment he looks over and sees me.
Shit
! I try to avoid eye contact, but it’s no use. He gives me that dark look that he is so good at. The one that says, ‘
I’m bad and I’ll take you any way I want
’, then has the nerve to smirk and look away and whisper something else into Blondie’s ear. She gets up and walks towards the bathrooms. He finishes his drink and orders another. I watch his every movement even as he gets up and walks over towards us.

I can tell Gemma is panicking because her voice is a bit shaky when she asks if I want to leave.

“Hell yes, I want to leave!” We start to grab our things quickly before Wes makes it over to our table, but it’s too late, he has already approached us wearing that damn smile he is always wearing. The same smile I would really like to smack off his face at this point. We both sit back down and wait out the pleasantries until we can leave.

“Hello, Gemma, Marlie. What brings you lovely ladies out tonight?” He directs the question to both of us, but he only looks at me when he asks it.

Hello, Asshole
, I want to say, but don’t. I just stare at him trying to form other words I want to say. Something along the lines of, “
You’re so fucking sexy, I could eat you.
” and “
Fuck off.
”

Gemma speaks while I’m still trying calm my shit. I’ve missed him. There, I’ve acknowledged it. “Oh, just out having a few drinks celebrating Marlie’s twenty-fifth birthday, but we were just getting ready to leave.”

“Happy birthday, Marlie.”

I am able to mutter the words, “Thank you.” but that’s it. Gemma continues the conversation for me.

“What are you doing here, Wes? On a date?” Gemma asks with a hint of bitch in her tone.

I am happy that she is being defensive on my behalf, but I shouldn’t be upset and neither should she. I mean, I am the one that ended it before it even started. Why should I expect him hold out for me? All it’ll do is make him miserable to wait for me to not be so screwed in the head. Sometimes I wish I would have told him why, but I know it was to keep him safe from any possible harm. So if he wants to move on with Blondie, then he should. But, it won’t stop me from not liking it.

At all.

Wes laughs lightly at Gemma’s questions. “Nope, just drinks with a friend.”

I snort at his answer and Wes raises his brows at me. He begins to say something to me, but Gemma speaks before he can.

“I see. So do all your friends rub your dick when you’re out having drinks? Or is it just the special ones?”

Wes is mid drink and damn near chokes on it as she asks the question. I got to give it to Gemma; she can be bitter and straight forward at times. Out goes happy-go-lucky Gemma tonight and in comes defensive Gemma. She’s only doing this because she knows how much I was starting to like him and he just up and left. It hurt me, but I can’t blame him. For all he knows, I was being a dick tease.

He looks back towards the bar, as do I and we see his
friend
leaning over the bar counter giving the bartender a good view of her tits. He looks back at me and not Gemma and tries to explain, “Nah, she’s just a little too touchy feely.”

“Ah, I see.” Gemma looks over at me and says sarcastically, “Marlie, I must be missing out. Why aren’t you touchy feely with me?”