Chapter 39
KAIDEN
I’m nine inches deep into Sage’s pussy when my phone rings, vibrating across the table I have her bent over. I pull back, then push back inside her while I reach over and grab it, seeing Vinny’s name on the screen.
“You better not answer that,” Sage warns, and my hand slides into her hair as I silence the call. Pulling her head back, I pound into her from behind.
“Don’t worry, Little Rabbit. Nothing could pull me away from this delicious cunt.”
She’s a mess of moans underneath me, and I can feel my orgasm tightening my balls simply from the depth of this position.
We’ve been doing nothing but fucking for the last few hours, and we’re both a mess of sweat, cum, and scratch marks. Sage has come so many times already that I’m surprised she’s still able to hold herself upright.
“Kaiden, fuck, don’t stop.”
I smack her ass, then spit into her crack. Using my thumb, I spread my saliva around her asshole, then I slip the digit through the ring of muscle. “Come for me, you little fucking slut. I want to fuck this tight ass.”
My phone goes off again, and as I buck against Sage from behind, I grab it and spot Vinny’s name on the screen. I silence it once more, then Sage’s climax takes over her body, her cunt squeezing around me and making it nearly impossible to keep moving inside her.
“Jesus. Christ,” I grunt out, trying to move my hips as hard as possible while Sage shakes against the table. My phone goes off again, ringing loudly.
“Kaiden! Turn it the fuck off!” Sage screams, banging her hands on the table while she rides out the rest of her climax.
Laughing at her, I grab my phone and see Vinny’s name.
I slam my cock deep into Sage and accept the call.
“What?!”
Sage shouts from the force, her back bending up and her head craning so she can bite my neck. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I’m more focused on the noises I’m hearing through the phone, though. Sniffling, crying, heavy breathing. Then Vinny’s voice breaks through, my name scratching up his throat. “Kaiden?”
“What is it?” I go still, holding my phone tighter, and Sage seems to read in my body language that something is wrong, because she pushes me back a step so I’m no longer inside her and she can turn around to face me.
“You gotta get over here, Kai,” Vinny says, almost inaudibly.
“What happened? What’s going on?” I meet Sage’s worried gaze, my heart picking up speed as anxiety hits my bloodstream.
“Please,” Vinny says, and I hear crying in the background. “You just need to get over here, Kai. Right now.”
“I’m on my way.”
Thankfully, Sage has her car with her, so we’re able to get to Vinny’s house in two minutes. I spot his father’s truck in the driveway, and I’m instantly sick to my stomach, thinking that his dickhead sperm donor has spent the afternoon beating the piss out of him before passing out.
I push through the front door without knocking, Sage hot on my heels, and head for the only light on in the house, which is coming from Vinny’s bedroom.
I’m taken back by the scene I walk into, and I hear Sage gasp behind me as she grabs onto the back of my shirt when I stop in the doorway.
Vinny and Beckham are sitting on the floor, just at the edge of Vinny’s bed, both in nothing but their boxers. They both have empty faces, Vinny’s red and purple with blood and bruises, but both have tears on their cheeks.
At the center of Vinny’s bedroom, though, is his father—in a bloody pile—dead.
A silent minute passes, then I walk through the room and crouch down next to my brothers.
“What happened?”
Beckham closes his eyes, shaking his head slowly, then Vinny speaks quietly, almost to no one. “He’s dead.”
“It would seem so,” I say, sighing and rubbing my palms together. It’s clear they’re both in some trauma trance, so I give myself a moment to piece together the scene.
After I’ve had enough time to figure it out, I speak again.
“He attacked you, and you snapped,” I say to Vinny, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. We can figure this out. He’s been abusing you your whole life… It was self-defense. We can prove it. We need to call the police.”
“No,” he rushes out, looking up at me, his dark green eyes filled with moisture. “It wasn’t me… It was Beckham.”
My eyebrows raise. “What?”
Beckham’s still shaking his head, his eyes pressed closed. Glancing at his bloody hands, I hiss between my teeth when I see more than one broken knuckle dripping with blood.
I jump when a hand gently wraps around my shoulder, and I turn in time to see Sage sit down to my right. She’s shaking, tears dripping down her face, and her lips quivering. I wipe my palm across her cheek. “Go sit in the living room.”
Shaking her head, she rubs her hands over her cheeks and sniffles. “No. I’m here, I’m okay.”
I don’t question her, and she crawls over the carpet to wrap her arms around Beckham’s neck, who still hasn’t opened his eyes. He’s trembling, and she squeezes him tighter when he starts to cry, pulling his face into her neck.
Looking at Vinny and running my hand through my messy hair, I speak again. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
With his fingers thread through Beckham’s, he finally looks back at me and sighs. “He came in and saw us together. He attacked me, then Becks went after him.”
“And fucking killed him?!” I snap before I can stop myself.
“He didn’t mean to…” Vinny says softly, shaking his head.
“Yes, I did.” Beckham finally speaks, lifting his head out of Sage’s nape and looking at Vinny with bloodshot eyes. “I meant to fucking kill the bastard. Now he can never hurt you again.”
Vinny sucks down a breath, and a small laugh rolls through me. “Jesus.”
Sage runs her hands over Becks’s face. “Beckham...”
“Now he can never fucking hurt you again,” Becks repeats, his voice a whisper, gaze moving between everyone.
Sighing, I stand up and walk over to the dead body in the middle of the room, then take a silent moment to study it.
I’ve never seen a dead body before—not a real one—and parts of my stomach I didn’t know existed curl as I stare at Vincent Donahue Sr.’s body before me.
His face is drenched in blood, his own and Beckham’s, probably, but that isn’t what has my mouth sweating.
It’s his wide-open eyes, so filled with darkness, like there’s no soul left behind them—if there ever was one to begin with.
There isn’t a man who deserved death more than this one, so overtaken with grief and anger that he spent the last twenty years taking it out on his only son.
I say a silent prayer for him, though, hoping Satan or God or whoever he’s with now is punishing him just as viciously as he used to punish Vinny.
I spend one more minute staring at him, thinking over what we should do, then I spin and walk back to where my friends are still sitting on the floor.
“Sage.”
She snaps her chocolate brown eyes to mine.
“You’re going to take Beckham, get in your car, and drive until you hit Alabama. Take him to the first emergency room you find and get those hands taken care of. Say he got into a fight, make something up, just get him taken care of then come home. Use fake names.”
Spinning, I look at Vinny. “You’re going to come outside with me and beat the shit out of the back of the house.
Fuck up your knuckles, then we’re going to call the police.
He attacked you, okay? It was self-defense.
You have enough hospital records that no one will even question it.
You’ll get the house, the state will pay to cremate the fucker, then we’ll never think about him again. Got it?”
Vinny’s nodding, but Beckham shouts before we can even think about moving into action. “No! What if they fucking arrest him?! He didn’t do this—I did. I won’t let him go down for it.”
I shoot my gaze to Beckham, who’s gritting his jaw. “They aren’t going to arrest him.”
“Why are we going to Alabama?” Sage asks, her brow furrowing.
“Because we don’t want anyone to know that Becks beat the life out of this piece of shit,” I answer coolly. “If they decide to do some sort of investigation, there will be no trace of your injuries in the state of Georgia. They won’t look any farther, if at all.”
“No, we aren’t fucking doing this!” Beckham shouts, and I see red.
“It isn’t up to you,” I snap. “You’re clearly far too fucking emotional and unhinged to make rational decisions.”
Vinny turns to face Becks, then he leans in and puts a hand on his cheek. “This is a good plan, B. Please, do this for me. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Can’t we just bury him in the woods somewhere?” Becks asks, and I halfway hope he’s joking.
A laugh rumbles through me. “Bury him in the woods? Do you think we’re goddamn career criminals? Members of the mob? And how would Vincent explain where his father has disappeared to?”
Beckham growls, and Vinny runs his thumb over his cheekbone. “Go with Sage. Get your hand fixed, and I’ll see you tonight. You were never here, okay?”
Silence falls over the room, and I search Sage’s eyes as Vinny and Beckham have their moment.
Like a magnetic pull, her gaze lifts to mine and a string pulls up the side of my mouth to smirk at her.
Her lips twitch like she wants to smile, but she holds it back—probably too uncomfortable with the fact we’re in an active crime scene with a body that’s going cold.
After a minute, Beckham sighs, and I look at him in time to see him lean forward and kiss Vincent on the mouth for a half second before he pulls away. “Alright.”
I clap my hands once. “Alright.”
Beckham and Sage head for the state line, and I take Vinny out behind his house to smash his knuckles into the concrete.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this more than once,” he says, eyeing me under the setting sun.
“Want me to say a bunch of stuff that will piss you off?” I ask, grinning.
He laughs, approaching the concrete. “No, thanks.”
“Hey, at least your football career is over.”
Glaring at me, he licks his lips, takes a breath, then pulls his arm back.
Blowing out a breath, then sucking another one down, he sends his fist barreling into the house.
He doesn’t shout as his knuckles crack against the concrete, just bites onto his lip and continues, sending his fists flying at the house until there’s blood covering the dirty white concrete.
“Fuck!” he yells as he stills his arms, looking up into the sky and hissing between his teeth. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
I grab his wrist carefully, examining his knuckles one by one, then I do the same to the other hand. “Pretty sure a bunch of your fingers are broken.”
He stares back at me, his eyes hollow. “Thanks for your diagnosis, Dr. Dickhead.”
I laugh, going for the hose to clean the wall off. “Don’t be a pussy.”
Vinny grunts in pain, and I chuckle, turning to head inside after I’ve sprayed the wall down so we can make sure there’s no hint of Beckham in the house.
After changing the sheets on the bed, I toss the dirty ones in the washer and grab some paper towels before I walk back to Vinny’s room, finding him sitting on the floor next to his father’s lifeless body.
Clearing my throat, I step next to him. “We need to get Beckham’s blood off his face.”
Vinny nods as he looks up at me, then he holds a hand out for the paper towels.
“I can do it, Vin,” I say softly, reading the grief on his blank face.
He snatches the paper towels from me. “Don’t treat me like a little bitch who can’t handle this. I hated the fucker.”
Breathing through my nose, I keep my thoughts to myself as I watch Vinny wipe the blood from his father’s broken face, then he tosses the paper towels to the side before he rubs his own bloody knuckles on his dad’s skin.
When Vinny’s done, he grabs the paper towels again, standing up and looking at me. “You need to leave before I call the cops.”
“No,” I say, with no room for argument. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”
“The story doesn’t make sense with you here,” Vinny argues, his green eyes so bloodshot that it brings sadness to my chest.
“You called me, and I came over right after it happened.” I put my hand on his shoulder for support. “Now call the cops.”