Chapter 33
Welcome Back To Your Fucked Up Life
CORMAC
“Jesus, it’s about time you showed up,” Skyler yawns, leaning against the wall outside Mingle.
A feral grin threatens to pull at my lips, “I bet old Cormac was a lot less fun, though."
He nods. “Yeah, old Cormac was a buzzkill. It’s weird that getting your skull knocked in has brought some of the life back into you. But I’m worried diving back into this life is going to derail all the positive changes you’ve made.”
“Like what?” I ask, following him to the unregistered car hidden in the side.
He slides into the driver's seat and waits for me to get into the passenger seat and shut the door before answering, “Like finally actually going after Brigit. I knew if you just took the plunge, it would all work out.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Sky,” I scrub the back of my head, refusing to think too hard on the subject or else my fucking erection is going to come back. Again. “We might be sleeping together, but it’s not like we’re…”
“Cohabitating?” he says from the corner of his mouth, a smug smile in his voice.
“Not by choice,” I groan. “Out of necessity, she’s staying with me for a minute until we figure all this shit out.”
“I’m sure when it’s all over, she’ll still choose you,” he says without even a hint of his usual humor. “Why wouldn’t she?”
Pulling out onto the darkening road, he takes a sharp left turn, guiding the car uptown.
“Because I’m a serial killer who smuggles drugs. And because I’ve also been stalking her for the better part of a decade,” I list all the very valid reasons she would have for not wanting any part of me.
“Well…” he shrugs. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. There’s no reason she ever needs to find out about the whole stalking thing. If it worked out for the best, who cares how we got there?”
I care.
I don’t want to have a relationship built on deception. I’d rather Brigit know everything and walk away than spend the rest of our lives together knowing I hid it from her.
“You’re not gonna tell her. Are you?” he asks in disbelief.
I nod, “Of course, I am.”
“You’re a moron,” he laughs, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
“The other stuff she’s been able to handle because it had nothing to do with her.
She can go on believing she’ll never be the victim of your depravity.
If you tell her she’s been on the receiving end of your crimes more often than anyone else, she’ll run for her fucking life. ”
My heart sinks.
I know he’s probably right.
But his spelling it out for me like this is all the more reason I had to warn Brigit before I left that there’s something she needs to know.
Skyler uses his theories about the universe looking out for us to completely detach himself from our actions. If the universe didn’t want us to kill these people, we wouldn’t have.
If the cosmos wasn’t plotting for Brigit and me to get together, we—
“You’re the reason she got into Mingle.”
His silence is answer enough.
“You fucking prick,” I scoff. “You and all your bullshit about fate and kismet. And you don’t believe any of it.”
“Of course, I do,” he argues. “But the universe doesn’t have hands.
Sometimes it needs those of us on the ground floor doing the work.
I knew the night of that gala that you two were going to be endgame.
I don’t fucking believe in much, Cormac, but I can see when two souls belong together.
If I had to do a tiny bit of orchestrating to make sure you got the chance, that’s just me being the hands of fate.
I won’t apologize for ensuring my friend has a shot at the girl of his dreams.”
“Your orchestrating is part of what got us into this mess,” I mutter.
Something akin to anger simmers under the surface, but I can’t bring myself to really be mad at him.
It’s not like he forced us together. He just made sure I had the opportunity.
It’s my fault I didn’t take it sooner. “You accused her of something she didn’t do, put all her secrets on display just to prove you have them. What do you call that?”
He taps his knuckles on the dash. “Insurance. The same kind we keep on every person we know. I’ve got files upon files containing Leo and Tate, you know all about Wolfy. If it came down to it, I’ve even got a little info on Stella that would make your fucking head spin.”
“Your sister? You have blackmail on your sister?”
“So do you,” he laughs. “There’s nothing I have. Everything belongs to us. We are partners.”
“But I didn’t know any of that stuff about Brigit’s past,” I bury my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to relieve the growing pressure.
After a beat, he answers, “You did, though.”
Fuck.
This shit is so annoying.
Some days, I can cope with the fact that parts of my life are missing, just thankful I’m still here to make new memories.
But sometimes, the agony of the missing time drags into my chest and rips me to shreds. I have no way of knowing how much I knew or what I did with the information.
“You and I came to different conclusions,” he continues. “And it looks like you were right. Obviously paper trails aren’t infallible. If this Ian guy and his boss were both willing to let Brigit take the fall for everything, the court case would have shown their version, not hers.”
There’s no denying that even now, I want to hunt this guy down and throttle him for all the ways he tried to hurt her.
“I just still can’t comprehend that I became this person,” I admit, the weight of it still heavy on my chest. “I spent years pushing down the rage that grew inside me. Taping over the cracks that come from being half a dozen men’s party favor over and over again.”
Skyler makes a furious sound in the back of his throat, and I’m hit with that odd sense that I’ve been here before again.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t tracked him down,” he mutters, the only sign of his own anger his white knuckles creaking the leather of the steering wheel. “I think about doing so at least once a week.”
It wouldn’t be any effort at all to go find the man who spawned me and put him in an early grave.
But logically, I know that the first place anyone would look for suspicion is me. My medical records show the bruising and the broken bones well enough. I’d be back behind bars in less than a day if he wound up brutally—justifiably— mutilated.
“We were both catapulted into this bullshit, Fomori,” Skyler sighs. “I wish you hadn’t been dragged into it because of my fucking family, but you never even hesitated to protect me. And then others who needed it. And along the way, you found some sort of ritual in the kills.”
“And you found yours in the ring,” I offer.
He nods, his silhouette moving up and down in the low light.
It’s not the whole picture, but it’s as much as probably anyone will be able to fill in for me. I’ll just have to be okay without the rest of it.
“What a pair we are,” he finally laughs.
I roll my eyes, “So you didn’t tell me anything about what we’re doing tonight. Just a little breaking and entering.”
“Yeah, in a massive house on the outskirts of town,” he checks his phone. “Steele said there’s some evidence he needs in there but they don’t have enough probable cause to get a warrant because the guy is loaded.”
“So what am I looking for?” I ask.
“No idea,” he blows out a heavy breath. “Ben just said he’s into some sick, lucrative shit and he wants the warrant and a fat payout or he’s coming after the club.”
What a prick.
“So I’m looking for photos probably,” my mind whirs. “I can’t imagine they keep digital copies. Too easy to hack into.”
“Right,” he agrees. “If there are any digitals, I’ll be able to find them from outside on my computer. But most of them keep paper copies. Easier to shred paper than wipe a computer. Plus,” he gags, “They tend to make a mess of them, literally getting off on the photos of their victims.”
Nausea pricks at the back of my throat.
“Wear gloves,” Sky adds. “That’s a lesson you only needed to learn once.”
I’m going to be fucking sick.
Not only am I looking for photographs of the worst things mankind can do to each other, but they’re probably going to be coated in a layer of jizz.
When we pull up to a quiet neighborhood, Sky kills the headlights, parking between some of the giant oak trees lining an extravagant property, hiding the pitch-black car in the deep shadows as twilight disappears, leaving nothing but the stars and moon to guide us.
Turning off the engine, he leans back between the front seats, grabbing a computer and a black bag.
“Next week on Welcome Back To Your Fucked Up Life, we’re going over the prep work we do for these jobs so I don’t have to fucking do it by myself again,” he mutters, tossing the bag into my lap.
I let loose a small laugh, the adrenaline from what I’m about to do flooding into my veins.
I may not remember loving this heinous shit, but once again, my body is just waiting for my mind to catch up.
The only time I’ve felt more alive than I do right now since waking up is when I’ve been chasing any of Brigit’s attention, or better, driving myself inside her until she combusts.
Fuck.
Do not get hard right now.
I will the blood attempting to fill my dick to subside, reminding it that we’re not about to fuck our sweet little bunny, we’re about to break into someone’s house and find proof that they deserve to rot in prison.
Or worse.
“If it’s bad enough,” I tap my fingers nervously on the bag. “I mean if… what if I…”
“What if the Bat Man comes out to play?” Skyler smirks. Well, I think he is. Sure fucking sounds like it, even though I can’t see it.
“That’s the stupidest nickname I’ve ever heard,” I mutter.
“Better than Bás Dorcha,” he scoffs. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It’s a reference to Irish folklore,” I explain. “Bats are seen as an omen of death or a connection to the spirit world.”