Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ANDIE
Cold shivers rake up and down my body, my teeth chattering and clicking like keys on an old manual typewriter. Unlike my early morning drenching from the bucket of water Keane dumped on me in bed, I am thoroughly soaked to the bone and very miserable at the moment. A half-foot of muddy water encases my shoes above my ankles and the sides of the pit are slick like glass, making it impossible for me to climb out. That doesn’t mean I won’t try. At least the train of thunderstorms finally ended, and a half moon is now shining brightly up in a cloudless night sky, reminding me that I’ve been down in this pit all fucking day. I’m hungry and cold. My body is bruised and sore in a myriad of different places, and I will murder Keane with my bare hands the next time I see him.
Gouging my fingers into the side wall once again, the dirt gives way easily and I sigh heavily at another failed attempt to create holes for my feet and hands to dig into. Growling in frustration, I kick the wet earth, sending an arc of water splashing against the side of my prison.
“If you had two really thick sticks, you could use them like ice picks to climb your way out.”
I smack my hands on my hips, not caring I’m getting mud all over myself. “You’re not helping, Kellan.”
Yes, I’m talking to my dead brother. Yes, it sounds crazy, but like I mentioned before, he’s been haunting me. Literally. And right now, he’s being an unhelpful pain in my ass.
Kellan leans back against the side wall, that crooked grin I used to love so much spreading across his handsome face. This version of Kellan is the last one I saw when he came to Switzerland to visit me one weekend. That final visit was six months before he died. The image of what he looked like that day is forever burned in my brain. Kellan was wearing a light blue sweater and faded jeans, and his hair was longer and curled around his ears. I remember thinking that he looked older. Tired.
“They expect you to fail. He expects you to fail. You know they aren’t going to stop until they break you,” he says, referring to his three best friends, because Kellan knows our father tried and failed repeatedly to break me.
“They can try,” I reply, bending over to wash my hands off as best I can in the filthy water.
Within a couple of hours, the standing water should soak into the ground and with daybreak and some sunshine, hopefully things will dry out enough for me to climb out, ready for round two of whatever other hell the guys have planned for me.
Kellan’s semi-transparent face pulls down with sorrow. “I never wanted this life for you, Tinker Bell. I tried so hard to keep you away from all this shit. I couldn’t protect you from him , but I could try and protect you from this life.” His ghostly apparition motions around. “Why couldn’t you just live your life in some picturesque small town with a nice guy you’d meet at church, pop out your requisite two-point-five kids, buy a dog and a house with a white picket fence, and be happy like a normal person?”
I cock an incredulous brow at him, and his smile returns.
“We have never been normal, Kellan. We were born into this life whether we wanted it or not. I’m just going to be the person who ends it, once and for all.”
“You know, talking to yourself makes you sound like a crazy person,” a disembodied voice says from high above.
Okay, not really. The voice is Jax’s and the man himself is standing at the side of the opening of the gaping hole in the ground peering down at me.
“Have to keep myself entertained since, you know, I’m currently stuck in a pit.”
The sliver of moonlight is enough for me to see his outline. When he tilts his head, the light reflects off his glasses, making his eyes glow an eerie green like a cat’s in the night.
“You could do me a solid and drop a rope or something,” I sarcastically suggest.
“You know I can’t do that,” is his reply.
Two long legs drape over the side of the opening, then Jax leans slightly forward.
I think he has spoken more to me in the past twenty-four hours than he ever did when we were younger. He was always quiet. Watchful. I still don’t know why he started living with us when I was thirteen. I would usually run into him in the middle of the night when I snuck back into the house after being with Rafe. It was almost like he was waiting for me.
“Still have trouble sleeping?” I ask him conversationally. Might as well kick back and enjoy the company since I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.
Jax doesn’t answer.
“Most psychologists would say that if you’re having trouble falling asleep for a prolonged period of time, it’s because of a guilty conscience. Want to confess your sins to me, Jaxson? I’m a good listener.”
He chuckles lightly and the sound causes my skin to prickle. “We’d be out here for years if I confessed all my sins.”
“Not like I have anything better to do.”
I stretch out my arms and span them from one side of the pit to the other. Huh . I could climb this thing, like the competitors do the spider wall on those obstacle course shows.
I hear a click and then a tiny red glow appears as he lights something. The red glow gets bigger as he inhales, illuminating his face enough for me to see him better.
“How’s your arm?” he asks, blowing out a billow of smoke.
“You mean where you cut me? I’m losing track of all the injuries I seem to be continuously accruing the past few days, so you’ll need to be more specific.”
Reaching out with both arms, I spread my legs wide until all four limbs touch the sides. This might work. I’m still going to have to wait for everything to dry out a bit before I attempt it. At the moment, the walls of the pit are too slippery.
“How are your balls?” I turn his question back on him.
I think he may have snorted at that. Glad I can amuse him.
“You’ve changed,” he states, a hardness to his voice now.
Even though he can’t see it, I give a small shrug of the shoulder. “Losing the person you love most in the world will do that to you.”
He sighs loudly. “I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen.”
Did he just apologize to me?
“Jax, you say a lot of shit that I don’t pay any attention to.”
“Fuck, Andie,” he grumbles, his tone low and raspy. “You always had a smart mouth on you.”
I take the elastic band out of my hair and make a new ponytail, sliding my hands down the length to wring out the excess water. I can actually feel the pruning of my feet and toes, the skin no longer able to absorb more water after being submerged for hours.
“I miss him.”
Fiery rage leaps up and consumes me. “You don’t get to say that after what you did!” I scream up at him before I can stop myself.
A beat. Then, “What?”
Shit. Shit. Shit . I cannot let my guard down for one second around him.
“Go away, Jax.” I clench my eyes shut, madder at myself for opening my damn mouth. “Go the fuck away, Jaxson!”
Kellan’s whisper over the phone as he dies assaults me. The echo of his last words bounces back and forth between my ears until all I want to do is clutch my head between my hands and scream. Nothing that Jax or Rafe or Keane do can break me, but the memory of my brother telling me he loves me as he takes his last breath can.
I want all this to end. I want to finish what I came to do, and then I want to join my brother. I’m so goddamn sick and tired of this life. My entire existence since the day I was born has been a huge ball of disappointment and pain. At least I got to experience a snippet of happiness with Rafe. A small semblance of what it was like to be normal. I got to experience falling in love. Or so I thought. That, too, was all one big, giant lie.
I smash my fists into the earthen wall in front of me. Strike after strike, picturing it’s my father I’m hitting. Picturing his blood spurting out, coating me like the rain did, covering me until I’m drenched in red. I hate him! I hate all of them!
I punch the wall until I feel my knuckles split, but I can’t stop.
Hands grip my shoulders and shake me, forcefully turning me around and yanking me forward until I’m pressed against a hard, warm body. I claw at any part of Jax I can, wanting to hurt him like I’m hurting. I want to set the world on fire and watch it burn until there is nothing left.
Jax grips the back of my neck and presses my head to his shoulder. I don't cry. I refuse to cry. Instead, a small wail of despair escapes and I burrow my face into his neck, breathing in the headiness of his masculine scent; my hands convulse until my fists unfurl and my arms band around him, holding him tight.
It's been so long since I've been held by anyone, been comforted by anyone. Jax is the last person I would expect any gentleness or compassion from. He is ruthless and dangerous. What's left of his soul is broken and twisted into mangled pieces. My father shaped him into a killer without conscience.
Soft lips smooth against my temple, and hushed words are spoken in my ear as Jax cradles me in his arms. I soak it up like a desert flower starved of water.
And then…
Reality sets in.
What the fuck am I doing?
I fling myself backward with every bit of strength I have left, the jarring impact with the side wall whiplashing my neck. Wait. How did he get down here?
Something brushes my shoulder and I tilt my head to the side to see a knotted rope. My eyes find Jax in the darkness. He’s standing less than a foot from me, steam coming off his body in the chilled air. He looks ethereal, deadly. I can just make out the blackened outline of the tattoo that curls around his neck.
I look back up. The rope means freedom from this prison, whether he intended it to be or not. I could fight him, knock him out, and climb out, leaving him here.
“Don’t even think about it.” His tone is different. Softer. Easier. Teasing.
“I wasn’t.”
He grunts at my obvious lie, and for some insane, crazy reason, hearing it makes me laugh. Jesus, I’m all over the place. I think I’ve hit about thirteen of the twenty-two emotions on the Abraham-Hicks’ Scale in the last four minutes.
I can hear him twirling his knife between his fingers. He’s never conscious that he’s doing it. I have lost count of how many times I have fantasized about snatching it out of his hand and jabbing it in my father’s chest.
“Sorry about my momentary freak-out.”
That’s all he’s getting from me. Jax is suspicious by nature, and if I keep slipping up in front of him, he’s going to figure out what I’m up to. I can’t allow that to happen.
Reaching out, I take the knife from his hand. He doesn’t stop me. I slide my thumb across the smoothness of the blade. My forefinger trails down the nicked edges of the hilt. He breathes in a shuddering breath and exhales slowly. The sound is seductive, as if I were stroking him and not the knife. I hand the weapon back, our fingers lingering as they touch.
“Want to get out of here?”
Is he seriously offering to help me get out of this literal hellhole?
“Yes.”
Just the thought of taking a very long, very hot shower has me sighing in relief. I'll need to redress the bandages too and cross my fingers that nothing becomes septic. Hopefully, I can catch a few hours’ sleep before I'm thrown back into the gauntlet. I wonder how pissed Keane is going to be when he finds out Jax let me out. Not for me to worry about, I decide. I just want to get warm. And dry.
“Andie.”
I was about to grab the rope and begin climbing out, but the broken way he says my name stops me.
Jax seems to have some sort of internal battle with himself before he murmurs angrily, “Fuck it.”
Fuck what? I’m about to ask, but never get the chance because Jax’s lips crash onto mine.
It feels like a firebomb detonates inside of me when his tongue plunges deep, and my back is slammed against the soft earthen wall. My body combusts like dry tinder until there is nothing left but an ensuing, unstoppable firestorm. And I’m the moronic idiot who stands there and watches, fascinated, as everything goes up in flames.
I’ve been truly kissed by two men in my life. Rafe owns my first kiss. It was a kiss of young, immature love. Tender and sweet. After Rafe broke my heart and left me, I didn’t kiss another man, had no desire to, until Liam. The way Liam kissed me that night when he pushed me up against the hotel room wall and fucked me like a savage animal was all raw sex and passion and possession. And exactly what I needed on a day I thought I’d never survive—the day of Kellan’s funeral. But neither of those men’s kisses compare to the one Jax is giving me now.
A callused hand wraps around the back of my head, masculine fingers digging into my scalp, pulling at the base of my ponytail. With a sharp, painful tug, my head is wrenched back, causing a breathy moan of desire to pass my parted lips. Jax takes full advantage, probing deeply. Possessing me completely. Fucking my mouth like he owns me. Taking everything from me with his kiss.
I stand stock-still, my body vibrating like a plucked string. My hands clench tightly into fists at my side as I fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck, to pull him in closer. Needing him to take more. Wanting to give him more.
A few wayward brain cells click back on and fight through the lust that is holding me hostage. It’s then that I remember that I hate this man. His ruination, the destruction of his friends and my father, are the only reasons I’m here. My revenge is all that matters.
I force my head to the side, breaking the kiss. Our breaths saw in and out with difficulty. It takes me a minute before I’m able to face him again. When I do, our eyes fixate on one another’s. His kiss-swollen lips are tinged red and glisten in the moonlight that filters down from the opening above.
I don’t know what I expect, but within seconds, his pale-green eyes harden, and the man I liken to the Grim Reaper returns. Lethal. Deadly. My father’s obedient executioner.
I’m so stupid. Jax is not my friend. He doesn’t care about me. His soul belongs to my father.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” I tell him, grabbing the rope and pulling myself out of the pit.
Not caring whether Jax makes it out or not, and not sticking around to wait and find out, I quickly head toward the house as soon as my feet touch the grassy surface.
I stop at the stupid access panel and am thankful when the back door to the house opens. I take great delight in tracking mud all over the pristine floors as I wait for the elevator. Jax still hasn’t followed me in. Good. I have a message to send, and I’m hoping the recipient is downstairs in his room.
When the elevator doors open to the lower floor, I calmly walk down the darkened hallway and stop in front of Keane’s bedroom door. Wanting to smash it in with a swift heel kick, I instead rap loudly with the backs of my knuckles, wincing slightly as a fresh, throbbing pain radiates up my arm. My hands are bruised and swollen from the hours I tried to claw myself out of the damnable pit.
The door suddenly swings wide open, and Keane’s massive person fills the doorway. His dark sable hair is sleep-mussed and sticking up in disarray, his hazel eyes half-lidded. My gaze flits briefly to the expanse of bare, tattooed chest in front of me before it darts back up to his face. Anger rises, knowing he was sleeping soundly in a warm bed, while I was drowning like a rat outside.
“If you think throwing me in a pit is going to stop me from taking the position that you stole from my brother, you’re going to have to do so much better.”
He gives me a bored look. “So noted,” he replies, his attention narrowing on Jax, who I sense is now standing behind me.
The door to Rafe’s room opens, and he steps out into the hallway, his expression full of questions when he sees me standing outside of Keane’s room, dripping muddy water all over the floor.
If a war of wills is what they want, they’ve got one. And I know how to play dirty. I insolently look at all three men before turning around, kicking off my shoes and stripping out of my mud-caked clothes until I’m left in only my bra and underwear. I head to the end of the hall where my room is located. Turning slightly, I find three hungry male eyes locked on me.
“Have a good fucking evening,” I call out, a smile on my face as I slam the bedroom door.