CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It’s a nice day for a wedding.
The thought crossed my mind as I slipped a cigarette between my lips, filling my lungs with smoke before sending it out swirling toward the parking lot.
My heart ached at the realization that, in just a few hours, Analise would be walking down the aisle toward another man—against her will or not—and I wished I had someone to talk to. Someone who could talk back. For maybe the first time in my life, I needed advice. I needed help.
“I miss you,” I sent out into the universe, hoping the message would reach my old friend, wherever he was. Hoping he’d want to hear from me, no matter how damned my soul was at this point.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. At first, I thought it was the burner, but I quickly remembered that, no, this time, he was going to message my personal phone, and I pulled it out in time for Ike to step onto the porch with a cup of coffee in his hand.
Sure enough, it was Dean.
"Who's that?" Ike asked, glancing over as he sipped from his mug.
"Spam," I muttered, my eyes fixated on the address printed on my screen.
I copied and pasted it into the browser on my phone, finding it was for Crocker Park, a little scenic spot along the harbor coastline in Marblehead.
Then another text came through, containing a single word: gazebo.
"Spam again?"
I looked at my younger brother, who was watching me from over the brim of his mug. Suspicion was set heavily in his accusing glare … or maybe I was just paranoid, seeing only what I wanted to see.
"Yeah," I replied, tucking the phone back into my pocket before taking a drag.
He nodded, then said, "Got a date tonight with this chick I met last weekend. Gonna meet her at the bar right over here." He gestured with his mug down the street. "Probably gonna bring her back later, so … you know … if you hear shit goin' down, plug your ears."
"Noted," I muttered.
"And, hey, if you want, I can ask if she's got a friend who might be interested in your creepy ass."
I shook my head. "I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”
"Yeah? So, when was the last time you got laid?"
I huffed a chuckle, the memory of Virginia handcuffing me to the bed just the night before springing to mind. I willed my gag reflex to steady as I muttered, "I don't know. It’s been a while."
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, taking another sip of coffee. "Is there a reason, or you just figure, Ah, I'm pushin' forty, so I might as well go celibate?"
"I don’t want that casual shit," I replied, casting my gaze toward the parking lot. “You know that.”
"Fuck, bro, don’t knock it before you try it," he said. "Man, why the hell would you want to settle for the same pussy every night when you could sample a little bit of this, a little bit of that, whenever you wanted?"
"I didn't say I wanted to settle for anything." I shrugged, filling my lungs with smoke. Then, with my chest tight, I added, "I'm just not into the idea of contracting every venereal disease under the sun either."
"Venereal disease," Ike mocked with a snort. "You wanna give me a lecture about using protection too?” He wagged his finger as he said in a womanly, high-pitched voice, “Don’t forget to wrap it up, Isaac.”
He laughed, the sound teetering toward hysteria.
I loved my brother. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.
But I also cared for him enough to admit there was something not right about him.
A few screws loose, if you would, and I thought about what Brody Mathers had said about me being a psychopath.
It could’ve been true. For all I knew, it was.
But if I were a psychopath, then I didn’t know what that would make Ike.
Something worse—I knew that much—but what was worse than a psychopath?
"I'm careful," he said, smacking the back of his hand against my arm.
"You don't gotta worry about me, big brother.
But I'm worried about you and your dusty dick over here.
The fuck is goin' on with you? Starin' off into space, not wanting to do shit anymore.
You're freakin' us both out, honestly, me and Shawn.
He won't talk to you about it, afraid he's gonna hurt your feelings or some shit.
But I'm not scared of talkin' to you, so what the fuck, Bram? "
His grilling was making me tense, and as I released the smoke from my chest, I shook my head.
"Nothing's going on with me," I replied, agitated.
My phone buzzed from my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Dean again.
9 a.m. DO NOT BE LATE.
I glanced at the time. It was eight thirty.
I have to go.
"More spam?" Ike wore a condescending look on his face now, skepticism written plainly in his eyes.
"Yeah," I replied, stamping the cigarette out in the empty planter I used as an ashtray. "I have to run to the store. You need anything?"
"Always runnin' out to the store, always goin' somewhere," he muttered, shaking his head. "One day, I'm gonna follow your ass and figure out where the fuck you've been going."
I stared at him for a moment as he curved his lips into a taunting smirk.
"Don't like that, do ya?"
"I didn't say anything," I replied, forcing a nonchalant shrug as my heart edged closer toward panic.
Stay the fuck away from me, Ike, I wanted to say. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay far, far, far away.
"If you're not gonna tell us what the fuck is goin' on, then I'm gonna find out," he threatened with his own shrug, just as nonchalant.
“Don’t,” I said simply.
But he shook his head. "We're worried, all right? We've been worried for a long fuckin' time, and now I'm getting sick of being worried. So, those are your choices. You tell me, or I find out."
"How about you respect my privacy?" I fired at him. "I'm thirty-five years old, Isaac, and I sure as hell don't need to answer to anyone. Not you, not Shawn."
"Uh, when we run a fuckin' business together, yes, you fuckin' do."
Oh, the things I wanted to say to him.
This business wouldn't be operating if it wasn’t for me and the services I provided for Gerald and his deviant wife.
For the two of them, I was a murderer and a prostitute.
I brought in clients whenever one of Gerald’s guys got themselves killed.
And I was paid handsomely for all of it …
but of course, neither Shawn nor Ike knew about any of it.
All of the secrets I kept hidden beneath both of their noses.
It was impossible for my soul to get any heavier.
"I'm going to the store," I said in a gruff, hardened voice. "I won't be long."
"Sure, Bram," Ike replied, betrayal and disgust in his eyes as the smirk fell from his lips. He raised the mug to me in cheers. "See ya later."
Then I hurried down the porch steps to the hearse and climbed inside. I started the car and pulled out of my usual spot, steering out of the parking lot and onto the street. And not once did I look back to meet my brother's eyes, watching as I left.
***
It was risky and borderline insane to stand in the middle of this gazebo in broad daylight, wearing a plague doctor mask. Pedestrians passed, they glanced, and their looks of scrutiny or fear bristled against my skin.
I don't feel comfortable here, I texted Dean, but got no reply.
It was eight fifty-five a.m.
"Fuck," I muttered, sighing heavily and turning away from the sidewalk, where the brunt of the foot traffic came from.
I looked out toward the water, shimmering beneath the rays of morning light. There were only a few boats out today, but I expected more would get out soon. It truly was a beautiful day, if sunshine and warmth were your preferred choice of weather.
The perfect day to get married.
I hung my head at the thought.
She'd be getting ready now, putting on her dress for a marriage she didn't want or deserve.
It was primitive and abhorrent for a woman today to be forced to marry a man she didn't want or love.
A man who forced himself upon her in ways that should've sent him to prison.
It left me filled with guilt and despair, knowing I should do something about it, knowing I should save her, knowing I could.
But how the hell was I supposed to do that without blowing everything else apart?
Of course, I could leave an anonymous tip with the cops and turn Benjamin in … but it wasn't the police I was afraid of.
Gerald knows I'm trapped. Gerald knows I can't do shit about any of this.
That's why he showed me those pictures. To torment me, to leave me even more cornered. He’s using her against me. Finding every weakness I have to make my life even more of a living hell.
It was more than just control.
It was something else … but why?
Does Virginia know about this too?
"Doctor.”
Her voice rang pure above the sounds of the shoreline, and my head hung lower as I closed my eyes, breathing in the sea air.
“You came,” she added, and I heard her footsteps against the gazebo floorboards.
"Fucking hell, Princess," I muttered, shaking my head. "You know you shouldn’t be here."
"I needed to see you," she argued.
"You are going to get us both into such deep shit—do you understand that?"
"They don't know I'm here," she assured me, walking closer beneath the cover of the gazebo until I could feel the heat from her skin radiating through the layers of my suit.
"Yes, they fucking do," I argued, a hint of desperation in my tone. "They always do."
"No, it's okay. They think I'm getting a last-minute alteration done. We have at least twenty minutes before anyone knows I'm gone, and I'll leave here before then. I just had to see you."
I rolled my eyes. "Dammit, Analise. Are you—"
Then I turned to look at her, to argue further, but the words were stolen from my tongue as I took in the sight of her in a pristine white gown fit for the highest of royalty.
Her dark hair was swept off her neck and tied back into some complicated-looking nest of curls at the top of her head, and that nest was encircled with a diamond tiara, holding the veil that cascaded down her neck and back.