“She’s right. No one gets to dictate how you feel. There is no rule book on how to handle things like this,” Peyton added, sitting down across from me on the opposite bed.
I gave him a small smile, leaning into Melody’s damp head.
My bruised heart swelled.
I was so grateful to have two friends like them. The moment I’d settled into the motel room I’d called them to let them know I was okay, giving minimal details.
They demanded to know where I was, showing up within two hours, staying until I told them everything.
They’d never once left me alone to deal with my issues, even when I refused to let anyone in. They didn’t look at me differently now that I finally disclosed the fact my mother and father were brother and sister.
“I don’t think Mateo did it,” I confessed after an elapsed amount of silence.
“Well, I imagine he didn’t. This isn’t his style of doing things,” Melody stated.
“Of course, it’s not his style because that’s not how the Remmington’s play the game,” Peyton scoffed.
“You think this is about the game?”
“Honey, everything in this entire damn city is about the game. It never ends, never. The old money roulette is a repetitive cycle of gorgeous, rich assholes fucking up other rich asshole’s lives while wearing the best designer clothes and sharing some bubbly with superficial smiles faces.” He grabbed the customary motel notepad and a pen from beside the prehistoric landline.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to see what he was writing.
“He’s doing what we promised we would, helping you,” Melody answered for him.
My brows slanted inward from confusion. Apparently I missed something because they seemed to know exactly what was going on. “Are one of you going to explain?”
“Look.” Peyton stood and moved, so he was crouched in front of me. On the notepad were tiny bullets with events scrawled beside them.
“Someone was able to lure your sister back to Vice City, get her on drugs, and had her selling herself for money. That someone then told her about the ledger to coerce her into stealing it,” he flipped the page up and continued. “It’s not a stretch to assume this person is responsible for sending someone in to make it look like you tried to commit suicide, and then send someone back a years later to take out your aunt.”
“Then your family…er Mateo, had you brought back to Remmington Square,” Melody inserted.
I rubbed the back of my neck trying to alleviate the dull throb in my skull. This was a lot of information to take in, but that didn’t stop me from realizing how much sense it all sort-of made.
“This person could be the one who sent the albinos to Raine’s house, right? And responsible for…that?” I gestured towards the tiny box of ash.
“It sounds like some huge conspiracy plot, but this is the game in true form. I just don’t understand why this is happening to you. I mean, no offense, but your family isn’t exactly a threat to anyone,” Melody stated.
I waved her off. The Rias family was too fucked up to threaten anyone, especially with my parents’ long gone. Someone was working their own angle, though, someone…
“That’s the big question then, isn’t it? Finding out why would anyone do all of this? What the point is?”
Peyton shook his head, causing a strand of blond hair to fall across his creased forehead.
Flipping another page in the notebook, he jotted down something else before holding it up for me to see.
“Queen of diamonds, king of hearts, and ace of spades,” he ticked off all three aloud.
I was instantly reminded of the shaded tattoo that Mateo had on one side of his body with those same three playing cards. I was the queen, which made Mateo the king. Like we’d just figured out, there was another person unaccounted for.
“You don’t ask why, you ask who, because as soon as you have the answer, then you can ask the questions,” Peyton explained, reading my mind.
“You sound as cryptic as, Mateo,” I grumbled. “Do you think he knows who it is?”
Peyton gave me a look that pretty much said, “No shit.”
“The Remmingtons play this game better than anyone, I’m positive he knows, but clearly they’re not on the same side,” Melody answered, standing up.
“What about that pregnant girl you two were telling me about?”
“Camilla? No one’s seen her in years…I suppose it’s possible, but she has no motive to go after you. We’ll keep digging, in the meantime try to get some sleep. I brought you some Advil PM.” Peyton stood, placing a quick kiss on my cheek.
“We’ll figure it out El,” Melody assured me. “Are you good on cash? There are some bottles of water and a Gatorade on the table.”
“I’m fine. The wallets I took had more than enough to cover me for a few nights.” I was worried about missing my Prozac. I’d never attempted to go so long without it. I wasn’t even sure what the actual pills were Mateo had swapped them for.
I kept that concern to myself, though, not wanting to worry them any more than they already were.
After a quick hug goodbye, I told them to be careful as they left the building.
When they were gone, and the locks were back in place, I turned and sagged against the door.
Staring down at the large diamond on my ring finger, I wondered if my life would ever be anything other than pure insanity.
In my gut, I knew things were about to get much more chaotic.
Chapter Six
The magical sorcery in a pill bottle had me out like a light the second I laid down.
I rubbed my eyes, searching for the television remote and finding it beneath my pillow. The digital alarm clock was missing a button, and one number was faded out, so I used the guide as my way of telling time.
Two twenty-three AM sat in the top left corner of the screen. It’d officially been four days since I’d left Remmington Hills. I sighed and tossed the remote back down.
Pulling my knees to my chest, I rested my chin on them and stared blankly ahead.
These moments were the worst.
Late at night, early in the morning, afternoon, it didn’t matter. When I had no distractions, I was with the depressing company of all my thoughts racing through my head.
I hated that I missed him. I craved him in the worst possible way, feeling like a junkie who would soon malfunction if I didn’t get my fix.
I think saying we were perfect for one another, equal in a million different tragically dysfunctional ways was a generous way of putting it.
Funny how many different things a person could find themselves addicted to, most of them never really good for your health. I suppose that’s what the appeal was.
Running my fingers through my still damp locks, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms towards the ceiling.
My throat felt like the Sahara desert. Being that my motel room didn’t come equipped with a mini fridge to keep my drinks cool; the ice machine down the hall was my best bet. I refused to drink from the rusted tap. I did have some limits.
Sliding my feet into the pair of fuzzy slippers Melody had brought me, I grabbed the ice bucket and my room key before heading out.
Immediately the smell of damp, recent rain assaulted my senses. One single light was on in the motels parking lot.
Navigating the maze-like halls, my house-shoes lightly padded over the dull orange concrete. I was halfway to the machine when from the corner of my eye I saw a man smoking a cigarette. I wouldn’t have spared him a second glance if he wasn’t wedged between two walls like some generic Jack-The-Ripper.
“That’s a nice diamond,” he stated as I continued past.
I ignored him.
“You’re supposed to say thanks, bitch,” he called after me.
I ignored that, too, reaching the old machine without further incident. Eyeing it suspiciously, I pushed down with my bucket and cringed.
The thing sounded li
ke a stuffed up garbage disposal. I pulled back just for ice to come falling out of the chute like pieces of hail from the sky, with no sign of stopping.
“Are you kidding me?” I moaned, catching what I needed and then hurrying away before some pissed off guest could wake up and see me standing there.
On the way back to my room I was relieved to see the asshole from moments ago was gone.
That feeling of relief was short lived.
Entering the room, I locked the door and sat the bucket of questionable ice on the table. As I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I noticed the tiny hairs on my arms’ were on edge.
My body had sensed something was wrong, and my brain delayed in catching up. I turned my head and audibly swallowed, seeing a pair of worn tennis shoes just barely sticking out from beside the far side of the bed.
I wasn’t bothered by the body, not really. Dead people didn’t faze me.
I was much more concerned with the framed king of diamonds someone had sat on top of the comforter.
Chapter Seven
The faucet turning on in the bathroom, had my already rapid heartbeat skyrocketing. A full minute or two rolled by before the water shut off.
I could have run; maybe I should’ve. But I had nowhere to go, and I didn’t want to run anymore. Running from my reality wasn’t going to bury or erase it.
So I stood where I was, crossing my arms over my chest when he came around the corner.
It was nearly three in the morning, and he looked better than ever.
I was in a pair of black yoga pants and a white t-shirt.
He was in a three-piece suit, neatly pressed. The thick onyx hair I loved to touch was swept back in its usual style. His smoldering eyes swept over me from head to toe.
I wasn’t sure what to say, and he didn’t bother to speak. He came towards me, his mask solidly in place.
Nothing about the way he moved was any different than usual but, everything about Mateo was overwhelmingly intense. He exhumed raw, masculine power without trying.
I stood my ground, refusing to look away. I wasn’t afraid of him, not in the slightest. I was always more terrified of how I felt about him.
He stopped when we were just a few breaths apart and stared down at me. This is how it always went between us.
Pre-determined roles I felt as if we’d played a thousand different times since the day we’d met.
I had to tilt my head back to look up at him. He came a little closer, bringing us nearly nose to nose. He lifted his hand and very gently wrapped it around my throat.
My palm went to his chest, barely making an impact with his solid form when a warning flashed in his eyes making me drop it down to my side. I sharply inhaled, pulling the familiar scent of him into my lungs.
“You ran away from me. Didn’t I tell you I’d find you?”
“I don’t see it as me running away. I told you I needed space,” I calmly replied.
“Anjo, are you now telling me you forgot what I told you about space?”
“I thought you’d make an exception, considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that Eva’s dead after you told me she wasn’t? Or what––.”
“I never told you that,” he swiftly interjected. “What I told you was that she was closer than you thought, not hungry or hurt, but detained. Come on now, Elena. Use that beautiful brain of yours. You know I didn’t leave you that box of ashes, I only left the card.”
“But you knew,” I annunciated harshly. “No, I didn’t know, and just like the day of the wake, I’m not sorry for your loss, but I’m sorry you’re hurting over someone who never deserved the arresting emotional attachment you had for them in the end.”
I blinked, still floored by how flippant he was about everything. I should have been used to it by now; very rarely did things seem to faze him.
“Why can’t you just be transparent? Why does everything have to be so damn complicated with you?”
“Maybe I like the illusion of a mystery.”
“Ugh, stop fucking with my head!” A frustrated growl erupted from my throat, and I tried to push away from him.
He had the audacity to chuckle, tightening his grip and maneuvering me around, practically lifting me off at the floor.
The pressure was enough to make swallowing difficult, but not so bad that I couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly, I found myself airborne.
I landed on the bed and my back flounced off the mattress, causing me to nearly fall off on the other side, I clung to the comforter to prevent myself from landing directly on top of the dead body.
Taking in the man that had called me a bitch less than fifteen minutes ago, my eyes honed in on the perfectly round bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
His face was distorted at an odd angle and blood had already settled into the navy carpet.
Mateo’s hand clamped down on my shoulder and pulled me back to the center of the bed. He planted himself above me, forcing me to lay flat.
“Why is he in here?” I pushed at his chest, trying to dislodge him. He let out an inconvenienced sigh and easily caught my wrists, pinning them on either side of my head.
“He saw me about to enter your room.”
“So that led you to kill him?”
“No, I killed him for disrespecting you with that derogatory term.”
I extinguished a noisy breath of air, unable to stop my laugh from spilling from my chest. “You’re truly, legitimately crazy.”
“So are you, it’s what makes us so good together.”
He let go of my wrists and grabbed the top of my yoga pants, yanking them down to just beneath my ass, taking my cotton boy shorts with them.
“What are you doing?”
“Reacquainting your cunt with my cock.”
“What? No! After everything you’ve done you think it’s that easy to shove your dick in me?” I tried to wriggle from beneath him, being stopped when he placed a firm hand on my lower stomach.
“I know it’s that easy, anjo, because I know who you really are.”
“And who is that, Mateo?” I nearly whispered, feeling my thighs loosen for him and a trickle of hot, carnal need.
He didn’t answer me, not right away. He trained his tiger-like eyes on me and undid his slacks, daring me to protest, making this an unspoken challenge.
Everything seemed to be a battle of wills when it came to this beautiful man.
There were approximately nine hundred thousand more important things I needed to be doing than taking dick, but I wanted this in spite of all of that. There was no one inside the room to judge me for my actions or my skewed thought process. It was just us.
Mateo’s eyes were the only open windows he occasionally let me see through, and when he revealed a bit of what he was feeling, my stomach dipped.
Anger swirled through his golden hues like a raging storm, but there was something else there to …relief?
He pressed a hand on the ugly jagged scar that blemished my left thigh, softly tracing over it with his thumb, never breaking his gaze away from mine.
The silence stretched between us and my heart fluttered in my chest.
I thought it’d be impossible for him to know the story that surrounded that permanent mark, but he seemed to know everything.
I let him settle back above me. He spit into his hand and used the saliva to lube up my pussy, running his fingers’ up and down my slit circling my clit with his thumb.
I dropped my head back and sighed, shutting my eyes.
After another minute or two rolled by he shifted. Feeling his solid cock at my entrance, I braced myself for the rough intrusion I knew was coming.
“Open your eyes, I want to see you,” he demanded, slamming himself inside me.
I had no choice but to do anything else, I sucked in a sharp breath and my lids lifted.
He pulled out and slammed back in, erecting a loud moan from my throat and
forcing my back to arch off the bed. He set a grueling pace, burying himself balls deep with every solid thrust.
With my pants not even half-way down, it made spreading my legs’ any wider impossible.
I felt every bit of him, touching the parts of me that he owned.
The springs inside the cheap mattress sounded like they were seconds away from giving out, his balls smacked against the groove of my ass in tempo with his movements.
From the corner of my eye, I could see the dead man watching us. His gaze was almost sad. Mateo grabbed my jaw and forced me to focus solely on his face.
“Your mind is everywhere but where it needs to be. When you blink, breathe, or scream you do it thinking of how good my dick feels inside you and how hard you’re about to come all over it.”
My pussy clenched and more juices saturated him, dripping onto the sheets beneath us. I let everything us fall away until all I saw was the man fucking me like a well-oiled machine.
“Mateo,” I choked out his name and reached up, threading my fingers through his silky hair.
He lurched down and smothered my mouth with his, biting down on my lower lip and caressing my tongue.
“Your pussy is heaven,” he pulled back, groaning.
Bracing himself with one arm, he leaned down again and kissed the side of my neck.
“Do you want to know who you are, anjo?” he asked, his warmth breath skimming over my sensitive flesh.
Unable to vocalize a coherent response, I tried to nod my head yes.
“You’re mine. Even when the last breath has left this beautiful body, you’ll still be mine,” he rasped, picking up his pace.
I came with a silent scream, flooding his cock with my come, bunching up his suit jacket in my hands.
He continued to fuck me, strands of his silky hair falling onto his sweaty forehead.
I felt him twitch inside me, thrusting one last time with a small grunt, finding his own release. We stayed together for only a minute, taking the time to catch our breath.
When he pulled out, he wiped the remnants of us off on my lips before pulling my pants back up, leaving our come between my legs.
Ace Of Spades_A Dark Erotic Romance Page 3
