With that, I can’t help myself, I pull a Jake move. I burst out laughing. This man is seriously delusional right now. I would never risk Presley’s life to save my own.
“No chance in hell, asshole”
“She is mine!”
The sound of his voice ignites my inner beast. I grab a hold of his shirt, preparing to drag him to the trunk of my car and deliver him to Matt.
Just as I raise my fist to slam into his midsection, the back door flies open and a murderous Drake comes running down the stairs. Carter pushes me on my chest, unexpectedly knocking me off balance and then reaches for his back.
Gun! I shout in my head. I move to grab the gun when a figure dives from nowhere. It leaps in front of Drake just as a loud pop explodes through the air. My ear drums ring from the deafening noise, but I don’t process it.
Bodies fall, and screams rip through the air. Carter runs into the night and I follow. I begin to chase him, but before I pass, I see Drake on the ground. He’s cradling Presley. Is that who moved in front of Drake? Carter just shot Presley!
The beast rips out of my body as I see my brother holding his love. I think of Cami and how torturous it would be to have her shot in front of me without anything I could do about it.
As I run past the carnage and down into the darkness of my street, an explosion of rage, fury, revulsion, and wrath rips from my throat in a guttural scream. I begin running down the driveway, fueling every movement with pure, unadulterated hate.
I picture Presley lying on the concrete and force my feet to move faster. I can hear Carter running in front of me, but he’s wearing all back. His body is nearly impossible to spot in the dark, yet I keep my feet moving forward. As quickly as I can, I follow where I think I am hearing the noise of plodding footsteps. However, I have no fucking clue if I’m going in the right direction.
When the sirens blare down the street, my feet come to a screeching halt. I need to be with my family right now. All of this is my fault. If I would have found Carter sooner, he would have never shown up at the house.
I pull out my phone and dial Ronnie’s number. The angry, monstrous side of me is all consuming. I can’t turn it off. I am on the verge of erupting into a raging ocean of fury and whoever is in my path will be my victim. The sight of Carter’s golden eyes and the smirk spread across his face keeps me in my heinous state. I don’t allow my mind to think of anything else except killing him. Nothing will stop me now. He’s dead.
The phone rings once when Ronnie’s voice comes on the other end. “Hello?”
My breaths are deep, strangling the words growing in my throat. “He fucking shot her.”
“Jeremy, who? What’s going on?” I can hear Ronnie scrambling in the background. He recognizes I’m my living, breathing alter ego, and Ronnie of all people knows how destructive that can be.
“Carter! He shot Presley, you dumb shit! He fucking shot her!” I scream into the phone. I am no longer able to control the emotion in my voice. I am seething and the only thought on my mind is death. I want Carter’s heart in my hand. I want to squeeze the life from his body and smile while watching him take his last breaths.
“Whoa, okay. Just tell me what happened.”
“Later. Get ready. Once I’m done here, we are going on a manhunt. That fucker doesn’t have a chance in hell. And when I get my hands on him…” I start to walk back up the street, knowing I need to check on my family. “Once Carter is dead. That’s it. I’m out.”
“Jeremy, I know you’re pissed right now, but you can’t just bail. They won’t let you bail on them, okay?”
“This is my family, Ronnie. This life has now involved them, and I won’t watch another one get hurt because of me. My family is all I have. I. Am. Out!” I hang up the phone and start running up the street again.
The closer I get to the driveway, the larger the beast is building inside of me. The rage, hate, and pure evil he feeds on is all consuming, and I cannot shake him. I don’t want to shake him. I want to embrace the beast so I’m in the right frame of mind when I kill Carter. He hasn’t left and I won’t allow him to.
I stalk my way up the drive, meeting my brother. Nothing around me is making any sense. This is not how my plan was supposed to play out. I was six months from having the fortune I needed to get all of us out of here, and now, all of that is gone. Presley will need to be cared for, probably in the hospital for a couple of months and rehab. Then, there are her demons she inevitably will be fighting. This poor girl has just gone through another tragedy. How will she survive this one?
I’m looking around and speaking, but I have no idea what I’m saying or seeing. The crimson rage has blinded my sight, leaving me wandering furiously within my own pits of Hell.
Then, like a knife to the gut, a sound of unimaginable proportions rips through the air like a tidal wave. I snap out of my rage just enough to realize the sound is coming from Drake and the woman he’s been fighting for all this time is dead. Presley’s dead.
I must have fallen asleep while studying in the kitchen because I’m awoken by the sound of a pop. Fireworks probably. Why would someone be lighting fireworks when the Fourth of July isn’t for another couple of months, though?
I move to the window to close it in order to silence the outside noise when I hear a scream—a loud, deep scream. It’s a scream of anger, ripping through the air. The sound startles me, however I’m attracted to it. I want to know where the noise is coming from.
I walk from my kitchen and down the back steps of the house then move out into my driveway without seeing anything until a black figure moves from the shadows. I’m instantly scared. I know who that figure is and what he’s capable of.
I turn to run into the house, knowing he is right behind me. I can feel his presence within inches of me until Carter closes the gap between our bodies and yanks me back by my shirt. I stumble backward onto the ground, landing hard on my back. Pain shoots up my spine, momentarily stunning me. He’s been hunted for the last eight months, maybe even more, and he’s come out from hiding now, but for what?
Then, like a flash of lightning, Carter whips his body onto mine. I’m kicking and squirming as much as possible, but he traps my legs with his weight. I cannot move the lower half of my body. I’m scared beyond belief—terrified. I open my mouth to scream, yet the sound barely comes out when a hard slap connects with my cheek then his hand fastens over my mouth.
I’m pushing with my hands, still fighting, still moving when the snap of his knife blade sounds. I freeze instantly as the sharp, painful prick presses into my throat. He is a sadistic menace, and now I will be Carter’s next victim, but why?
The sound of sirens floods the neighborhood and I’m briefly thankful help is so close, but will it be for nothing? Is he going to jab the blade of his knife into my neck? Why? Why would Carter be here and doing this to me? Unless killing me is Carter’s way of punishing Uncle Matt. Carter must know I’m his only family left. He must want to wipe Matt’s bloodline from this earth forever, and to do that, he must kill me.
I begin to tremble under this expert killing machine. He will not hesitate and Carter knows a million ways to kill a person with one swift movement of his blade. While the tears are bubbling in my eyes, inhibiting me from seeing clearly, I can feel the rumble of his sinister laugh against my stomach. I know this is it. He’s laughing because he has the upper hand, the control, and my demise is his pleasure.
I shift myself out of my body and concentrate on better times. I search my brain, trying like hell to find that happy place. Several visions come to mind. When I was a child, my brother and I loved to swing. We would spend hours on our rickety, old play set, swinging from dawn until dusk. The feeling of the breeze against my cheeks and Ricardo’s giggles filled me with joy.
Then my mind shifts to another memory. I would sit and laugh hysterically while my mother tried to teach my father salsa dancing. He was awful at it, but because he loved my mother so much, he’d do anything she wanted.
As he tripped over his feet or stepped on my mother’s, they’d both laugh and hold each other.
And finally, I think of Jeremy. I squeeze my eyes tighter and picture his full lips as they rise in a shy, half smile. It’s innocent and a face he doesn’t don often, yet I feel I get a sneak peek into a side of Jeremy no one really ever sees. I think about his brown eyes and how they would gleam whenever he’d look at me. I think about the feeling of his body connected to mine, his lips caressing my own, his magnificent body pressed against me, and the pleasure he’d given me.
Mostly, I think about his pain, inside and out. He is trapped between a world of good versus evil, right versus wrong, and I want to help him. I’ve always wanted to help him, and until I saw him at the cemetery, I never knew how much.
Finally, I raise my head to the sky and open my eyes, asking God for help. In the final moments of my life, I connect back with my faith and whisper a prayer. Not to save myself, but to save Jeremy. I plead with God one last time to watch over Jeremy and help guide him on his path through healing.
“Tell your uncle I won’t hesitate to eliminate everything he loves. And as for your precious Jeremy… I will destroy everything he loves if I don’t get Presley. And all of this will start with you.” Carter’s breath is close to my mouth and he presses it against mine. I try to turn my head, but the sharp, jagged pieces of skin on his lips stab into me. I’m revolted while I fight as best as I can. Then another slap connects with my face and a fiery heat erupts from my side.
I can feel the horror of what has happened when I see my blood covering the steel of his knife. Carter stabbed me in the side and the pain is intense. It burns. “Next time, I’ll take a little souvenir.” With that, he climbs off my body and disappears into the dark.
I roll to the side and grab the knife wound. I’m hoping it’s not too deep and I can make it in the house to call someone to help.
As best as I can, I lift myself to my knees and take a second to catch my breath. I am putting as much pressure as I can muster on my side. The blood covers my hands and scares me. The pain is burning and debilitating, but I keep my body upright just enough.
Using the side of the house, I lean my weight against the wood and slowly ease my way to my feet. My breath is stolen from me as a bout of excruciating pain sears from my side, and I start to cry. The pain is too much; I just want to fall down and give up.
I clasp the crucifix fastened around my neck and pinch the metal between my fingers then begin to recite the Lord’s Prayer, finding comfort in the words and the feeling my faith gives me. I whisper the words over and over until the sound of my cell phone awakens my ear drums.
With the last of my energy, I start to move. Clumsily, I stumble the rest of the way inside, fighting with my body to not pass out or die, and when I hear his voice, comfort instantly consumes me and I can finally breathe.
“Camilla?” Uncle Matt asks, but all I can do is breathe. “Camilla? Camilla! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I clear my throat just enough to say, “C-C-Carter… he… he was here.” It’s all I can say before my sight wavers. The grip on reality fades to shades of gray and quickly evaporates.
I’ve been locked in the garage for hours—stalking, stewing and trying to contain myself just enough to go unnoticed. The police have been talking to my family members and are officially on the hunt for Carter Brown. This entire situation has gone from bad to worse in the matter of hours.
The muscles wrapped around my bones are as hard as steel, tense and stressed from all the fucked-up shit happening in the last several months. However, tonight was the worst of them yet. I can’t shake the beast; he’s not going anywhere, and I need to beat something. I need to destroy something, anything, so I can shake this feeling inside me.
I look over to the punching bag suspended from the ceiling in the garage then find the gloves sitting on the workbench. Drake and Reggie are typically the only ones who workout consistently on the bag, but tonight is my turn.
I slide the fingerless fighting gloves over my hands, the leather cool against my angry flesh, and then I walk to the bag and glare at it. I don’t bother with music. I want to hear the thoughts in my head. I want to see, hear, and smell Carter as I beat the fuck out of the heavy bag.
I glare at the bag, turning the leather into his ugly, disease-infested face. Then, I land my first punch. Slow and steady, I walk around the bag, landing punches into the hard leather. Once the first bead of sweat trickles down my face, I can no longer control the delivery of my blows. I hit the bag hard and fast, putting all the hate and stress of the last few years of my life into hitting this fucking thing.
I think about Carter, Presley, the Rykers, Cami, Drake, Reggie, Jake, and Ronnie. I think about how I owe each one of those people something, but the only one I have the mindset or the energy for is Carter. I set my stance, making it ready for his destruction and I pick up the intensity. I swing harder and faster, landing each of my punches with precise accuracy. One shot after another, it’s Carter I see while the ones I love are on my mind.
It’s all up to me now. I need to destroy him, and maybe once I do that, my debt will be paid off to a few of the other people. It all starts with him, and I will do what it takes to make sure I fulfill that debt.
Time after time again, I hit the bag until my arms start to ache and my breath is escaping my body. I then move to the small fridge, grab a bottle of water, and crack it open. The cold water hydrates me and I can feel my energy has been replenished. I grab another bottle from the fridge, slowly drinking it when my phone rings in my pocket.
It’s Ronnie’s number. I debate on whether or not to answer it, but he’s probably freaking out from when we spoke last. I slide my finger across the screen and answer, “Yeah?”
All I here in the background is shouting and lots of commotion. My head is in another place, so I don’t feel like being Matt’s flunkie tonight, especially since my family is grieving. Presley is dead and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect her.
Then, I hear a girl’s faint whimper in the background; it’s just loud enough for my ears to recognize the sound. The night I first met Cami, she was making the same sound. My gut sinks once again and the adrenaline soars to unimaginable heights.
“Jeremy! He attacked Matt’s niece. Carter fucking attacked her. You need to get here now!” As Ronnie is screaming into the phone, I am in my car before he speaks the last word.
“Fuck!” The beast instantly awakens once more. This fucker is a goner. I will make sure he feels it this time. I will rip him apart piece by piece until he’s nothing except a stump. I will gut him open and laugh as I watch his insides spill out of his body.
I roar the Challenger to life and speed down the driveway. Then I rip down the street and drive by Cami’s house. I slam my foot on the accelerator again and speed down the road. I whip through stop signs, breaking a million different traffic laws, until I make it to Matt’s house. I pull the Challenger in the driveway and fly up the straightaway until I’m in the back of the garage. Turning sharply to the left, the car eases into a space, and I’m instantly out and running.
The house seems empty when I fly through the back door, however I can hear all the muffled commotion upstairs. My feet run, taking the steps two at a time, until I get to Matt’s office door. Tank opens it just as I touch the knob. Then, I spot her.
Cami is whimpering on the couch, wearing her bra and a pair of yoga pants. Dried blood covers her caramel colored skin and a bandage is taped to her side. Her face is bruised and she looks like she got into one hell of a fight.
I don’t think. I don’t remember my place or where I’m at or anything. I only know I need to get to Cami. I need to hold her and hear with my own ears she is safe.
I run across the room and fall down beside her then lean down and scoop her up in my arms, pressing her body into mine. “Shhhhh… baby. Shhhhh. I’m here. You’re okay,” I whisper into her ear as she sobs. She wraps
her arms around my body and cries deeply into my shoulder, and with every tear she sheds, I find my raging anger harder to control. She needed my protection and I let her down, too.
When Cami calms down enough to pull her head back, she looks into my eyes and down into my soul. I lay her back down on the couch, my hands holding her cheeks as my thumbs brush away tears.
“I prayed for… for you…”
I lean down and kiss her lips, stopping her from speaking. “I’m so sorry, Cami. I should have been there. Fuck, I shouldn’t have been anywhere else except with you.” As I lean down and kiss her again, she whimpers into my mouth and pulls my body even closer to hers. I am kissing her, verifying with my mouth that Cami is alive and she’s okay. She is all I have other than my family, and right now, I really need someone.
We are momentarily lost in each other when the sound of people clearing their throats brings me back to reality. I am kissing Cami in front of her uncle—my boss and the CEO of the Sulfur Heights’ underworld. I. Am. Dead.
The next thing I know, I am being ripped off Cami by my neck. I spin myself around and fall to my knees quickly and ram my fist into Victor’s groin. As he falls to the ground, I snap my eyes to Tank as he approaches while I poise my body. Then we collide.
Tank’s shoulder goes down, slamming into my midsection. He pushes me back and rams me into the wall, sheetrock crumbling at our feet from my contact. He pulls me out of the hole and slams me back into it again. My head is stinging and my back is jolted. However, I play defensive and unleash my inner villain. The beast comes alive as I begin punching Tank. He keeps his grip around my midsection as I land blows the best I can into the side of his head, kidney, and gut.
Redeemed Love Page 11
