by Nicole Snow
“Do you know I was supposed to meet the Vice President of the United States next week to talk technology?” Gary growls, shaking his head. “Now, my own goddamned shareholders won't talk to me. It's your fault, Son! Yours, and this sorry little bitch's too! This marriage was a big mistake. Mandy was supposed to bring me closer to the sun, not let her whore of a daughter burn me down.”
His eyes hit me again, blazing with the same nuclear blue fire I've seen in Ty's. I'm stumbling backwards in slow motion, the tears blurring everything.
I feel trapped, pinned down. It's just as bad as the night Karl tried to force himself on me, before Ty burst in to save me. Gary's icy stare violates me, forces me to realize that the damage is already done. Ty can't save me this time when we're already fucked.
I'm struggling to breathe as Gary moves again. I watch in horror as the billionaire thumps his finger on Ty's chest, this time closer to his throat. It's the last spark before the powder keg ignites.
It happens in a blur. Ty screams, grabs his scrawny dad by the arms, and picks him up. One savage throw later, Gary's on the floor. There's a sick crunching sound, and I see his foot's twisted unnaturally, a look of sheer horror on his face.
Gary shudders, holding his hands up over his face as Ty closes in.
“You can treat me like dog shit all day, but don't you dare say shit about my woman again! This isn't her fucking fault, old man, and you know it!” Ty stomps forward, puts his foot on his father's chest, and holds it there until he screams. “This is yours! It's your greed, your little business wars, all this Machiavellian horseshit you call a life.”
My God. I'm afraid he's really, truly going to kill the billionaire asshole in front of me if I don't stop him. I rush forward, tugging at his giant arm, making nonsensical pleas. Pulling on Ty feels like I'm trying to move a thousand pound statue.
Gary's got his hand out, and there's something in it. At first, I think it's just his phone, but it's actually some kind of pager. I'm still screaming as Ty stoops to the floor, picks his dad up, and hurls him against the wall.
Above us, somewhere on the second floor, a woman screams. It's got to be Joan or Mom.
A second later, boots are clattering down the stairs. When I look away from the slow motion murder going on in front of me, there are two big guards in black, men I've seen before with their golden security badges stenciled neatly in their dark shirts.
“Shoot him! Shoot him!” Gary screams, twisting his neck as Ty's fingers reach for his throat. “For Christ's sake!”
My brain wants to shut down. That's when another big guard joins his comrades, and so does Mom, stepping down behind him. Her jaw drops when she realizes what she's seeing, and we both share a look that says it all.
This. Can't. Be. Happening.
“Claire? Gary? Oh my God.” She blinks, inert for the next three seconds. “Everybody stop!”
No one's listening. The third guard fumbles for something at his side. I can't fucking stand the thought of Ty getting killed in front of me by this monster, but my brain won't let me move, can't fully comprehend there's a gun coming out and it's going to shoot the love of my life.
It's just like a movie.
Father and son are still screaming, struggling as my instinct comes back. I leap in front of them. Something bright and impossibly fast hits me in the stomach, right above the belt, and everything becomes a howling white light.
My whole world turns into needles. All my muscles become crackling ice. I've never felt anything like it – not even close. I can't scream or cry or even breathe. I never imagined being shot would be anything like this, and then I realize it's because it isn't a bullet going into me.
I never find out how many bolts the Taser screams through my body. It hurts so bad I'm certain I black out for a few seconds.
When I come to, my body feels like it's been drained, cooked. I don't know if I've been out for seconds or hours.
All I hear is Mom screaming nearby. Ty's on top of me, shaking, the electric probe he's pulled out of my skin bouncing in his fingers.
Gary roars incomprehensibly as he's pushed aside. Mom and Joan somehow reach me through the commotion. They grab me by both arms and start dragging me down the hall, toward the thick glass and the pool.
I keep waiting for Ty to look at me, but he's shaking like he's grabbed an electric fence, his huge arms and legs twisting unnaturally. Then I see the other guards around him, holding their Tasers. He's been hit by no less than two, maybe three of the goddamned things, and he's still screaming, trying to fight it.
“Get. The. Fuck. Away. Claiiiiiire.” His voice drones, loud and anguished and freakishly calmed through all the lightning wrecking his body.
The last thing I see before my brain shuts down is the love of my life, kicking and bellowing until he hits the floor. Then, he doesn't move at all.
When I wake up, I'm lying on a sofa. I'm in the big family room upstairs, the first place I ever saw Ty, shirtless and magnificent, before I realized the asshole from the club was also my brand spanking new stepbrother.
I never believed Prince Asshole could become Prince Charming then. Now, I can't believe I'm going to see him alive, and it terrifies me.
My muscles jerk when I try to sit up. Huge fucking mistake. It's like the world's worst sunburn, except it's all on the inside.
“No, dear. Lie down. Doctor's orders. Try to stay calm. You're okay.” Joan speaks softly, and I realize my head is in her lap. “Just rest. Any movement right now will be very painful.”
I manage to open my mouth, but the words won't come. When she sees me struggling, she reaches for a tall glass of water, and holds it to my lips. I must end up spitting about half of it out, all over myself.
Joan dabs at my lips with her apron. I'm more ashamed and confused than ever, wondering how long it'll be until my throat muscles work again. Hell, how long will it be before I can walk?
I don't know how long I end up lying in her lap like an injured kitten. Time passes in a haze. My body hurts too much to think too hard about what the hell just happened. It doesn't all come back in any coherent way until I hear the voices screaming. I try to make out what they're saying, but it's too far away, and it stops after a couple minutes.
“Come on, Joan. Help me get her into the car. We're leaving right now.” Mom steps out of the kitchen, her voice bright and sharp with the same ferocious spark I've heard her use during House committee meetings.
My mouth moves like a fish when Mom's over me. I can't remember if I should be disgusted or relieved. She runs a gentle hand through my hair, and whatever anger I've got stewing dissipates.
“You're going to be okay, baby. Just give me a couple hours to get us away from this freak show. We'll stop at a real clinic on the way to Seattle too, I promise.”
I think I groan. I'm not really sure what's happening until I hear more footsteps come storming into the room.
Mom looks up, her face tense and angry. “Jesus, you really have the balls to show your face again? After everything you and your lunatic son did to my poor daughter? I told you – we're done. Stay the fuck away from us!”
“Oh, please, Mandy. We both know he'll be locked up for a long time. He's cut off. Over. I'm not responsible for his shameful actions, and you're a fool if you think otherwise.”
Her heels click loudly on the floor. Joan holds my head up higher, and I sense her suppressing a smile. I'm just in time to watch my mom slap the billionaire across his face.
“We're over, Gary. Don't make me say it again.”
“Well, you've had your chance. I can accept that. What I'm not going to let you do is walk out of here having the last word.” The billionaire moves his lips sourly and smiles. “Thank God for the prenup. If you really want to feed the media frenzy and ruin this family, then I guess I can't stop you. I hope we can at least be partners in Washington – assuming you ever make it back at all. Oh, and if you ever scratch me with the tenderly manicured fingernails I paid for again, I'
ll have my men escort you out. They're plenty eager to move around after everything else that's happened today.”
I don't want to hear anymore. I've already seen the real Gary Sterner, and this is just an overload.
He's suave. Cruel. Arrogant. Maybe it's just the pain in my body fogging everything, but my soon to be ex-stepfather looks like the devil himself.
“Don't you fucking dare!” Mom snaps, before she turns around to face us, clapping her hands. “Joan! Is she all set? Let's go. I don't care how much overtime I'm paying you, we need to get out of here now.”
“Consider these hours off the books, Miss,” Joan says smartly. She looks at her old boss and frowns. “I know perfectly well what he's capable of. I suggest we all go.”
I try to just breathe and rise above the pain while they carefully drag me to my feet. It takes longer than it should for both of them to hold me, walking me out the huge entry door. As promised, Gary's goons are outside, eyeballing us.
Mom gives them a wild look and helps Joan guide me very carefully down the long marble stairs. The soft black car has its door open for me to lay in the back, waiting to swallow me up.
This is the last time I'm going to see this house. Thinking about it chokes me as I'm loaded in and held by Joan.
It's a relief. The best and worst summer of my life just ended.
The huge mansion disappears through the windshield, and that's when I start thinking about Ty. I don't have a clue what's happened to him, only that he's going to be locked up.
What the hell does that mean? It can't end this way. It fucking can't!
My heart bleeds in my chest, and I have to focus very hard on breathing so I don't have a panic attack. I need to hear his voice as soon as I'm able to hold a phone. I need to know he's okay.
I'm ready and willing to wait my whole life just to taste his lips again, but I start sobbing uncontrollably at the terrible idea that he's been ripped away from me, no different than the memories of his rough lips on mine.
10
Frozen (Ty)
When I wake up, it's like every fucking bone in my body's been broken and fused together again. At first, I think feeling the brutal concrete underneath me means my spine's fucked up and misfiring, but then I stretch.
My palms graze cool, hard stone. I sit up and growl as the worst hangover in the world crashes into my skull. Nope, the hard ass floor ripping at my skin isn't just in my head.
I look up. The prison bars in front of my face tell me where I'm at.
The motherfucker really went and did it. I'm sitting in the county jail, locked up tight, a world away from ever being able to spit in my old man's bitter fucking face again. Of course, spit's too soft for what I'd like to do if I ever get a crack at his wicked ass again.
I don't give a shit about being exiled like this. He hurt my girl, so I hurt him. I did all I could to get his goons off her, and it wasn't enough.
Seeing her twitch when the Taser's probe sank into her skin was the worst goddamned thing in the world. I felt my soul leave my body, bathing me in darkness.
And that's where I saw it – it's not just my bastard father's fault. It's me. I'm the fucking cancer who hurt her, the senseless fuck who dragged her into this situation and nearly got her cooked alive. If I weren't so smashed from getting throttled with current myself, I'd wrap my hands around my own throat and squeeze 'til I pass the fuck out.
It takes me a couple minutes to stagger up. In the cell next to me, a nasty looking old dude laughs, smiling with his rotten teeth.
I walk to the edge of the cell and put my hands on the bars. Fucking shit. Now I know exactly how a monkey at a zoo feels.
Whatever, I barely give a damn that I'm locked up. What really bothers me is what went down before fifty thousand volts friend my nerves and I blinked out like a busted lightbulb.
I deserve to rot in here for what I did to her. Claire's fucked, and it's all because of me. Well, me and that cowardly little pissant she was working for.
I'm used to half the world pointing their fingers and laughing like the criminal in the cage next door. Shit's pretty damned natural when you're a billionaire's son, and I doubt it'll get much better now that I'm officially disowned. But Claire shouldn't have to live with this shit, shouldn't have to claw her way back with a fraction of the resources I've always had.
I'm willing to risk having my body shredded along with my reputation. But I can't stand pulling her into the grinder too, without even knowing it.
Goddamn it. My muscles pulse warning aches every time I move. Too bad it doesn't stop the urge to take my fists to the walls and start beating them 'til something gives way, either the bricks or my own damned bones.
I can't fucking let her go down like this. I have to get outta here, have to make sure she's all right. Then I'm gonna do the soul killing thing I should've always done for this chick who's got my heart in her pretty little hands.
There's only one thing that's right, I know it's my only choice because it hurts so fucking bad.
I'm going to clean up loose ends, and then I'm going to disappear.
It only takes a day to talk to some asshole judge, and the badges running this facility. Actually, my boys from the club do most of the talking, and one of them just happens to have some powerful family ties in the local police force.
Thank fuck money doesn't mean much in this world. Yeah, you can buy your way to freedom or lock somebody up with enough dollars in the hopper, but an old police chief or two can buy even more on street cred.
Dad's gonna rage himself blind when he finds out how easy it was for me to walk outta here free, and I don't give a shit. I want to finish what I started in our old house, slamming my fists into his demon face, but it won't solve a thing. Driving home, busting down the gate, and wringing his scrawny neck won't do shit to help my woman.
As far as I'm concerned, my family's dead and buried. All I've got left is her, and not for long. Not after what I'm about to do.
I'm out in a heartbeat, dumping the tight neon prison clothes wrapped around my skin. Ed, Mike, and Tommy pick me up. It doesn't take long to ask them for a big favor, and every one of them is game.
We're gonna pay the too-stupid-to-live fuck responsible for those pretty tabloid pictures a visit.
We stop by a gas station on the way to fill up our ride, plus a few canisters. Then I'm outside the asshole's building, a nice swanky condo Daddy probably bought. The trees aren't the only thing that's green in the big environmental lobby.
My guts churn, thinking how easily I could've been beholden to the same shit, falling in line to run Spree like my bastard father always wanted, dragging anybody I damned well please through the mud.
Not anymore. Not ever again.
Dan the Boss Man comes home late. His jaw's still hanging a little crooked from our last encounter. Fuck if I don't wanna tear it right off.
I pull my hoodie up and wait about a minute after he's gone in inside. A shy, leggy blonde runs up the stairs, and I'm right behind her. She jumps when she sees me, and I don't say a word, just take the door she's nervously holding for me and my crew.
We're in. And we've gotta move fast in case the girl decides to squeal on four big dudes climbing up the stairs with several big plastic shopping bags. She'll really flip if she sees the red canisters inside.
I let Mike go first when we're outside the fucker's door. He gives me a nod and works the lock, exercising all the skill I expect as my newest and last ever security appointee at Club Zing.
The latch pops open and we all file in. Dan's several feet away, standing at the kitchen counter, fixing himself a shot of some amber colored booze.
“What the fuck!” he screams, dropping the glass.
It's a helluva commotion, but it's too fucking late. I grab the asshole before he can make a run for the balcony. My hand pinches his jaw shut, and I give his teeth a rattle through his cheeks that lets him know I'll pop the sonsofbitches out if he does anything stupid.
O
h, except, I guess he already did.
My free hand tugs back my hoodie. I've got him in the living room, next to a big black recliner, and my guys all grin behind their matching hoods. Dan the Man starts squirming, trying to scream into my hand. I knee him in the guts and knock the wind right outta him, realizing I've got no patience for this horseshit.
“Shut the fuck up, kid. You know why I'm here. You just couldn't let it fucking go, could you? You had to snap our pics when our heads were turned and leak it to the paparazzi!”
Slowly, I draw my hand away, and tears start foaming at his eyes. “It wasn't me, Sterner! I promise, I swear – I vow to Christ!”
“Yeah?” I blink, barely even amused. “Who the fuck, then? You're telling me it was the tooth fairy?”
“My dad found out what happened. He wouldn't go down without a fight, he wanted to destroy you, wreck Spree's reputation.” Dan clenches his teeth, as if he's afraid to let out the rest. “I begged him not to put a PI on your tail, but he wouldn't listen. He hired some photographer from Hollywood, some guy who's damned good at getting celebs in compromising positions. I begged him not to, Sterner, I fucking begged. Please don't do this...please, please, please.”
He closes his eyes softly. I let out a long sigh.
It's a cute story, and the asshole's a mighty fine actor. Only problem is, my boys tell me Martin Jacobsen's been laid up for more than a month after a golfing accident. Slipped disk or something, the kinda pain that makes you too paralyzed to get pissed enough to fuck with someone else, much less hire some jackass to follow Claire and me down the coast.
“Sterner? Tyler?” His voice is so soft. “You believe me, don't you?”
“Sure, bud. I read you loud and clear.” I tighten my grip on his mouth, covering it as he starts to squirm. Then I look at my three guys and nod. “Burn this fucking place to the ground.”
