18. Nix
18
NIX
One thing is obvious: she is not the girl she used to be. She found her voice, finally. I won’t flatter myself by thinking I had anything to do with that, like I toughened her up or anything. There was always toughness inside her, and it used to piss me off when I couldn’t make her bend to my will.
That strength isn’t just on the inside anymore. She’s letting it out, finding her voice. Between that and the way she expertly handled both of us in the bedroom, I have to say I like what I’m seeing.
So, it’s a shame she has mixed feelings about me. But what did I expect? What, was she supposed to forget everything all at once? I just confirmed I killed her mom. That’s the kind of thing I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make up to her.
But I understand now, knowing there’s a wedge between us, that I would do whatever it takes to earn her trust. How can I make her understand I wasn’t thinking about her when I did it? Do I even want to try? Because that’s kind of shitty, too. Why don’t I just come right out and admit I’ve made huge, deadly decisions without considering the consequences? I don’t think that’s going to earn me any points.
There’s one thing I can do while standing around, feeling like an asshole. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good cup of coffee—it doesn’t look like the coffee maker gets a lot of use around here, but the coffee itself isn’t some cheap-ass brand, so I’m glad to brew some. By the time Colt joins me in the kitchen, the aroma fills the air.
“That smells good. Leni’s in the shower, but you can go wash up as soon as she’s finished,” he offers, raking his fingers through his wet hair.
Is it wrong that I don’t want to? I like having her scent on me even more than I like smelling the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Of course, I doubt her boyfriend would like hearing something like that, so I keep my thoughts to myself. “Sounds good. Are we… okay, after what just happened?”
At first, it looks like he doesn’t want to answer, and that can’t be a good sign. I can see him being into it in the moment. When most of your blood is in your cock, you can’t do a lot of thinking. But he probably feels differently now.
He glances down the hall toward the bathroom where Leni is showering, then shakes his head. “Later.”
So, it’s going to be a complicated conversation. Now I wish I hadn’t asked.
It’s easier—and probably safer—to pour some coffee and sit down at the table. I need the caffeine; sleep wasn’t easy to come by last night. Not like I was wracked with guilt or anything like that, but the whole situation was strange. I’ve gotten used to being alone. Going from learning how to sleep through fights next door and a baby crying upstairs to trying to sleep in a silent apartment was awkward.
Colt turns the chair across from mine backward and straddles it, setting his cup on the table. “I have to admit, I never saw us doing this again.”
Looking across the table at my brother brings hundreds of mornings to mind. Having breakfast together the way we did so many things together. Most of the time, we ate without saying a word. We didn’t need to talk. We understood each other.
Besides, what the hell is there for kids to talk about? Retirement accounts? The weather? The thought makes me snicker before taking a gulp of my coffee. “Neither did I,” I admit.
“I mean, I knew you were alive.”
“I can’t tell whether you’re gloating or what when you keep saying that.”
“I’m not gloating.” When I narrow my eyes, he rolls his. “Okay, I might be gloating a little bit. But I think I deserve it. I’m the only one who believed you were alive when no one else did.”
“The whole point was for nobody to know.”
“They don’t know you like I do. I knew you would make it out of there in time.”
“I almost didn’t,” I remind him in a quiet voice.
“Well, there was Bradley’s disappearance, too,” he admits, looking down into his mug. “It seemed like too big a coincidence to really be a coincidence, if you know what I mean. I knew there had to be something else going on.”
“Maybe you just didn’t want to believe it,” I point out. “That would be okay, too.”
“Anyway, it’s a waste of time to talk about it because here you are.”
“Yeah, and I just made both your lives a lot more complicated. No, let me say this,” I insist when it’s obvious he wants to cut me off. “I’ve done a lot of awful shit in my life, but dragging you two into the mess I made would be the worst. You know I’m right.”
“Don’t tell me what I know.”
“And stop being so fucking stubborn,” I mutter. “Nothing pisses me off more than when you act like you don’t see what’s in front of you. This is reality. I killed two people, and a third one is in my grave. I killed another two people last night,” I continue. That one, he can’t help but wince at. That one, he witnessed. “You don’t need this. Leni sure as hell doesn’t. She’s been through enough.”
“So, what? You’re going to be the big hero now? Sacrificing yourself for everybody?”
“I didn’t say that. Walking into the police station isn’t in my plans.” Looking down at the mug, I spin it in place on the table. “I’m not turning myself in, so don’t worry about that. But they could track me somehow—you know they could.”
“Not if you’re careful.”
“So, what do you think I’m going to do? Stay locked in this apartment day in, day out, for the rest of my life? Because that’s the only way I could stay here and not risk getting discovered and traced back to you.”
“Last night, you said you live in a pit.” Dammit, now he decides he’s going to listen to me and remember the shit I say. “Why would you decide to go back there if you don’t have to?”
There’s no chance for me to tell him to mind his own damn business before Leni’s soft footsteps ring out down the hall. It’s actually kind of funny, the way he quickly smooths out his expression, like he doesn’t want her to see him so stressed. She’s not a child—she knows what’s going on. He wants to protect her from that. I guess I can relate. There’s a lot I would like to protect her from, too.
Starting with myself.
Her gaze darts away as soon as it lands on me, and the color in her cheeks tells me she’s either embarrassed or pissed off. Maybe both. Her reaction has an interesting effect on me: on the one hand, I can understand it. If anything, the way she can’t let it go and pretend nothing is wrong makes me respect her more. She’s not a pushover; she’s not weak. I always knew she had strength in her, but now I see it.
On the other hand, I’ve killed for her. I put myself in danger for her, exposed myself to outsiders who thought I was dead. That was a huge risk—something could’ve gone wrong. I didn’t even stop to think about what it might mean for me. I went after her. I called Colt for her sake, and I took a punch to the jaw for it. I think that earns me at least a little forgiveness.
“Are you guys going back there?” She asks with her back turned while she pours herself coffee, but there’s tension in every line of her body. Her shoulders are up close to her ears, her jaw clenched until she practically has to force the words out.
“We have to,” I reply while looking at my brother for confirmation. “We can’t leave the bodies where they are.”
“Do me a favor and don’t talk about it in front of me, okay?” Dipping a spoon into the mug, she stirs like the coffee did something to offend her. “The less I know, the better.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” When Colt gets up and wraps his arms around her from behind, the strangest feeling washes over me. No, it doesn’t wash over—it hits me like a truck. There’s no way to describe it more gently than that. It’s one thing to watch him fuck her when we’re taking turns, and my cock is in her mouth. It’s another thing to witness this intimacy. Like they’re a real couple, which I guess they are from the way he’s described it.
What is this feeling? It’s not anger. I don’t hold it against him.
The uncomfortable pressure in my head only gets worse when she lets her head fall back against his chest. Her eyes close, and a smile touches the corners of her mouth. I would swear I’m about to explode. Heat blazes in me, racing through me like I’m nothing but dry tinder.
It can’t be jealousy. I’m not a jealous person. Whatever I want, I can have.
At least, that used to be true. In my old life, with my old face. When I didn’t have to hide from the world.
That’s not my life anymore. It never will be again. Why does he get to have the life I used to have? And he expects me to want to stay here with them? What, so I can be reminded every day of what’s never going to be mine?
I have to force myself to swallow that burning feeling, since there’s other shit we have to do. “We better get moving,” I announce, finishing my coffee and getting up to leave the mug in the sink. “I’ll shower when we get back. We’ve already hung around too long.”
I have to pretend I don’t notice the way Leni flinches when I come close. How could she fuck me the way she did, then act this way now? I don’t get her. Colt has had seven months to get to know her better. I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to catch up, if she’ll even let me try.
Colt waits until we’re in the car to murmur, “Give her a little time. She’ll loosen up.”
“Who said I was worried about that?”
“Did we meet yesterday for the first time? I saw the way you were looking at her upstairs.” He won’t look at me, and there’s nothing in his voice that gives me a hint of what he’s thinking.
“She told me not to expect her to forgive me right away,” I confess, peering out at the world from under my hood.
“Wow. I wish I knew some advice I could give you on that.”
“That’s my problem to deal with, not yours. You’re not the one who fucked up the way I did.”
“Listen. If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s how forgiving she is. If she wasn’t, why would we be together?” he points out. “Give her time. I’m sure she already understands you didn’t mean to get her mom involved.”
“That’s not all she’s mad about.”
From under my hood, I can just barely make out the way his jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen again. Right?”
“What about what just happened this morning?”
“Not the same thing, and you know it. There’s a difference between letting her participate in something she wants and tying her to the bed when I’m not there.”
What he doesn’t understand—and I can’t find the words to say—is this morning was hot… but tying her up was better. Forcing her, feeling the way her body tried to resist but couldn’t help giving in, giving me what I wanted. There’s nothing in this world that could match the satisfaction I got from that. And now that I’ve had it, how am I supposed to live without it?
“I didn’t want to say this last night,” I mutter as we roll down the street, passing only a few cars this early in the morning. “But a lot of the reason I stayed away was for her sake, too. Because what I did to her that night at the apartment is something I fantasized about the whole time I was away from her. I know that’s probably weird for you to hear, but it’s true.”
He is quiet, gripping the wheel tighter but keeping his thoughts to himself. I wish he wouldn’t. He can call me an asshole or threaten to kick me out of his life forever, and it would be better than sitting here wondering what’s going through his head.
Finally, he clears his throat when we’re a few blocks from the warehouse. “You’ll just have to figure out how to get over that. I’m not going to let you hurt her. I love her. And we might have learned a pretty fucked-up version of love when we were growing up, but that shit stops now.”
We’re both quiet for the rest of the drive, which doesn’t take all that long. My car is where I left it, and there are no other cars parked either on the street or in the lot besides Dennis’s vehicle. The place looks even worse in the early morning, rays of sun highlighting what darkness hides. There’s something depressing about it.
“So what’s the plan?” Colt asks, since we never talked about it on the way here.
“Burning them is the first thing that comes to mind,” I confess. “But I saw a bunch of stuff next to the building last night, like tarps and shit. We could wrap them up, put them in my trunk, take them down to the river, and dump them. Fire might draw attention.”
Scrubbing his hand over his head, he groans. “Now I wish we had just gotten it over with last night.”
“But you had to think of Leni, too.” I look around to make sure there’s no one nearby—no random homeless people or whatever—before getting out and lowering my hood. Colt’s trying his best to pretend it doesn’t freak him out, seeing me like this, but he sucks at acting. He can’t hide his pained expression when he first looks at me. I wonder how long it will be before he gets used to it and if I’ll be around long enough for that to happen, since I still don’t think it would be a good idea for me to stay.
As it turns out, there’s a bigger problem to deal with, and we find out what it is once we enter the old warehouse we left just hours ago.
“What the hell?” Colt says, walking more slowly, taking one careful step after another as he looks around in confusion, while I stare at the place where I watched Deborah bleed to death.
There’s still a dark stain on the floor where her blood poured out onto the concrete. The memory is clear—the way her life force bubbled out of her mouth when she took her final breaths.
But she’s not there. Neither is Dennis. The car they used is still outside, but they’re both gone.
Somebody has been here.
And they know what I did.