Chapter 9 Nolan
NOLAN
Once practice ends, Lex and Gio hurry through their showers and gather their things to meet Juliet on the outside.
When I don’t do the same, the rest of the team gets the message and they, too, hurry through their routines.
Within thirty minutes, the place is a ghost town and I head back towards the showers.
Normally, I wait to get home or one of the guys’ places to shower. With Gio’s father blowing up my phone on the regular now, I can’t put him off anymore. The guys will take care of Juliet, and I’ll take care of placating Darrio Vargas. For now.
The empty echo of the locker and shower rooms leaves the place feeling eerie.
I hurry through my shower, unwilling to get caught by the coach or one of the team coming back because they forgot shit.
I’m just shutting it off when I hear the door to the locker room creak open.
With gritted teeth, I lay a hand flat against the chipped tile of the half wall.
“Out,” I bark. Teammate. Coach. It doesn’t matter, whoever it is will get the memo. If it’s one of the guys, they’d have announced themselves. The fact that they didn’t means it’s not one of them.
I wait a moment and frown when I don’t hear the door creak back open. Instead, I hear the patter of footsteps. The scratching of something and then a swish of something spraying. A cleaner, maybe? Someone with headphones in? I close my eyes and try to rein in my annoyance.
Thankfully, I brought my clothes with me and have them set outside of the shower stall.
Whoever it is inside the locker room continues puttering around as I reach out and grab first a towel to dry myself down with and then my fresh clothes.
I dress in record time, not feeling comfortable until I pull my t-shirt down over my back and chest. The fabric clings to my still semi-damp skin.
The shriek of the shower curtain being ripped back is followed by the fast pattering of feet and then the door to the locker room opening and closing.
“What the fuck…?” Was it one of the custodians or not? I grab my dirty clothes and towel and storm into the locker room only to stop dead.
My heart stops beating in my chest. My veins dry up and go ice cold.
Several photographs are taped to the front of the lockers. I move towards them as I read the words spray-painted in still wet red above them.
“Are you sure you can trust her?”
There’s no doubt in my mind who the “her” the question is referring to.
Juliet’s face is in all of the photographs.
Some have been taken in unfamiliar places—one through the gauzy window of a lavish bedroom.
Morpheus’ house, I assume. Several are grainy and almost pixelated because they’ve been blown up to the size of the regular letter paper they’re printed on.
The red lines from the spray paint leak down, staining the pages left behind. I grab one and yank it down, tearing it away from the metal locker as I bring it closer for inspection.
This photo is of Juliet standing outside of her old apartment building, face illuminated by the golden glow of a fire. She looks hollow in this image, empty and lifeless. My eyes move up, scanning the rest.
There’s one of her at the party where Morpheus died.
One of her walking alone through what looks like the parking lot of Silverwood Public.
Another of her coming out of Cory’s Gym.
The worst ones are those that show the relationship we have with her.
There’s a picture of Gio and Juliet in a small bedroom that I don’t recognize, her body spread in his lap, hiding most of his.
Juliet, though, is naked. Her pert breasts on display and her legs opened wide as Gio curls his fingers into her cunt.
I clench my fist, the photo in my hand crinkling under the sudden action.
What’s even more disturbing is the fact that in each and every one, there are scratches.
As if someone has taken a red pen and tried to claw out pieces of the woman depicted.
Her eyes are completely covered in the marks in several and sometimes her entire face is marred by big X’s.
In a couple, the word “whore” is written in big, sharp letters over her face and body.
The disturbing and vile anger emanating from the photographs along with the message above makes one thing clear—the danger to Juliet didn’t die with Morpheus Calloway.
Whoever did this wants me to question her. They must not know that she’s with all of us. Because it’s obvious this is meant to make me jealous. The pictures of her with Gio and Lex. None are with me.
Reaching out, I rip a few more pages down to find my own locker. Quickly moving through the motions, I unlock it and yank out my bag before delving for my cell. The second it’s in hand, I hit a number I’ve dialed far too often these last few weeks.
When Viks picks up on the second ring, I don’t let him speak.
“We have a problem,” I inform him coldly.
I start ripping off more pictures, stacking them on the bench that runs the length of the room.
I tell him about the message and the pictures as I work, growing angrier by the second.
“I want them found,” I finally say, yanking down the last one and slamming my locker shut.
“This is obviously personal. They want to fucking ruin her.”
“Is there anyone you know that has that level of hate for her?” Viks asks, voice calm.
It’s always goddamn calm. I know I need it right now, but all I can think of is those damned scratches across Juliet’s face.
The word “whore” written across her body and the fact that this person has likely been behind the scenes, wrecking her life from day one.
It’s too coincidental. Juliet has a stalker—one that isn’t Lex—and I’d bet money that they’ve been behind all of the bad shit she’s suffered for the last six months.
Maybe not the embezzlement, but—or hell—maybe they were behind that as well.
I don’t fucking know. But I do know one thing—Juliet Donovan is mine and I will burn the entire fucking town of Silverwood down before I ever let someone take her from me again.
“The whole fucking town hates her,” I snap into the receiver of my cell.
“What about before the embezzlement discovery?” Viks asks. “This would be someone who has held a deep hatred of her for a long time. If everything is connected, then they could be connected to most of this.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I admit as I rip open the zipper of my backpack and stuff the photos inside.
“I’m bringing these to you—I want your hacker to take a look at them and see if they can do something with this to track down whoever left them.
Lex is too busy right now. I need him focused on protecting Jules. ”
“Understood.” There’s movement on the other side of the phone and Viks doesn’t ask his question again.
My lack of answer makes it obvious that I don’t have any idea who could be doing this.
I’ll have to go back and try to remember if there’s anyone in Silverwood that’s hated the Donovans, or, more specifically, Juliet before this all started.
With a scowl at the spray-painted question on the lockers, I pick up the towel I’d finished with earlier and try to wipe it off. It doesn’t come off that easy, and I only manage to spread the paint around, but by the time I’m done, the question is smudged into nonexistence.
Disgust fills me as I toss the towel into one of the bins and shove my feet into my tennis shoes before picking up my bag. I open my mouth to say something to Viks when my phone vibrates and I glance at the screen.
Darrio Vargas’ name and number pop up at the top of the screen.
“Fuck.” I grind my jaw. “I gotta go, Viks. Talk later.”
I don’t give the man a chance to answer as I end the phone call and answer Darrio’s. “I’m on my way,” I snap as I jog towards the exit.
“You fucking better be,” the bastard growls. “You’re late.”
“I had practice.” As far as excuses go, it’s a lame one, and we both know it, but Darrio doesn’t argue.
Instead, he merely barks into the phone, “Get here. Now,” before hanging up.
Another curse makes its way up my throat, but I’m out of time.
I pick up speed as I head out of the sports building and to the parking lot.
Lex’s SUV is already gone—as are the guys and Juliet.
I race to my Indian, throwing a leg over the saddle of the bike before I clip my backpack onto my chest and crank the engine.
Kicking up the stand, I steer the bike out of its spot before roaring out of the lot moments later. Cold air streaks over my exposed skin, reminding me that I’d leant my hoodie to Juliet during practice, but it doesn’t matter. The temperature hardly touches the rage festering in my chest.
JULIET
“We said we were sorry.” I glare at the back of Gio’s head as Lex drives, ignoring the pleading whine from the man in front of me. Gio flips around when I don’t answer him and blinks wide puppy dog eyes at me. “Come on, don’t be mad.”
“If you were really sorry, you wouldn’t have lied in the first place,” I snap.
“Technically,” he argues. “We didn’t lie—you didn’t ask if we’d heard about the fuckwad’s funeral.”
I cross my arms and harden my glare. “I’m not buying it,” I state. “You’re all on my shitlist, including Nolan.” Even though he’s not here right now to face my wrath.
Gio groans and flips back around to face forward.
There are some small grumbling noises, but otherwise, he doesn’t try arguing further.
I glance out at the passing scenery, wondering what Nolan could be doing that he’d been left behind at school.
When I’d asked about him, Lex and Gio had merely said he’d had some work to do and wouldn’t be home until much later.
My gaze flashes back to Gio’s seat and then Lex’s profile.
They hadn’t exactly said that he had work for Darrio Vargas, but I’m not stupid.
They still work for the man, so I suppose Nolan must be doing something for him.
My lips twist in irritation, but what they do for money shouldn’t be any of my business.
Drug dealers. Gang members. Thieves. Petty criminals.
They are all of those things and more. I knew that before I ever got into a relationship with them. Which makes me wonder…
“Are you guys going to continue to work for Darrio Vargas when you go off to college?” I ask.
Gio’s mumbles cut off abruptly and the muscles of Lex’s shoulders go rigid beneath the cut of his t-shirt. Neither one of them looks back when Gio voices an answer. It’s a single word.
“No.”
Tilting my head to the side, I pass my attention between the two. “No?” I repeat, curious. “Is it that easy to quit? Will he let you go when it’s time?”
A speaking glance passes between the two men in the front seat, but it’s too fast for me to decipher. I lean forward, scooting slightly into the middle of the back bench seat. My seat belt pulls tight across my hips, preventing me from moving all the way over.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I demand.
Lex sighs and finally looks up in the rearview mirror to meet my eyes. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, baby,” he tells me.
I narrow my eyes on him. “Bullshit.”
“Jules.” Gio’s voice is hard and even—all earlier trace of his whiny playfulness erased. I turn my attention to him as he twists his head to meet my eyes. “When we finally leave this shithole town, we’re leaving behind that life.”
“How, though?” I demand. “Your father doesn’t strike me as the type of man who’d let—”
“Do you trust us?” Gio asks, cutting me off.
“Of course, but—”
“No buts,” he says. “If you trust us, then trust that we mean what we say. We’re not going to keep being my father’s dumbass cronies forever.”
My brow puckers as I stare into his serious expression. I sit back and huff out a breath. “Fine,” I mutter, moving back fully into my seat so that the buckle of my seat belt stops digging into my ass. “Where are we going?”
“The Dionysus Lounge,” Lex answers.
“What?” I jerk my head around and gape at him. “Why?”
Now that he’s said it, I realize that we’re on the edge of Silverwood and about to take the highway. Shit. Why hadn’t I paid any attention beforehand? The answer is right there too—because I’m dumb and I trust these assholes.
Before Lex or Gio can answer me, I smack the back of Gio’s seat. “Turn around,” I order. “Take me back to the house—you guys go without me.”
“Baby, it’s—”
“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me, Lex,” I growl. “I am not showing up to my old workplace after I was kicked out on my ass!”
“You weren’t kicked out on your ass,” Gio says with a chuckle.
I hit the back of his seat again, harder this time. It elicits a grunt from him. “I’m fucking serious!”
Panic begins to set in as Lex turns onto the highway and speeds up, merging with the light traffic heading towards Tangier. Fuck. Me. I slump back against my seat and cover my face with my hands.
“What is wrong with you two?”
“What’s wrong with us?” Gio huffs and the sound of his chair groaning as he turns around to face me echoes in the quiet interior. “What’s wrong with you? It’s not that big of a deal, Prep Girl. Besides, you know we have to run errands for my father.”
I lift my head. “Is that what you’re doing today?” I deadpan.
He grimaces and scratches his jaw. “Kind of.”
“Ugh.”
“Come on,” Gio says, leaning over the console so he can look at me fully.
“Ma-Ri liked you and you liked the job. We took care of the interference from my father and we assured her he’d not threaten her about you again.
You want your own money, don’t you? You want to save up for when we go away to college, right?
If you get your job back, you can, and it’s not like you have to pay rent now. ”
“How exactly did you take care of the interference from your father?” I ask. “And how can you promise to make sure it won’t be a problem again?”
The answer to that doesn’t come from Gio, but instead, from Lex. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, eyes trained forward.
“Yeah, see… when you say shit like that,” I reply, pointing at him. “It only makes me worry more.”
“It’ll be fine,” Gio assures me, flipping back around in his seat. “You’ll see.”