Jagged Pill (Broken Lives Book 3)

by Marita A. Hansen

  “There was no prejudice, Mr. Rata,” she said. “All we wanted to do was to talk to Dante—”

  “More like intimidate him, like you did when you thought he committed the McD murders. Do you fuckers have it in for my kid or sumpthin’? Cos if anything goes wrong, you automatically arrest him. His best mate’s in hospital after bein’ shot in the stomach, his uncle died, while more of our mates were killed yesterday, yet you arseholes sent cops to arrest him while he was grieving? What the fuck is wrong with you lot?”

  Guilt actually crossed her face. “We are truly sorry for your loss.”

  “Fuck your apologies, they ain’t bloody good enough.” I turned to leave.

  “I haven’t finished speaking,” she said.

  “I have.” I headed for the door, Killer following me.

  “Mr. Rata!” she called out. “Your son’s in danger.”

  I spun around. “What did you say?”

  She closed the distance between us. “We believe the assault was on your son, not the teacher.”

  “What?”

  “Wera High’s principal received a voice message from the teacher. She confessed, admitting to kissing Dante back. Because of his age, we sent two officers to her place to question her. She wasn’t there, but a neighbour was out front. He said that he’d heard yelling coming from the teacher’s house, then her husband came barrelling out, hollering at the woman’s father that his daughter had had sex with a fifteen-year-old boy. The officers delved further, finding out that the boy in question is your son.”

  My eyes widened, thinking shit couldn’t get any worse. First the maths teacher had perved on Dante, now this other teacher had fucked him. “Someone better tell me who this sick bitch is or I’ll—”

  “It’s his English teacher, a Mrs—”

  “Hatton?” I said in disbelief.

  The officer nodded. “And we believe she’s abducted your son.”

  2

  Clara

  Dante pointed at something through the window. “It’s that road.”

  I slowed to a stop. “That’s a driveway.”

  “Nah, it’s a gravel road. Drive down it. We’re about ten minutes away from my cuzzies’ place.”

  “Finally!” I said, the five hours drive here having exhausted me. Although Dante had his licence, there was no way I wanted him driving my car. He’d gotten stroppy over my refusals, but I’d stuck to my guns, just wanting to get to his cousins’ place in one piece and without getting arrested.

  Gravel flicked up, hitting my car. I scowled, hoping it wasn’t damaging the yellow paintwork on my Volkswagen. After five minutes of flying stones, Dante indicated to another road, if I could even call it one. It looked more like a track, with dirt instead of concrete paving the way. I turned down it, finally coming to a halt in front of a large rusty iron gate. A thick line of towering pine trees framed it, their green hue bright under the morning sun.

  Dante jumped out of the car and opened the gate, waving me through it. I drove onto the property, waiting for him. He closed the gate and slipped back into his seat.

  “Keep driving,” he said. “We’re about two minutes away from their place.”

  I continued on, heading past a field of corn. A bird’s cry caught my attention. I glanced up, spotting a hawk glide over the property, probably looking for small rodents or just enjoying the autumn breeze. Although it felt more like summer, the Far North much hotter than Auckland.

  We passed through another fence of tall pine trees, which opened up onto a clearing, revealing a colonial-styled two-storey house. It looked like it had lived through a battle, the last soldier still standing, but beaten and weary. Its white paint was flaking off, especially around the window frames, while one of its windows was boarded up. It reminded me of Dante’s old house, just a bigger version and more rundown than a crack house.

  In stark contrast, the massive corrugated barn sitting across from it looked new, its shiny metallic surface reflecting the early morning sun. A red tractor was parked out front, along with several cars, a couple of them burnt out shells.

  Dante indicated to a spot in front of the house, where tyre tracks left patterns on a yellowed patch of earth. “Park there.”

  As I pulled on the brake, a man appeared in the front doorway. Dante jumped out of the car, yelling out, “Cuz!”

  Dante’s cousin ran down the stairs so fast he almost lost his footing. He righted himself and barrelled into Dante, knocking him back a few feet. Dante laughed and hugged his ecstatic-looking cousin. Facially, the man looked in his late twenties, though the grey streaks in his curly brown hair suggested he was a lot older. He let go of Dante and turned to me as I nervously got out of my car, his smile almost blinding.

  “G’day,” he said, heading around the car for me. He had a loping walk, all long legs in his cut-off jeans. He was wearing a white singlet, which highlighted his tanned-olive skin. Before I could react, he pulled me into a hug, giving me one hell of a surprise. “Dobro došli,” he said, letting go of me. “That’s Croatian for welcome.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, expecting judgement instead of a welcome. I hadn’t believed Dante when he’d said his cousins wouldn’t care that I was considerably older than him, that they would accept me regardless.

  And I still didn’t believe it, because this seemed unreal.

  Dante’s cousin smiled at me, his welcoming expression matching his words. Up close he didn’t look as young. Wrinkles pulled at the corner of his eyes, while there was a slight haze over his brown eyes, dulling his pupils. Probably cataracts, or maybe he was partially blind.

  “I’ve heard so much about you, Tiana,” he said. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Bazza,” Dante said, emphasising his name. “Tiana is Ash’s girlfriend, not to mention Tongan.”

  Bazza’s head whipped around to Dante. “You’re not Ash?”

  Dante burst out laughing, his dark eyes locking onto me. “I told you the blind old coot would think I’m Ash.”

  “Hey!” Bazza yelled. “I’m only thirty-seven.”

  “Blind, then.”

  “I can still see and you look exactly like Ash.”

  “He’s older and has a whopping neck tattoo.”

  “Not the last time I saw him.” Bazza scowled. “You boys don’t come up to visit us enough.”

  “I came in December and January.”

  “Only for a few days, while Ash couldn’t even be bothered to pop in. If he can drive all the way to Dargaville, he could at least drive a couple more hours to visit the rest of his family.”

  “I couldn’t tear him away from Baylys Beach.”

  “There are plenty of good beaches up here, if not better.”

  “I told him that, but nah, all he wants to do when he comes up north is surf at Baylys with my uncle.”

  Bazza scowled, obviously not happy with what Dante had said, but instead of continuing, his attention returned to me. “Are you Dante’s girlfriend?”

  For a second I thought about denying it, but instead nodded nervously.

  “Are you in his class at school?” he asked.

  I nodded again, relieved he’d mistaken me for a student instead of the teacher. Dante was definitely right about Bazza’s sight being bad, because there was no way I could pass off as fifteen.

  Bazza smiled at me. “I knew Dante would snag the prettiest girl in the class, and I was right.”

  Dante sniggered. “How can you tell she’s pretty? You thought she wuz a brown-haired, caramel-skinned Tongan before, not a blonde Pākehā chick. You obviously can’t see shit.”

  Bazza threw Dante a glare. “If I didn’t know you weren’t Ash before, I do now. You were always the rude one.”

  Dante rolled his eyes, then a big smile lit up his face, his attention locking onto the house. He yelled out, “Marino!”

  A bare-chested guy leapt off the front porch, yelling, “Cuz!” He looked more like a brother than a cousin, their resemblance uncanny. Though
, Marino was older, closer to his twenties. His hair was also wilder than Dante’s black waves, and much lighter. He had brown hair with streaks of gold threaded through it, the ends grazing his broad shoulders. It looked like he never brushed the mop, his mass of curls matted in some places.

  The cousins barrelled into each other, almost falling over in their enthusiasm. I smiled, their happiness contagious, not to mention extremely sweet.

  Marino let Dante go, giving him a friendly shove. “It’s been ages, man! Why didn’t you come visit sooner, you slacker?”

  “For fuck’s sake, you guys have short memories,” Dante replied. “I saw you heaps over summer.”

  “That was months ago,” Marino said, his accent not Maori like Dante’s, more rural Kiwi. “So, why didn’t ya visit sooner?”

  “Had bloody school, but I’m done with that shit now,” Dante replied, glancing back at Bazza. “Can me and Clara crash with you? I’m also done with Auckland.”

  “Sure.” Bazza smiled. “It’ll be good to have you and your missus around.”

  “I second that,” Marino said. “I missed partying with you, cuz.” His gaze swung to me. He assessed me for a second, his blue/grey eyes sweeping over my face and body. “Hot damn, who’s the sheila?”

  “My missus,” Dante replied.

  Marino whistled as he headed for me. “You pulled reeeal good, cuz,” he said, hitching up his board shorts. They were hanging dangerously low, barely covering his crotch. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He held out a hand, sending his shorts plummeting down his hips, his pubes and part of his dick showing.

  “Ah...” I shook his hand, willing my eyes not to stray from his face, so embarrassed I could die. “I’m...ah...Clara,” I said, grateful as Dante approached us, definitely needing a distraction from the half-naked guy in front of me.

  Dante stopped behind his cousin and grabbed onto Marino’s board shorts, yanking them up high. Marino let out a holler and jumped off the ground. Unable to help myself, I giggled, his reaction comical.

  He spun around and shoved Dante back. “Da fuck!” he snapped, fixing his shorts. “What’cha do that for, you cunt?”

  Dante pulled a face at him. “The only crack I wanna see is my woman’s, not yours, you grotty bastard.”

  Marino rubbed his crotch. “Not my fault you townies are prudes.”

  “You know I ain’t no prude, but c’mon, dude, you were practically flashing my missus your dick.”

  Marino sniggered. “You worried my massive slong would make your cheese stick look tiny?”

  “I’m bigger than you, you lying cunt.”

  Marino retorted with something cheeky, the two of them going back and forth with insults, all sorts of cunts added to the mix, with dirty, smelly, and other adjectives tacked onto the front, my ears bleeding from their foul mouths.

  Bazza hollered, “Oi! Quit it with the cussing you two, and, Marino, Dante’s right. Pull up your damn pants, boy. We have a lady in our midst.”

  Dante started sniggering at lady, as though it was too lofty for me. I scowled at him, which resulted in more sniggers. He walked over to me and slipped an arm around my waist. I went to pull away, annoyed he was making fun of me, but stilled as he kissed my cheek.

  Marino indicated to the house. “Follow me, lovebirds.”

  He started heading for the front door, his shorts yet again slipping down. Bazza shook his head, muttering something under his breath I couldn’t hear. Smiling brighter than the sun above our heads, Dante pulled me along by the hand, following after his cousins. We entered the house, the interior just as rundown as the exterior. There were cobwebs decorating the high ceilings and a threadbare runner lining the hallway, though the floorboards looked like they were made out of native timber, possibly Kauri, something that would look gorgeous if polished up.

  Dante steered me through a doorway on our left, into a roomy lounge with a large fireplace. Four new sets of eyes looked up at us from the floor and the couch, the TV blaring a rugby game.

  Marino, who was standing off to the side, started introducing us to everyone. “Some of you know my cuz Dante, while this is his missus. They’ve come to stay with us for a bit.”

  A petite girl jumped up off the floor and flung herself at Dante, giving him a hug. She let go and yanked his head down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

  Dante yelled, “Gross!”

  She laughed and went to kiss his other cheek, making me wonder whether she was European. She could’ve been, because she reminded me of a German backpacker I’d once given a lift to. She had long blonde hair, or more accurately, a gigantic mass of dreadlocks and tangles. It looked like she’d crawled out from under a bush. Regardless, she was a pretty little thing, all big blue eyes and bee-stung lips, which were now kissing Dante’s other cheek. He was playfully trying to fend her off. Whoever she was, she was obviously just a friend, her kisses coming across as platonic.

  “Oi! China!” Marino yelled. “You’re only allowed to kiss me!”

  She pulled away from Dante and ran at Marino, leaping at him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and planted a kiss on his lips. Marino grabbed her butt and kissed her back. I looked away, the two really going at it, tongues and all.

  “Marino and China, quit it!” Bazza barked, glaring at them disapprovingly. “We have guests.”

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Dante laughed, appearing highly amused. His gaze shifted to a blond guy, who was clearly related to the girl, their features and hair too similar not to be. The guy stood up, his blond dreadlocks reaching his board shorts. Like Marino, they were hanging low, his chest also bare.

  “Good to see you, mate,” the guy said, his accent unusual, hard to place. Either way, it was definitely not German. I wondered whether he was Swedish, his accent similar to my uncle’s one, but with a Kiwi inflection.

  Dante slapped the guy’s hand in a friendly hello. “Good to see ya too, River.” His attention shifted to the two men sitting on the couch. They looked nothing like the others, their smart pants and button-down shirts out of place, not to mention their sour expressions. They were watching everything with a bored disinterest.

  “Who are yous?” Dante asked.

  Marino stopped kissing China. “Boris and Nikolai,” he said. “They’re helping us out with a job.”

  Dante instantly perked up. “Can you cut me in? I need a job real bad.”

  “Sure!”

  “Hold up there, Marino,” Bazza growled. “I’m in charge here, not you.”

  Marino let go of China. “C’mon, Dad, he’s our cuz.”

  My eyebrows winged up, surprised that Bazza was Marino’s father, the two looking nothing alike.

  “We have enough people for the job,” Bazza said.

  “We’ll get it done quicker with an extra man.”

  Bazza’s bushy eyebrows pulled together. “Let me think about it.”

  “I’m good for whatever you have,” Dante piped up. “Plus, me and Marino work well together.”

  Marino nodded. “No truer words. We scored loads of really cool stuff together. My favourite were these state of the art surfboards,” he said, sweeping his gaze over everyone. “These wannabe surfer dickheads left them lying about, so we just swapped them for our crap ones and walked off with theirs.”

  “They weren’t lying about,” Dante said. “I broke into their RV to get ’em, and we didn’t walk off, we ran like fuck when the alarm went off.”

  Marino sniggered. “They were still in plain sight, man. If I had surfboards like those, I’d have them chained to my wrist, not sitting in a RV for anyone to hoist. The dumb cunts deserved losing them.”

  “Marino,” Bazza growled. “Language.”

  “I’m talking about stealing, and you’re worried about my language? Yeah, Dad, real logical.”

  “You’re pushing your luck, boy.”

  Marino rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Dante. “You wanna go surfing? I didn’t end up selling those boards, decided
to keep ’em. You can have the red one.”

  “Maybe later,” Dante replied. “Right now I wanna crash. Been driving for hours.”

  I grumbled. “I did all the driving, while you slept most of the way.”

  Marino laughed. “Yeah, gotta watch this one,” he said, indicating to Dante. “He’s a total bullshitter, lies through his teeth, but since you’re his missus, guess you already know that.”

  “I love you, Marino,” Dante said, his voice sugary sweet.

  Everyone sniggered, Dante the loudest. “Still wanna rest up,” he said. “So, you got a bed for us to crash on?”

  “Sure, cuz, you can use mine for the mo, though tonight you’ll have to sleep on the mattress. We’re a full house this week. Won’t be much room until this lot bugger off back to Auckland,” he said, indicating to the two suits on the couch.

  The men scowled at him. Marino grinned back, reminding me so much of Dante, their DNA laced with cheekiness.

  “No worries,” Dante said, “as long as you got a mattress, we’re all good.”

  Marino nodded. “Follow me, then.”

  We followed him out of the lounge and up a flight of stairs. The blond, dreadlocked guy tagged along behind us. I glanced back at him. His blue eyes were fixed on my butt. I cleared my throat to get his attention. He looked up at my face, not even embarrassed he’d been caught out.

  I scowled at him, then followed Dante into the first room on our right. It was covered in posters, reminding me of Dante’s room back in Auckland, just bigger. It had a massive king-sized bed and a queen-sized mattress on the floor, along with a pile of clothes bunched up in the corner. There were also hiking backpacks, boots, and a few surfboards, including the red one that Marino had mentioned.

  Marino indicated to the bed. “You two can sleep here for a bit, but tonight you’ll both have to bunker down on the mattress with River, unless you want the couch downstairs.”

  “Nah, this’ll be cool,” Dante said. “Thanks, cuz.”

  Marino nodded and headed for the exit, shoving the blond guy out of the room and closing the door behind them.