HATE: MADISON KATE #1

by James Tate

  Not waiting for her reply, I yanked the door open and slid into the safety of her car. Thank god it was raining and her roof was up.

  She opened her door, tossing the umbrella into the back seat before getting in and slamming the door shut.

  "Well shit," she commented, turning the car on and not even subtly looking over her shoulder to where they'd been standing. "I didn't know Kody had a girlfriend."

  I drummed my fingertips on the armrest, doing my absolute best to ignore the sour emotions swirling within me. "Me neither."

  For small mercies, I hadn't told Bree that he'd kissed me last night. If I had, then I'd really be feeling stupid now.

  "So, movies?" she asked in a weak attempt to change the subject.

  I started to nod, then paused. "Can we swing past my dad's place first? If Kody is here, hopefully the other two are at SGU and the house will be empty."

  "You got it," she agreed, navigating the streets back to the neighborhood we both lived in. Despite the integration projects, there was still a clear demarcation when we reached East Shadow Grove once more. Houses were bigger, gardens were more pristine, cars were more expensive.

  Bree parked directly in front of the main entrance, and I grabbed my pile of clothes before leading the way into the house.

  "I'll be quick," I told her, "then maybe we can catch that new thriller that just came out?"

  My best friend wrinkled her nose, not being a huge fan of thrillers. "Or a rom-com. Same difference."

  I rolled my eyes, dropping my pile of clothes onto the floor of the kitchen and heading straight for the pantry. It took me all of thirty seconds to locate the big black tubs of protein powder I'd seen Archer filling his shaker with, and an additional ten seconds to dump the contents of my brown medicine bottle into it and stir.

  It might have been more effective if I'd dosed each of his shakes individually rather than diluting it in the whole tub of powder... but this should do the trick.

  After all, I was trying to get revenge, not kill him.

  Yet.

  Leaving the walk-in pantry, I waved the empty powder bottle at Bree and grinned over my impending victory.

  "You're diabolical," she muttered, with an edge of admiration. "I also don't think we're alone, so maybe dispose of the evidence?"

  I frowned, then heard what she was talking about—the low, thumping bass of music coming from somewhere deeper into the house. I'd been so excited about my plan that I hadn't even noticed it until she pointed it out.

  "Good thinking," I murmured. I rinsed the bottle out, then dropped it into the recycling bin, being sure to bury it under several empty beer bottles. "Let's get out of here."

  We made it within three feet of the front door—so freaking close—when my name reverberated down the hall like a gunshot.

  My shoulders bunched, and I turned around slowly to confront the dark cloud storming toward us.

  "Archer, I'm not deaf. You don't need to bellow." I arched a brow at him and flipped one of my loose twin braids over my shoulder.

  He got all up in my personal space—classic big-man intimidation bullshit, right there—and glowered glacial fury down on me. "Where the fuck were you all night, Princess? You take off with that criminal, Moore, then just drop off the damn radar? You didn't show up for classes this morning, either. Explain yourself."

  Narrowing my eyes, I drew a deep breath that was meant to be calming. It wasn't.

  "Maybe I spent the night with Dallas," I told him flippantly. "Catching up on old times. Maybe it was all so very exhausting I overslept and missed my morning classes. Who knows? More to the point, who cares? You keeping tabs on me, D'Ath? I wasn't aware that was your job." The vein over his temple throbbed, and I sneered.

  "Well, now you know," he snarked back. "And you didn't stay with Dallas all night. He got called into work awfully suddenly." His gaze flickered to Bree. "I guess I know where you were now. I thought Bree had vocal coaching in Southbridge on Monday nights."

  "Uh, you know my schedule?" Bree wrinkled her nose. "Not creepy at all. Besides, neither of us have actually gone to that class in years, not since Mrs. Turner died. We just never told our dads so we had a plausible excuse to be out of the house."

  Archer barely even acknowledged her words, his cold gaze locked on my face.

  "Cute hair," he commented, his words twisting with a distinct cruelty even as he stroked his fingertips down one of my braids and looped the loose end around his hand. It was only then that I realized his knuckles were wrapped in tape and his T-shirt clung to his chest with the dampness of sweat.

  "How come you aren't in class?" I countered, ignoring his fingers teasing the end of my braid. He was doing it to unnerve me, and I wasn't letting it show. "Pot calling the kettle black, perhaps?" I folded my arms under my breasts and could have sworn his attention flickered over my cleavage for a moment.

  "I only take three subjects," he informed me, "and right now, I'm in training. Or I would be if my trainer hadn't gone out looking for your vapid ass."

  It didn't take a genius to figure out his trainer was Kody. Except he’d seemed far more interested in finding the back of Drew's throat, so maybe I wasn't the only one he’d lied to.

  "Okay, cool chat," I remarked, turning to leave. Archer had other plans, though, yanking me to a halt with his grip on my braid. "Ow!" I protested as he wound my braid around his fist, pulling me close enough that his hot, hard body pressed into my back.

  "Don't," he growled in my ear, "push me, Princess Danvers. You won't like the consequences."

  I scoffed. "Yeah? How'd you like my knee slamming into your balls, big man? Or are they so shriveled from all the steroid use that it’d barely tickle?"

  His chest rumbled, and I couldn't tell if it was a laugh or a growl. "So interested in my balls, Princess. If you want to see them up close and personal, all you've gotta do is ask." He tugged me closer still, demonstrating how very wrong I was about his shriveled genitals, and that's where my bravado broke.

  Twisting in his grip, I smacked his wrist to make him to release my hair. "It's not cute when boys pull girls’ pigtails because they like them. It speaks to some serious mommy issues. Maybe you should look into that." I batted my lashes sweetly, then dropped my smile to glare. "Come on, Bree. The air in here is a bit thick on testosterone for my liking."

  I stalked out of the house with Bree close behind me, and shockingly, Archer didn't follow. I paused a moment, trying to catch my breath as the door slammed behind us, and Bree let out a low whistle.

  "Girl," she said with a laugh, "the sexual tension between you two just made me wet. Please tell me you're planning on riding him like your personal pony. Soon."

  I rolled my eyes at her, but couldn't find the words to deny that I'd thought about it. Just once or twice.

  "Stop it," I murmured without conviction. "Let's go before the other two stooges get home. I don't think I can handle them right now. At least Archer is easy to be mean to."

  My friend snickered and muttered something under her breath about how she'd like Archer to be mean to her. Naked. But I ignored her and popped the passenger door open. I paused a moment, looking back up at the house and second-guessing my plan for Archer. Was I going too far?

  But then again, he'd hand-delivered me to the police with evidence of a crime literally in my pocket. Even more unforgivable was his total lack of remorse for derailing my life. So no. Fuck him. He deserved everything he got.

  Resolute, I started to get into the car, only to spot something on the seat.

  "What the—" I broke off with a small scream when I reached out to move the item. "Bree!"

  "What's up?" she replied, sliding into the driver's seat. "Suddenly realized you'd prefer a hot and dirty hate-fuck with Archer D'Ath over a movie with me? I'm shocked."

  I shook my head, my hand pressed to my own mouth as I stared down at my seat.

  Bree followed my line of sight and froze.

  "What... the fuck... is that?" she bre
athed, sounding just as terrified as me.

  I shook my head, crouching beside the car to take a closer look without touching it.

  "It's..." My voice was hoarse, and I licked my lips before trying again. "It's a doll."

  A Barbie, to be more specific. Or something of that style. Hard plastic, about twelve-inches tall... that in itself was enough to spark fear in someone with mild pedophobia—a fear of dolls—but that wasn't the part that made me want to scream.

  Her long hair was pink, and she wore a doll-sized version of sweatpants and a tank top. The leather seat was soaked, a pool of water spread around the doll, and she was totally drenched. Just like I had been last night when Dallas picked me up on the street.

  Cold fear washed through me, but it was quickly chased away by blinding fury.

  "MK?" Bree asked, her voice quivering. "What are you thinking?"

  "I'm wondering whether I can get away with murder," I snarled, snatching up the offensive little doll. "Because I'm going to fucking kill him."

  I didn't need to elaborate. It was pretty obvious which him I was talking about as I stormed back into the house. The thumping bass of music provided an angry soundtrack for my steps as I made my way through to the home gym and slammed the door open dramatically.

  The smirk on Archer's face when he saw me there was pure satisfaction, and I wanted to claw his damn eyes out.

  "I knew you'd be back," he admitted with a smug laugh. He'd been working the heavy sandbag, but as I stalked into the gym, he ripped his gloves off and tossed them down on the mat.

  So much adrenaline coursed through my veins that I trembled as I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes. Not a single scrap of remorse reflected back at me, as per usual, and it only drove the inferno of my hate higher.

  "You're fucking sick," I spat, throwing the Barbie at his chest. It bounced off his shirt, dropping to the crash mat with a soft sound, and Archer frowned down at it in confusion. "You think this whole stalker thing is funny?" I demanded. "What the hell is your end game here, Archer? What did I ever do to you?"

  He gave me an incredulous look, then stooped and picked up the doll. His brows hitched, and my heart seemed to pause. Either he was a really good actor or...

  "Madison Kate, this wasn't me," he said with total sincerity. Or so it seemed. That was exactly what he'd say if he was guilty, wasn’t it? Fuck, I didn't know what to believe anymore.

  I scoffed. "Bullshit, Archer. Just leave me the hell alone. I'm done. I'm fucking done, do you hear me?" I was screaming by the end of this, but I was past caring. I'd had enough of their games when I didn't even know why they were doing it. At least I'd been clear from day one why I hated the three of them. They deserved my anger, and they damn well knew it.

  Archer grabbed hold of me before I could leave again, his huge hands clamped over my upper arms like I'd been caught in a vice. "Madison Kate, I didn't do this." His eyes held mine, searching for something. "You have to believe me."

  I just shook my head. I didn't want to believe him because the alternative was so much worse than a stupid prank from my future step-brother.

  "Bree?" Archer pushed, not letting me go as he turned his slightly frantic stare to my friend. "You believe that this wasn't me, don't you?"

  I shot my gaze over at her, and she gave me a helpless sort of shrug. She was pale, and her eyes were wide with shock. "I kinda do," she said in a small voice, looking at me, not Archer. "I'm sorry, MK. I don't think this was him... It's too creepy. Way too creepy. Didn't your dad confirm that this stalker is real?"

  I shook my head again, wanting to deny all of it. Denial was my safe place.

  "They could have made him say that," I said with weak conviction. Not even I believed me. "They could have..." I shrugged, tipping my head back to look at the ceiling while desperately fighting back the panic. Because, really, honestly? I knew better. I knew there was no freaking way Archer and his boys were behind this prank. They couldn't be... because they couldn't have known what significance dolls like that had to me.

  They didn't know that one had been left on my mother's grave a year after her death. It had been a replica of her looking exactly as she had when I was released from that closet the night she was murdered. Bloody and beaten, her lilac-blue eyes lifeless and flat.

  Tremors shook my limbs, and I slipped free of Archer's hold, crumpling to the floor in a puddle of fear and dread.

  Archer barked orders at Bree, telling her to stay with me while he called the guys. But what help could they possibly be? This creep had been right here. He'd been inside the property gates, he'd placed that doll in Bree's car just minutes ago.

  Holy fuck, he could still be here.

  This was real.

  I had a stalker.

  I could only pray I didn't end up like my mother.

  25

  Hours later, after giving police statements and repeating my limited knowledge of the whole situation numerous times, I sank down on the couch. I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. Except... I couldn't sleep in my room. Not when I knew this creep had been able to take pictures through my window.

  He'd been inside the house.

  When the police had asked for a copy of the file from my father's office, it was nowhere to be found—just a blank space in the filing cabinet where Archer swore the file had been not twenty-four hours earlier.

  He'd immediately called in a security company, and I watched silently from the couch as the uniformed guy talked Archer and Steele through the new system. Bree had gone home, albeit reluctantly, and that left me with Kody.

  "Here, I made you cocoa," the buff, blond god said softly, sitting down beside me on the couch and handing me a steaming mug. I took it because no one in their right mind—or otherwise, as the case may be—would decline fresh cocoa while it was storming outside and they were experiencing any level of shock.

  But that was the only thing I wanted from him.

  "Don't you have somewhere better to be?" I asked him, my tone caustic. It was a poor coping mechanism, transferring my emotions into being a bitch, but whatever. I’ve never claimed to be perfect.

  Kody gave me a small frown of confusion, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed the security guys had finished up and were leaving.

  "Uh, no? I cancelled my PT clients for the day when Arch called earlier." He sounded genuinely confused by my snarky remark.

  I rolled my eyes. "You sure Drew isn't waiting for you somewhere? You two sure looked like you made up from last weekend's fight."

  Kody's lips parted, and he seemed a bit stunned. Too bad for him that the other guys had heard what I'd said.

  "What's this about?" Archer asked, folding his arms. "I thought you took care of Drew."

  "I did," Kody replied, his tone sharp. "I can only assume Madison Kate happened to see me today at the exact moment Drew kissed me. Which, I might add, is terribly coincidental timing, Princess. Were you following me?"

  I barked a laugh. "Like hell. I went to Nadia's for coffee and cake. And it didn't look much like you were pushing her away."

  Kody stared at me for a tense moment, then his lips curled up in a grin. "Damn, MK. Green is a good color on you."

  "Oh fuck off," I sneered. "I'm not jealous, just wondering what the hell I got slapped for if you were still hooking up with her anyway."

  "Hold up," Archer interjected. "You got slapped? When? How?"

  I broke eye contact with the green-eyed playboy beside me and peered up at Archer, who still stood there with his huge-ass arms folded. At least Steele had sat down on the armchair opposite us.

  "Last weekend when Kody took me to Nadia's. His girlfriend—"

  "Not my girlfriend," he butted in.

  "—assumed I was the latest victim in the revolving door of his bedroom, and slapped me for the fun of it. I guess. Isn't that kind of fucked up, though? Blaming the other woman for a man's infidelity?" I crinkled my nose, still annoyed about being caught
in the crossfire on that one.

  "Nice one, dickhead," Steele murmured, while drumming his fingertips on the arm of his chair and staring at me way too hard.

  Archer just shook his head and sighed. "You're an idiot, bro."

  Kody shrugged but didn't say anything to the contrary.

  "Okay, new security system is all set up. No one is getting in without half of Shadow Grove hearing about it." Archer checked the time on his phone. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour and a half. Kody, we got time to do a quick session?"

  "You bet," Kody replied, ruffling his fingers through his hair. "I'll get changed and meet you in the gym." He gave me a weighted look, like he was trying to silently communicate something to me, but I was drawing a blank. When I just blinked back at him like a damn owl, he sighed, then stood up and left the room.

  Steele laughed quietly, shaking his head.

  "What?" I asked, confused as all hell.

  His lips arched up in a smile, and it transfixed me for a moment as I remembered how intoxicating it felt to kiss him. But it was only a moment, then I remembered Archer's sneering disgust as he demonstrated thorough knowledge of that intimate moment.

  "Nothing, Hellcat," he replied with a chuckle. "Nothing at all."

  Liar.

  I decided not to reply. Instead, I tucked my knees up tighter to my chest and sipped my warm cocoa. It was really good... really good. What the hell did Kody make it with to create such an intense flavor?

  "Careful," Archer murmured, "Kody spikes his cocoa with liquor."

  I nodded. "It's delicious."

  The corner of his mouth tugged into what he might consider a smile. To everyone else, it would just be an involuntary facial twitch.

  Steele wandered out of the room, mumbling something about having work to do—I guessed he was heading to the workshop—but Archer paused halfway out of the living room.

  "What now?" I asked him in a flat tone. "Just thought of a cutting barb you needed to deliver before it got stale? Want to call me an idiot for not believing you about the stalker in the first place? Just spit it out and go pump some iron or whatever. Literally nothing you can say will touch me right now, so do your worst."