Chapter 24—
Mace
W hen the fuck did I draw the knife?
I weave in and out of traffic, my heart racing. It’s not the first time I’ve done something I can’t recall—not the first time my hands have acted on their own. If my mind blocked out that part, what else is missing?
I walk my memory through the whole thing again, from cracking open the electrical box outside to finding the one for her apartment to cutting the wires… The knife was in my hand for all that, but I put it back in my pocket before picking the locks.
I know I did.
Then I saw Emily, creeping out of the shower, wearing no more than a towel, and then nothing at all. I felt my hand clench into a fist.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!
I DIDN’T FEEL THE KNIFE!!!
My fingers squeeze the throttle, and I feed the machine more gas. I still remember the first blackout I had. Or at least what happened before and after the episode .
We never told our father the extent of Ely’s games . He didn’t care what we had to do to clear him as long as it kept him out of trouble with the man.
Ash and I dealt with it on our own. As always. Mostly by staying away.
We hardly spent any time at home anymore in fear of them catching us there when our father’s bills came due again.
His luck actually turned around for a while.
But we knew it wouldn’t last forever, and 6 months later, they broke down our door and dragged us out.
I rub a hand over my temple. My head throbs. Jonathan’s fist hit me so hard I collapsed and saw stars before he grabbed me.
I heard Ash yelling for me to run from the hallway, but I couldn’t leave him.
I turn my head toward Ash, sitting next to me on the couch, as Jonathan pours him another shot.
But either he can’t hold his liquor as well as I can, or they drugged him because not five seconds after downing it, his body goes limp beside me.
I watch the glass drop.
Ely lets out a little laugh from across the room, and my eyes drift to him apprehensively, my neck too stiff to move.
He gives a nod to Thomas who grabs me by the arm and pulls me to a stand. I feel light headed at the rush of movement, but I catch Ely turning and opening a door before stepping inside. I stumble after him as his guy half-drags me into the next room .
My eyes snap to the bed and I panic. Everything starts spinning when Thomas shoves me toward it. My feet trip. My knees go soft. I fall.
I collapse onto my hands, but whip around in time to see the door slamming shut…
…leaving me alone with Ely.
His black eyes focus on me in a cold, menacing grin, and all blood drains from my face with a tingling sensation.
I scurry back on the mattress, my fists clenching the rough comforter underneath me. Shallow breaths shoot in and out of my lungs. My heart is racing.
“You liked it, didn’t you?” Ely starts, his voice like a scrape down my back. “I bet you’re going to think about how it felt every time you wrap your hand around your dick to rub one out.”
I can’t open my mouth to respond. I’m too scared. I’m petrified.
Ely turns and paces a step. My chest heaves as I watch his tall, dark shape move through my blurry vision.
“See, Mason”—he tips his head over his shoulder, looking at me—“pretty little boys like you and your brother could make me a lot of money. If you just… behaved .”
“Behaved?” My eyes narrow. He means complied .
“You know, play nice . No fighting.”
No resisting.
“Trouble is,” he prompts, holding up his forefinger. “I don’t think Ash has it in him to submit to anyone. He doesn’t cave. He’ll be a problem.”
Ely stops pacing right in front of me at the side of the bed, his shins touching the edge.
“But you…” he lets his words drift, setting one knee down, then the other. “You know how to play along, don’t you, Mason? ”
Bile rises in my throat like acid. The mattress pivots. His hands grab my legs.
Flipping me onto my chest, he leans over me, his sickening voice right by my ear as he grates out, “Because what’s to keep me from holding a gun to his head again?”
My body goes still. I don’t struggle when his hands fumble with my jeans and shove them down. I don’t listen to the clanking of his belt and the sound of him spitting into his hand. I don’t even feel his hands or the weight of his body on me.
“So tell me,” he draws out. “Are you teachable, Mason?”
I don’t know what happens after that, I don’t pass out, but my mind shuts down to block out the memory. I can’t remember anything. The next thing I know is Ely walking me out of the bedroom to find Ash still passed out on the couch .
—
“Fuck!” I groan, rubbing my hands over my face. I know from the moment I wake up to the sound of rain that I’m going to have a shit day.
And it’s not just a little drizzle. A downpour pelts the windows at a sideways angle under the wind, which means I can’t ride my bike.
I pound on Ash’s door, knowing that unlike mine, his alarm won’t go off for another 10 minutes; I like to get to the shop early. “Get up, bitch. It’s raining. You got five minutes, or I’m leaving without you,” I bellow.
A grin dances around my lips hearing him swear through the door. He’s going to have to miss out on his morning shower. Lucky for me, I prefer to shower at night. And I’m considering skipping a shave just to light a fire under his ass.
He knows I mean it. I’ve done it before, and I already have the engine running when, four minutes and some odd seconds later, he dives into the front passenger seat of the Impala to escape the downpour.
Despite me being as wet as he, I’m brimming with glee as I pull out.
The car is usually parked at the curb. I want the garage space for the bikes. Could I have backed up into the driveway to save him the trip through the rain? Sure. But if I had to make it, so does my brother. He could count that as a shower.
We make it to the shop before Isaac. I get a pot of coffee going first, then pick up where I left off last. I assume Ash does the same. We don’t need much directing.
By lunchtime, the rain has let up a little. I hand him the keys so he can go out to get us food while I keep painting through our break. I’m working on a personal project, and I’m not really hungry anyway. My stomach is still in knots about last night.
Keeping my hands steady, I focus on my line work with the fine brush. I’m always meticulous, but this one is special. I’m personalizing Em’s helmet.
I don’t get to finish the little details in my free time before I have to go back to what I get paid for, so I decide to take it home to put the final touches on with my setup in the garage .
When we close up shop, Ash drives while I finish what’s left of my lunch. I’ve had a few bites in between paint jobs to tide me over.
Music is playing from the car stereo, but we don’t need to talk for me to know what’s on both our minds.
“It turned out really sick,” he says, nodding toward the backseat at the helmet. “She’s gonna lose her mind over it.”
We’re both equally good mechanics, but I’ve always had more artistic skill than him. I prefer to paint.
“It’s not finished,” I reply. “I don’t even know her favorite colors.”
I went with a dark purple and gold theme over matte black, because I think it suits her. Regal, feminine, but also badass.
“Still.” He throws me a sideways glance. “It’s kinda personal, no?”
That’s the point. “Jealous because all you can offer her are finger paintings?”
“Hey, no girl ever complained about me practicing my body painting skills on them,” he counters, wiggling his digits in the air between us.
I laugh, because I bet it’s true. And because it’s for exactly this quirky side that I needed him to get me close to Emily.
It reminds me that I’m the creep. A voyeur.
Because all I want to do is go home to get my bike, so I can sit across the street from the diner and watch her through the window while she works, fantasizing about the things I want to do to her on those tables.
I don’t even care that it’s still raining.
I’ll imagine pushing her jeans down her thighs…
her body be nding for me… her needy, wet pussy welcoming my throbbing—
“Is she going to come over after her shift?” Ash’s voice slices through my daydreaming.
My jaw clenches as I stare through the space the wipers cleared of raindrops on the windshield. If she does, I’ll have to share her with him.
“I don’t know,” I say, becoming aware of the crumbled wrapper in my fist.
Putting my elbow up on the window, I brace my head on my knuckles and scoot lower in my seat.
We stay quiet for the rest of the drive.
When we get to the house, Ash marches inside while I plug in my earbuds and set up my workspace, so I can add the missing highlights.
After the final clear coat, I let it sit to dry and check the time on my phone. Emily is just starting her shift.
Luckily, the rain has stopped completely, and I don’t need to change into waterproof gear before heading her way.
My head snaps up from the screen when Ash walks out.
I cut the music. “Where the fuck are you going?”
“I thought I’d stop off at the diner, grab some dinner, and maybe flirt with the cute waitress there.”
My shoulders square on reflex, fists balled down at my sides, the right one clenched around my phone. “The fuck you are.”
“Why not?”
“Dammit, Ash.” I take a threatening step toward him, my right hand coming up between us. “Stay the fuck away from my girl.” I can’t figure out why he hasn’t lost interest in her yet. He should be looking for new pussy to screw by now.
“ Your girl?” He tips his head back on a laugh. “You keep calling her that, but she made it clear she’s not your anything. Especially when she’s screaming out my name. ‘ Oh, Ash… don’t stop’ ,” he taunts in a feminine lilt, turning to his bike.
My eyes flick to the phone in my hand. Has he been texting her?
I have her number too, but only through him. She never volunteered it.
A growl ripples up my throat. “I’m warning you.”
He gives me another cold laugh. “Make me,” he counters, slipping on his gloves. “Or better yet. Let’s race for it. Winner gets to eat out.” He reaches for his helmet, not waiting for whether I’ll take the bait or not.
With my feet momentarily rooted to the ground, I watch him put his helmet on, then jump into motion grabbing my own.
He turns his back and swings his leg over his bike as I match him, fastening the straps on my gloves. But when we start the engines my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I pull it out to check the screen and see it’s a message from Christopher—I have a job.
“Fuck!”