“You haggard old c—”
“Hey!” Outrage crackled down the length of Juliette’s spine as she barged into the room. “What’s the matter with you?”
At sixteen, Vi was the exact build and height as Juliette. They shared everything right down to the dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. The only thing that differed was their attitude. But even that, Juliette had once shared. Vi was exactly how Juliette used to be, shallow, self-centered, and engrossed in the knowledge that nothing bad could possibly ever happen to her. In a lot of ways, Vi was the way she was because Juliette refused to open her eyes to their situation. She knew Vi knew enough, but if she knew the full extent, she never let on. Juliette was fine with that. She had already grown up too fast for the both of them.
“Why do I have to listen to her?” Vi demanded, waving a thin arm in Mrs. Tompkins’ss direction. “She’s nobody.”
“She’s family,” Juliette countered sharply. “And you better watch your tone.”
Vi’s pert little nose wrinkled in a clear show of disgust. “She’s not my family and I don’t have to do shit.” She swatted a strand of hair off her shoulder with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I’m going out with my friends. I need money.”
Juliette shook her head. “I don’t have money and you’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you serious right now?” The deafening volume of Vi’s shriek nearly made Juliette wince. “Oh my God, you are trying to ruin my life!”
“I’m trying to get you to finish your schooling,” Juliette countered calmly. “You need to graduate, Vi.”
“Ugh! I have a life and I have friends and I don’t need you—”
“And homework that needs to be done,” Juliette finished for her. “I have to go to work so you are going to listen to Mrs. Tompkins, eat your supper, do your homework and watch TV, or something. I don’t care. But you’re not leaving this house.”
“You are not my mother!” Vi roared, flags of crimson flooding her cheeks. “You can’t tell me what to do!”
“I can,” Juliette said with a note of sadness she couldn’t suppress. “I am your legal guardian and that means I’m responsible for you and your wellbeing until you’re eighteen. Until then, you listen to what I tell you or—”
“Or what?” Her hiss was mocking and cruel.
Juliette never flinched. “Or I send you to Uncle Jim’s farm and let him ruin your life for the next two years.”
All color drained from the other girl’s face in a single sweep of horror.
“You are such a bitch!”
Eyes glittering, Vi stormed from the kitchen. Juliette listened as the crack of her pink pumps resonated off the hardwood all the way down the hall. Then all the way up the stairs. It ended with the booming bang of the upstairs bedroom.
She sighed heavily into the silence her sister’s tantrum had left behind. Mrs. Tompkins studied her with sad, shrewd eyes, but thankfully didn’t comment; they had gone through this song and dance before with Vi. Juliette had apologized profusely over and over again for the girl’s behavior. There was nothing left to do.
“I’m going to work,” she mumbled at last. “You might not be able to reach me, but I’ll try to be back some time tomorrow morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins nodded. “All right, dear.”
Taking her weary frame, Juliette ambled her way upstairs. In Vi’s room, the stereo blared something angry and loud that rattled the door. Juliette let it be. She had learned long ago not to fight every battle if she wanted to win the war, and Vi was one giant war.
In her room, she stripped quickly and showered. Then she dressed carefully in a short, black skirt and a white blouse over a white camisole. She combed out her hair and left it in a rippling wave down her back while she applied a fine stroke of makeup, all the while, avoiding her own eyes in the mirror.
There was no longer room to ignore the inevitable. She had done her best, but in the end, there was only one final option. One last thing she could give Arlo to protect Vi. While she lacked the courage to put a name to the unthinkable, she knew what needed to be done.
It had never dawned on her just how much she weighed until her entire weight was being supported by the grace of her unsteady legs. The three inch pumps she’d forced her feet into wrenched and wobbled across gravel as she hobbled her way to the warehouse doors. Lights spilled through the cracked windows on either side of the sheet of metal, a sure sign that someone was home. A burly man stood in front, sucking lightly on a cigarette. Juliette could just make out the crimson little rosebud flare up with every inhale. His dark attire enfolded him in the setting dusk. But the light from inside the factory glinted off the smooth globe of his shaved head and the thick silver hoop stretching his earlobe. Eyes squinting, he watched her approach through the plume of gray smoke he expelled between them.
“I’m here to see Arlo,” Juliette said with all the gumption she could muster. “He’s expecting me.”
He brought the tabacco stick to his mouth again and she caught the sharp glint of a bar piercing through his bottom lip. His free hand slipped behind his back and he withdrew a walkie-talkie.
“Boss? There’s a girl here to see you.”
There was a long pause of silence where Juliette was forced to see who would blink first. He did when static erupted from the device in his hand.
“What she look like?”
The guard looked Juliette over, assessing her quickly. “Blonde. Kind of hot.”
Any other time, any other person, the compliment would have been flattering. But knowing the reason she was there, Juliette wanted to be sick.
“Send her in.”
Clipping the walkie-talkie back on his belt, the guard took hold of the iron handle and yanked the heavy doors apart, revealing a patch of dim yellow light against the night.
Juliette stepped carefully over the threshold and onto smooth concrete.
The entrance opened into a wide foyer caged in by slabs of metal. An opening had been cut into one side that led into an eerie darkness.
Her insides quivered with apprehension. Her hands shook as she smoothed them down her skirt. She looked back to see if the guard would at least show her the way, but he gave her one last, almost pitying glance and let the door slam shut between them.
Alone, she started forward through the dingy hue of a single dangling lamp swaying miserably overhead. The opening bent into a narrow corridor that stopped abruptly at several sharp turns. It reminded her of a maze and she was the mouse that had to find the cheese. The click of her heels seemed to echo through the place in a hollow pulse, resounding off the metal and bouncing along each thick beam overhead.
It hadn’t been very hard to find where Arlo would be that night. It was a Friday and that meant collection day. Anyone who owed the Dragons made sure that they had their money in before the end of that day. Juliette had been there every last Friday of the month for seven years, but she’d never gone inside. Usually, she gave her money to the guy outside and left. She knew it was safe because no one was stupid enough to double cross Arlo.
The clan had been in the family for generations, getting passed down from father to son. Juan Cruz was still the kingpin of the eastside, but Arlo ran the streets. He was the one who got his hands dirty and had built himself a name that most wouldn’t even dare whisper. They were mostly runners, smuggling everything from drugs, to guns, to children and women. Juliette hadn’t known that world existed outside of cop shows until the day Arlo had shown up on her doorstep. Now she was in so deep she didn’t think she’d ever be able to get out.
The end of the corridor opened to every frat boy’s dream playhouse. It was built with the sole purpose of entertainment and comfort. The area was large, large enough to hold two pool tables, a full arcade tucked into one corner, and a lounge in the other. There was also a built in bar with an enormous oak counter that gleamed under the dull fingers of light spilling down from the dangling lamps overhead. A long, wooden table took over the center
of the room like an ugly gash. The thing was painted a faded gray and there were no chairs around it. Only men.
There were four standing at the table with Arlo. Six more sat around the lounge area watching some basketball game on the plasma TV mounted into the wall. They all looked up when Juliette stepped into their domain. The TV was muted.
“Juliette.” Arlo stepped away from the papers he and the four men had been poring over. “I see your sister isn’t with you so I’m assuming you have my money.”
Willing her nerves to hold steady, Juliette closed the wide distance between her and the monster watching her. She stopped when there were three steps between them.
“I don’t have all of it, but I brought whatever I could raise.”
She pulled out the envelope from her purse and held it out. Arlo smoothed a hand over his grinning mouth. He chuckled.
“That wasn’t our deal, Juliette.”
She nodded, wishing he would take the money because her hand was beginning to tremble.
“I know, but I … I’m willing to work off an extension.”
There was no mistaking how scared she was. Everything right down to the tips of her hair shivered with barely suppressed terror.
Arlo arched an eyebrow. He shoved away from the table and started towards her in a slow, almost taunting strides.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
Her arm dropped to her side. A hot wave of mortification rushed up her throat to fill her cheeks. She could feel the eyes burning into her, the ears all listening, waiting for her response.
“In whatever way you want.”
Her voice caught on each word like hooks snagging on flesh. She felt each one rip away a piece of her until she was in bloody tatters.
Arlo stopped dead in his tracks. A darkness that made her skin crawl crept into his eyes. They raked over her, a slow progression along the length of her. His teeth caught the corner of his mouth.
“I’m sure we can think of something.” He rubbed an absent hand along the curve of his jaw. “Why don’t you take all that off and get on the table so I can get a better look at what you’re offering?”
Juliette’s muscles stiffened.
“Problem?” he challenged.
Her gaze darted to the six men sitting almost motionless across the room.
“Don’t worry about them,” Arlo said casually. “They don’t mind watching.” He paused to slide a tongue over his teeth. “And if you’re good, I might not even share you.”
Crippling panic slammed into her. It rolled down the length of her spine in a serrated wheel of ice. The packet of money slipped from her numb fingers and struck the side of her foot. Bills spilled free from the top. They lay forgotten as she struggled not to join them in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Arlo watched her, dark eyes hooded with a sick sort of pleasure. She knew fear was the thing that gave him his power, but she couldn’t stave hers back. It rushed over her, hot and formidable, threatening to drown her. Around the room, silence continued to crackle. But it was the type of silence no one ever wanted to hear.
“Juliette,” Arlo purred in that mocking drawl of his. His boots scoffed across concrete as he swaggered forward. “You’re making this very hard on yourself.”
Heart beating louder than his words, Juliette willed herself not to turn and bolt. She knew that would only make things worse. She knew running would only fuel the whole pack into chasing her. So she stood perfectly still. He stopped before her, smelling of beer and cheap cigarettes. There was a stain—tomato sauce—just on his stubbled chin. Juliette focused on that rather than the predatory glint in his eyes.
“Undress or I will undress you.”
He emphasized his promise with a sharp click of a switchblade being snapped open. She hadn’t even seen him remove it from his pocket, yet it sat in his hand, glinting menacingly for all it was worth.
Her fingers trembled as she lowered her purse. The bag hit the ground with an almost resounding thump that was nowhere near as loud as it sounded in her head. The sound made her jump despite having expected it. Ignoring it, she reached numbly for the buttons holding her blouse together. The fastens slipped with too much ease through the holes. The V parted inch by painful inch to expose the camisole and the full curves of her breasts. They rose and fell rapidly with her every ragged breath. The sight of them seemed to drag Arlo to her. It took all her strength and courage not to be sick when his heat crawled over her, thick and speckled with his foul stench. Her skin prickled in reaction. Her stomach recoiled. She would have flinched back, but her shoes had fused themselves into the grimy floor. All she could manage to do was avert her face when his pushed all the closer.
“Faster, Juliette,” he urged, his voice breathless with anticipation. “I’m not a patient man and I have been waiting a long time for this.”
A choked sound escaped. Her mortification was swallowed by the crippling reality of what was about to happen. She was under no illusion that Arlo would be gentle. He wouldn’t care that she had never been with a man. No doubt he would relish the fact. She just prayed to God he didn’t do it right there in front of his men or worse, let them have her, too.
A sob worked up into her throat, suffocating what little oxygen she’d managed to hang on to. It formed a tight ball in her windpipe, choking her until she was certain she’d blackout. Part of her hoped she did. Then she wouldn’t be present for whatever he did to her.
His fingers, rough and almost scaly, brushed against the contour of her cheek, smearing the tear that had slipped past her defenses. The salty tang was smudged across the quivering curve of her bottom lip, bringing with it the taste of pizza and sweat leftover on his skin. The sensation kicked at her stomach, harassing the frothing bile.
“Pretty little Juliette.” His fingers curled into her jaw, cutting and biting as her face was wrenched towards his. “Always looking down your nose at me, thinking you were too good to lower yourself to my level and yet…” His grip tightened. His grin broadened. “Here you are, giving me the thing you swore you never would. How mortifying for you this must be.”
Juliette said nothing. She could think of nothing to say. Part of her was afraid she might spit on him, or vomit if she even considered opening her mouth.
The hand fell away to close around her upper arm instead. The unevenly cut nails tore at flesh as she was hauled forward. The envelope of money went skidding under her feet, littering bills in all direction. No one seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy watching as Arlo shoved her against the table. The thing must have been bolted into the concrete, because it didn’t so much as budge with the impact. But Juliette knew her hip would hold evidence of the assault come morning.
That was all the time she was given to think about it though. The next moment, Arlo had her wrenched down onto her back. His hands grabbed her wrists when her survival instincts kicked in almost automatically and she began flailing. Her arms were slammed down against the wood just above her head with enough force to steal her breath away with the pain. Her thighs were forced apart by lean hips.
“Don’t fight me, Juliette,” he panted, washing her face with his sour breath. “You came to me, remember? You asked for this.”
By this he meant the hand he forced between their bodies. The fingers tore at fabric until it found skin. Above her, his grunt was met by her weak sob. He didn’t seem to mind when she squeezed her eyes shut tight and twisted her face away. He had found what he’d been searching for. Blunt fingers brutally prodded against her dry opening, jabbing and pinching despite the resistance of her body. Against her thigh, his erection seemed to swell the harder she tried to buck him off. It burned through the rough grain of his jeans to singe her with every grind of his hips.
“Please…” she choked out, desperately trying to wrench away. “Please stop…”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He ran the flat length of his tongue across her jawline. “I don’t mind having your sister instead. Didn’t t
hink so,” he mocked when she clamped her teeth down on her lip. “So be a good girl and let me in.”
Despite every voice in her head screaming for her not to do it, she let her body go limp. She shut her eyes and prayed to God it ended quickly.
“Boss? We got company.”
The phantom voice shattered through the sound of labored breathing, of buttons and zippers being undone. It cracked through Juliette’s sanity, nearly destroying her as relief speared through her.
Arlo drew away and she wasted no time rolling off the table. Her knees deserted her and she hit the ground hard enough to peel the skin on her knees and palms. The room swam behind a thick film of tears that threatened to fall no matter how hard she tried to battle them back. Her entire body shuddered with a violence that made her feel half crazy, like the only thing keeping her sane was the shock.
Above her, Arlo cursed and reached for the walkie-talkie set somewhere on the table.
“Who is it?” he snapped into the device. “Tell them I’m busy.”
“Is that right?”
The voice was deep with a rolling accent that vibrated through the silence as easily as a whip. It was followed by the steady clip of approaching footsteps. A moment later, the entranceway was filled by no less than eight men in sleek, expensive suits in varying shades of gray and black. One man stood at the helm, tall, dark, and breathtaking in a way Juliette couldn’t help noticing despite the circumstances. He was the type of man who belonged on the cover of GQ. The kind that romance novels were written about and women longed for. He radiated power, the kind that dominated the space and crackled like the approach of a terrible thunderstorm. Juliette could feel the snap of his presence even from a distance. She could feel the rise of the hairs along her arms. The sharp scrape of it along her skin. It rippled through her veins to pool somewhere deep inside her like a harsh combination of alcohol and fear. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous and he was pissed.
“Are you busy, Cruz?” he spat, slicing through the thickened air with an Irish lilt that she would have found dead sexy any other time. Eyes the voluminous black of absolute night pivoted against a face defined from the very definition of rugged and focused on Juliette still on all fours half under the table. They narrowed. “Is this your idea of busy?”
Transcending Darkness Page 3
