28. Juliet
28
JULIET
I 'm cold, which is ironic since I'm pretty sure the body heat the three hulking men in my already tiny studio are throwing off should be enough to make this place feel like a sauna. Instead, I'm bundled up, kind of wishing I still had the expensive parka my mom had gotten me for Christmas three years ago. I'd only ever used it once, but it'd been big and fluffy, heavy enough to survive the frost of Aspen when we’d gone skiing for Christmas. I'm sure it'd warm me now.
The Scorpion Kings have stationed themselves throughout my apartment. Gio is out on the balcony, taking a look at the damage a man's body flying into the already piece of shit railing has caused. Lex is against the wall, arms crossed, expression indecipherable, but eyes eerily focused on me where I'm sitting on my futon that’s now been shifted into its upright position.
"Okay, let’s run through it again.” Nolan’s commanding presence seems to evoke a desire in me to throw something at his head. I glare at him but keep still on the futon as I hold the edges of the blanket together to hide my near-nakedness. Maybe if I throw something at him and see his reaction, it’ll thaw some of the numbness I'm currently feeling.
"What's there to run through?" I ask. To my utter shock, my voice is raspy and raw. I cough and blink, frowning when the tightness in my throat doesn’t ease. I shake my head and refocus on the man hovering above me. “I told you everything that happened exactly as it happened."
"That man came in, attacked you, and you stabbed him," Nolan says, repeating my earlier words. "He tries to escape and he falls over the balcony. I get that right?"
Well, I pushed him and therefore, killed him, but other than that, he’s got everything right. I bob my head. Then a thought occurs to me. "Should I call the police?" Would they even give a fuck that the town outcast was nearly raped and murdered in her own apartment?
"No.” I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that at first I think the answer is referring to my internal question before I recall that it’s actually in response to the idea of calling the police.
Gio steps back into the apartment and closes the sliding glass doors before engaging the lock. For all of the good it did the first time. "No police—and most definitely not the police in Silverwood."
Nolan agrees with a nod. "He's right. All of Silverwood was affected by the embezzlement. The police department wouldn't bother to do much more than file a report—and that was before you killed a man. If they find out, they won't waste the chance to get rid of you just as anyone else would."
At least, they’re honest. Their healthy dose of reality reminds me of the reason behind my current circumstances. "Do you think he was out for revenge?" I ask, glancing to the balcony.
"Probably," Gio says.
"Am I going to jail?" I ask the question in a quiet monotone, no inflection to reveal how I’m feeling about the possibility.
All three men exchange looks as the room goes silent. When it stretches out, I glance up at them curiously. Each of their expressions are hard masks, and I sit there watching them talk in silent ticks and chin jerks, a language that’s all their own. It’s one I can’t understand.
Turning away, I glance at the faded glowing digits on the microwave in my kitchen. 2:59 a.m. The witching hour. The hour when bad things happen. When nightmares come to life.
I'm the daughter of a criminal. Abandoned by my mother. Betrayed by my friends and ex. Now, I'm a murderer.
After a tense moment, Nolan speaks. "No," he says, drawing my attention back to him. "We're not going to let that happen."
Nolan's irises look like cinnamon in the light of the bare bulb that throws dull illumination across the floor of the apartment from my cracked bathroom door. A part of me wonders if they assumed my attacker wasn’t acting alone, but if he hadn’t been, then wouldn't someone have already come for his body?
I know if I go out there on the balcony right now, I'll look over the edge and find him still there—splayed out on the ground like a broken doll no one wants to play with anymore.
We’re not going to let that happen. Nolan’s words circle in my head, dizzying me with their insinuation.
"Why?" I ask, lifting my head and staring him down with a frown. "Why would you help me?"
Once again, there's that annoying exchange of looks between them and that secret, silent language of theirs. My upper lip curls away from my teeth. I hate being left out of the loop. It makes me want to stab something. Again.
Nolan sighs and looks back at me. "Don't worry about the whys of things," he says. "You need the help. We'll provide. Just accept it."
Just accept it? No. I move to stand, but the blanket around my knees gapes open, reminding me that I'm still mostly naked. For a moment, I contemplate sitting back down, but then decide to hell with it.
"You hate me,” I remind them as if they’ve forgotten. “This whole town does. There’s no way in hell you’re helping me now out of the goodness of your heart. How do I know you weren’t a part of this?”
I keep my gaze trained on Nolan, but it’s Gio who moves towards me, jolting me out of the stare-down between his leader and I. Gio doesn't stop until he’s shoved his way between Nolan and me.
Dimly, I think of how shitty a night it's been for my downstairs neighbors. No doubt they're getting about as much sleep as I am with all of the noise. It's almost lucky that I live in a shithole apartment complex. People in this neighborhood know to mind their own business. Even if they're annoyed or cranky, they keep to themselves and they don't ask any questions.
With his hands clenched into fists at his sides, Gio looms over me and growls, "We are not responsible for a man breaking into your apartment with the intention of raping you.”
Rape. I’m proud of the way I don’t flinch at the word. I never truly knew how powerful words could be until this moment. The word grows in size in my head, filling it until there’s no spare inch not covered in a layer of what it means.
Someone broke into my apartment, pinned me down, threatened me, and…
I cut myself off at the reminder of how he’d held himself in front of me, stroking his cock as he’d prepared to put it inside me. I should’ve cut it off with the knife instead of stabbing him in the back with it.
My eyes rise back to Gio’s. “How do I know that?” I prompt him. “It’s not like we’re friends. If anything, the three of you are part of the reason shit at school has been so difficult.”
His brows shoot up to his hairline and his already hard jaw firms even further. “If you think we’re like that asshole, then you don’t know us very well.”
“My point exactly.” I nod at him. “I don’t know you. So, why the hell should I trust you?”
Honey brown eyes narrow on my face. “Because we?—”
“Gio.” Nolan barks his friend’s name, cutting him off and making me even more curious to know what he’d been about to reveal. Gio whips away from me and stalks back across the room until he’s in front of the mangled door that he apparently kicked in when I didn’t answer during my attack. I stare at his back for a moment before scanning the entryway.
The lock is a broken mess and the framework is completely splintered. The door itself is propped against the gaping hole to give the illusion of some privacy. He kicked it in and now it's useless, but I can't find it in myself to be frustrated. Even though it means I'll probably have to find a new place to stay until it gets repaired, I have to admit that at least he came when he heard trouble.
No one else would have.
No one else did.
The back of my head throbs and I sink back onto the futon, cupping my skull with a groan. “Fuck.” Now I have to think about staying somewhere else.
Motels might seem cheap as shit, but no matter how inexpensive a place is, the cost inevitably builds up over time and there’s no telling how long it’ll take for my apartment to be livable. The Ritchies don’t strike me as particularly caring towards their residents. I’d found dead bugs painted over the walls when I moved in. What’s worse is that I can’t afford any other place now that most of the money I had is sunk into the advance rent I paid weeks before. If I can't stay here, I doubt the Ritchies will refund me. Scratch that. There is absolutely no doubt that they’ll happily kick me out for damaging their property and keep my rent payments as compensation. I'd considered myself lucky I even managed to get this place after the bullshit of my father's embezzlement and the fact that I had no previous rental or job history.
I’m so caught up in the loss and figuring out my immediate future, that I’ve almost forgotten about the three men taking up residence inside the destroyed apartment. That is, until the sound of male voices brings me back to the present. I raise my head and frown at Nolan and Lex as the two have moved closer together, their heads bowed as they speak in low tones. The crease of Lex's brow and the hard set of Nolan's mouth tells me they're arguing.
"She's welcome wherever I am," Lex snaps.
I straighten up. "What?"
Both Nolan and Lex glance over at me. "You can come stay with me," Lex says before gesturing to the door Gio's blocking. "At least until your door is fixed."
Gio places a hand against the wood, the inked tattoos on the back of his palm flexing with the movement. "The maintenance team of this complex is pretty lax," he states. "It'll take at least a week for them to fully fix the damn thing."
Gio looks back but not at me. He focuses on Nolan. "I think we should board this up before morning. Otherwise, she's liable to have raccoons getting inside ... or worse." I don't have to ask what the 'or worse' could be. If tonight has taught me anything, there’s always a worse.
My gaze remains firmly latched on Lex. "You want me to come stay with you?" I ask, my brow furrowing. From what I remember of his background, he lives on the outskirts of Silverwood with his aunt after his parents’ deaths.
Lex nods even as Nolan lets loose a curse. "Not fucking happening,” Nolan growls.
Lex’s stone-gray eyes collide with Nolan’s. "She can't stay here," he argues.
"And she won't," Nolan replies. "She'll stay with me."
For a moment, I think I've somehow fallen asleep and entered another of my nightmares, or maybe this is the Twilight Zone.
"Um." I raise a hand, drawing all of their attention. "Do I get a say in this?" If it comes down to a choice between Lex and Nolan, I'm not even sure which would be the safer option, but all in all ... a motel is probably in my immediate future. A week might set me back savings-wise, but if I tell Ma-Ri I’m willing to work some host shifts at the lounge, then I’m sure I can make up for it. It won't be forever.
All three men shoot me looks and answer as one. " No. "
Well, that solves that question. I lower my hand and sigh. "Well, regardless of where I'm going after this, I need to get dressed."
Gio frowns as I get to my feet, keeping the blanket locked around my legs. "What about a hospital?" he asks. "Do we need to take you to see a doctor?"
My feet come to a stop in front of my closet door. I glance down at the floor, at my bare feet peeking out beneath the quilted puke green and brown blanket I'd picked up in a Goodwill clearance bin because it looked like it would be warm. What if he had an STD? He hadn’t managed to put his cock in, but he had touched me. He’d bled all over me too.
Blood is filthy. It’s full of bacteria and disease. I stare at the red splatter on the edge of my hand, at the creases in my skin that are full of crimson. I need a shower. A scalding, disgustingly hot shower. Even then … I don’t know if I’ll get rid of the feeling of his hands on me, of his cock getting so close.
It didn’t happen, I remind myself. Even so, my head floods with images of what could have happened and what might still happen in the future. I didn’t let it happen.
I begin to shake uncontrollably. My whole body trembles beneath the blanket as something akin to rage and horror dawns over me.
"Jules?" Gio's voice sounds far away and my ears are full of wind.
Bodies move around me, coming closer, but all I can do is lock onto my body hidden beneath this hideous blanket and wish for x-ray vision. I want to be able to see past flesh and bone and muscle, to know if I've been violated in another way, a new, sicker way. I swallow reflexively to keep vomit down.
"I need a shower," I mumble to myself. "I need..." Clean. I need to get clean. I want to scrub my skin until it's raw and bloody and there's no cell left on or within me that has ever been touched by another person.
A hand that feels too hot lands lightly on my shoulder. I'm gently turned around and then Nolan's face is in front of mine. "We'll get you to a doctor, Juliet," he says quietly. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, we'll make sure you're checked out."
I part dry, cracked lips. "He—" I stop and swallow again before trying anew. "He didn't..." The words are a struggle to get out.
Nolan seems to understand what I’m trying to say though. He nods sharply. “Okay, but if you still want to go, we’ll take you. No questions asked." His eyes bore into mine. The tight muscle in his jaw throbs as he clenches his teeth and then releases a slow breath to speak—as if he's trying to calm himself.
“I don’t want…” I shake my head. Fuck. Why can’t I just talk? Nothing even happened to me. Almost isn’t the same thing as actually being raped. Still, my skin crawls with invisible insects and my stomach cramps with the urge to vomit all over again.
Once more, Nolan seems to understand my non-words. "No one will know,” he assures me.
“No doctor?” I don’t even feel his hands on my shoulders anymore as I stare up into eyes like blood-soaked earth. Cinnamon and chocolate in his gaze.
His jaw flexes, an obvious sign that he doesn’t like my decision. “We can’t force you, but if you start feeling weird, you are getting checked out. I’ll drag you to a clinic by your hair if I have to, do you understand?"
No. I don't understand a damn thing, but I nod anyway as all the breath in my lungs escapes.
Nolan releases my shoulders and nudges me toward the bathroom. "Go ahead and get showered," he says. "I'll grab you some clothes." His eyes move down my body, taking in the threadbare blanket, the blood on my hands, and my bare feet against the floor. "Don't take too long. We can't stay. Get clean and make it fast or I'm coming in after you."
With a scowl, I step back and slip into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. The blanket loosens and then slips to the floor. I turn and regard myself in the cracked mirror over the sink. Slowly, I scan the length of my reflection. One side of my face is flushed red. Bruises are already forming on my hips and thighs. None of that bothers me. I lift my hands and hold them in front of me. My left hand has a droplet or two of blood but is otherwise pristine. My right hand though … is covered in dried, flakey blood.
I can’t bring myself to look in the mirror again. Instead, I lower my hands and turn to the cubicle of a shower—cranking the hot water knob until steam billows out from behind the plastic curtain. I find a towel under the sink and set it on the lid of the toilet. My hands are steady as I reach up and remove what remains of the t-shirt I’d worn to bed. Letting it join the blanket on the floor, I step into the piping hot water and let the warmth drive back the ice inside me.
The first pass of soap over my skin gets rid of the flakes of blood, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. The second pass is a bit better, but it's as if that asshole’s blood has turned invisible. I stare at my hands as I scrub until I see no more evidence of him on me. Even when I can’t see him, though, I can still feel him. I grit my teeth and scratch at my wrist and arm. I scrub and rub soap over me until the water runs cold. Nothing helps. The feeling of him is so far beneath my skin that it's burrowed into my very pores. A knock on the door stills my hands.
“Hurry up in there,” I hear Nolan call out. “Your time is almost up.”
My hands and arms are an angry red, but I have no doubt that Nolan Pierce means it when he says he’ll come in here and drag me out if I put off facing them. I can’t afford another broken door. So, I switch to my hair, shampooing, conditioning, scrubbing, and scratching at my scalp as though that'll alleviate the feeling of bugs crawling all over my skin. It doesn't.
The second knock on the door a few minutes later halts any plans to start washing all over again. “I’m coming!” I call out, shutting off the water.
"I've got a pair of sweats and a tank here for you. I'm going to set it on the floor here.” Nolan's deep baritone enters the room as I hear the door creak open. I go still. I locked the door. I know I fucking did.
Gripping the edge of the plastic curtain, I yank it to the side, making sure to cover my nakedness as I glare across the small room at him. “How the fuck did you open the door?” I demand. “I locked it.”
Nolan lifts his head, cinnamon eyes sliding down to my bare shoulder immediately before slowly lifting to my face. One dark brow arches. “It’s a cheap lock, Princess,” he says. “It’s not difficult to pick.” He nods down to the clothes he laid on the floor. “Gio and Lex are going to run out and grab a few things. Get dressed. They’ll be back soon."
My mouth hangs open as he shuts the door behind him.
What. An. Asshole.
I shut off the water and step out, grabbing the towel off the toilet and drying off as I pick up the clothes he left for me. No bra or underwear. Nolan probably thought I was wearing them. I shake my head. Guys don't understand that girls don't wear bras any more than they have to. As for my underwear ... I clench the elastic tie of my sweatpants' waistband as tight as it'll go. There's no use pointing out the reason I'm not wearing any. My pajamas weren’t the only thing my attacker had cut away.
Nolan stands in the combo living room and bedroom with his phone in his hands as he types furiously away. When the bathroom door swings shut behind me, making a creaking noise, he looks up. His eyes move from my face down to my breasts and I know just when he realizes what he forgot. He blinks as his lips part. My nipples pebble against the thin fabric of the tank, but I don’t rush to hide them. There’s no point. I just turn away, rubbing my hair with the towel to hasten the drying process.
After a beat, Nolan clears his throat. “You good?” I snort and rub faster. “Okay,” he amends, “do you feel any better now that you’ve had a shower?”
I glance at him. “Marginally,” is all I say.
With a frown, he turns away and stalks across the studio. Leaning into the tiny closet that acts as storage and clothing space, he flips through my meager belongings. A moment later, he pulls back and turns, holding out a giant oversized sweater. His upper lip curls away from his teeth as he skims an eye down the jagged pastel stripe print that belongs on a '70s paper cup.
“Couldn’t find anything uglier?” he asks.
Rolling my eyes, I rip the towel away from my hair and drop it to the floor before stalking towards him. I rip the sweater from his grasp and yank it on before crossing my arms over my chest.
“I’ll let you know when I’m taking fashion advice from a guy who thinks motorcycle boots go with his football jersey.”
He glances down and then back up with that same arched brow as if to tell me ‘I’m not wearing my jersey.’ I narrow my eyes. The fact that he’s not wearing it right now doesn’t matter—I’d seen him wear them in tandem at school many times before. When neither of us voices the internal battle we’re having after a few more moments of pure, spiteful silence, I turn away.
"So," I begin, glancing from side to side, looking for the others before I remember what he'd said about them running out for something. I return my eyes to him. "What now?"
Nolan moves into the kitchen and leans down to pick up a duffle I hadn't noticed before. It looks like one of the sports bags given out to all of the guys on the football team, but the top is unzipped, revealing clothes from my own closet. And that’s not all. The box with Lex's cell phone gift in it is packed right on top and beneath it, my laptop.
"Now, I’m going to take you home and you’re going to get some sleep." With his free hand, he shuffles the broken door out of the way and holds it for me to pass under his arm.
“You really expect me to come home with you?” I blink at him. “Just like that?”
He tilts his head to the side, a dark lock of hair falling over one side of his forehead. “Do you have any better choices right now?”
I press my lips together, hating that the fact is I don’t. Even if I can find a motel to stay at, there aren’t any close to the school. With a sigh, I glance around and find my sneakers half-buried beneath the futon. I don't bother looking for socks and just stick my feet inside before reaching down and fixing the back lip so it doesn't get stuck and folded beneath my foot.
Ducking beneath Nolan's arm, I spy Lex's SUV turning into the parking lot. The headlights are off, which means he doesn’t want anyone to notice him. I watch him as he drives past Nolan's bike and the dark red car parked at the front of my apartment building, heading around to the back. Half-turned, I peer back at Nolan as he follows me from the apartment, turning to grip the broken door and angle it back over the opening.
“What about the—” I cut myself off with a grimace before I say too much. Even if the people of Silver Creek Apartments mind their business, it’ll do me no good to borrow trouble and say anything out loud.
They're going to get rid of the body.
Nolan’s eyes glitter in the darkness of the night as he looks back at me, hefting the duffle bag up higher on his shoulder. “Gio and Lex will come back and board this up for you,” he says, not answering my unfinished question.
There’s no question about whether or not the Scorpion Kings are dangerous men. A murder happened here tonight, and not a single one of them flinched. They’re taking the body of the man I killed, and they’re making it all disappear. What should fill me with relief, only fills me with wariness.
“This is a debt.” One I’m not sure I’ll like paying back, much less be able to.
Those red-brown eyes of his are twin pools of something hypnotic. When a thumb touches the side of my cheek and I flinch at the sudden pain it brings, I realize he's not looking into my eyes so much as he's examining me. I’d seen the redness on my cheek in the bathroom mirror, but I hadn’t realized how much it hurt until he touched it.
"Don't think about what you might owe us, Princess," he tells me. "For tonight, just think about getting some rest."
I shouldn't trust him. I shouldn't trust any of them. I know that. Yet ... I'm fucking tired. More tired than I've ever been in my life and I just want to close my eyes and pretend like tonight never happened. If that means I'll owe the Scorpion Kings a debt in the future then so be it. Some things are worth selling your soul—killing the man that tried to rape me is one.