Vendetta (11 page)

“Did they hurt you?”

My head lifts sharply. “You mean did they . . . ”

“Touch you,” he says, his voice soft, almost breaking. He swallows hard, waiting for my answer.

“No, I mean. Stevie squeezed my . . . ” I gesture at my chest nervously. He nods, understanding. “But that’s it. I think he wanted to . . . and the other one held me.”

“Fucking assholes,” Devon growls, his hands turning to fists.

“I struggled, so that’s when they were rough, but then your uncle came out, and they backed off. I was scared, Devon. The look they had in their eyes, it terrified me,” I admit, closing my eyes.

“You didn’t tell them I left the door open. Why?” he demands, his voice hardening.

“Why, Leighton?” he repeats when I don’t reply.

“Why do you think?” I spit back at him, hating him for asking this question.

He puts his hand on my sore shoulder lightly, careful not to hurt me. “Tell me. I want—I need to know why you'd protect me, after everything?”

“Because of this,” I snap, leaning forward and capturing his lips with my own. He responds instantly, taking my mouth in a punishing kiss. He starts to suck on my bottom lip, and I run my hand up his shirt, feeling each taut muscle of his six-pack. He moans at the contact, but gently pushes me away.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sounding defeated.

“I know what’s going to happen,” I say sadly, huffing out a breath. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but right now I don’t care. Kiss me, Devon.”

Slowly, he brings his lips to mine, and gently kisses me. He pulls back a little before kissing me deeper, his tongue tasting mine. I make a sound in my throat when he gently sucks on my bottom lip, carefully avoiding the cut on it.

The door suddenly opens, and we pull away from each other, but not quick enough.

“What the fuck, Devon?” Hayley says, her eyes wide in disbelief. She looks shocked, but I don’t miss the flash of anger that crosses her face when she looks me straight in the eyes.

“Hales,” he says, sitting up in bed. She turns and leaves, slamming the door behind her. Devon jumps out of bed, but to my surprise he kisses me quickly on the forehead before following her out. The sound of the door locking makes me squeeze my eyes shut.

DEVON

I stuff the keys in my pocket, running after Hayley. I don't reach her until she's outside, and I see her retreating figure heading toward her car.

“Hales, wait up,” I yell after her. She stops, her shoulders squared. I jog to where she's standing and turn her around to face me. The expression on her face surprises me. I fully expected her to be . . . I don't know. Sad, devastated, brokenhearted.

Why did I even expect that? She's the one that broke up with me.

No, she's livid, now, fuming.

“What the fuck were you thinking in there, Devon? I could have been anyone. Anyone!”

I raise my hands up in a calming gesture.

“Don't treat me like I'm some raging lunatic. Are you fucking crazy? You didn't even lock the fucking door. You're
lucky
it was just me. You could have just lost everything over some slut.”

“Hey, now,” I say, a serious tone to my voice.

“Then what was that? If I walked in there a few minutes later would I have seen something far more compromising? You denying what I just saw?”

I could. I could tell her it's not what it looked like and she'd take my word for it, but I don't want to lie to her. I never did. And it's exactly what it looked like.

“Thought so,” she says smugly, her hands on her hips. She sighs. “You're never so careless.”

“I know,” I tell her, glad that she seems to understand. “I can't seem to do anything right these days.”

Her eyes find mine. “You can talk to me. I wish you never stopped.”

I swallow, hard. I stopped talking to her, my best friend, because there are things she's better off not knowing. I couldn't tell her how torn I felt about myself, about who I am, who I want to be. The reasons that make me question everything about me. She just wouldn't understand.

And, if I'm honest, I don't want to hurt her. I hate to admit it, but she was never it. She knows it, too, it's why she broke up with me—not that she loved me either, but she doesn't need me throwing it in her face.

So I ignore her pleading eyes and say, “What are you doing here?” instead.

Her shoulders slump, defeated. Another sigh. “I came to check on you. Dad said I should,” she says, and then shakes her head. “But you seem to be doing just fine.”

“Hales,” I start, but she interrupts me, lifting her palm in front of my face.

“No, I'm not letting you off the hook. I'm not letting you destroy everything you've done so far for that . . . ” I give her a hard look, daring her to say it again. I know she doesn't even think of Leighton as a slut. Hayley is not one of those girls who talks shit about other people. “For that girl,” she finishes.

“I'm not.”

“Then explain, please.”

I glance at my watch, though what I have to do doesn't have a time schedule. “Can it wait? There's something I have to do first.”

“Now?” Her face is a picture of disbelief.

“It won't take long. And you can wait for me with Leighton.”

“So now she's waiting for you?”

“Later, please?” I ask her, leading her toward the house. She nods, although reluctantly.

I think of going in to say goodbye to Leighton, but I don’t want to give Hayley any more reason for suspicion. I place the key to the room in her hand and tell her to lock up.

As I back toward the car, I gesture to Marky to come with me. He gives me a quizzical look, but doesn't say anything, just follows after me.

“Where to, boss?” he says as we near my car.

“We have a shipment,” I say, daring him to question my words.

He doesn't, as I expected. He sits in the passenger seat of my car and I drive us in silence to one of our warehouses near the produce mart.

Once we're parked, I get out. Marky gets out as well and rounds the car. “Boss?” he says, looking around.

I just wave with my hand, telling him to follow me. “I have to get some papers first.”

Leaving him just outside the office, I walk in, and I head to the desk. Opening its drawer, I pull out a folder of papers, but it's not what I'm looking for. We don’t really write anything down, it’s just something I’m used to saying. Rummaging through the drawer, I call out, “So, how about last night?”

“Yeah, what a night,” Marky says back.

I come out of the office. His wide back is turned to me, and his dark-haired head bowed down, reading over some car magazine I left lying around.

“What happened out there?”

“Nothing, boss, we just wanted to have some fun. She fought, let me tell you.” His voice gets an excited tone to it. I can actually hear him grinning, reliving the moment. The picture in my head is not a pretty one. I know it's not his fault, because he says, “And she is who she is so I figured—”

Logic, right? She's a Moore, she's being held against her will, she's basically at our mercy, we're planning this huge thing to take every member of her family down. It's only logical he would assume nothing is off limits.

I know this.

But I don't really care.

“Figured what exactly, Marky?”

He turns around at the hardness in my voice. Eyeing the gun in my hand, he swallows hard.

I could do a grand monologue, waxing poetic on how I really don't want to even think about other men's paws touching Leighton, and this is why he has to die. Does he not get that if I brought her here, she can't possibly be his to take? To even try something like that?

I could let him explain, and he would just confirm what I know—that he assumed it's okay, or maybe he did what Stevie did.

Or I could give him a chance to fight back, because it's the honorable thing to do. That almost makes me laugh: honorable criminals. Who the fuck even cares about honor anymore?

Maybe this is my chance to be a better man. I could just let it go, because it was an honest mistake.

I don't do any of this.

I shoot him in his left hand, the one he probably had all over Leighton, then the other. His hands, that caused so much damage to her beautiful face. He screams, a pitiful sound that does nothing but anger me even more. I come closer to him, his eyes wide as I put the barrel of the gun into his mouth, pointing upwards.

The final shot ringing through the empty warehouse is nothing short of satisfying.

I watch the crimson splattered all over the wall as I make a phone call to Saul. “I've made a bit of a mess,” I say after he picks up.

LEIGHTON

The lock rattles just as I’m walking out of the bathroom, fully dressed. I think it’s Devon again, but the second it opens Hayley storms into the room staring daggers at me, her hands on her hips. The air is suddenly thick with tension.

“What kind of game are you playing at, Leighton?” she finally says after a few tense moments. She purses her lips and watches me intently. Her whole attitude toward me has changed, and I know that our friendship, new and fragile as it was, is something we’re never going to get back.

“I’m not playing any games,” I say right back to her, crossing my arms against my chest.

“I’ve never seen Devon act this irresponsibly,” she says, more to herself than me as she starts pacing up and down the room. “He’s normally so in control of his emotions and actions.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I tell her, lifting my shoulder in a shrug. Is it really her business, what happens between Devon and me? I know this situation is messed up right now, but it is what it is. There’s no point pretending it's not happening, or looking the other way.

Especially since it won’t make a difference in the long run.

“How about an explanation?” she says, plopping herself down ungracefully onto the chair next to my bed.

“Look, Hayley. I don’t see why you think I owe you an explanation. I thought we were, well, not friends, but at least friendly. Clearly I was mistaken. I know you’re probably here because Devon told you to babysit again, so let’s just sit here and watch TV without talking. How about that?” I say, my tone belligerent.

Her face softens a little. “We are friends, you and I. But I’m Devon’s friend first, and I worry about him.”

“Devon is a grown-ass man,” I tell her, turning the TV on.

“He is, and he usually has his shit together. I don’t think you understand the position you’re putting him in.” She swallows hard before continuing. “You’re meant to die, Leighton. It's not just his decision. You're as good as dead with or without him. It’s not fair, it’s fucked up, but it’s the damn truth. With whatever you two have going on Devon is going to be in a lot of shit either way, isn’t he?”

“He’s either going to risk everything he believes in to save you, or he’s going to have to kill you and live with that regret for the rest of his life. What do you think that’s going to do to him? You need to stop this before it goes any further, Leighton.”

“I’m sorry, I’m the one dying in this equation, and you’re asking how Devon is going to live with himself?” I ask, gaping. “You know, when I met you I thought you were too nice for this world, and it looks like you’re finally showing your true colors.”

She shrugs. “You know it’s the truth.”

“Is that it? Or is this jealousy speaking?” I ask bluntly, watching her face for her reaction. She gives me nothing at all.

“I care about him, we’re best friends,” she says calmly. “Do I love him? Sure. Not the way you’re thinking, though, I know that he’s not the man for me,” she admits, tilting her head back on the chair, she closes her eyes and inhales deeply. “This is fucked up.”

Yeah, like it’s her life on the fucking line here. “Where did he go?”

“He had business to take care of,” she says shortly, opening her eyes to look at me. She cracks her knuckles. I hate that sound.

“Devon has beautiful women throwing themselves at him. You must have beer-flavored nipples or something,” she mutters to herself. I ignore her. Let her think what she wants, because she doesn’t know anything. I won’t be lowering my guard around her anymore, that’s for damn sure.

I flash her a fake smile and turn to face the TV. “So, when did you and Devon break up?” I ask her casually. I turn my head in time to catch the surprised look on her face. Yeah, like I believe for a second there wasn't anything between the two of them.

“Four months ago,” she admits with great reluctance. My memory flashes to that time, and I frown at this piece of information. How did I never see them together? Then again, I didn't see him that much because I avoided him, the same way I know he avoided me.

“We've been best friends forever so we were like, ‘Hey, let's give it a go.’ It made sense,” she says, glancing at me and shrugging. Then she sighs. “He wanted us to work so bad, but, God, I know it will sound shallow but when we . . . ” She gives me a shy smile. “When we made love . . . ”

I swallow the knot in my throat, feeling sorry I asked her anything. This feels like a stab straight to the heart, that he wanted someone else so much. That he
made love
to her.

I've been fooling myself with this forbidden love fantasy all my life. I was sure he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

“I mean yes, it was wild and passionate, everything I expected,” she continues, giving me a
duh
look.

I think I'm going to throw up right here in front of her.

“What happened? Did he cheat?” The words are out of my mouth before I think it over, before she says something to make me feel even more sick than I'm feeling right now.

She shakes her head condescendingly, like she feels sorry for me. “No, and if you knew Devon, you'd know how ridiculous that question is. I broke up with him, and we’re still friends. And twenty questions is over.”

“Fine by me,” I snap. Stuck in a room with his ex-girlfriend that he
made love
to. After he left me to go fuck someone else the other night. Yeah, it keeps getting better and better. This shit could only happen to me. I braid my hair and pretend to watch whatever stupid show is on, but my mind is reeling.