“Nobody saved me,” he says bitterly. “Nobody whisked me away into the night and faked my death. So, yeah. I had to save myself. Or die trying.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask him, suddenly cold without his arm around me. “Jase, I’m not trying to be a bitch. I’m just trying to understand.”
He balls his fists up angrily and stands, leaping out of the stationary passenger cabin. “I don’t give a fuck if you understand or not,” he seethes, dumbfounding me. “There are some things that we don’t talk about.”
“Jase—” I try to say …
“Do you want me to ask you what it’s like to fuck my father?” he demands. Holy shit, he’s really worked up. I’m so stunned I can’t even be offended by his question.
“What do you think happened, Juliette?” he asks me, like I’m the stupidest person in the entire world, and it takes everything within me not to cry. “Don’t you think I would have left the first chance I got? That I would have killed every one of them for what they did to you?”
My heart sinks as I imagine what he must have suffered through as he watched them defile me, and after I died.
“I’m sorry,” I say desperately. He kicks at the ground, refusing to look at me.
“Yeah, so am I,” he says.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I blurt out, immediately regretting my choice of words.
“No,” he says bitterly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.”
The spontaneous Ferris wheel trip ruined, we walk home in pensive silence, Jase charging along as I scurry behind him, taking two hurried steps to his every one. Once we’re inside the apartment he goes straight to his bedroom and closes the door in my face, leaving me alone in the hallway.
Alone with my morbid curiosity. What the hell happened to him after I died? I’ve never thought about the details, always too wrapped up in my own despair. Fuck. I can’t believe I’ve been so blind to the pain he’s carrying inside like a grenade, ready to explode at any second. I never stopped long enough to imagine his loss. His fear.
Nobody saved me.
His words tear at my heart.
Nobody saved him.
I wait fifteen agonizing minutes before I knock on his door gently. When I don’t get a “fuck off,” I open the door slowly and look around. Jase is lying in the middle of his bed, arms tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He glances in my direction before resuming his ceiling stare-off contest.
I decide to go for the straight-on approach, jumping on the bed and straddling Jase’s hips before he can push me away. He meets my gaze, clearly unimpressed.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “It came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”
I press my palms to his chest and am surprised when he grabs my wrists and yanks them hard, causing me to topple forward so that my chest meets his.
“Yeah, you did,” he says quietly. “I’d ask the same question if I were you.”
I don’t say anything, just chew on my lip as we survey each other warily.
“I can’t go there,” he says, his face etched with the pain of his past. “I’ll just say this. Three years I went without seeing sunlight. Three years, and I was convinced I was better off dead with you every single day. ”
Three years without sunlight? My mind spins at what he’s inferring.
“You mean—”
“You saw Emilio’s place,” Jase says with difficulty. “You didn’t see what’s underneath it.”
My imagination fills in the blanks. “They kept you locked up in a basement for three years? What the hell did they do with you for three whole years?” I whisper, as tears prick at my eyes.
His eyes cloud over with pain.
“Forget it,” I say quickly. “Don’t answer that.”
He looks relieved. But I’m far from it. I’m sick over what those three years might have entailed, and how the worst event of my life had lasted a few days in comparison.
“Shit, Jase,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck as I bury my face in the warm spot between his ear and shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t answer me, but in my head his words go round like a Ferris wheel that never stops. Nobody rescued me …
ELEVEN
We fall asleep like that, tightly wound around each other, and when we wake in the morning, I realize I haven’t had a nightmare. It’s a comforting thought, and one that makes me realize how important Jase’s presence in my life really is.
I love him so much, sometimes it’s almost too painful to bear.
Because if I lose him again … I don’t think I’d survive it.
I don’t think I’d want to.
He’s still asleep, so I turn over and wriggle back until my ass is pressed against him, intending to snooze for a while longer while he spoons me. But my movement must wake him, because pretty soon I can feel his morning glory pressed hard into one butt cheek as his hands lazily roam across the rest of my body.
“Did I wake you?” I whisper.
“No,” he replies, pressing his erection into me.
I smile, reaching down and pushing my hand past the waistband of his boxer shorts to grip his hardness. “Do you want me to leave you alone so you can go back to sleep?”
“God, no,” he groans, moving his hips so that his cock slides up and down in my grip.
I tug at my panties with my free hand, kicking them off when they get to my ankles. Jase responds eagerly, pushing my hand away and pressing me onto my stomach.
“Is this okay?” he asks, and a little part of me dies inside.
I hate that he feels like he has to ask me every time we touch, but I know exactly why. After what he’s seen, he’ll probably need to ask until the end of time.
“It will be in a moment,” I say lightly, raising my ass to rub against the tip of his shaft. He breathes loudly, using his hands to spread my ass apart, and a moment later I feel him nudging at my entrance.
“God, you’re so wet,” he says, sliding the head of his cock over my wet pussy. I groan and try to press back. “Quit teasing me,” I complain.
He laughs, pushing inside me in one tight, quick stroke. I moan loudly as I feel myself clench around him. He slides in and out, faster and faster until the only noise is our labored breathing and the sound of skin hitting skin.
Afterward, we lay together, legs entwined as we catch our breath.
“Shit,” Jase says. “I didn’t wear a condom. Either time.”
“It’s fine,” I say, playing with his hand absently. “I’m on the pill.”
I wait for him to ask more questions. To ask me horrible things like whether his father wore a condom all those times, but thankfully, he doesn’t.
It’s fragile, this peace of ours, but while it lasts?
It’s fucking perfect.
While Jase makes us breakfast, I bite the proverbial bullet and call Elliot. I’m nervous, so nervous my hands are shaking as I dial the number to the tattoo studio from the landline. I still haven’t picked up a new phone after Jase smashed mine in a fit of rage. Elliot answers on the third ring, and I smile as I hear his voice.
“El,” I say, my smile so wide he can probably hear it. “It’s Julz.”
There’s a pause, and I hear him clear his throat. “Hey.” His tone is guarded, standoffish, and I scramble to fill the awkward silence.
The words are tumbling out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying. “I just wanted to call and tell you I’m sorry about the other night.” My heart is thudding painfully in my chest, and I’m hyper-aware of Jase’s proximity as he flips eggs in the kitchen.
“Uh-huh.”
“I shouldn’t have made you leave. I’m sorry, Elliot.” I suck at apologies. They always come out awkward and stilted.
“Yeah, well,” he says. “I did kind of break in and interrupt you, so it’s not all your fault.”
“You were just trying to make sure I was okay,” I say quickly, relieved that he’s talking and that he doesn�
��t seem too mad at me.
“How’s loverboy?” Elliot asks, chuckling. “Hope his pretty face isn’t too messed up.”
I roll my eyes, hearing the obvious pleasure in his voice over smashing Jase’s face in. “You should see the other guy,” I joke.
There’s a brief silence, and while I’m thinking of how to fill it, Elliot does it for me.
“You sound … happy,” he says, and he sounds anything but. Which kills me.
“I am,” I say falteringly. “At least, I think I am. I will be. Once I take Dornan and his other sons out. Then I can finally be free.”
I hear Elliot clearing his throat.
“You made me happy too, you know,” I say quietly. “Do you know?”
More throat clearing. “Yeah,” he replies. “I just went and fucked it all up, though.”
I chuckle, but there’s no humor in the sound. It’s like a cross between a dry-heave and a sob. “I fucked it all up, El. But that’s lovely of you to take the blame.”
“Any time.”
“I have to go,” I say softly,
“I’ll always be here for you, you know that, right?” His breathing is heavy. His words weighed down with everything.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Always.”
“But, Julz,” he continues, his tone making my breath hitch. “I need you to not call me for a little while, okay? Unless you’re in trouble, or something, but otherwise, just … I need some space, okay?”
I swallow thickly. Don’t cry. “Okay,” I whisper, and then the line goes dead.
TWELVE
Limbo.
A place un-christened souls inhabit. Trapped. Yearning as they roam empty corridors, always reaching for the sunlight but never quite touching it.
A quiet calm. An anxious wait. A refuge from a storm that threatens to wreak havoc and destroy everything in its wake.
Our limbo is temporary, and we indulge in it. What choice do we have? The starkness of our future lays heavy and invisible between us, like the souls of the broken children we left behind that fateful day. Our innocent selves—gone but not forgotten—still screaming for mercy in the recesses of our minds.
For the first few nights of our brief time together, we begin the night alone, but dream after dream assaults me. Reminding me of Dornan, the way he tasted as he came inside my mouth, or the droplets of blood that spread like fire as they soaked the sheets below us more than once.
It’s okay, though, because Jase is always there, and after a few nights, we decide to stop pretending and just sleep in the same bed all night.
And when we do? I don’t wake up in a pool of tears and sweat, haunted by zombified versions of the men I’ve killed and the man I’m yet to kill. I sleep soundly and wake gently, a welcome reprieve from years of horrific nights spent trying not to fall back into an endless loop of nightmares.
For a few glorious days, life is beautiful.
But that’s the thing about this life. Remember when I said, nothing good ever lasts?
Well, it’s true.
One call, eight days after the explosions, shatters our fragile peace.
Because Dornan is awake.
THIRTEEN
I’m sitting on the balcony, feet propped up on the wall in front of me, looking out to the ocean. There’s no wind this afternoon, and the water is like glass. It’s breathtaking, and it somehow calms me just being able to see it. People standing on long boards, paddling in the bay. Surfers on the shore, their boards forgotten since there are no waves. Children are building sandcastles on the shore, and in the distance, I can see the Ferris wheel turning on the pier.
So much life in front of me, people living normal, unencumbered existences. People without prices on their heads.
People who didn’t have to die to get away from the life they were born into.
I want to be one of those people, but as I listen to Jase speaking on his cell phone in the kitchen, I’m reminded yet again of the horrific existence we share. The cold reality of our families and their sins.
“Already?” Jase asks whoever’s on the phone. “He was in a friggin’ coma two days ago.” A pause. “Whatever. So, he’s at the clubhouse now?”
A spike of dread stabs into my stomach, and I look at the ground. I can’t be staring at that beautiful Ferris wheel, or the innocent children on the beach while I think about Dornan.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Jase says. I hear him toss something down on the bench, and assume it’s his phone.
I rise and enter the kitchen, almost colliding with him. We eye each other awkwardly as the waves of reality begin to crash against our thinly constructed wall of denial and hope.
“He’s awake,” Jase says grimly.
“Already?” I ask dully.
“Yesterday, actually,” Jase says. The bitterness in his voice is like poison. “I have to go to Va Va Voom to see him.”
I’m already grabbing my purse, but when I look back at Jase, he’s horrified.
“What?” I ask, alarmed.
He points at my purse. “What are you doing?”
I look down, expecting to see a spider or something on my purse, but there’s nothing.
“I’m coming with you.”
Jase’s face twists with anger. “You. Are. Not. Coming,” he growls.
I raise my eyebrows. “He’ll be expecting Sammi. If I’m not there, he’ll kill me.”
Jase shakes his head. “He’ll kill you anyway. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“There’s a lot wrong with me,” I snap impatiently. “I think we’ve established that.”
“I’m not letting you go anywhere near him, Juliette.”
I shake my head. “Jason. What did you think was going to happen? Did you think I’d just forget about it all because we had sex a couple times?”
My tone is nastier than I’d intended, but I’m livid. What did he think, that I’d abandon my vengeance so casually?
Jase bites his lip, and the next words come out with difficulty. “I fucking love you, Juliette.”
I smile despite the tension. “I fucking love you, too. But my love for you doesn’t change my hate for him.”
Jase looks dangerously close to throwing me over his shoulder and locking me in his bedroom until he can talk me into staying away from Dornan. But I won’t let him. I refuse to give up my vendetta against the Ross brothers and their demon father.
The score’s only at four. And until it’s at seven? Love will have to wait.
“You think this is funny?” Jase demands loudly. “I went to your fucking funeral. You can never forget something like that! And now you’re going to walk back in there, and expect that he’s not going to figure you out soon? He’ll kill you for real this time.”
I struggle to stay calm. “Maybe he will.” I shrug. “It’s been a risk all along, but you know what? He hasn’t found me out yet, Jason.”
“So,” Jase says bitterly. “You’re saying that your need to make him pay is more important than what we have?”
“It’s not just about me,” I counter. “Or you. Or us. It’s about my father! It’s about Mariana! They died trying to save us from this life, and we owe it to them to do everything we can to destroy that man.”
Jase’s eyes burn into me; the sadness and reluctance to let me go is almost too much to stand. I feel like I can’t breathe, especially when he puts his hands on my shoulders and begs me. “Not like this,” he says feverishly. “Please, Julz, not like this.”
It’s probably the wrong reaction, but his begging makes me so angry, I could scream. How dare he try to use what we have against me? How dare he try to stop me from claiming vengeance against the man who destroyed us all?
I see red, and regrettably, I go for the sucker punch. “He killed your mother and left her in a bathtub full of blood for you to find. You’re his son, and he did that to you?” My voice threatens to break. It’s so high and shrill. “What do you think he did to them?! I know they suffered. I know it more than I
know anything.” I clutch at my chest as I think of my father and what he must have endured at the end. “He made them suffer, and now I’m going to make him suffer.”
Jase’s face is drawn, fixed, decided. “Juliette,” he warns, “If you walk out that door—”
“If I walk out that door, what?” I interrupt. “What are you gonna do, huh? Nothing, just like you did nothing for six years.” I’m nasty, and I can’t help it. “Don’t worry. Leave it up to Julz. I’ll clean up the mess that you never could.”
I yank the door open and slam it shut behind me, the loud noise and violent gesture extremely satisfying.
I’ve got Jase’s car keys in my hand, and as I stalk to his car and yank open the door, anger bubbles in my veins.
Anger, and the sweet taste of impending revenge.
FOURTEEN
I get to the burlesque club a few minutes later, parking a few streets away in case Dornan sees me driving Jase’s car and asks me to explain. I jog the few blocks to the club, wanting to get there before Jase rides up on his Harley and intercepts me.
The front doors are unlocked; the place deserted at ten fifteen on a Tuesday morning. I wander in slowly. The darkened stage pulls old memories to the surface where they claw fresh wounds.
Crushing weight.
Leather.
A pair of black eyes that gleamed at us from the floor of the club. Emilio. He’d watched it all, barely blinked as his grandsons had taken their turns breaking me apart. First Chad, then Maxi, then the rest. As one would rape me, two more would pin my arms, and the others would hold Jase as he yelled and fought.
Then, one word spoken by Dornan’s father.
“Enough.”
Emilio ordered everyone out of the room but Dornan. Jase had been knocked out when he broke free momentarily and kicked Chad hard enough in the kneecap to cause it to dislocate.
Which left me, sitting naked with my wrists and ankles tied to a chair. My broken nose was making a weird scraping sound as I breathed past crushed bone and blood. It was cold, and I trembled violently as my exposed flesh rose in goose bumps to meet the frigid air.
Gypsy Brothers: The Complete Series Page 33
