Chapter 35
HARRISON
I barely register Bianca’s words. Everything slows and rushes at once. My jaw locks. My throat burns. I’m cold. I’m hot. I’m shaking. I’m stone.
Because that nature preserve where Alissa and Maddox apparently found some poor girl’s severed head?
Not only is it close to the Caterpillar Hotel.
But it’s the same place where Ray Sinclair and his buddies initiated me into The Club.
And from there it was a slippery slope to the darkest moment of my life…
* * *
The Dimpsey house is on a hill, so their basement opens to their backyard. Ray showed me a trick using a fire extinguisher to freeze the lock on the door so we can kick it down pretty easily.
Before we went inside, he gave me a cigarette to calm my nerves. I’d never smoked before, but I didn’t say so. Of course, my constant coughing revealed my amateur status pretty quickly. Ray was rolling his eyes the whole time.
Damn it. Did I already screw this up?
Max and Corey are keeping watch at the front and back door of the house, respectively. They don’t have any score to settle with Hector, so they’re our lookouts.
From there, we walked up the stairs to the master bedroom.
We secured duct tape around Hector’s dad’s mouth and managed to get his hands tied to the headboard of his bed without waking him up.
He must have taken a sleeping pill or something, because that was a hell of lot easier than either of us imagined.
Now we’re in Hector’s room. He, however, did not take a sleeping pill, and his eyes shoot open as soon as we start tying his hands together.
He grunts and squirms, and when he sees that it’s me who’s helping, he really starts thrashing.
But Ray is bigger than he is, and our combined strength is enough to get him into a rolling office chair and bring him over to his father’s bedroom.
“Here’s where the fun begins,” Ray says with a grin. He slaps Dimpsey’s cheeks. “Wake up, Daddy. Come on!”
Dimpsey’s eyes open, and within a few seconds he’s pulling against the restraints, but we’ve got them tied tight. He’s not going anywhere.
Ray walks around Hector’s chair and massages his shoulders. “Now it’s time for you to feel what you’ve made my buddy Harry feel every day for the last year, fuckhead.”
Hector struggles against the ropes around his arms, his face turning beet red.
I can’t lie. I don’t hate seeing him in this vulnerable position.
I have mixed feelings about the dad, though.
Ray crosses to Dimpsey’s bed and unbuttons his pajama shirt, letting his gut spill out over his pants.
Dimpsey continues to resist, but he’s tied down tight.
Ray grabs a black duffel bag he brought with him and pulls out a candle—the same one from my initiation—and a chef’s torch.
He ignites the torch and holds it under the candle, letting the hot wax drip onto Dimpsey’s bare chest. With each drip, Dimpsey squirms.
“Calm down, Dimpsey. This is just a warm-up for the real thing.”
Ray pulls out a fireplace poker and holds it under the torch until it’s red.
He then jams it against Dimpsey’s belly, leaving scorch marks in his wake.
Dimpsey lets out a muffled shriek and flails on the bed like he’s fucking possessed.
I look over at Hector. He’s trying to cry out as well, and he’s shaking like a damned washing machine.
Something catches in my throat.
I’m… I’m not feeling sorry for this guy, am I?
The wax didn’t bother me too much. Hell, some people enjoy getting hot wax dripped over their bodies. I read about it in a dirty magazine I found under my dad’s pillow.
But this… I don’t like this.
Dimpsey is going to be covered in burn marks.
Hector’s eyes are filled with tears, and he’s no longer straining against the ropes. In fact, his eyes are squeezed shut.
“Make him open his eyes, Harry,” Ray says. “He needs to see what it’s like to have someone you love get hurt.”
I try my best, but every time I get a grip on Hector’s face, he worms out of my hands. They’re wet with his tears, so I can’t get a solid hold on him.
“I… I can’t get him to do it,” I say.
“For fuck’s sake.” Ray rolls his eyes and then walks over to me, handing me the fireplace poker. “I’ll hold his eyes open, and you take the next round.”
I swallow. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Sure you can. He fucking deserves it, Harry.” He leans down, whispers in my ear. “And remember. Regina will do anything I say. Anything.”
The words send a rush of blood to my dick. Damn it.
I take the fireplace poker and hold it under the chef’s torch again. I hover over Dimpsey’s chest. I can feel the heat wafting toward me. I can only imagine what he’s feeling.
“Do it now, Harry! I got his eyes open.”
Sure enough, Ray has pried Hector’s eyes open like the surgical pieces used in that scene in A Clockwork Orange. Hector is trying to roll his eyes back, but Ray has them open far enough that he has to look at what I’m doing.
I squeeze my own eyes shut and bring the poker down right over Dimpsey’s bellybutton.
The singe is a quiet whistle. And the smell…
Acrid. Burning flesh.
“Again, Harry! Again!” Ray shouts.
I bring the poker down in the same spot. Dimpsey and his son both let out a stifled scream.
Ray twists his lips into a grin. “Lower, Harry.”
I lay the poker under Dimpsey’s bellybutton this time.
I widen my eyes. “You mean…?”
He slowly nods. “Pull his fucking pants down.”
“No, I can’t, Ray… He doesn’t deserve that.”
“Look at his fucking spawn.” Ray slaps Hector across the face. “Don’t you want to make sure this asshole can’t produce any more shitty little brats who can beat you into a pulp every day? You can end it right the fuck now.”
“But… But…” My own eyes fill with tears.
He pouts his lips in mock sympathy. “Aww, are you a fucking pussy, is that it?” He leers at me. “Don’t you want to get with my sister? Get your dick deep inside her?”
Fine. Fucking fine.
I’m no pussy.
And I want Regina Sinclair more than I could ever say.
Without overthinking it, I grab Dimpsey’s pajama bottoms by the waist and bring them around his knees, exposing a smallish dick nestled in a forest of pubes.
I heat the poker back up and slowly bring it down over his crotch.
Ray’s laughter echoes in my ears as the poker glows red hot.
No going back from this. No going fucking back.
Dimpsey howls as I force the poker down, bringing a permanent end to his line.
* * *
A month later…
I never slept with Regina Sinclair.
After that night, after what we did… I went straight home, screamed and sobbed into a pillow for an hour.
Hector Dimpsey—neither one of them—didn’t deserve that.
Ray was relentless. I felt like I didn’t have a choice.
But deep down I did. And I chose to hurt two people. One physically, one emotionally.
Both permanently.
I knew my time with the Sinclair family would have to come to an end. Ray, Regina, the whole lot of them. They were all insane.
I saw Hector in school the next day. He acted like nothing had happened.
He left me alone. That part was nice.
But at what cost?
Hector Dimpsey, Senior never pressed charges. He would have to admit that two teenage boys castrated him. He was too embarrassed to say anything.
And his son was never the same. He always had this haunted look in his face. Became much quieter, guarded. We broke him that day, and not even his Kingsmen could put him back together.
I didn’t go back to The Club. I avoided eye contact with Ray whenever we’d pass each other in the halls at school. Same with Max and Corey.
I’m not the kind of person they thought I was.
At least… Harrison isn’t.
They called me Harry. Brother Harry.
Everyone used to call me that, but most people started calling me Harrison in middle school. It sounded a little more mature. I liked it.
Ray was the only one who called me Harry.
Harry was the one who did those horrible things to Hector Dimpsey’s father that night. Harry was the one who wanted to sleep with his friend’s sister. Harry was the one who didn’t have the balls to say no when pressured to inflict enduring damage to a man who had never done anything wrong to him.
Harry’s favorite color was green. He wore it every day to school. He saw his favorite color in the neon highlights in Ray Sinclair’s hair and liked it.
No more.
I’m shedding that moniker—and my former favorite color—forever.
I’ll never lose myself like that again.
From now on, I’ll devote my life to healing people, not hurting them.
* * *
“Harrison, did you hear me?” Bianca’s sweet voice breaks through my thoughts.
I blink a few times. “Yes. Sorry. What did you just say?”
She smiles. “We have to go back to the club.”
I nod. “Right. Yes. Agreed. But…how am I supposed to get in? There’s no way Chet will let me through tonight.”
She lays a hand on my arm. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“We’ll dress you up as a server.”
I cock my head. “We’ll what?”
Bianca holds up a hand. “Trust me. You’ll be invisible.
Rouge pays them absolutely no mind unless they’re breaking the rules or making her look bad.
We’ll style your hair a little differently, maybe put some makeup on you.
That way, as long as you keep your head down—which is what’s expected of the servers anyway, to show subservience—she won’t notice you. ”
“But how will I even get in the club in the first place?”
“The waitstaff entrance, of course.”
“Won’t the other servers know that something’s up?”
She shrugs. “There’s staff turnover all the time at Aces. They’ll think you’re someone new.”
“But—”
Bianca places a finger over my lips. “Trust me. I’ve worked at Aces for years. I know how things work. With a little luck, we’ll get away with this.”
I sigh. “It’s better than not doing anything, I guess.”
“And tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. Aces will be open.”
I furrow my brow. “I thought they were only open on weekends. St. Patrick’s Day is on a Tuesday.”
“Rouge makes exceptions for special holidays, especially those where drinking is a big part of the celebrations. We’re always open on St. Paddy’s, even if it falls on a weekday.
And the place will be crazy busy, which will give you a chance to snoop around, see if you can’t find that writing raven. ”
I sigh. “All right. You win. We’ll do it. But there’s one thing you should know about St. Patrick’s Day…”
She cocks her head. “What?”
“It’s… It’s kind of my birthday.”
She drops her jaw. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head. “It’s not a big deal. You’ve only known me a few days. It’s not like you’re supposed to know everything about me yet.”
“Of course. But still…” She swallows. “I hate to ask this of you on your birthday of all days, but I’m afraid the longer we wait to make a move on Rouge, the more people will disappear.
End up like Alissa or Maddox, half-starved in some makeshift prison.
” Her face darkens. “Or worse, fully starved. Or…” Her face twists.
Beheaded. I can hear the word as she’s thinking it.
I rub at my forehead. “I totally get it. I don’t make a big deal of my birthday anyway. I just…” I grab her hands. “I wanted you to know.”
“I’m glad to know.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“November ninth.”
“A fall baby.”
“And a spring baby.” She squeezes my hand. “No wonder you got so…so…” Her blush darkens.
“So what, babe?”
“So…animalistic. The last time we… You know. I kept thinking about how men tend to get more hot and bothered when the weather starts warming up every year. You especially.”
I pull her into an embrace. “Babe, for you I can be warm any time of year. And seriously, don’t worry about the birthday thing.
I’d rather spend it with you.” We look into each other’s eyes for a minute before I tear myself away.
“Besides, we’re helping Maddox. And Alissa.
Finishing their mission. And we could be saving countless lives in the process. ”
“Agreed.” She glances toward my left shoulder. “Unrelated, but do you happen to have a fireplace in your home?”
“A fireplace? I do, but why?”
She bites her lip. “Because… We’re going to have to brand you.”
I widen my eyes. “What?”
“The servers. They have a brand on each shoulder. The left is their suit, the right their number.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought they were tattoos.”
“Some of them are, especially the servers in Diamonds and Hearts. But the black sections, Spades and Clubs, those are usually branded on. Saves time. And we don’t have time to stop at a tattoo parlor, anyway. So the brand will have to do.”
I swallow. “Do you have access to these brands?”
“I do. Rouge has been keeping them in my dressing room, so I have easy access. You’ll have to choose, Spades or Clubs?”
I mull it over. I’ve almost exclusively sat in the Spades section whenever I’ve come with Maddox to Aces Underground. But I wasn’t sitting there the last time I came. I was in Clubs, enjoying a cigar, when I first heard Bianca sing.
And from that moment, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
“Clubs.”
She nods. “Perfect. And what number? I should have all of them in my dressing room, so you can have your pick. It’ll be a permanent brand on you, so pick one you want on your shoulder forever.”
And for some reason, this isn’t a difficult decision at all.
I’ll choose the card that trumps all the royals. The Jacks, the Kings.
Even the Queen herself, as much as she wouldn’t want to admit it.
I grin. “I choose the Ace. The Ace of Clubs.”