Masterful 3 (An Erotic Dark Romance)

by Jesse Joren

  It didn't mean anything to me, or Del, or Hex. It meant something to Rosine, though.

  "God, Killen, no!" she screamed.

  His mouth was still bloody from the fight. He looked toward those of us on the terrace and smiled.

  I win, he mouthed.

  He pressed whatever was in his hand. With a muted roar, fire bloomed inside the house, engulfing him and cutting off our escape from the terrace.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  As the living room burst into flames, Rosine sprang toward the heavy doors. Del grabbed her as Hex pulled the heavy doors shut.

  Already I could feel the heat baking through the heavy glass. Soon smoke and fire would eat the roof before it engulfed us. Stone or not, this terrace wouldn't be safe for long.

  A look passed between Hex and Del. It was a look I didn't understand.

  "Eva, listen to me," Hex said. "We have one shot to get out of here, but you're going to need all of your courage."

  He had more optimism than me. Right now, I couldn't see any way out of here except as barbeque. The fire was starting to roar, and the beach was a huge drop straight down.

  This wasn't Middle Earth where a passing eagle might give us a lift. Maybe there was another way.

  "Marco is coming? You have a helicopter?" I asked.

  Hex's laugh startled me. "That's a great idea. Where were you during my crisis planning? The only way out of here is down. We'll take care of you."

  "You mean we're going to bungee jump?" My stomach turned over at the very idea.

  Del spoke up from behind us.

  "We're going out the way I came in," he said. "It's easier going down, and the ropes are still in place. It's no big deal."

  At least it's not free climbing, right?

  Hex seemed to sense what I was thinking.

  "This is nothing like Michael," he said. "We have ropes, and Del and I are both experienced climbers. You're strong enough, after Walden."

  An image rose in my mind of all those miserable hours of clinging to the rope hung from the second floor at Walden. Upper-body strength building, Hex had called it. I called it torture.

  Those callouses had faded since being back in Atlanta. My legs were strong, but my arms…not so much.

  "You're strong," Hex repeated. "I've had your legs wrapped around me. I'm an authority on this."

  "I could have lived ten more lives without hearing that," Del said. "We should already be gone. What about her?"

  I had almost forgotten about Rosine. She was quiet in Del's grip, her face expressionless as she looked into the flames burning inside the house.

  What was she thinking as she stared into the fire? She'd hated Killen, but she also loved him in a way I didn't really want to understand.

  Hex's voice became detached, almost pitying. He sounded as if he was talking to a wounded child.

  "Rosine, we're taking you with us," he said. "We'll have to be quick because the ropes –"

  "You think I need your help?" Her eyes blazed. "You don't give a damn about me."

  "You can't stay here," he went on, as if she hadn't spoken. "I know Killen manipulated you. We're going to escape, and we can sort out the rest later. Okay, Rosie?"

  That tender note in his voice made me hurt. It was like hearing the echo of a big-hearted but naïve fifteen-year-old boy, telling a pretty girl that he would take care of her.

  That tone seemed to find its way through Rosine's hostility. She looked down as her lower lip trembled.

  "He might still be alive," she whispered. "I know you could save him."

  "No," Hex said in that same gentle tone. "He made his choice, and it was a bad one. You're too smart for that. I'll take you on the rope myself, and Del will take Eva."

  Petty jealousy twinged through me. Was there more to what he still felt for her? The tattoo was gone, but—

  Stop with the drama. There's plenty of that already.

  That's when I noticed the sharp way that Del was watching Hex over Rosine's dark head. Something was wrong, but I didn't know what.

  "Rosine, Del is going to let go of you. He and Eva will go first, then you and I will start down. You're on board, right?"

  She gave an agonized glance at the licking flames before nodding. "I'll go," she said in a small voice.

  Del released her warily, his body tensed as if ready to grab her again. She stood so still and dejected that she didn't seem like the girl threatening to cut my face a few minutes ago.

  Hex led me to the far end of the terrace, the only part that wasn't already feeling hot. Now I could see thick ropes attached to the ledge.

  "I was waiting there," Del said. "It was the only spot without cameras. I guess they didn't expect anyone to be crazy enough to climb up."

  I can't believe we're crazy enough to climb down.

  "Those shoes have to go," Hex told me. "Bare feet are better for traction. The dress isn't great, but it will help with rope burn."

  Del produced a backpack and rifled through it. He came up with a length of rope and a pair of heavy leather half-gloves.

  "Put these on," he said. "They'll help you get a better grip. It's slick near the bottom."

  "You're such a fucking Boy Scout," Hex said.

  He was ironic and composed, but something was off about him. Something I couldn't place. Maybe it was just the fact that we were about to be baked alive.

  Del pulled off his own pair. "Rosine can have mine."

  "Good," Hex said as I was pulling on the gloves. "The ropes should hold all of us."

  "Yeah," Del agreed. "The only problem is swaying. We'll space ourselves apart about six feet and —"

  A whoosh of heat and the roar of flames cut him off. All of us jerked toward the sound.

  Rosine had opened the sliding door and was standing just inside the living room. Over her shoulder, the flames bloomed as they fed on the fresh air. Bloated waves of heat radiated from inside the house.

  Hex leaped for the doors, but she had the advantage. She yanked the heavy door shut, locking it as he pounded on the glass.

  "Stop fucking around, Rosine. Open the door."

  She shook her head, but the gleam in her eyes was as bright as the fire. Something she mouthed made Hex pound the door again.

  She was laughing as she leaned forward to press a damp kiss on the glass. Her secret little smile was all for Hex, then she retreated with slow, graceful steps.

  For an instant she was a dark silhouette against the growing brightness. Then her steps quickened, and she was lost in the fire.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Someone was making whimpering sounds that were escalating into a shriek. I realized it was me.

  Hex turned to me. His lips pressed together in a tight line as his eyes went cold.

  "Same plan," he said. "Del, you first with Eva, then me."

  My hands were shaking as I finished pulling on the gloves. Del had to help me fasten them.

  "Get rid of the shoes," he said, "then watch how I get on the rope."

  I kicked off the blue Louboutins that Natalie had triumphantly brought into the dressing room at Macy's. Del used the rope he'd pulled from the pack to create a quick harness, locking me onto the main rope.

  "We're going to take this as slow as we can," Del said, sitting on the wall that surrounded the terrace at waist-level. "I'm pulling up some of the rope. I'm going to harness myself and climb over."

  With a few expert snaps he was attached to the rope, which seemed too frail to hold us all. The horror of watching Rosine stride into the flames still had me shaking.

  "Stop it," Hex said sharply. "I need all your attention here. We're not going to let you fall. Take a deep breath."

  I did, smelling the smoke from inside the house. When tears flooded my eyes, Hex slapped me.

  "Goddamn it, Eva. I'm not going to lose you because you're not focused. Got it?"

  "Yes." My voice was watery, but the panic receded. Hex looked almost pale in the dancing light of the fire.

&n
bsp; "Better," he said, hooking me into the harness. "Del's below you, and I'm above. If you feel weak or sick, we'll stop. We've got time."

  That was the closest thing to an outright lie that he'd ever told me. At some point, the fire would eat through the house, and the ropes anchored to the terrace would burn too.

  "Breathe," Hex said. "You've got this."

  Del went over the edge, the rope pulling taunt as it absorbed his weight. He gave me an encouraging smile before disappearing from sight.

  Memories of Michael flashed before my eyes. He got all the daredevil genes in the family. I couldn't do this.

  "We're both here to help you, Eva," Hex said. "Move your ass."

  "I'm right down here," Del called up.

  Hex gave me a brief, fierce kiss. "You think I'm going to let anything happen to you? Let's do this."

  I gripped the rope in the rough leather gloves, feeling the harness catch my weight as I started to climb off the terrace. The stones were rough under my bare feet.

  "Good," Hex said. "You've got the strength. Just go slow. It's only about three hundred feet, give or a take a little."

  "How much is a little?" My teeth were chattering.

  "It doesn't matter," he said. "Get going."

  I swung away from the terrace, and suddenly there was nothing below me. My bare feet found the rough stones of the sheer cliff wall below the terrace, plus a second guide rope that Del had used to climb up.

  For a moment I clung to both ropes, unable to move. My heart fluttered like a bird I'd swallowed by mistake.

  Stop acting like such a girl.

  The perpetually sniping voice inside my suddenly sounded like Michael. Protective or not, he had no patience with wimps. The thought helped me steady myself.

  With slow, deliberate care I lowered myself another foot. My breathing was easier now that I trusted the ropes. A smooth jerk and sway made me look up. Hex was a dark shape above me.

  "Hey Eva," Del called up. "Nice of you to flash your panties at me, but keep moving."

  "You're a liar," I called back. "I'm not wearing any."

  A little chuckle drifted up. "I noticed."

  "If you don't stop hitting on my girl," Hex said, "I'm going to cut you loose. Let's see how smooth you are then."

  His words were jovial, but his tone made me nervous. He sounded strained and breathless, even though he was barely off the terrace.

  Above us, the fire roared with sudden fury. The burst of flames threw enough light to see the details of the craggy wall we were descending. Scrubby little bushes were already leaving scratches on my feet.

  "Move," Hex ordered.

  The rope was like a living connection among the three of us, and a slow rhythm formed as we crept along. Without me, they'd both probably be at the bottom already.

  It was getting colder as the wind blew. As Del promised, the damp sea spray was also a factor, chilling me and making the rope slick.

  After several long minutes of inching along, even the gloves couldn't stop the pain at the base of my fingers. My feet felt almost burned from too much contact with the rope. I cursed every extra calorie I'd ever eaten, making this hellish journey that much harder.

  Suddenly my foot slipped on a wet spot on the cliff, and my sore hands couldn't hold the rope. I lost my balance and fell backward, swinging from nothing but my harness.

  Before the shriek was out of my mouth, a strong hand caught me from above, pulling me back toward the rope. I clutched it with my hands and legs, not sure I could ever let go again.

  "You're fine." Hex's voice was calm, but there was a breathless note to it. "I'm here. Five more minutes to the beach."

  The surf sounds were much stronger, and we had maybe a hundred feet to go. I was trembling in exhaustion, but we were so close.

  "I think we're going to make it," I tried to say through my chattering teeth.

  "You bet your ass we are," Hex said. "You're tough. Never forget that, Eva. Just…don't…"

  The wind carried away the rest of his words.

  I glanced at my hands, and the gloves looked black in the failing light. They were sticky and wet. A dark stain was running down the rope, staining as it flowed. The smell was nothing like the sharp spray from the ocean.

  It was blood. A lot of blood.

  And it was coming from Hex.

  Chapter Sixty

  From high above us came another explosion. A shower of broken glass rained down, and I felt the sting of several small cuts. Glass crackled in my hair.

  The tension on the rope above me shifted. Hex was backlit against the brightness of the fire above. He wasn't moving, just spinning from the rope.

  "Hex!" The wind made my scream thin and shrill. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  He mumbled something unintelligible, then he sounded stronger. "Nothing. Move."

  The rope below me changed its rhythm. Del was climbing back up.

  "Why did you stop?" he called to me. "Did the glass cut you?"

  "No, it's He—Stephen. I think he's hurt."

  "Yeah." His voice was grim. "We need to get off this rope. Start down again. I can come up for him once we're—"

  "The fuck you will." Hex's voice sounded closer to normal now. "I'm moving."

  I forced myself to start descending again. In a moment the dark stain on the rope was left behind, and the jerking motion above me told me that Hex was moving again.

  The last fifty feet of the climb seemed longer than everything before it. The sound of the house burning high on the hill gave way to the sound of the ocean beating on the shore.

  "I'm on the ground," Del said as the rope under me lost its tension. "You're almost there."

  My arms quivered like spaghetti, but I managed to lower myself the last few feet. Del's hands found my waist, then my chafed feet were on cool, damp sand.

  "You did great," he said, flicking glass out of my hair.

  "Damn right," Hex slurred, almost falling down the last length of rope. "That's my girl."

  "Sit down," Del ordered. "Where is it?"

  "Right shoulder," Hex said.

  He stumbled to a boulder tucked under a recess in the steep cliff, the booming surf about thirty feet from us. Del reached behind the boulder and came up with a large backpack.

  "We don't want to be seen," he said, "in case they're tracking the fire from the air."

  He produced a collapsible battery lantern that created a tiny circle of light. That's when I saw how the dark shirt Hex wore was torn and stained over his right shoulder.

  Del tugged the neckline down, revealing a large, ugly puncture. Hex was whiter than I'd ever seen him, a glassy look in his normally piercing gaze.

  He looked at me with a crooked smile. "Your pretty dress is ruined. You mad at me?"

  My voice sounded almost normal. "You just saved me in about ten different ways. You think I care about a dress?"

  "No," he said. "I meant mad at me for having such an asshole of a brother." He paused for a moment. "Had."

  There was no hint of sorrow in his voice, just cold finality. After what I'd seen of Killen, I could understand why.

  "Just tell me you don't have any more brothers."

  His gaze slid to Del. "Just one."

  "You're bleeding like a stuck pig," Del said. "Did he get you with the knife?"

  "No. I guess a piece of the chair went through me when it broke."

  "You guess." Del snorted. "Marco is on the way. I'll have to patch you up while we wait."

  His eyes were sharp as he examined the ugly, congealing wound. Then he touched something at the center of it that made Hex lose what little color he had left.

  "There's a piece left in there. It has to come out." Del's glance flicked to me. "Eva, maybe you shouldn't be looking at this."

  "I'm staying right here," I said.

  "You're as pig-headed as he is." He dug into the pack again. "You two were made for each other."

  He handed me what looked like a square of folded aluminum foil. "
Survival sheet. Wrap it around you. It'll keep you warm."

  Hex slid down to sit on the sand, the boulder at his back. Del was putting out supplies in the lantern light: alcohol wipes, ointment, gauze.

  "Take the piece out from the front," Hex instructed. "The way the wood angled in—"

  "I don't need you to tell me my business," Del said coolly. "Hold his hand, Eva."

  Funny how, after all that had happened, the simple act of holding his hand made me want to cry. The glowing tenderness in his eyes brought a lump to my throat.

  He grimaced as Del began to clean around the edges of the wound. "Great touch, Dr. Chainsaw."

  "I'm the Dr. Chainsaw who's about to put your ass to sleep. You better not piss me off."

  "I don't need it."

  "I do. I don't want you punching me because this little procedure hurts like a bitch."

  "Just do it."

  "What, now you don't trust me? You think I'm gonna rape you while you're asleep?"

  "You're not my type," Hex said, "and I don't need a shot."

  Del was opening a small package that held an injection needle and a tiny bottle. "This will put you out for thirty minutes at most."

  "Fuck off. The answer's no."

  Hex motioned me closer, cupping my face in his hands. Now I realized why Del was insisting on a sedative. Hex was covered in a fine sweat that made his pallor waxy in the lantern light. With shaky fingers he pulled me to him for a long and sweet kiss that tasted deliciously of Hex and sea spray.

  Somewhere behind that salty kiss, part of me understood why Rosine had hated me so much. Long ago, she has thrown away a chance with Hex, opting for a lunatic who ruined her life.

  "I love you, Eva," he said. "Don't ever forget that. After Del stitches me up, there's something I need to tell – hey! What the fuck?"

  He jerked away from me. While he was distracted, Del had slipped the needle into his arm.

  "You sneaky son-of-a-bitch. I'm gonna…gonna…" His eyes were already going unfocused as he slumped against the boulder.

  "Thank me later," Del said.

  We both watched as sleep took Hex, easing the pain from his face. Del worked with quick, silent efficiency to put him into a more stable position against the boulder.