Chapter 15 #2
“Nah, I’m good.” I flex my bandaged hand, letting the sharp bites of hurt from the broken glass keep me awake. I am exhausted. I could sleep for a week. Only, I can’t actually sleep at all, can I? “And…did you say Ash?”
Seems our secret is out.
“Oh, yes.” Emma flaps her hand at me and then sips her tea, sighing in bliss before she sets it back down beside the stack of typed pages.
“I know everything now, Scarlett. Everything.” She winks at me, and I purse my lips.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t sleep with Aspen Kelly.
” Emma makes a gagging sound as I push the door shut behind us, wondering how secure we can possibly be when we’re literally standing in an enemy base.
But yet, here Emma is, alive and well and perky as ever. If she’d been raped and tortured by Ernest Bolin or something, I’d know it. She’s as naive and chatty as she always was.
“Thanks for watching me and Ash fuck on the hood of the Mustang,” I retort dryly.
Now that I know she’s okay, I want to leave.
I want to talk to Patricia and see if there’s any possible way for me to salvage the most important relationship I’ve ever had in my life.
“Extra special thanks for recording it.”
Emma Jean at least has the proper level of chagrin to be embarrassed.
“I thought you were sleeping with Lucy Hall’s fiance.
That’s big news, Scarlett, and I’m a journalist.” Emma pauses and looks me over, like she’s waiting for something.
“Don’t you want to ask me how I’ve got on this whole time, living under the roof of my mortal enemy? Why I was wearing…lingerie in public?”
“I was planning on asking Ash later,” I tell her honestly, shrugging. “But since I’m here, go ahead, enlighten me.”
Emma flushes red, and I work my jaw. Fuck. This is gonna piss me off, isn’t it?
“We, uh. He…” She stops talking, and I see this horrible red film creep over my gaze.
Did he sleep with her to keep her safe? Oh God.
If he did, I’ll walk into that room and I’ll wrap my hands around his neck.
I am not well, folks. I am not a heroine in anyone’s story.
I am deranged. “We had to keep up the appearance—”
I turn and yank open the door to the hall, leaving it open and stalking back down to the room where my stable of cocks is waiting. I’d unlock the door, but somebody’s already done that and it’s propped open.
I swing around the corner to find all four men peering back at me. They didn’t leave, just unlocked it so they could leave. Typical fuckboy behavior. Disgusting.
“You sleep with Emma Jean, Doki-Doki Boy?” I ask, directing my question at Ash.
He blushes which is weird considering he just shoved a rapist’s severed dick into the man’s own mouth and then executed him.
Widow snorts and runs his bruised knuckles through his hair.
Alexei lords in a velvet armchair like the autocrat he is. Bohnes chuckles in dark amusement.
“Dame. Zettai dame.” Ash puts his wine down and holds up both hands, palms out.
He had this grand scheme of being a villain, of letting himself die for the cause, blah, blah, but I told these motherfuckers that he would collapse like a deck of cards the moment I had him in my grasp. “It was only a pretense—”
I kick off the heels and throw one at him. He dodges it and then comes around the bar to get in front of me, shaking. He didn’t tremble in the slightest when he was killing my sister, but now he’s anxious?
“A pretense?” I ask, and I want to stab him a little.
But those eyes of his, like black paper lanterns, soothe me a little.
He’s earnest in a way that none of these other men are.
Ash gets on his knees in front of me again, drawing his phone from his pocket and holding it up to me like a supplication.
“Here.” His voice is breathless and dreamy. “Take it.”
“Please don’t be mad at him. He was a perfect gentleman, really.” Emma Jean is in the doorway now, her honey brown gaze darting around to look at the other boys before returning to me. “It looks worse than it was, but I understand why it had to be done.”
I take the phone and see that it’s opened to a gallery of photos and videos. Emma Jean is naked and strapped to Ash’s bed with her legs spread, a gag in her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are full of fear, like an animal at a slaughterhouse.
Shit. I’m glad I didn’t see this until now.
Even knowing it’s not real, I feel dizzy and my heart is wild.
I can’t decide if I want to kill Ash for traumatizing her, or if I want to kill Ash for pretending to cheat on me.
Or if I want to kiss Ash for coming up with an ingenious way to keep her safe.
“Goodness.” Alexei glances at the screen and then away again very quickly. Emma makes a squeaking sound of protest as he gags, gloved fist to his mouth. Eyes closing briefly to regain his composure. He’s disgusted. Poor Emma.
“It’s nothing personal. You’re very cute.” I’m trying to help here.
“Please don’t look at it!” she moans, putting her hands over her beet red face. “Only Scarlett, so she can understand. I don’t need a bunch of men seeing me naked.”
“If it helps, you’re like a toad or an insect in my eyes,” Bohnes explains, rather unhelpfully. “You don’t even register as the same species let alone a possible mate.” He lifts another glass of water to his lips, but his eyes are on mine.
“A toad or an insect?” Emma repeats as Widow moves close to look at the screen out of spite and then snorts. She flushes even harder and crosses an arm over her breasts. I always knew she fancied Adrian. Who wouldn’t?
“Clever, Kelly. So, Scarlett is supposed to believe that you had a naked, crying girl handcuffed to your bed and you didn’t touch her?” Widow stalks away toward the window, struggling with this turn of events. He despises Ash, and I don’t know how to fix that.
“I’m a virgin!” Emma cries out, like she’s ashamed of that. “Okay? Still a virgin. Nothing happened.”
“My heart and my body belong to you, Scarlett,” Ash murmurs, peering up at me with…is that the samurai sword clutched in his other hand? The fuck is up with that damn sword? I squat down to get on his level, making eye contact with him.
His eyes, they shine. He’s exuberant and insane, like the idea of complete surrender has freed him. He’s really throwing into this whole submissive bit.
“If I find out that you’re lying, I will recreate what you did to Chet Junior today.” My voice is a weapon, and I can see it slice straight through Ash. He shivers and drops his head, like he’s paying obeisance to me.
“I would sooner commit hara-kiri than lie with another woman.” Ash scowls when he says that, a ripple of disgust slamming through him. For sure he’s thinking of Aspen.
“Hara-kiri?” Emma Jean echoes and Widow laughs, positioned like a male model beside the expansive picture window and its idyllic view of the grounds. Who would ever know we were only minutes away from South Prescott?
“Suicide via disembowelment,” Widow explains without looking back at us. “Keep that sword handy, Kelly. If I find out that you cheated on Scarlett, I’ll do it for you.”
Ash lets his head fall back, his eyes sliding shut, a disconnected laugh escaping him like a ghost. I swear, I can see Aspen’s rotten spirit trying to crawl out of his mouth.
“What did you do Chet Junior today?” Alexei asks and Bohnes howls. I’m guessing he was already informed. Well, if anything, that move should help their blossoming bromance. Look, I know Bohnes was plotting to kill Ash just yesterday, but they really could be good friends someday.
“I shoved his severed, rotten cock into his mouth and shot him in the head,” Ash whispers, opening his eyes and dropping his chin.
He looks at me again, and I stare back at him.
He can’t hide anything from me. I see it all.
He feels guilty for what he did to Emma Jean.
He probably made her really think he was going to rape and torture her.
If he didn’t, the mayor and Chet would never believe it. In doing so, he saved her life.
“I…my God.” Alexei drains his wine glass, but he can’t seem to hide the wicked smile that blooms on his perfectly princely mouth.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Mr. Kelly.
Your brother was not particularly intelligent, so I must confess, I wasn’t expecting much out of you. This is unexpected and exciting.”
“His…severed…” Emma Jean looks momentarily horrified, dressed in an adorable matching pajama set that she got from God only knows where. Did Ash buy it for her? That’s both adorable and annoying. “That’s one way for the Archer family to pay for their sins, I suppose.”
Bohnes grabs my arm and drags me up off the floor, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.
“Go see your grandma,” he says, nice and slow and articulated. “You’re avoiding the confrontation.”
I sneer at him, because I’m still pissed about the race. He engineered that shit. Ringleader bitch. I’m so fucking head over heels for this guy. I want to notch his skeleton with my own, so that the pieces can be put together like an ivory puzzle after we die, interred in our very own mausoleum.
“Fuck off, Kellin.” I jerk my arm away from him, still mildly unsettled by the idea of Emma being nude in Ash’s bed. No, in Aspen’s bed. Anyway, I don’t like it, but I understand it.
Bohnes releases me, and I pause, looking back over at Ash who’s still kneeling on the floor with a sword in his hand.
Alexei who’s pouring himself another glass of wine and trying not to look gleeful over the just desserts that CJ was served.
Widow, who’s righteously angry but still shows up. Every time.
“You’re not always right,” I grind out, but Bohnes just smiles and puts his forehead against mine.
“Apparently not. But on this, I am. I know you better than you know yourself, Scarlett.”
I close my eyes and he kisses my goddamn eyelids. Yuck. I open them back up and glare at him, moving away and pushing past Emma Jean before I lose my nerve.
Fuckboys aren’t enough to shake me up. Threats from the Russian mob can’t rattle me. The mayor and his cronies are a joke.
But my grandma?
Ahh, man. This is going to fucking blow.
Patricia is sitting in a chair near the window, hands on her thighs, salt-and-pepper hair matted in a way I’ve never seen before. Gram is a very particular woman when it comes to her appearance. Neat and tidy. She doesn’t look at me when I walk in.
She’s going to fucking hate me, and I’m going to deserve that hatred.
Everything she never wanted for me, I am. Adrenaline junkie. Sick with young love. Slick cars and blood feuds and organized crime. Familicide and me shacked up with the cause of it.
“Gram.” I don’t sound like the psychotic bitch that fucked Ash in the other room. No, I sound like…an eighteen-year-old woman. I won’t say girl. I haven’t been a girl in a long time. Prescott has a tendency to make old souls out of us all.
She doesn’t turn her head. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
I can’t imagine how she’s feeling, having come home after a long shift at work to watch her granddaughters battle each other to the death.
Patricia has experienced a lot of loss in her life, but I don’t know that she’s ever seen anything quite like this.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” I ask, moving over to the minibar that’s set up on an antique sideboard in one corner of the room. There’s one of those weird rich people coffee makers that uses space pods to make shitty coffee. An electric kettle. A dozen boxes of tea.
Still, no response.
I make a cup of peppermint tea with honey and carry it over to her, setting it on the small side table next to her chair. I squat down, reaching out with a hand and resting it on her knee. Patricia slaps me away, but doesn’t look at me. It’s like she can’t bear the sight of me.
I swallow hard, tears building in my eyes that are sadder and saltier than the ones I shed for Alexis.
“I’m so disappointed in you, Scarlett,” Gram whispers, and then she puts her face in wrinkled brown hands and cries softly. The tears of someone who’s had a hard life. Not a sob. Not a weep. Just plain ol’ tears, like that’s all she has left in her. That absolutely kills me.
All along, my grandma’s tried her fucking hardest to keep me and my sister away from all this stupid Prescott shit.
Warned me about gangs. Warned me about boys.
Warned me about this neighborhood. Tried to keep me from becoming my mom or my aunt.
Worked her ass off for decades so that I could have a stable, loving home in a way that most people in Prescott don’t.
This is how I repay her?
“It’s hard to understand, I know. Give me a chance to explain.” I sniffle, reaching out for her knee again. She turns purposely away in the chair, avoiding all eye contact with me. “Things are bad right now, but I’ll…we’ll get through this. I love you, Gram.”
For the first time in my life, she doesn’t say it back.
“It’s true then?” she asks, staring out the window with a tear-streaked face. “You’re a part of all this?” Finally, she turns to look at me, and it’s horrible. I hate the expression on her face. I hate it so fucking much. “Not a victim, but a perpetrator.”
“Alexis was going to kill me,” I explain, and it sounds so bland and ridiculous in this quiet room with its fancy canopied bed and ticking clock. The truth is ugly sometimes. Still better than a beautiful lie. “Last night wasn’t even the first time.”
“You’re in love with the boy that shot her.” Gram states that with confidence, pursing her lips and shaking her head. Just another dumb Prescott bitch who’s drunk on dick. That’s what her expression says.
“I killed his brother,” I whisper back, and her brown eyes go wide.
With a sigh, I sit down. I cross my legs. I meet her eyes.
And then I start to talk.