Damage Me (Crystal Gulf Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  This was happening too fast. Too many damaging things were going on, waiting to break me. His zipper gave way, sending a bone-deep, catastrophic, swarm of terror through me. It rolled around in me until puke filled my mouth. With his hand over my mouth it went back down my throat. Tears made his hand slippery.

  He wasn’t going to do this to me. I refused to let a monster take who I was. I prayed to God hard, begging him for strength. I just needed one second of strength. Only one. I had to have the energy to fight because I was going to fight. I wasn’t going to let him ruin me.

  He pushed my thighs apart and reached for my panties. He grabbed the waistband and attempted to push them to the side, but they were too tight. In order for him to get to them he had to either let my mouth go or give up. But I wasn’t a monster. I didn’t think like him. I had no idea he had other plans. How could I predict the thoughts of an evil bastard?

  The moment he reached for his belt a revolting tremor rocked my body. I didn’t know what he was going to do with it. Tie me up, strangle me, fasten me to the bed, hit me—all I understood at that moment was if he got his belt off I lost. He wanted it for a reason. He had plans for it.

  Amidst my fear my eyes were blurrier. The drugs started to win out over my fear, but one look at his exposed body rocketed me into action. As he tried to get his belt free, I struggled to get the flesh of his hand between my teeth. I bit down hard.

  “Fuck!” he shouted, pulling his hand back.

  “Help! Help me!” As I shouted I recalled something I’d heard in high school. When people scream for help most times the person hearing it wouldn’t respond. It sparked their fear. It made them afraid of what you were afraid of. It was better to scream something they would respond to. Something that denoted action. “Fire! The house is on fire! There’s a fire!” I screamed with everything inside of me, with every ounce of my being, with the fire in my heart, with the part of me who refused to lose.

  “Shut your fucking mouth.” His fist came at me too fast for my brain to discern.

  The last thing I comprehended before I blacked out was one word, one sound, and then nothing but blackness.

  “Hillary!”

  Chapter Four

  Dylan

  The moment we drove past the Welcome to Crystal Gulf sign on the highway, I felt a sick sense of relief.

  I knew who I was here. I’d grown up here, learned how to survive here. There was a sense of comfort that thrived in this city and nowhere else.

  The Gulf of Mexico was dark against the night. The moon glimmered silver on the water, following me.

  Welcome back to nothing.

  I may know who this Dylan was, but that didn’t mean he made my skin crawl any less than it had before I left. I said goodbye to Harley on that beach. I left the woman I loved in this city. I lost her here too. I left my lies here as well, and now they were waiting for me, eager to remind of everything I hid from.

  As I watched the waves roll in Bach’s phone rang.

  “Why are you calling me, Justine?”

  I looked over curiously at the mention of Bach’s old screw-buddy. It wasn’t Harley. The rage in my chest untightened.

  Bach’s expression shifted from annoyance to something I can only define as horror. His face paled and his hand shook around his phone. My heart fell. Aubrey? Harley? Was something wrong?

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Did he touch her?” Fury contorted his words. “You listen to me, Justine. We’re done. We’re not even friends at this point. You leave her side for one second, and I’ll strangle you. Don’t leave her!” he roared, making even me flinch. “What was she even doing there? And you let her stay? Are you so miserable with your life that you want to ruin hers too?”

  From the other end, Justine’s answer sounded loud.

  I settled back in my seat. Unless Aubrey was with Justine, which I highly doubted, then Aubrey and Harley were safe. But Bach wasn’t relaxed. He looked scared and infuriated. If Harley and Aubrey were safe, then who else wasn’t? We loved the same people.

  “Did he slip it in her drink? Where is he? Where’s Jona?” He punched the steering wheel and then looked down at my leg. “I’ll kill the son of a bitch. You did this to her, Jus. Oh, shut up. You’re a whore, and you can’t stand that Hillary isn’t, so you drug her down? She doesn’t party! Her mom’s going to kill me.”

  I frowned at the waves. Who was Hillary?

  “Stay by her. I’ll be there in ten.” He hung up and cursed, running his hand through his hair. He looked over his shoulder and then shot across the lanes to get to the exit. “Shit.”

  “Who’s Hillary?”

  His sigh was on the edge of a sob. He pressed down on the gas and flew around a car, turning left on the turn off instead of turning right toward the beach house. “Do you know a guy named Zane Eastwood?”

  I thought about it, running his name through the millions in my past. With the constant influx of college kids every year, it was difficult to retain everyone I met. “No. What did he do?”

  He stopped at a red light and stared straight, his unease choking the air out of the car. “He slipped something in my sister’s drink. I don’t need to explain further, do I? Because if I keep going I’m going to murder the son of a bitch.”

  At first, I thought I heard him wrong. Bach didn’t have a sister. We grew up together. He came to live with me permanently when he was seven. We slept in the same bed until we moved out. I knew first hand he didn’t have a sister. So I laughed because this had to be a joke.

  “What do you mean you have a sister? Light’s green,” I added.

  His eyes snapped open, and he sped away. “She’s eighteen. I’ve always known about her but hadn’t met her. Her mom kept her away from me. I met her over the summer while you were gone.” He looked ill, face green. “She’s sweet, Dylan. She’s not like you and me. Not even like Harley. She’s …” He struggled with an explanation.

  “Light?” I supplied, too confused to forget I wasn’t in the mood to help him out. He didn’t seem to be playing around. I could smell the fear on him the way I smelled it on my unit in Afghanistan. A tangy bitter smell that woke my senses up. My blood was pumping. “You’re not shitting around, are you? You really do have a sister.” My tone was as stunned as I felt.

  “Why would I lie about that? I’m not you,” he barked, speeding around a car to get over.

  I took that blow. He wasn’t lying. I was the liar. “So Zane tried to—” His evil glare forced me to stop. “Did he finish the job?”

  “No. Justine heard Hillary screaming.” A shudder raced down his spine, and his speed increased. He looked down at my leg again and then back at the road.

  I understood what he wanted. Regret settled squarely in my stomach. “You want to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.”

  What he really wanted was me to have his back like I had my whole life. I couldn’t even do that. Bach stole my girl, my light, but underneath that betrayal he’d taken care of my daughter, kept her fed and safe. Hillary seemed to mean a lot to him. I didn’t even know Bach could care about anyone else other than himself.

  “How about this? I’ve got Hillary. You go find the bastard. Show him that you don’t fuck with women like that and I’ll keep the sister safe. I think I can drive.” My left leg still worked.

  He thought about it for a long time. When we got to frat house alley he pulled up in front of Jona’s house. Jona and I hadn’t been close. He was more Bach’s friend, which put him in my group inadvertently. But I knew Jona enough to understand that if Hillary was as good as Bach said she was then Jona’s party was the last place she should’ve been. His place was drugs and sex, a dark place for dark people to let their darkness loose. Anyone with light shouldn’t even get close to it, let alone enter it.

  Bach put his truck in park and opened his door, taking off without an answer.

  I sat back, eyeing frat house alley. I’d spent many nights of my life on this street. Women and booze were as a
bundant as the air I breathed and the ground beneath my feet.

  I kept my sights on the front door, growing impatient. Fifteen minutes ago all I had planned was going back to my beach house to rot. Now I was waiting for my ex best friend to come out with his sister that I didn’t even know he had because some evil dickhead tried to hurt her. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked. Evil dickheads were as much a part of my life as anything else. Bach and I were raised by them. We were dickheads because of it. But there was a line you had to draw when you played in this world. And slipping something in someone’s drink to attack them was a line you did not cross.

  Having casual sex with women wasn’t hurting them when they wanted it. I never took the girls who were too drunk to say no and respected the ones who did. It had always been simple to me. I played with the women who wanted to play right along with me and let the ones who didn’t be.

  But there were men in this world who thought the word ‘no’ was an invitation to change their mind. And their evil even made me shudder.

  Bach’s cell rang suddenly, startling me. Out of curiosity, I checked the caller. The name Harley flashed across his screen along with a picture. Her flawless face was smiling on the screen. I’d never even seen Harley smile like that. Part good girl mixed with bad. Her golden brown hair framed her face and her cheeks were flushed. She was so damn beautiful my heart burned.

  My finger hovered over the word ACCEPT for a long time before I gave in. I held the phone to my ear without speaking.

  “Bach?”

  The sound of her voice shattered my rib cage. I leaned forward and gasped from the pain.

  “What happened to Hillary?” she demanded. “Bach? Bach, you better answer me right now!”

  “Bach’s not here.”

  She inhaled sharply. “Dylan?”

  If the sound of her voice ripped me apart, then that voice saying my name broke me. I couldn’t talk. All I could see was her beautiful light brown eyes breaking when I told her the truth on the beach, the day I lost her. Within that hurt there was fury. The rush of emotions made me glad I was sitting down.

  “Where’s Bach?”

  I forced myself to answer. “Inside Jona’s place.”

  “What happened?”

  Too many questions bombarded me. I wanted her to say she was sorry, take me back, and let me have another shot. But she hadn’t asked about me once. All she cared about was Bach and Hillary. I should care about the same. “Who called you?”

  “Justine.” She sounded worried. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

  My silence answered for me.

  “Shit. I’m getting in my car right now. Damn Justine …”

  As she continued to rant, I spotted movement. The front door opened. Bodies stepped out. Bach was one of them, and in his arms there was a fair-haired girl. Her blond hair caught the lights from inside and turned it into pure gold. Justine followed at a distance, appearing genuinely worried. Jona came out last; face enraged, and fists cocked.

  “He’s coming right now,” I said, cutting Harley off.

  “Put him on.”

  Bach situated the girl in his arms and opened his door. His face was stone and his eyes were cold. “Move my seat forward, Justine.”

  She moved around him, keeping a safe distance between Bach and herself. She pushed his seat up and then stepped back. Bach ducked inside and set the blond haired girl onto her back gently. I looked back curiously, ignoring Harley screaming in my ear. But the girl had rolled onto her side, leaving her back to me. Her black skirt was so short I could see her panties. They were cotton with rainbow stripes over her full ass. Her legs were short, and the way they crossed showed me the backs of her thighs. I thought her choice of panties was interesting. They were so boring compared to her short skirt, almost as if someone else had picked out her outfit and she chose to keep her panties, keeping a part of herself. Bach dug around behind his seat and then covered her lower half with a sweater.

  “Dylan!” Harley screeched, making me flinch.

  I found it interesting that I’d spent months imagining her voice, wanting it and despising it at the same time, and now that I had it I didn’t want it. Maybe because she wasn’t screaming for me. She was screaming for Bach. And there was this fair alien creature in the backseat curled up like a broken bird.

  “Here.” I handed his phone off to him, returning to the girl in the backseat.

  Maybe it was the fact that it was Bach’s sister, or her golden blond hair, or the way she moaned slightly in her sleep, as if whimpering, that made her startlingly interesting.

  I watched her try to get her bare feet under the sweater. Her toes were small and dainty, seeking out warmth. Where were her shoes? Something about her being cold bothered me. She almost got her toes beneath the sweater but missed it at the last minute. Unable to take it any longer, I rotated my body to reach into the back. I pulled his sweater down just enough to keep her covered and include her feet. The moment her toes were covered, I watched her shoulders slouch and she fell back asleep.

  When I looked up, Bach was watching me.

  “He’s going to fucking regret the day he even thought about touching her. Harley, don’t pull that shit on me. You want me to just let him go? What if he hurts someone else? He tried to—” He couldn’t even finish. “I can’t let him get off. Harley,” he growled, but it really sounded like he was begging her. He paced, ignoring Justine and Jona the way I always did.

  I looked over my shoulder once more at the strange creature in the back as Bach argued in a low voice. Bach and his dad had the same dark brown hair. His mom’s hair was always colored shitty into a dirty blond, but she was a brunette as well. It wasn’t her kid. If it wasn’t her kid, then whose kid was it?

  Tyler Bachmen got around. That was no surprise. Bach and I used to sneak into the backyard and watch him with other women in the shed. I guessed keeping that in mind, it wasn’t completely unbelievable that there was a child out there with his DNA.

  “You don’t have to come,” Bach said, sitting down in the front seat. “I promise. When do I lie to you?” He sighed and closed his door, giving Jona a nod. Jona walked over to a black Mustang and got in, speeding away. “I love you too,” he promised, his tone strong. “I’ll call you tomorrow. And don’t spend all night worrying. I know how you are. I’ll be fine. Kiss Aubrey for me. And tell her Daddy said hi.”

  “And I love her,” I added.

  “And he loves her. Bye, babe.” He hung up and dropped his phone.

  “Is Jona going to go handle him?” He nodded, eyes burning as they landed on Justine smoking a cigarette on the lawn. “Does Harley know that part?” He shook his head. “Is she coming?” Another shake of his head. My stomach fell in disappointment. It went against everything for me to still long for this woman. “I’m confused as shit,” I admitted, leaning my head back.

  “Sometimes so am I.” He started his truck and pulled out of the driveway, making a U-turn at the end of the street so he could avoid the crowded frat houses. “Welcome home, douchebag.”

  I smirked, keeping my eyes on the dark roads and headlights. “I’m used to this shit storm.” I pulled the visor down and continued to look into it as he drove, waiting for the girl to finally show her face. If I could see her face, then maybe tonight could make sense. It didn’t make sense right now.

  Because deep down I knew who was in that backseat.

  She was good.

  She was light.

  She was Bach’s.

  And because of that, she was mine.

  When we got to the beach house, I stared up at it in relief and dismay. Maybe if it were different I wouldn’t feel so different. But it wasn’t. It was the same. Body propped up by stilts with Crystal Beach as a backdrop. We were so close to the water that when I opened the door, the air coming off of it was chilled and pungent of the ocean.

  “I’m going to carry her upstairs. I’ll get your crutches out of the back when I’m done.”

  �
�I’ll get my own damn crutches. Take care of your sister.”

  He grunted and moved into the back. “Sweets?” he murmured, tone uncharacteristically soft. “Wake up.” She whimpered. “Should I take her to the hospital?”

  Turn over damn it! “No,” I answered, because something started to nag at me. Bach said she’d been able to scream. Why wasn’t she screaming anymore? “Roll her over.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it.”

  Bach gently grasped her wrist and pulled her until she was on her back. He removed the hair from her face and then that’s when I saw it. There was a bruise under her right eye. It was already starting to form. When Bach figured it out, he released her, walked away, and screamed at the water.

  I could see her face now.

  Her eyes were closed, and her lids were smeared with dark pink eye shadow. Her eyelashes were thick with mascara. Some of it was smudged on her bruise and in the corner. Her face was small, housing petite features I could only describe as adorable. I cringed during my assessment but kept going. After adorable it was all downhill from there anyway. Her skin was creamy and smooth, filled with just the hint of a tan, as if she didn’t spend much time in the sun this summer. Her hair was splayed around her head, thick and blond. There was a red mark on her bottom lip. I wondered if she’d bitten it. Blood crusted around the wound, staining her chin.

  As I stared a sense of fury slowly overtook me. How could anyone want to hurt her? She looked so small and fragile in the backseat. I’ve done dirty filthy things to women, but they were just like me, they wanted it. We were filthy together. I’d never hurt one. I’d never take something this good and damage it. To know a man like Zane had drugged her, hit her, and tried to take something that wasn’t his, made me feel a level of rage I had never experienced before. It was scorching. It was worse than Harley’s betrayal.

  It was darker than the black in the sky.

  I looked at Bach and caught his gaze. At that moment, we weren’t anyone but the team we’d been since we were kids. Bach and Dylan, two punk kids with shitty hands. But we played those hands, and we won just enough with them to keep going.