She cackled. I didn’t understand what was so funny about what I said, but she found it fucking hilarious.
“You’re too sweet to be in a place like this, sugar.” She stroked a long fingernail down my cheek and stared up at me with bloodshot eyes. “You sure you didn’t take a wrong turn on the way to Chuck E. Cheese?”
“Unfortunately.”
“How about I go show you a different kind of good time?” she said. “You seem like you could use it.”
While I was still forming an answer, a man came up behind my new friend and grabbed her tits from behind.
“Come on, tramp. I’ve got a job for you,” he growled.
I recognized that voice. Vinnie, one of the doormen at Preston’s club. He probably wouldn’t remember me, since we’d only met once, but I started to skirt away from the scene anyway.
“I was going to hang out with that young guy,” the girl complained.
Vinnie pushed her toward the stairs, and she stumbled, landing on her hands and knees. “Did I fucking stutter?”
I desperately wanted to help the girl, but I knew that would only end with me being recognized. Vinnie disgusted me. Everyone associated with the Gromleys disgusted me. I gritted my teeth and kept walking, trying not to look at the doped out faces of the hallway specters.
There were a couple of guys from the football team on the dance floor in the living room, but I kept to the outer edges of the room and tried to keep their backs to me. Dallas wasn’t here. I moved on.
The kitchen was a mess, broken glass and blood smeared on the floor, a massive hole in the wall where a window used to be. At first, I worried it was Dallas’s blood, but I soon picked up that it was the blood of people who’d taken to walking around with bare feet after being in the pool. My stomach roiled but I pushed the feeling down. A group of people surrounded the island at the center of the room, snorting cocaine and laughing madly at some private joke. Or maybe there wasn’t a joke at all. I recognized Nelson in the group and ducked out just as he was standing up after snorting a line.
Where was she? I was going to be discovered any second, and I’d come no closer to finding Dallas. I checked outside next, where people splashed in the pool and others poured beer and bottles of champagne over their faces while they swam. Dallas wasn’t out there either.
I began to worry that she was up in one of the bedrooms. I hadn’t seen Wes yet either, and I suspected that wherever they were, they were there together. My heart sank into my stomach, and I tried to keep calm as I navigated back inside and waded my way back to the stairs. I mounted the stairs with a weighty sense of trepidation, worried about what I would find. Dallas would never sleep with Wes. Not if she was in her right mind. If I found him on top of her in one of the bedrooms, I was going to kill him. I didn’t care if it meant my own destruction.
Chapter 15
Dallas
As I waited outside the heavy oak door, I couldn’t help but think that the two men on either side of me were overkill. Then again, I did push Wes through a glass window. Maybe his dad thought I was some sort of ninja or something. The thought was the only thing that kept me from panicking and crying on the floor while I waited. After Wes pulled himself out of the pool and harassed me a little more, he disappeared. A short while later, these two goons came to get me, refusing to answer any questions I had and simply stating that Preston wanted to see me in his office.
Was he going to kill me? Torture me? Something even worse?
The door creaked inward to reveal a skinny girl with huge boobs wearing only a bra and a miniskirt. Her eyes were unfocused as she gestured for us to enter. The two men at my side pushed me forward, and I stumbled in, catching myself before I could fall. As I straightened, I noticed that Preston and his son weren’t the only ones in the room. Several other girls, similarly drugged out and half-dressed, sprawled out on the floor and chairs, one even lay across Preston’s desk, and he was doing a line off her stomach. My stomach heaved when I realized it was Sasha.
“Sasha, are you okay?” I rushed forward and looked down into her eyes.
She stared up at me and after a moment smiled. “Look what the virgin dragged in.”
I shot an accusing glare at Preston. “What have you done to her?”
I probably shouldn’t have been so abrasive to the man who held my fate in his hands, but I couldn’t help it. It was one thing to drag my father and me into this because of our debt, but all Sasha ever wanted was a bit of attention. I doubted she thought she’d go to this party and end up with some fucked up forty year old doing a line off her half-naked body. She didn’t’ know what she was getting into.
Preston leaned back in his chair and looked at me, his expression hard. He was a handsome man, and his son was the spitting image of him. His corn silk hair was cut short, the front of it spiked artfully. His hazel eyes had wrinkles at the corners, but they still cut like blades when he looked at me, and the pale slash of his mouth barely moved when he spoke.
“Sit down, Miss Keane, before I make you sit down.”
One of the guys who “escorted” me in pushed a girl out of a chair and set it behind me. I gulped and sat down.
“This is a friend of yours?” He pointed to Sasha like she was just another decoration in his office, like the antique globe in the corner or the abstract silver sculpture on the windowsill. It was a surprisingly chic office considering the state of the rest of the house. His desk was polished black wood, and the stately leather chair he now reclined him made him look like he was CEO of the world.
“Yes,” I said. “She’s my friend.”
Preston looked down at Sasha, running a finger along the side of her face. “Pretty girl. Not as pretty as you, though.”
Sasha turned her face and glared at me like it was somehow my fault Preston thought I was prettier.
“Please let her go.”
Preston snorted, then tapped Sasha on the stomach. “Go on then. If you want to leave, my darling, it’s your time to fly.”
Sasha didn’t move an inch. I wasn’t sure whether she couldn’t or if she didn’t want to, but the look of pure animosity on her face warned me it was a case of the latter.
Preston smirked. “Wes.”
Wes stepped forward from the back corner into the warm light cast by a tall lamp next to Preston’s chair.
Rather than addressing his son, Preston kept his eyes on me. “I called you in here because I wanted to see what all the fucking fuss is about. My son’s in knots about you, dearest. Not only did he urge me to be generous and allow your father’s late payment to be forgiven with your attendance tonight, but you broke my fucking window, and he insists I don’t punish you for it.”
My eyes shot to Wes. If he’d looked a little bit less smug about the whole situation, I could have felt something akin to gratitude for him.
I jutted out my chin. Now was the time for me to be strong. I’d been trying it on for weeks like a rented costume, but it was the skin I needed to wear as my own now.
“And? Do you see what all the fuss is about?”
Preston sneered. “I’m not sure I do. You’re hot, but so is she.” He pointed down to Sasha. “Maybe it’s just the virgin blood that calls out to him. It would probably be easier for everyone if we did something about that.”
I blanched but forced my features to remain composed, even though I was sure my hands were starting to shake.
“If you touch me, I’ll make you regret it.”
Preston chuckled. “Darling, that just makes me want to touch you more. I think you’re full of shit.”
“And I think you’re a piece of shit. Only one of us can be right.”
His jaw tightened. “I suggest you maintain a little more decorum when you speak to me. I’m not some teacher at your high school, and you won’t be sent to the principal’s office. I deal with insults personally.”
I was feeling bold now, adrenaline spiking through me and pushing away all traces of fear. It was probably my fight or flight reflex kick
ing in. Flight wasn’t an option, and if it were, I would be halfway to Mexico by now. Fighting was all I had left.
“You think just because you’ve got some money and you call me ‘dearest’ and use words like ‘decorum’ that you’re some high class gangster or something?” I rose to my feet, pointing at him viciously. “This is Sitka Valley, not Boston, and you’re just as trashy as everyone else at this disgusting party, except you’re worse because you’re nothing more than an overinflated bully.”
The room fell silent. Gromley’s features were impossible to read, and I gulped hard, wondering if I’d taken it too far.
“Hold her,” he instructed.
The men at my sides each grabbed one of my arms. I struggled back instinctively, but their grip was painfully tight.
Preston walked calmly around the side of his desk, trailing his fingers along Sasha’s prone body as he did. He kept his eyes on me. They glinted like hard chunks of glass in the low light, and I refused to look away.
“Little Miss Virgin, trying to play tough,” he mused. “Let’s see how tough you are after I put some color on those pretty little cheeks of yours.”
Wes stepped forward. “Dad—“
Preston turned and glared at his son. “Let me deal with her.”
Wes dropped his gaze and stepped back.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut. It didn’t matter how good it felt. What Preston was going to do to me was going to feel a whole lot worse.
Preston rolled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing a heavily tattooed forearm. He clenched his fist.
“I’m only going to hit you once this time,” Preston said. “Consider it a warning. With any luck, I won’t break that cute little nose of yours.”
Okay, one punch. I could handle one punch, right? It could be much worse. I tried to feel relieved, even as my heart lurched at the sight of him drawing back his fist and aiming for my face. It was going to be one punch, sure, but it was going to hurt a lot.
“Stop!”
Preston’s brows knitted together in confusion and he looked around me. I craned my neck and was amazed to see Shane in the half-open doorway. He must’ve been sneaking in. What was he doing here?
“Who the fuck is this?” Preston asked, looking at his son.
Wes glowered at Shane. “It’s the fighting Irish. The dickhead who broke Rob’s jaw.”
Preston waved a dismissive hand at me, and my holders dragged me off to the side of the room, leaving space between Preston and Shane.
“Shane, get out of here,” I pleaded.
He didn’t even look at me. “You’re going to hit a seventeen-year-old girl? That’s low.”
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl with a sharp tongue,” Preston said, shrugging. “Besides, I don’t discriminate. Why don’t you come inside and find out.”
“The police are already on their way here,” Shane said.
Preston tipped his head back and laughed. The other men laughed too, and as Shane looked around in surprise, Wes grabbed Shane and pushed him further into the room, slamming the door.
“You’re a horrible liar, kid,” said Preston. And then he arced the fist that was meant for me toward Shane’s face.
I screamed and tried to dive for him, but Preston’s goons held me back. Shane ducked the hit and came up under Preston, slamming his fist into the older man’s stomach.
Then all hell broke loose. The men at my sides released me, charging forward to defend their boss. Wes dove into the fray too, and soon all three of Preston’s goons and Wes piled on Shane, beating the crap out of him. I shrieked at them to stop and tried pulling them away, but Preston roughly shoved me back. I landed on my tailbone painfully and tried to get up again. Preston grabbed me by the hair and dragged me away, hissing into my ear.
“How sweet. It looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
“Please let him go,” I sobbed. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
“He doesn’t, does he? That’s his loss, I’m afraid, dearest.” Preston shoved me back down into the chair and gave a hand signal to his men. They stepped back from Shane, who was groaning on the floor. Wes gave him another kick in the gut for good measure, smiling like the cat who got the cream.
“Had enough?” Wes taunted.
“Yes! He’s had enough!” At this point, I was desperate to get Shane out of there. I would’ve done anything to help him. It was a minor miracle that Preston and Wes didn’t capitalize on this vulnerability.
Shane barely looked like himself. He was beaten and bloodied, one eye already swelling shut. Blood stained the carpet underneath him, and if he weren’t taking wheezing breaths, I might have thought him dead.
“Get him to the hospital,” Preston said, disgust lacing his tone. “The last thing I need is to have to cover up some baby hero’s death right now. I’ve got enough on my plate.”
Two of his men picked up Shane between them. They were rough, and Shane moaned in pain. My heart broke for him, and it was all I could do not to break out into tears. I hung my head in my lap, unable to watch as they dragged him from the room.
“Yeah, it’s Preston.”
I looked up. Preston was sitting across from me again, his phone pressed to his ear. He looked up at Wes. “What’d you say his name was?”
“Shane Kelly,” Wes answered.
“There’s a kid named Shane Kelly that’s been causing me some problems. I want him gone.”
Preston hung up the phone and sat back in his chair as calmly as if none of this had ever happened. Tears stung my eyes, and my nose was running like a faucet. It was hard to stay strong now. I felt like any strength I’d ever accumulated had been squeezed out of me, and now I was just a deflated sack. What was going to happen to me now?
Preston stared at me, long and hard. A trickle of sweat crept down my neck, leaving a trail of coolness on my otherwise hot skin. I held his gaze, even though every instinct I had was screaming at me to back down. To submit. I didn’t even know what that would look like at this point, but my shattered nerves demanded it.
Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Preston sighed. “Okay, Miss Keane. You can go home.”
I blinked. Was he serious?
Preston frowned. “What are you waiting for? Get out of here.”
I clambered out of my chair and tried to walk as calmly as possible toward the door, avoiding Wes when he tried to catch my eye as I walked past.
“Oh, Miss Keane?” Preston called.
I stilled but didn’t turn.
“Your father’s debt is nowhere near paid, so I expect we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he said, voice laden with frost. “Take care to be a little more polite in the future.”
I reached the door and turned the handle, half expecting it to be locked, for all of this to just be a cruel joke. It turned easily and I let myself out. I didn’t look back.
Chapter 16
Shane
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I swam into consciousness, pulled toward a bright light and a relentless, steady beeping.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
My whole body ached. I’d never been hit by a car, but I had to imagine that this is what it would be like. I thought getting beat up before was bad, but this time it was worse. One of my ribs was cracked. Every time I pulled in a ragged breath a sharp pain exploded in my left side. The skin around my eyes felt tight. They were swollen, possibly too swollen even to open them.
“Alright, son, time to wake up,” a gruff male voice announced.
Was he talking to me?
I got my answer a second later when someone’s rough hands yanked the heart rate monitor off my thumb. The beeping flatlined, but that noise died a second later. I struggled to open my eyes and managed to crack them just in time to see a police officer leaning over my IV and pulling back the tape. A second later the IV was out, and he wrapped a hand around my bicep and hauled me upright.
I groaned in complaint, but the officer didn’t care.
It annoyed him, more than anything else.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he muttered. “Don’t be a pussy. You won’t make it through the day if you can’t handle this.”
What did he mean? Why was he making me get up? Was I being arrested?
I tried to ask him. My voice came out thick and broken.
“Wha—What’s going on?”
He didn’t answer me. The only indication that he’d even heard me was the twitching of his handlebar mustache impatiently. I felt him yank on the strings of my hospital gown and then he pulled it down. A second police officer stepped into the room with a bag in hand. He pulled out a pair of pants and a t-shirt and tossed them at me.
“Put these on.”
“These aren’t my clothes.”
“Yours were too bloody. Put these on now before I put them on for you.”
I obliged, shaking from the pain it took just to move. To distract myself, I tried to ask them questions.
“Are you taking me home?”
No answer.
“Am I under arrest?”
No answer.
As I opened my mouth to ask a third question, the one with the mustache jabbed me in the arm. “No more questions or I’ll take a shot at that cracked rib next.”
I recoiled in pain. He’d landed his blow right on top of a tender bruise. I didn’t ask any more questions.
The two police officers led me out of the hospital. One had a hand on me at all times, part to help support my weight and part to stop me from running. The joke was on them. I wouldn’t be running anywhere.
They led me to a police cruiser parked out front and manhandled me into the backseat. They took the front seats and turned up the radio. Heavy rock blasted into my eardrums, and I closed my eyes, desperate to block out any stimulus I could and save my throbbing skull the pain. They obviously didn’t want me asking any more questions.
We drove straight past the police department. Anxiety coated my throat and made it even harder to breathe.
When we turned off onto a forested road at the north end of town, I realized where we were going. Back to Gromley’s.
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