Chad's Chase (Loving All Wrong Book 2)

by S. Ann Cole

  “And now someone else’s gonna be hearing about me from you.”

  Grabbing my hand, he growled, “Off the scene.”

  We all scattered and took off to our respective cars.

  Once we were a good deal away from the scene, Chad eased up on driving like a bat out of hell. Setting the car on cruise, he relaxed his shoulders, dropped his head back on the headrest, took off his aviators, then glanced over at me. “You’re okay, babe?”

  “What’s with the ‘babe’ tag?”

  He frowned, as if thinking about it, then, “I’m in love with you.”

  Thud…Thud…Thud…ThudThud…ThudThud…ThudThud….ThudThudThudThudThudThudThudThudThudThudThud…

  That was the sound of my heart.

  The words pinwheeled, crashed, and exploded into me like a firebomb. Then the sparks from that firebomb turned into colorful daisies, raining down on me. Then the soft petals of those daisies turned into beautiful butterflies, fluttering all around me. Then… everything disappeared as reality slapped me across the face.

  “I don’t want you to love me. Everyone you love dies. Hate me, Chad. Hate me so I can feel safe with you. Hate me so I can love you.”

  His dark eyes, dark as his soul, watched me for a thousand heartbeats, before he breathed out, “I hate you so fucking much, Jhay. So fucking much.”

  I tried to hold back my grin, but it came any way. “As long as you hate me, I’ll never leave you.”

  He stretched one hand across and caressed my cheek with his knuckles. “Back there, when you chose me…I’ve never been so achingly hard for anyone in my entire life.” Those eyes stared hard, sucking me into their never-ending blackness. “You own me, Jhay. I’m so fucking owned I don’t even know my identity anymore.”

  Just then, the loud zing of a white Lexus LFA overtook us and swung to the side of the road with its hazard lights on.

  Chad careened to the side, too, muttering, “That’s our ride.”

  I forgot he’d dialed Ronnie and told him to catch up with us with another car. The back windshield of the R8 was all spider-cracked with lodged bullets, and that would only serve to draw unwanted attention from road cops.

  “Leave the guns?” I asked, reaching for the glove compartment.

  “Yeah. I’ve got metal in the Lex, too.”

  Ronnie got out of the Lexus at the same time we ditched the R8. Car keys got exchanged in a simple toss. No words spoken.

  We folded into the red and black interior super-car that smelled like new, and life.

  New Life.

  Gear got shifted, gas pedal got hit, and then we were off.

  Fifteen minutes later we were at our destination in Portola Valley, turning into the residence of a pretentiously large and lavish home constructed from log wood and weathered bricks. The wind blew with ease, and the trees swayed blissfully, the grass greener than the greenest green, the birds and the bees singing in perfect harmony. Picturesque, like it was plucked right out of a goddamn happily-ever-after fairy tale.

  “This is yours?” I asked when I got out of the car, staring at the estate in awe.

  Chad glanced across the top of the sports car at me, and he seemed…nervous? “No. I bought it as a forgiveness gift for a friend.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You bought this as a gift for someone?”

  He nodded.

  I eyed him threateningly. “Is this someone an estranged baby mother or ex-girlfriend?”

  With a scoff, he rounded the car toward me and pulled me up to him, his chest a hard brace of warmth and security. I let him slip his arms around my waist and tip my chin up. I let him meld his lips with mine and sweep me away into his dark world for a while. I let him hate me, because I’ve loved him ever since.

  When our lips parted, he touched his forehead to mine and whispered, “I brought you here because I wanted to show you that you can trust me. That I’ll never hurt you. Back at the house, I lost it for a minute, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t deserve you. But I’m over the moon you didn’t run. And while I loved Liz, I have always been in lo—I’ve always hated you. I would never do to you what I did to her. Do you believe me?”

  “No,” I veraciously answered.

  He sighed, defeated. “That’s because you’re smart. But…it’s the truth.”

  I gripped his arms, confused as hell, but lost for words. So we remained like that for a year and a day, forehead to forehead, my fingers sinking tightly into his biceps, knowing I should let go of him and his meaningless promises, but still clinging on as if my entire existence depended on it.

  Was there another person out there whom I could be my true self with and have them love me regardless? Was there a normal man/woman who would understand and readily accept my story? What were the chances? One in every ten thousand persons?

  Chad knew all my dirty little deeds, how black and muddy my feathers were, the blood buried under my fingernails, the foul rotting of my heart, and he still wanted me.

  Because we were one and the same. Him one hundred shades darker than me, but still…we weren’t regular people. Our lives had been fucked from the very beginning. And there was no possible way we could commit those vile acts we had in our very short lifetime and then expect to dream and live like normal folks.

  This was what we were given. So this was what we had to take, and help each other through.

  We were in an extremely nocuous relationship where our ever-after would be either his death by my hands, or my death by his hands. Because we both saw the world in one light, darkness. And the blind couldn’t lead the blind. Someone needed a blip of light within them to lead the way, lest sooner or later we would crash right into each other, explode, and fucking burn.

  We were both rolling grenades, our pins pulled, our clock ticking…

  “Are you nervous about showing me what’s inside that house?”

  Chad chuckled. “Can you tell I’m stalling?”

  I mock-pouted. “And here I thought you’re just obsessed with having me crushed against you…”

  “That, too.”

  Lacing our fingers, he began toward the house. Once we were on the doorstep, he produced a key from his jeans pocket and opened the door.

  “Someone actually gave you a key to their house? Is this person right in the head?”

  He laughed. “Unlike you, they trust me. I love this person, and they’re still alive.”

  An unladylike snort left me. “Yeah. But how long will that last?”

  Compressing his lips, he ignored the jab and ushered me into the house. Warmth and ease immediately enveloped me, and I marveled at the deluxe-ness of the house. The large beckoning furniture, the high-polished wooden floors, exposed rafter ceilings, the big plush cushions, the Persian rugs…it was all so perfect. All I wanted to do was curl up on one of those massive couches with a hot cup of cocoa and a thick fantasy book in hand.

  This was the life.

  The ever after life.

  A stunning brunette, slim and petite, materialized in the wide expanse of the living room. Wearing white capris pants and a pink cashmere sweater, her hair in an especially neat up-do. She looked every bit the suburban soccer mom. Especially with the baby bump under that sweater, which looked to be about five months.

  Guess I was right about the estranged baby mother. Why else would Chad buy someone a place like this? A house I was damn sure was valued at least four mil.

  The woman’s leaf-shaped eyes watched me with a certain leeriness, her smile hesitant. On her tiny feet she graced up to us and held out her hand to me. “Hi, Jhay. I’m Clementine. It’s nice to finally meet you… instead of just hearing about you.”

  Eyebrow arched, I took her hand and shook but slid my eyes to Chad.

  Escaping my questioning stare, he quickly stepped to the Clementine person and wrapped her in a tight hug. They shared some kind of look when they broke apart, and I decided to stay quiet until one of them chose to tell me what the hell was happening here.
>
  “Mentally preparing himself?” Chad asked Clementine.

  With a chesty sigh, she nodded. “Yep.”

  Chad tsked in disapproval. “Go get him, Clem. Slap him across the face if you need to and tell him it’s from me.”

  Without waiting for the woman’s response, as though it were an order and not a request, Chad got behind me, clapped his hands on my shoulders, and propelled me further into the room. He sat me down on one of the chocolate-brown leather couches. And sweet Lord, the damned things were even more comfortable than they looked.

  Clementine left the room to do Chad’s bidding, and Chad moved with an easy flow in a home that wasn’t his. Over to a wet bar, he poured two fingers of Scotch from a decanter in a whiskey glass, then moved quietly back across the room and handed it to me.

  I took it without argument, because his pouring Scotch for me could only mean one thing: I’d be needing it.

  We waited.

  Chad paced while I sipped my hard liquor.

  Donkey?s years later, Clementine came floating back into the room with a fit, dark-haired man tailing her; his gaze fixed on me over the small woman’s head. And as he got closer, I frowned, thinking he looked distinctly familiar, a face from a distant memory.

  Tall, muscular, olive-skinned, with hair as black as mine, and eyes like the Pacific Ocean. No denying his handsomeness, but I felt like I knew him. It was too weird how much he resembled my—

  I shot up from the couch like there were giant needles in the cushions, the whiskey glass sliding from my fingers and greeting the ground in shards.

  Oh.

  My.

  God.

  “Ricardo?” My voice was near-inaudible, nothing but a tiny catch of breath. No volume, no conviction.

  “Hey, sis.” His smile was tentative, uncertain.

  He took a step toward me, reaching out as if to touch me, but I jerked back and dodged behind Chad, using him as shield from…from my own brother.

  A brother who was supposed to be dead. But was here in flesh and blood, alive and well. Healthier and happier than I would ever live to be.

  Ricardo’s shoulders sagged, crestfallen, sadness creeping in his eyes.

  I pushed hard at Chad’s back, and when he spun around, watching me with anxious eyes, I demanded, “What the fuck is this?”

  Chad scrubbed his hands down his face, and with a throaty noise, moved to the couch and sat his ass down on the handle. “Ricardo was my fraternal brother, Jhay. And you…you were everything. I couldn’t save your parents any more than I could pull a trigger and kill either of you. I couldn’t…I couldn’t run with both of you. So like I told you, I threw you in on the ‘freedom for legacy’ deal with my father: you get exempted from the assassination and he would take you in, ensure you receive your family’s inheritance, then send you back to the US when you’re old enough…” He expelled a loud breath, no doubt mentally beating himself for being stupid enough to believe Rafail would’ve kept his end of the bargain. “For Ricardo… I’d had to find another way to save him.”

  I got it. He couldn’t run with me, because Liz was already taking my place…I was a little unripe girl, not half as important as her. I couldn’t have brought him pleasure on his joyride to the States. So he chose to run with her, his uncle’s mistress, and left me behind with his monster of a father.

  “How?” My voice was so empty, a whisper into an airless world.

  “Kill-Ring,” he said with a simple shrug. “Not the one with the powder poison like you tried to use on me. The one with—”

  “The microscopic needle,” I finished. “You swapped the poison with a heavy sedative and injected him with it by stealth before you shot him so the others would think he’s dead.”

  A nod from Chad confirmed my calculations. “Verdin, he was the man I made lock you in your room, because he didn’t know of my plans; he was the report man, the one who my father sent along to bear witness that I did the job. The second man, Havil, he knew because I’d paid him off—he was an in-training recruit who wanted to run with me. And that was his opportunity.

  “My father wanted the bodies removed from the house, dumped, and burned. So when we got to the location to dump the bodies, while Havil was pouring the gasoline, I told Verdin to just go ahead and check in with my father to let him know the job was complete. Once he did, I shot him in the head, before decapitating him. Then I pulled two of Ricardo’s wisdom teeth, tossed them next to Verdin’s body, and lit them all on fire.”

  “Holy shit,” I whispered. “This means Verdin’s headless body was passed off as Ricardo when they ran dental DNA for identification.”

  Another nod of confirmation. “I disposed Verdin’s head far out into the ocean. Don’t think it has ever been found.”

  “And Havil?”

  “He was with us for a while, eager to please me.”

  “It was never just you and Liz at your aunt’s place, was it?”

  He shook his head. “She had a pool house that she begrudgingly allowed Ricardo and Havil to hide out in.” His lips twisted ruefully. “But your brother had morphed into a paranoid fuck since that night, and he believed Havil was a liability. You know, he knew our secret, easy for him to turn on us and run back to my father if we ever pissed him off. So your brother lost it one night and slit the guy’s throat from ear to ear while he was sleeping.”

  A loud gasp echoed in the room and we all shifted our gazes to a gaping Clementine.

  “Shit,” Chad swore.

  Ricardo winced, and Clementine widened judgmental eyes at him. “You killed someone? You never told me that part!”

  “Clem—” Ricardo pleaded, reaching out to her, but she backed away from him like he was some hideous creature.

  “Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “I can’t believe…I can’t believe I’m going to be having a baby for a…for a murderer.” She drew in a few rapid breaths. “Chad I managed to come to terms with. Your sister, I’ve hardly even accepted it yet. But now you, too? Why, Rick?”

  Clementine tumbled back into one of the sofa chairs, as though her feet could no longer hold her up. She dropped her head in her hands and began sobbing, while Ricardo watched her helplessly.

  “You,” I directed at Ricardo. He eyed me charily, like he was afraid of me or something. “Have you ever tried to find me? Ever sought to find out if your little sister was dead or alive?”

  His gaze shot to Chad, seeking his rescue.

  “Jhay—” Chad jumped in, but I was having none of it.

  “I’m talking to my brother, Chadrick!” I screamed with a shitload of asperity. “You know, the biggest, tallest, healthiest man in the room. The one smelling like motherfucking sunshine and daisies, walking around so damn easily without having to look over his shoulder.” Eyes still glowering at Ricardo, I asked again, “Have you ever done anything at all to find me?”

  “I’m not supposed to be alive, sis,” he said, timorous. “I’ve been hiding out behind God’s back since Chad saved me that night. The places I can go and the things I can do are limited. If Rafail finds out—”

  “That’s all your problem is? Do you have any idea what my life has been like?” There was too much anger boiling within me, and I needed something to take it out on before I exploded, so I spun and chucked Chad off the sofa handle, knocking him sideward into the sofa. “Why the fuck didn’t you kill me? Why did you let me live?! You say I was ‘everything’, when in fact I was nothing. You chose this piece of shit and your precious Liz over me. You ran with them and left me behind. You.Left.Me.Behind. I was nothing to you. Nothing, you soulless liar!”

  I was flat-out bawling now. Because all this was unfair. So unfair that my brother was living this rich and free fucking life, and I’d been doled twelve years of cruelty, pain, and suffocation.

  To my brother: “You call this imprisonment? This is what you call ‘behind God’s back’, you ungrateful shit?” I kicked over the coffee table in front of me. “I’m the only family you have left,
and, even though Chad risked his life to save yours, his non-blood brother, you couldn’t lift even a fucking finger to try and save mine? No, you decided to kick back in big ole America and fuck your pretty wife’s tiny pussy, have babies and start a new family with a nice, lavish life. Because Jhay Byrd’s a lost cause, right?”

  Face a mask of distress and compunction, Ricardo just stared over my head, avoiding my eyes.

  Nothing. He had absolutely nothing to say to me. Nothing at all! No apologies, no trying to calm me down, no nothing, because he really didn’t give a shit. What a selfish fuck!

  Using the back of my hand to wipe the snot and tears from my nose, I sniffed. “Well, there sure as shit aren’t gonna be any more new Byrds.”

  Moving fast, I bent and picked up a pointy shard of the broken whiskey glass and charged toward a wide-eyed Clementine, the shard in my hand poised to puncture her precious baby bump.

  Mere inches from her, I was attacked, my body diverting sideward through the air as I was tackled to the ground. I landed with a teeth-shattering thud on the wooden floors, pain shooting through my spine.

  A raging Chad was on top of me, roaring, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!!”

  I tried to throw him off me, but I would’ve had more luck charming my way out of a beer attack. “Get off me, you stupid sonuvabitch!”

  “Jhay, calm do—”

  Reinforcing my grip on the shard of glass, I drove my hand up and aimed for the bulging blue vein in his neck, but Chad caught on to the move just in the nick of time and shifted. Not fast enough, though, because the shard got jammed into his shoulder instead, and blood began squirting.

  Like a big, tough badass, he merely grunted at the pain, and I took advantage of his disposition and shoved him off me. Giving up the fight, he rolled easily onto his back, his hand reaching up to his shoulder to pull out the piece of glass.

  I jumped to my feet and kicked his hand away, then stomped my heel down on the glass so it sank deeper into his flesh. This time he shouted from the pain.

  Ah, that was more like it. Keeping my heel pressed on the broken glass, I leaned down and stuck my hand into his front pocket where I knew his car keys were.