Mr. Sugar: A disturbing psychological thriller with a twist of dark romance

by L. D. Fox

  She gave him the finger, but then dropped her arm and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d found her underwear too, but her pants were still MIA. Kelly was tugging on her jeans, at least, but those massive breasts were wild and free. Bryce had to force himself not to look away from Angel, especially when the girl put her head on the side and gave him a long, thoughtful stare.

  “Why?” she said. “Why’d you want that?”

  “I like food,” he said. “You like to cook. Match made in heaven.”

  She flinched at that, and something flickered in her eyes. “You’re both just the fucking same,” she muttered. “You and him. I’ve had it.” She threw her arms up and began yanking the covers from the bed in her search for clothes. “Marry me, un-marry me, fucking me around from day one. Probably thought up all this shit together, didn’t you? Planned it all. Fucking asshole jerks.”

  He ran his tongue down the glue-end of the paper but paused before sealing it. “What did you say?”

  “That I’m not falling for any of your fucking tricks again.” Angel swung around and stabbed a finger in his direction. “You or your fucking brother. I’m leaving with Kay—” she glanced at the woman as if waiting for Kelly to tell her to piss off, and then turned a victoriously smug expression on him “—and I’m going back to school. Fuck you and fuck your psycho brother.”

  Bryce licked the gummed paper again and rolled the joint closed. “Only one who sounds psycho right now is you, baby girl. Here, come take a hit. Obviously, those sunflowers weren’t as mellow as they should have been. You too, Kelly. Jesus, woman, I’ll find your shirt now, relax.”

  Kelly straightened abruptly, yanking her shirt from between the pillows piled against the headboard. She slipped it over her head and made her way cautiously toward him, glancing sidelong at Angel when she neared.

  “I’m not psycho,” Angel said, plucking the joint from his fingertips before he had a chance to light it. “And fuck you for saying that.”

  “She’s not,” Kelly said, hugging herself tightly and watching Angel smoke like a tweaker waiting for their turn with the needle. “She’s really not.”

  Bryce snorted as he began cutting a line of coke. “What are you on about, woman?”

  “He proposed.” Kelly rubbed her hands over her arms and then beckoned furiously for the joint. Angel blew out a plume of smoke and handed it over with ill grace.

  “Right in front of a fucking lawyer, like it was ‘sposed to mean something.” Angel tossed her hair and hung her head back, letting out a massive sigh. “And then told me to shut up about it. Said it was a secret.”

  He laughed, shook his head, and snorted up a line of coke that — judging from the thickness — Angel had cut earlier. When he turned to Angel, the girl was staring at him without expression. So he laughed again and glanced at Kelly.

  The woman nodded her head, exhaled, and took another hit. “’S true.”

  A tingling premonition slowly settled in his bones. He rose, and both women stepped back as if they didn’t like the way he loomed over them.

  “You’re not making this up?”

  Angel shrugged and scrunched up her face. “Why would I?”

  “When?”

  “Like I said—” she pulled her hair into a ponytail and glanced around as if looking for a hair tie. “At the lawyer’s place.”

  “Who?”

  “Who what?”

  “Which lawyer?”

  “Dunno.” Angel found a hair tie on the dresser and bundled her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. “Did you leave some for me?” she asked, eagerly scanning the dresser.

  Realization came to him then, dense and cold as frozen lead. “Harry? Was the lawyer’s name Harry?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Big, fat man. Kept staring at my tits. You seriously didn’t make me a line? What—”

  He grabbed her wrist when she reached for the vial of coke. Tugged her until she looked at him.

  “What did he say?”

  “The usual shit,” she said, pulling free. “I love you, wanna be with you forever, marry me. Now can I get—”

  The trust deed. She’d been on there as a beneficiary. Drew had added him as a trustee. A successor trustee, so if anything ever happened to Drew, he would be in control of Angel and Penny’s money. Of their assets.

  An unbiased third party.

  Except he wasn’t, was he? Not if anyone bothered to look close enough at that sex-tape he’d inadvertently provided his brother with. The one that was currently safe and fucking sound at Trent & Morgan. The one that would prove, without a doubt, that he and Angel were fucking. And, not just that… that they were conspiring against Drew.

  So if anything happened this weekend… say, if something happened to Drew… if there was attempted any-fucking-thing… He would be acting in self-defense. The courts would never find him guilty, not if there was so much evidence in his favor.

  “Jesus—Mary—motherfucking—Joseph,” Bryce said all in one breath as he leaped from the bed and yanked on his pants. “He’s going to kill us.”

  The man ran around the side of the bed, pulled out a cloth-wrapped bundle, and let it fall to the bed. Angel screamed when he drew out a gun and tossed it onto the bed. She grabbed hold of Kelly, clinging to the woman as he began loading ammunition into the magazine.

  “Bryce! Stop!” Kelly, arm still around Angel, grabbed his shoulder. He jerked away, spilling a few rounds onto the carpet. “Please, stop!”

  But he didn’t even look at them as he slammed the magazine back into the handgun.

  The key was still in the lock. He turned it, threw open the door, and strode down the hallway with his fingers so tight around the Smith & Wesson’s grip that his hand tingled.

  50

  Coke Does That

  Drew glanced down at Kelly’s keys on the table, hesitated, and then scooped them back up again. That hadn’t been a playful scream — like the one you got when you goosed a girl who wasn’t expecting it.

  There’d been panic in that scream.

  He glanced at the stairs and then went over and shut the living room door. His eyes slid to the side, to the tablet computer where he’d left on it on the lintel. Better to have surprise on his side, right? He flinched when the rock music spluttered out of the speakers.

  Even through the noise, he could hear Bryce thumping down the stairs. He flattened himself against the pine wall, breathing deep that fresh, woody scent as he begged his heart to maintain something approaching a steady rhythm.

  The door swung open — away from him — and Bryce stepped into the living room. A snarl distorted the man’s mouth. The hand dangling at his side was pale how he gripped the gun at his side.

  Drew’s throat went tight. He strained to hear more footsteps, but it seemed the scream had been one of the girls’s. Hopefully, they’d be too scared to follow after Bryce.

  In the precious few milliseconds he had to study Bryce, he could only stare at the man’s eyes. They were narrowed, but that did nothing to hide the man’s dilated pupils. Or the sheen of moisture on his face. The way his jaw bunched as if he’d never speak again.

  But then he did.

  His twin brother’s chest expanded. He opened his mouth. Yelled out Drew’s name as spittle and rage flew from his lips.

  Drew surged forward, arm drawing back. His elbow struck Bryce in the stomach as the man was still busy twisting to his direction. While surprise still widened his eyes.

  The gun clattered to the rim of exposed flooring — that small strip where the enormous rug that covered the floor didn’t reach — and became still.

  Drew kicked it out of reach. And then swung his fist into Bryce’s throat.

  The man fell back with a gasping wheeze, both hands closing over his neck as he collapsed to the floor. Drew cracked both knees following him, but hardly felt the pain. Adrenalin pumped like blood through his veins. It buzzed in his ears, deafening him to Bryce’s heavy metal.

  That h
ad been the figurative nail in the figurative coffin. Because he abhorred metal, and Juliet only listened to indie rock those few times that she bothered to listen to anything at all.

  Coming here, finding track after track of music he’d never heard. Music that, once played, felt like it was ripping out bits of his soul the longer he listened…

  It was all the confirmation he needed that Bryce was fucking Juliet. Had been fucking her for long enough that he felt he had every right to load his entire iTunes library onto this house’s sound system.

  Red blood splashed onto yellow pine when his fist connected with Bryce’s jaw. The man convulsed under him, and then lay still.

  He scrambled up, wiping his hands over his hair.

  Angel and Kelly stood at the door, clutching each other and looking all the world like a shocked mother and daughter.

  “He had a gun!” Drew stabbed a finger at his unconscious brother. “What the hell is he doing coming after me with a gun?”

  “Oh my God,” Kelly murmured, disentangling herself from Angel. The girl tried to hold on, her wide blue eyes muddied by enlarged pupils, but Kelly tugged her free. “Are you okay?”

  “I—” Drew swallowed. “I’m fine. But… what the hell’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know.” Kelly bent down beside Drew. “One minute he’s talking about lawyers, the next thing he pulls out a gun. He’s had a lot of coke. A lot of—” She looked up at him, face pale. “Is he dead?”

  “No.” Drew let out an incredulous snort. “He’s not fucking dead.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t look away from Kelly’s face.

  She was high too. They all three were. And, this close, he could smell sex on her; sweat and latex and Angel.

  He took a step back before he could stop himself. Tried to force the disgust from his face.

  “Drew—” Kelly rose slowly, holding up a hand to him. “I can explain…”

  “You should go.” His voice was thick, almost unintelligible. “You should just go.”

  “I—” Kelly looked over to Angel, hugging herself hard.

  “She can’t,” Angel said.

  When he looked at the girl, she flinched like he’d slapped her. Then she pushed away from the door frame she’d been holding onto and came to Kelly. They slid their arms around each other’s waists as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Angel stuck her chin out at him. “She can’t drive. Not like this.”

  Then those dark blue eyes flashed away from him. “Where’s the gun?”

  “I—Somewhere over there,” he said, pointing to the opposite side of the room.

  “Is it true?” Kelly asked, voice trembling as much as her lips. “What he said?”

  “Who? Him?” Drew pointed to Bryce. “What did he say?”

  “That you were going to kill us,” Angel said, sounding flippant. Then, to Kelly, “He was high, Kay. It’s the coke, it does that. Got it?” She glanced at Drew, giving him a brief, dismissive glance. “No one’s killing anyone; right, Mr. Sugar?”

  A tremor snapped through him.

  Mr. Sugar.

  He forced a smile onto his mouth. “Of course not.” Then he turned the smile to Kelly, who shied back from him. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

  51

  No Signal

  “Still no signal?”

  Kelly jumped at the sound of Drew’s voice so close to her. She spun around, giving her head a furious shake.

  She wasn’t about to admit that she could barely see anything on the cellphone’s screen. Her eyes kept jumping. Kept shifting and refusing to focus on whatever she wanted to see. There might have been a sliver of cell signal on the deck, but staring at the phone had made it wriggle in a very unnerving manner.

  “None. Nowhere. Not even out here.”

  “Shit.” Drew ran a thumb and forefinger along his jaw and then shook his head. “You know what…” he began wagging a finger at her. “You know what, it might just work.”

  “What?”

  Shit, why did everyone have to move so fast? It was like watching a movie in fast forward — Drew’s mouth twitched like he had the palsy, his eyes flickered over her face too fast too follow, and his movements were the jerks of a rusty robot.

  “The boat.”

  “You have a fucking boat?”

  Kelly spun to Angel. When had the girl come back from upstairs? She looked pale — those blue eyes were the only color on her face. Even her lips were white. Or was it the light? Something had happened to the sun… was it twilight already?

  Impossible.

  …Impossible.

  “Of course I have a boat,” Drew said. “Why would I buy a lakehouse if I didn’t have a boat?”

  “Was it a package deal?” the girl asked. She’d perched on the edge of the sofa, and kept running her palms down her thighs as if they were sweating.

  “What, the boat?”

  “Yeah.” Angel chewed for a second. “Like, does it come with the house?”

  “No, it doesn’t—” Drew broke off with an irritated cough. “Kelly, if we go out on the lake, we could get a signal on the far bank.”

  She turned on wooden legs and stared out over the massive expanse of water. “Boat?”

  “So you have to buy it separate?” came Angel’s voice. “Like, do you have to, have to, have one? Or you’ll get chucked out?”

  “Quiet, Angel,” Drew murmured. Then, in a louder voice. “Kelly? The boat’s all fueled up. It’ll be nice out there, actually. Quiet. Peaceful.”

  An arm encircled her waist. She flinched and spun in Drew’s embrace. “Drew? What are—”

  He was too close. His face filled every inch of her world, those dark eyes drawing at her like magnets at lode. “Let’s go out on the lake. Just the two of us. You can call for a tow… It’ll only be here tonight, anyway. We can look at the stars.”

  “What time is it?” she whispered, a flicker of panic trembling through her. “How late is it?”

  “Just gone two,” Angel provided from somewhere behind Drew. “Hey, should I be trying to wake up Bryce?”

  “No,” Drew said, his head turning away and breaking the trance he’d put her under. “Leave him on the floor.”

  “But what if he drowns in his own blood or something?”

  “He’s not bleeding that much,” Drew snapped, before turning his attention back to her. His brow creased. “What did you take, Kelly?”

  “Sunnie,” she managed through a throat that seemed too dry to produce words. “Weed.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded slowly and put her hands on Drew’s chest. He was warm — warmer than the surrounding air — and as solid as Bryce had been at her back.

  The thought brought with it a searingly erotic memory — Bryce’s face as he slammed into her while Angel teased at a nipple with her teeth — and she closed her eyes as a blush heated her cheeks.

  “I need to get a tow,” she said. “Can we go now?”

  “On the lake?”

  Drew made an angry sound, but then Angel was trying to worm her way between them.

  “Are you fucking crazy? You can’t go out on the lake. What happens if you fall overboard? You can’t swim. You should be here, inside. Drew can go. He can make the call. He doesn’t need you to—”

  But the rest of what Angel said disintegrated when Drew backhanded the girl.

  Her face snapped to the side. Her gasp drew goosebumps over Kelly’s skin as she tumbled into the back of the couch.

  When Drew turned back to her, something black and malevolent glittered in his obsidian eyes. Something as evil yet indefinable as the shadows under a ten-year-old’s bed. Those that could so effortlessly veil the ragged claws of a monster.

  She pushed away from him. Tried to push away.

  He had his hands on her arms. And he wouldn’t let go. Wouldn’t release her.

  “Come, Kelly. Let’s get you home.”

  “I… I don’t want to go—”

  But h
er teeth snapped closed over the words as Drew turned and maneuvered her through the living room. Angel watched them go, doe-eyed with a hand cupping her cheek.

  “Angel?” Kelly glanced over Drew’s shoulder, still trying to peel away his fingers.

  The girl slowly turned her face, blinking hard, and then fell to her knees beside Bryce, shaking him furiously.

  A gust of arctic wind sliced through Kelly’s clothes. She spun around, going rigid at the sight of the outside world. It looked too harsh. Too sharp. Like every pine needle would pierce her flesh. Like the edge of every step was a razor waiting to slice into her feet.

  “Drew, please, I don’t—”

  “It’s beautiful out there, Kelly.” Drew hugged her. Not hard, but firmly, as if he was trying to warm her.

  It worked. Her body began relaxing against him. Her boots didn’t drag through the gravel anymore but crunched alongside his.

  The air was fresh out here. Sharp enough to slice her throat and shred her lungs. She gulped at it and then cupped her hands over her mouth to try and warm it before it slid inside her.

  “Was it E?” Drew murmured conversationally to her. “Just some E and weed? Nothing else?”

  “Yeah.”

  They turned. A doorway appeared. Behind it was a whole other room. Under the house.

  “Holy crap,” she murmured, swaying back from the impossibility of the enormous, sleek boat that bobbed in front of her.

  “Like it?”

  “Big boat.”

  “Not really. It’s just a cruiser.”

  “Huge,” she said again. “We getting on it?”

  “Of course, silly.” Drew’s arm went around her waist again. “That’s how we’ll phone. There’s signal, out there.”

  “On the lake?”

  “Of course on the lake. Come on.”

  He helped her up a shiny steel railing. Her feet thunked hollowly on the boat’s deck when she stepped on it. She stomped a few times, and then grinned across at Drew.

  “Come here.” Drew guided her to one of two padded leather seats just above the swim platform at the stern of the boat. “Sit.”