Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2)

by Marita A. Hansen

  Dante indicated to a property at the end of the road. “It’s the place next to the cluster of trees.”

  He looked back down at his phone and started tapping away at it again, something he’d been doing constantly on the drive here. At first I’d thought he was using it as a distraction from my affirmation of love, but he was growing more and more agitated, suggesting something else.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Jasper won’t answer his phone or reply to my messages. Hemi too. I needa know if he got to Jasper in time.” His phone beeped, causing him to jump in his seat. A smile replaced his worried expression as he read the text. “Thank Christ,” he muttered, looking relieved.

  I steered into the driveway he’d pointed out, a wooden gate and fence shielding the property. “About what?”

  “Jasper’s dad stopped him from doin’ sumpthin’ really bad.”

  “What?”

  “Nuthin’ that concerns you,” he replied, having a frustrating habit of brushing me off with those few words.

  I went to point that out, but he jumped out of the car and ran to the gate, opening it for me. He stepped aside, allowing me to drive onto the property, which I did. The fence was high enough to hide my car, the relief that I felt as soon as Dante had closed the gate immense.

  I pulled on the brake and got out of the car, liking the property. The places along Claydon Beach were much nicer than the rest of the suburb, this house no exception. Although it was on a small piece of land, the colonial-styled building was a gleaming white gem surrounded by roses the same colour, Jasper’s uncle having green fingers. Heading for the front door, Dante bounded up the steps and onto the veranda like a happy puppy, the obvious relief he felt over the text message changing his mood considerably.

  I locked the car and ran across the lawn to him, realising a second later that he was picking the lock. “Dante! What are you doing?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He pushed the front door open and swept a hand out. “Ladies first.”

  I shook my head. “We can’t break in.”

  “Why not? Jasper’s uncle breaks into my house all the time. He gets a boner watching my dad sleep.”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, he’s just like his creeper of a sister, minus the ugly. I told my dad what he did and he beat the shit outta Killer, but the crazy bastard won’t stop doin’ it. At least he doesn’t touch him. Just sits in a chair and stares at my dad like he’s his favourite TV show, or porno, cos my dad sleeps in the nuddy. It’s why we hafta lock our room when we’re at the club or Killer will watch my dad.”

  “I’m guessing Killer is a nickname.”

  “Yup, his real name’s Painkiller.”

  “That name rings a bell,” I said, remembering Beverly mentioning an old student called that. “Did he used to go to Wera High?”

  “Yup, a few years back, but now he’s an apprentice mechanic at my gang’s headquarters. Though, he’s always fuckin’ up. He put oil where the petrol goes once, cos he wuz too busy staring at my dad than payin’ attention to what he wuz doin’. I’m sure the loon only took the job cos my dad works there. Anyway, enough talk ’bout Killer.” He indicated for me to enter again.

  “If he’s crazy, maybe it’s not such a good idea to break into his place.”

  “He won’t know, so either go in or run back to your perfect hubby.”

  I scowled at him. “Stop throwing that in my face. I’m allowed to be wary of going in there.”

  “You should be warier of stayin’ out here, where everyone walking past can see you.”

  I glanced at the iron gate by the mailbox, the only thing someone could look through. Knowing Dante was right, I quickly entered the house. He followed me inside, closing the door behind him. I jolted at the sound, as well as the fact I was entering someone else’s house without permission, not to mention with Dante.

  “You scared?” he asked.

  I turned to face him, his expression a touch amused. I didn’t reply, the cheeky sod already knowing that.

  “Well, you shouldn’t be. I won’t hurt ya.”

  “It’s not you I’m scared of.” A partial lie.

  “We’re all alone now, so forget ’bout everyone else. Want a drink?” he asked, heading for a wall unit. Bottles of alcohol were stacked neatly on the shelves, along with what looked like My Little Pony toys.

  “Fuck, Killer’s a weirdo,” Dante laughed, flicking one of the toys. He glanced back at me. “So, you want that drink?”

  “Sure,” I replied, knowing I could do with one—or two, my nerves frayed to the point of snapping.

  Needing a distraction, I focused on a framed picture on the wall of a man and a woman. The man looked like Jasper, just considerably more attractive. No, he was more than attractive, sexy closer to the mark. He had the most amazing body, the muscle shirt and leather pants showing it off to perfection. He was standing next to a thirty-something woman, her pale complexion looking washed out next to his bronzed arms.

  “Is that a cousin of Jasper’s?” I asked, indicating to the man.

  “No, his uncle.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “But he looks younger than Jasper.”

  “Nah, he’s older. Just in much better nick.”

  “Who’s the woman with him?”

  “His mother.”

  “Really? She looks nothing like him, not to mention too young.”

  “He looks like his dad,” Dante said, shifting through the bottles on the shelves, “minus the two tons of fat, and the bastard knocked her up when she wuz fourteen.”

  “How old was he?”

  “In his fifties.”

  “And he had sex with a fourteen-year-old?” I said, horrified.

  He glanced back at me, not saying a word.

  “I’m in my twenties, not fifties!” I snapped, fully aware of what his look meant.

  He rolled his eyes. “Sensitive much?”

  “You were comparing me to an old paedophile.”

  “No I wuzn’t. I wuz thinking ’bout someone else.”

  “Who?” I asked, feeling like he was trying to save face.

  He focused on a green and white bottle. “I’ve had sex with chicks in their thirties.”

  “I know,” I growled, still wanting to hunt those bitches down.

  “Those two weren’t the only ones.” He picked up the bottle and stared down at the label. “What’s Crème de Menthe taste like?”

  “Either minty or pepper minty.”

  “Gross!” he said, putting it back.

  I walked over to him. “How many thirty-somethings have you had sex with?”

  “Three.”

  “Who’s the other woman?”

  “None of your business,” he replied, moving to another shelf.

  I followed him. “Why mention her if you’re not going to tell me who she is?”

  “Cos I hate that bitch.”

  “Then, why did you sleep with her?”

  He looked back with a scowl. “You’re fuckin’ nosey.”

  “Don’t be rude!”

  “Then stop asking me personal questions.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “I want to get to know you better. After all, we are together now.”

  He turned his back on me, picking up another bottle. “Everyone has their secrets.”

  “I’m aware of that. I just wished you didn’t have them with me.”

  He shrugged, as though that was a good enough reply.

  “How about you tell me something that you’re comfortable with, then,” I said.

  He stacked two glasses on top of each other. “I first had sex at thirteen.”

  My eyes widened. “Thirteen!”

  He glanced back. “Yeah, so what?”

  “That’s too young.”

  “Nah, my dad first did it at twelve.”

  I gaped at him. “You’re kidding me?”

  He shook his head.

  “But that’s a chi
ld. That’s paedophilia.”

  He rolled his eyes. “No it’s not. He did it with his girlfriend at the time.”

  “How old was she?”

  “I think he said she wuz thirteen. He got her pregnant, but she had a miscarriage.”

  “That’s sad. My mum had a miscarriage once. It affected her badly.”

  “Doesn’t matter how old someone is, it still hurts losing them.” He bowed his head, looking like he was pretending to read the label of some sort of liquor. He was probably thinking about his own mother, his stepfather having murdered her.

  “What about you?” I asked, wanting to distract him.

  He turned to face me. “What ’bout me?”

  “Who did you have sex with the first time?”

  “You answer first.”

  “My last boyfriend from high school.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eighteen.”

  He grinned. “You started late.”

  I shook my head. “No, you started early. Way too early.”

  “Nah, my dad—”

  “Is unusual. What about your friends? I bet they didn’t start that early.”

  He frowned, looking like he was thinking about the answer. “But Jasper’s a dirty fat cunt. No chick would have sex with him without some sort of payment. And Julio’s a reject with chicks. He tries to make out he’s a player, but as soon as a chick talks to him, he clams up. I reckon he’s still got his V card, just pretends he doesn’t.”

  “See, you did have sex early.”

  “Nah, you can’t compare me to those chick repellents. It’s why they use me as an in.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “If they didn’t hang with me the chicks wouldn’t even come in their vicinity.”

  “Julio’s nice looking.”

  One of his eyebrows shot up. “You think he’s good-looking?”

  I scowled at him. “Not in that way! You’re the only student I’ve been attracted to.”

  He grinned at me. “Don’t get ya knickers in a twist, I wuz just riding ya.” He turned back to the wall unit.

  “What do you mean by riding me?”

  He picked up the two glasses and grabbed a bottle of vodka. “Tryna make you react,” he said, holding out the bottle for me to take. “And you needa learn slang if you’re gonna be a good English teacher. It’s not all ’bout the written word.”

  “True.” I looked down at the vodka, my brain finally clicking into place. “You can’t drink that.”

  “If you wanna have a relationship with me, get used to my drinking, cos it ain’t changing.” He headed past me.

  I followed him into a bedroom, the king-sized bed almost taking up the whole space. I went to reply to his comment about his drinking, but stopped at the sight of a huge poster on the wall, the image making me blush fiercely. It was advertising a porn film, the three men on it stark naked. One of them was kneeling on a bed, displaying his butt, while the other two were leaning over him, kissing each other as they gripped onto their hard dicks.

  Dante laughed. “You should see your face. It’s pinker than a sunburnt Pom.” He placed the vodka and glasses on the bedside cabinet nearest the window and drew the curtains, then pulled open a drawer. “Look what I found. Packs of condoms and lube.” He pulled something else out of the drawer, making my eyes bug out. He was holding a black dildo, the thing monstrous. “Guess Killer likes black cock.”

  “Put that down!” I yelled, horrified.

  He wobbled it about, laughing as though it was a big joke.

  “If he’s gay, he could’ve put that thing inside of him.”

  Dante instantly dropped it. “Fuckin’ gross!”

  I burst out laughing, his disgusted expression hilarious.

  “Stop laughing!” he yelled, rushing out of the room.

  I followed him into the bathroom, unable to stop laughing.

  “Shut it!” he snapped, washing his hands, the soap suds looking white against his olive skin.

  I covered my mouth, a few stray sniggers escaping. “That’ll teach you for touching other people’s things.”

  He turned off the water and grabbed the hand towel hanging off a metal rail. “I touch other people’s things all the time.” He leered at me. “You’re proof of that.” He let go of the towel and yanked me to him, planting his lips against mine. I hesitated for a second, then kissed him back, all humour gone in a second.

  After a few breathless moments, he finally pulled away. His face was flushed, his eyes almost pitch black, any hint of brown gone. “Or maybe you belong to me now,” he rumbled, staring down at me as though he could eat me up.

  I shivered, what I was feeling worlds apart from what I felt with Markus. My body thrummed for Dante, ached for him, everything in me screaming to climb all over him. To get him inside of me, to take what I wanted, what I needed.

  I took hold of his hand and tugged him back to the bedroom, wanting to get him naked and wrapped around me as soon as possible. I didn’t want to think, I just wanted to do.

  Letting go of his hand, I started undoing my buttons, getting a thrill out of his flushed expression. I slipped off my blouse, the way he licked his lips making me clench below.

  “Get undressed,” I said.

  He smiled and started to strip, baring a body I was going to consume with a passion.

  23

  Phelia

  My mum sat down next to me on the Devil’s Crew’s couch. Her supermarket smock was badly creased from having slept in it, while her long dark-brown hair had come loose from its French plait. I’d been terrified that Jonah had forced her into having sex after what he’d done to her at home, but my mum had reassured me that he hadn’t touched her inappropriately since.

  Smiling at me, she took a hold of my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You did good, Phe. As soon as Jonah returns with his son’s murderer, he’ll set us free.”

  Feeling guilty, I looked down at the floor. I’d turned up to the Devil’s Crew crib the night before, telling Jonah that I’d found out Jasper had killed Ronnie. A lie, but a necessary one. I needed to kill two birds with one stone: to save my mum, as well as protect myself from Jasper. Except...

  I raised a shaky hand to my face, knowing I’d effectively murdered him, what I’d told Jonah a death sentence.

  My mum pulled my head to her shoulder. “Oh darling, don’t get upset. This isn’t your fault, it’s the Devil’s Crew’s. They’re evil like their name. If you didn’t find out who killed Ronnie and his mother, they would’ve killed me, and probably you too.”

  I glanced at the DC member on the other side of the bar lounge. Liam Papua was guarding the door, making sure we didn’t escape their crib. Because, until Jasper was dragged into the club and killed before my eyes, we weren’t allowed to leave. Jonah wanted me to witness Jasper’s death, showing what would happen to me and my mum if we went to the cops. And I believed him. Utterly believed he would kill us without blinking. My mum was right. The Devil’s Crew were evil, but not because of Liam or the other men in the MC, but because of Jonah. He was the devil at the helm, the one who told everyone what to do and how to do it.

  I let out a sob, knowing I’d signed my soul away to him. Signed Jasper’s life away too. I’d never seen anyone killed, nor did I want to, but what I wanted didn’t matter.

  “Stop crying!” Liam barked.

  All his humour was gone. It had disappeared as soon as he’d found out who had murdered his kid brother’s mate. He was also pissed off that he had to guard us while Jonah and a few others waited for Jasper at my house. Because, without a doubt, that was where Jasper was heading. Liam’s brother Landon was given the task of telling Jasper about seeing me walking into the DC crib, leading Jasper to believe I’d betrayed Dante. I just prayed that Dante didn’t find out about any of this, because I didn’t want him to think I’d ratted him out. Though, he shouldn’t, because I would never betray him, plus Landon had specifically been told to only speak wi
th Jasper, so no one would find out what had happened to him when he went missing, the club not wanting a war with the Skins and Mercenaries.

  Shouts and the sound of thudding boots came from another part of the warehouse. Liam got to his feet and looked through the doorway, then rushed through it, yelling, “What happened?”

  “Fuckin’ Skins!” a yell came back.

  Both me and my mum rose to our feet as Jonah came barrelling into the bar lounge with a few of his crew, that latter carrying a badly bleeding man.

  Jonah hollered, “Shirley!”

  A forty-something woman appeared out of the kitchen, yelling at the men to follow her. They all headed for the door that led to the bedrooms.

  “What happened?” my mum called out.

  Jonah stopped midstride and turned towards us, looking like he’d only just noticed we were here. A split second later, fury flashed across his face. “You lying bitch!” he yelled, shoving a bar table aside, his eyes zeroed in on me.

  My mum screamed and pushed me behind her. Jonah knocked her aside and grabbed me, throwing me onto the couch. I screamed and went to scramble over it, but he grabbed me again. My mum attacked him from behind, digging her nails into his face. He swung out, knocking her to the floor with an elbow. Liam ran for her, dragging my mum backwards. She kicked and screamed at him, trying to get back to me.

  Jonah climbed on top of me, pressing his knee into my stomach, causing me to cry out in pain. “They ambushed us!” he yelled in my face. “Killed one of my men, injured another badly! And now I’m gonna kill you!” His fist barrelled into my face, knocking my head to the side.

  My mum wailed, “It’s not her fault!”

  Jonah’s hard eyes whipped to her. “What do you mean by that?! Did you say sumpthin’ to the Skins?!”

  “No! Of course not!” she cried, Liam holding her back. “Phelia didn’t do anything either. Why would she set you up? I’d die if she betrayed you. She probably would too.”

  “Then why were Skins at your place, waiting to ambush us?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered for her, my left eye hurting bad. “I hate Jasper. I wouldn’t have helped him. He threatened my life.”