Unraveled (21 page)

The
following morning, I wake up early and watch Noah as he sleeps. Because he'd
gone to bed with wet hair, his hair is sticking up in all sorts of places and a
smile creeps across my lips. He looks rumpled and adorable this morning. And of
course sexy, but that's a given.

With a soft
sigh, I move away from him only to have his brown eyes open while he grabs my
arm before I can slip away. I could have sworn he was sleeping and I look at
him hesitantly.

“Stay. I
want to talk about what is going on between us,” he says quietly.

That is the
last thing I want to talk about so I crawl up onto his chest and kiss him in
hopes of distracting him. His hands wander over my bare back for a moment
before his lips pull back from mine and he looks at me expectantly, he clearly
wants me to acknowledge his comment.

With a sigh,
I pull back and tug the sheet over my breasts.

“You can
keep yourself closed off as much as you want, but that doesn't stop me from
loving you,” he says softly as he watches my expression intently.

My mouth
falls open and I can't help but gape at him. Had he really just said what I
thought he had?

He sits up
and moves in to lightly kiss me. I'm still in shock, so the kiss is a bit one
sided. Noah pulls back and looks at me searchingly. “If you can't talk about
us, then I'll let it go for now. But you need to know how I feel about you. I
know the timing is probably bad because there is so much going on, but I can't
stand the thought of you thinking that I’ve given up. I told you a while back
I'll wait for you and I will.”

A lump rises
in my throat as I think about the fact that I don't have a future. It would be
impossible for him to wait for me. I slowly lean forward and kiss his cheek
gently, letting him know that his admission meant the world to me. Then I turn
and rise from the bed and walk completely naked out of his room without a
backward glance.

Friday night
approached faster than I could have ever expected. I'd made peace with what I
plan to do and spent my nights in Noah's bedroom the rest of the week. We
didn't talk about our feelings for one another, we showed each other instead.
He didn't push for me to talk about my obvious issues and he didn't bring up
rehab, either.

Tate of
course is still mad at me and we are barely on speaking terms. I desperately
want to try to make things right with my brother before my life is over but I
can't because there's no point. Tate would be destroyed when he found out the
role I had played in Sean's death. It's been a rough week knowing that by the
end of it, I'd probably be behind bars.

That evening
I am resolved and ready to do what needs to be done. Since neither Tate nor
Noah will let me out of their sight, I've decided to tell my manager that I am
sick so I can leave work early. Noah will have no choice to stay until his
shift is over and Tate's working, so I'll have up to an hour to get down to the
police station and give my statement.

After my
manager agrees I can leave, I sneak out the back way so that Noah doesn't see
me. The minutes are ticking down as I climb in my car and drive home, my entire
body tense. I figure I have about fifteen minutes to spare at the house to take
one last private shower, not to mention I don't want to go to jail smelling
like grease and burgers.

When I enter
the house, I've just barely stepped into the living room when my phone chirps
from within my purse.

Noah.

I pull out
the phone and scan the message.

NOAH: 
Phil
says you went home sick. Everything all right?

I'm fine.
Just a stomach bug.
I quickly send off the text and shove the phone back in my purse, my heart aching
as I head towards the hallway and go up to my room. I couldn't believe my life
has come to this. In less than an hour I would be confessing to a crime. When
I'd moved here, I'd been looking forward to a new life. I hadn't known that
things would become way more complicated than they'd ever been in Minnesota.

With a soft
sigh, I grab some fresh lingerie from my dresser drawer and head for the
shower. The hot water feels good on my skin and I savor the shower for as long
as I dared. I knew the longer I put off going to the police station, the harder
it would be.

Finally, I
force myself to climb out and quickly dry off. Then I slip on my fresh bra and
panties before running the brush through my damp hair. There was no point in
doing anything with it. No one at the police department would care what I look
like.

When I walk
back to my room, I stop dead in my tracks and stare at Ethan. He's right there,
larger than life and sitting on my bed as if he's been waiting for me for a
while now.

But how...

My eyes scan
my room and I see that the window closest to the tree in the backyard happens
to be wide open. Cole's idea, no doubt. And I was a total moron for not keeping
it locked. I've been so careful this week and yet it's my unlocked window that
does me in. Go figure. I turn my attention back to Ethan and take in his black
clothing and the black gloves he's wearing.

Oh…shit.

He has a
black revolver in his hand.

How could I
have been so stupid? I should have known I'd be followed and why hadn't it
occurred to me that Cole would involve Ethan? Fear flickers through my veins as
I realize my life would either end tonight behind bars or for good. Either way,
the outcome wasn't going to be pretty for me.

Ethan smiles
at me and it chills me to the bone as his gaze roams my nearly naked body. “You
are one fine piece of ass, aren't you?”

I refuse to
give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear. “Where's Cole? Shouldn't he be
here for this?” I ask calmly.

I need to
keep him talking and stall. For what, I have no idea. I just know I don't want
to die. The thought of never seeing my brother or Noah again has my insides
tightening. At least with prison I knew they were out there and maybe one day
I'd see them again if they ever forgave me for my part in the robbery. But if
I'm dead...

Ethan plays
with the gun idly in his gloved hands as he watches me with amusement. “Baby
brother's out clubbing while I clean up the mess he's made.”

“So it was
you who drugged me up last week?”

He snickers
with disdain. “Nah. That was Cole trying to get rid of you in his own little
fucked up way. Once he realized you didn't kill yourself on the way home, he
came clean to me about everything. So, here I am. I'm going to clean up the
mess he's made and he'll owe me for life. My brother is dumb as shit sometimes,
but I can't have him going to prison now, can I?”

“I gave my
word that I wouldn't say anything about the robbery. Just because we broke up
doesn't mean I'm going to say anything. If I was, wouldn't I have already?” I
challenge as I stare him down, even though it was a load of bull. I wonder if
they'd somehow known what my plans were for tonight.

Ethan's eyes
drop to my inner thighs where there's several fresh Band-Aids from earlier this
week. “You're fucked up and I'm not letting Cole's future rest in your pretty
little hands,” he say simply before he rises to his feet, making my body tense.
He waves the gun towards the doorway I am standing in front of. “Back in the
bathroom you go.”

“Why the
bathroom?”

“Because
that's where I want you. Move it,” he says firmly as he points the gun at me.

I stare down
the barrel of the gun before licking my dry lips. I am so screwed. Without a
word, I reluctantly back up and slowly walk backwards into the bathroom, my
hand reaching out as I flip on the light switch.

“Get your
razors or whatever it is you use to cut yourself,” Ethan orders from the
doorway while he keeps the gun trained on me.

“I need to
get in the closet,” I say.

He nods and
moves slightly so he can keep an eye on me.

As I open
the closet door and pretend to dig through my things, my mind is racing. The
razors are long gone and I look through all my toiletry products while I try to
figure out what I can use as a weapon. My eyes land on the can of hairspray. I
could try to blind him, but I had a feeling he'd start shooting like crazy and
I'd be dead anyway. There was nowhere to run in this bathroom. For the first
time I wish the bathroom had a window. I'd rather risk jumping out the window
than facing Ethan's gun.

“I think my
baby bro liked that you took a knife to your skin. Got him all excited, I bet.
I, on the other hand find it a bit revolting, no matter how fine you are.
Anyone that mutilates themselves is a complete head case and I don't do crazy.
I bet you've got quite the past, don't you, sweetheart?” Ethan drawls from
behind me.

“Want to
hear it? I'd love to share if you've got the time,” I say dryly as I keep
digging through the stuff on the shelf.

“Quit
stalling.”

“I can't
find them.”

“I said,
quit
stalling
,” Ethan says, his tone turning dark.

I turn and
look at him. “Everything is gone, okay? My brother and his roommate found out
what I do. They want me to stop.”

This earns
me a glare. “Fine. Get in the tub and pull the shower curtain all the way
back.”

Again, my
mind races but I can't come up with a way to save myself. I can't outrun a
bullet. With great reluctance, I walk to the shower and step in the still wet
tub as I pull the shower curtain all the way to the side. I am painfully aware
that my life will be over in mere minutes.

I turn to
face him and I watch Ethan warily. “Now what?”

“Now I break
the mirror and you slice and dice,” he says as he steps towards the vanity.

A dark laugh
escapes me. “They'll never buy it. Tate knows I'm not suicidal and he'll figure
out Cole was behind this in some way. Right now your brother is his number one
suspect for everything. He'll come for him and in turn, he'll take you down as
well,” I say deliberately. There is no doubt in my mind that my brother will
figure things out and he'll nail the Randall brothers if he doesn't kill them
first.

“I already
have an alibi and Cole is currently in front of dozens of witnesses at a club.
We're good,” he says arrogantly before he shifts back to the mirror, though his
eyes are still on me as he waits for my retort.

I realize
there's a shadow in the hallway and it takes everything within me not to let my
eyes follow it. Instead, I manage to keep my eyes focused on Ethan's face as I
try not to give away the fact that Noah is creeping towards the bathroom
doorway, a gun drawn and held steady in his hands. He confidently holds it,
letting me know he would be comfortable using it if he gets a clear shot.

My heart
begins pounds erratically. I had no idea how he knew how to use a gun but hope
was finally flaring to life within me. I may not die tonight after all as long
as I keep Ethan distracted so Noah can line up a clean shot.

“You can't
make me cut myself,” I say flatly.

“Oh, you'll
do it. I'm very good at getting people to do what I want.”

Before I can
say anything more, Ethan turns and lifts the revolver to slam it into the
bathroom mirror. This is when time seems to slow down for a heartbeat. Ethan
catches sight of Noah's reflection in the mirror and he swings around, gun
already firing as Noah's gun goes off as well.

Ethan
stumbles backwards toward me, his gun lifting again while Noah calmly shoots
him a second time, causing Ethan's body to jerk as he falls in my direction. I
manage to scramble toward the other end of the tub as his body drops, his head
making a sickening cracking sound against the edge of the tub before everything
goes completely still.

My ears are
ringing and there's a high pitched sound echoing through my head as I stare
down at Ethan with horror. Blood is spilling from the back of his head and his
body has fallen in a slump.  His head happens to still be resting on the
edge of the tub and I watch with revulsion as red rivulets began to travel down
the edge of the tub to make a red puddle in the bottom.

“Blayre.”

Noah's voice
sounds muffled and I finally manage to pull my gaze from the sight of Ethan's
body. When I see blood spreading across the right shoulder of his white polo, a
new kind of horror sweeps through me. Noah stumbles backwards unsteadily before
slowly slumping against the hall wall, his body sliding down to where he ends
up sitting on the floor.

“Noah!” I
scramble out of the tub and try not to go near Ethan's body at the same time.

“No!” Noah
shouts at me. “Check his pulse,” he orders from the hall while he still holds
the gun up with his good arm, his finger poised over the trigger as he keeps it
aimed at Ethan.

I freeze
where I stand and reluctantly gaze down at the body resting limply against the
tub. I'm only steps away from Ethan and I hesitate because I really don't want
to touch him.

“The gun is
still in his hand, Blayre. You need to check for a pulse and kick the gun
away.”

He's right.
I'm pretty sure he's dead, but I still force myself to reluctantly step closer
and bend down to touch his neck with shaky fingers. There's no pulse. I look at
Noah and I see he is watching me intently as blood spreads across the right
shoulder of his shirt and makes its way down his chest.

“He's dead,”
I assure as I worry over the amount of blood he's losing.

He nods.
“Kick the gun aside anyway. Be very careful because it's still loaded.”

I do as he
says and I use the tip of my toe to ease the gun out of Ethan's now slack hand.
I carefully nudge it across the floor so that it's close to the doorway before I
rush for Noah and drop down on my knees beside him.

“Towel,” he
says through clenched teeth as he finally sets the gun down on the floor near
his thigh and presses his hand against the wound to staunch the blood flow.

Shit. Why
hadn't I thought of that? I quickly make my way back into the bathroom and grab
the first towel I see before coming back to him. He takes it, smearing blood
across it from his hand before he presses it firmly against his shoulder,
wincing.

“I'll call
nine-one-one,” I say in a rush before I race back into my room and I literally
dump the contents of my purse out on the floor before grabbing the phone with
shaking hands. I'm scared for Noah and still in shock from the night’s events.
This was definitely not how I'd expected the night to go down, that's for sure.

I make my
way back to Noah as I tell the operator what had just happened and give the
address. Then I toss the phone aside and drop to my knees in front of him
again, my hands gentle as they frame his strained face to make him look at me.
His brown eyes are dazed with pain but yet still coherent as they focus on me.
“An ambulance will be here in minutes,” I assure him.