by Nicole Snow
I can't let him go after Trent.
I'm driving like a crazy woman through rush hour traffic downtown. I'm in such a rush I don't even care about crashing the rental.
Jace could be anywhere. He might even beat me to the tall posh hotel. I've got the local news on the radio, and so far, I haven't heard any disturbances, brawls, or shootings. Small comfort.
After an eternity fighting traffic, I pull the car to the curb by the entrance and shove an eye popping wad of cash at the valet. “Just park. I won't be long.”
I hope, I add mentally, running through the circular doors.
The well manicured man at the front desk looks at me suspiciously. I know how out of place I look: badly out of breath, hair tossed everywhere, fist in my purse digging for that stupid piece of paper.
“Miss, can I assist you?” he asks for the third time.
Finally. I slap the paper on the marble counter, looking for the tidbit I've forgotten. “Trent Usher. Room 313. Will you let him know we need to talk?” I also want to ask if there's anyone else who's come by looking for Trent, but I hold it at the tip of my tongue.
“One moment,” he says, professionalism winning out, fingers working the keyboards. “Ah. It appears Mr. Usher checked out early this morning.”
Damn! On second thought, I'm not sure whether I'm upset or relieved.
If he's gone virtually anywhere else, he's probably safe from Jace. But if he left without a goodbye...
“Did he leave a contact? A message? A destination?”
The man strokes his chin. “I recall helping him myself, yes. Believe he said he's heading home. Portland, if I recall. Had one of our drivers collect his luggage for the airport.”
“Thanks.” I grab the slip of paper with his room and number, wheeling around, a little less urgency in my step than before. But before I do, I turn one last time. “This might sound weird...hope I'm not overstepping any bounds...but can you tell me if anyone else was here looking for him?”
The man pauses, hardens his eyes, wondering if he should tell me anything. My heart sinks because I think I already know the answer. “As a matter of fact, there was a visitor. A tall, rather flustered man who, frankly, left a very unpleasant impression. About an hour ago, well after Mr. Usher had checked out.”
“Thank you!” I don't give him any time to cross-interrogate. I almost crash headfirst into the valet, asking for my car.
I need to get home.
While I'm waiting, I dial the only number I have for Trent. Predictably, it belongs to the room, redirecting my call to the same bewildered man at the front desk I just left in the dust.
Hanging up, my heart sinks. Wherever he's gone, I still need to warn him.
There's a decent chance my brother isn't so insane he'll do anything in an airport. Still, it would take him no time to book a flight to Portland, or God forbid, drive.
The ride to my parents place is a little less insane. Too bad I can't shake the sick feeling in my stomach this is far from over.
Then I see Jace's car in the driveway. He hasn't bothered pulling into the garage. I hold my breath all the way inside the house.
Just because he has no immediate plans to follow up on chasing Trent doesn't calm my nerves.
I close the door behind me and hear...laughter?
Steeling myself, I push through the door, into the house. I can't stand what I see next.
Jace is in the living room with mom. They're reminiscing over some mundane thing from the past I hear in quick bursts. I'm so livid my ears blaze red.
My brother isn't just screwed up and out for revenge. He's a complete sociopath. Nobody else would go after a man in broad daylight looking for a fight, and then laugh it off over tea in less than an hour.
There's a dull, painful roar in my head. I barely make it past without them noticing.
I don't breathe again until I'm in my room, hoping to God almighty she's forgotten her dinner plans.
It's later, after dusk, when I finally creep downstairs. I didn't mean to sleep so long, but the past twenty-four hours has left me drained.
The house is weirdly quiet. So still I think I'm alone when I step into the kitchen.
Then I see his dark silhouette reclining in dad's favorite chair, inert in the darkness. It's too soon. A half-muffled scream bellows out before I get my hands over my mouth.
Jace just chuckles, long and low and nasty. He's been expecting me.
“Calm the fuck down, sis. Our folks are downstairs, working out last minute reservations.” He smiles, stands up, and crosses the space between us, stopping on the other side of the counter. It's hard not to jump again as his hands slap the surface.
“Listen.” He leans toward me, leering. “I've thought an awful lot about our little disagreement this afternoon. Decided we're still family. Everybody in this house, including you. My beef isn't with my baby sister.”
Shaking my head, I feel the anger hit my blood. “Leave him alone, Jace. I went to the hotel, heard you went looking.”
“And what if I did?” he bites out. “That's my fucking business, Amy Kay. Whether he was justified or not, Usher threw the first punch, dragging my skeletons out of the closet. Then the bastard scuttled like a rat when I came to settle like a man.”
He's delusional.
That isn't at all why I think he left. But of course I don't say it. “Jace –”
“Amy Kay.” He nods curtly. “Listen to your big brother for once – stay the fuck out of this and we won't have problems. It's not your fight. Judging by the warm welcome our folks gave me this afternoon, I'm guessing you didn't drop this bomb on them?”
“You went in my room?” One more crime shouldn't shock me. Doesn't change the need to stare him down as he holds up the crumpled note I tucked away, and lets it hit the counter with a crisp plop.
“You'll get over it. Same thing you'll do after I burn this fucking thing tonight, and we try to put this whole ugly fever behind us.” I lunge for the ball of paper, but he's too fast, snatching it up and stuffing it back in his pocket. “Rude. Finders, keepers, Amy Kay.”
“Asshole,” I whisper back. “Why the game, Jace? You're crazier than I thought if you think this is something I'll just forget. Not after you went after Trent, trying to do God only knows.”
He smiles. “Usher's a sad little man if he needs your protection. I'm not psychotic, sis.” He pauses, as if he can sense how much I don't believe it. “I just wanted to convince my old buddy. Get him to see things my way, or at least lay off springing any other fun surprises.”
My lips thin. He deserves what's coming, and probably more, but I don't like the idea of Trent running around with more hit-and-run attacks. Cooler heads have to prevail eventually, right?
“That's my sis,” he says, patting my arm twice before I rip it away. “Fine. Be that way. Rest assured, whatever beef I have with Usher won't get violent or out of hand.”
“I don't know why I should believe anything you say.”
“Because, sis, I've got nothing left to lose. If I'm so fucked up, so crazy, I decide to jack a flight to Portland and pay him a visit on his home turf, what will you do? Squeal to dad? Break mom's heart? Force our parents to lock me up like a mad fucking dog?”
I don't say anything. He's got me there.
Of course, I'll consider it if I think my brother could be a murderer, but Jesus, I don't want to.
“Exactly.” His eyes brighten, making my skin crawl. “I know being under the same roof's fucking torture for us both. Don't you worry, sis. I'll be out of your hair real soon. I was already planning to tell everybody I've got a new place lined up over dinner tonight. Need some time to myself to think about this, how I'll un-fuck my life. Lindsey's lawyer's already up my ass, and dad wants me with his guy on Monday. Won't have much time for retaliation against the asshole who did this. Not for a while.”
I say nothing. We stare at each other for a minute longer. Then he turns, marches past me, and disappears into the next room
.
I can't trust a word from this chronic liar, but one word wasn't lost on me: time.
Trent, in all his wisdom, didn't leave me a Portland contact. Every hour Jace stays here buys precious time for a proper warning.
Sighing, I know what's ahead: I'll play this cat and mouse game as long as it takes to make things less crazy. I'll warn Trent. And the second Jace steps out of line, I'll make sure mom and dad know everything.
Then, sometime in the next century, I'll wash my hands of this nightmare circus and figure out how to live a normal life.
12
Pesky Conscience (Trent)
Two weeks back in Portland and I'm bored out of my skull.
Another seven figures in the bank as Cryptic's stock hit the moon. More meetings, more offers, more hobnobbing with bald headed billionaires who treat this as nothing but a cash cow for their pet projects. I spend ten hours one week discussing experimental batteries with a man who says he'll have a hotel orbiting the moon in five years.
Smells suspicious. Too bad the scent is eerily similar to cold hard money. A lot of money.
If only money had the same charm it used to. Since Seattle, it's been hard to give a shit about anything and even harder to focus.
I've had exactly one thing on my mind since I slipped out of bed early that final morning.
It was dark. Presh was peacefully asleep. I'm still not sure if I spent more time stepping on my own dick or my heart.
I couldn't go on with the rest of my master plan. Not after spilling my confession, fighting her calm, and laying next to her sweetness, face-to-face with a vicious truth: I'm human.
Felt it for the first time in years with Amy Kay nestled in my arms. Her warm, soft flesh plush on mine kicked up the other memories we didn't discuss that night. And I don't just mean the obvious fuck-her-through-the-floor urges leaving me hard as a brick.
I mean the kiss. How familiar, how irresistibly her lips brushed mine. She turned in her sleep, brushing her hair on my skin, and my eyes opened to her siren mouth. I think I stared at them a minute, or was it ten?
Again, I'm human. Fuck yes, I took my last opportunity to taste that sweetness. I brought my lips down on hers while she slept, stirring gently, a soft whimper-moan melting on my tongue.
It was goodbye. Had to be.
Because if I didn't sit up, straighten my clothes, and creep through the house like a bandit to the front door, I knew I'd have too many reasons to stay. The kiss made another decision for me, too.
I lost the heart to bury that fucking prick. Jace Chenocott deserves hell's seventh circle, and probably several more not yet charted, but I couldn't swing the hammer again.
Not after telling her the truth. Hell, not after re-living it with every supple curve of her body molded to mine.
What else could I do? There's a time when every man's mercy is bigger than his bite. He lays down his arms and picks up the pen.
Stopping in the kitchen, I found her ma's old notepad, a pen, and scratched out a message to her folks. Writing those words wiped whatever howling need for vengeance I came here with. They just wanted the truth, no different than when I sat across from her upstairs, cut my soul, and bled the darkness I'd held in for so many years.
It isn't supposed to be so simple. But it is.
I walked back to my napping driver and slid into the leather seat a whole new man. By the time I checked out, got to the airport, and sat in my first class seat bound for home, I couldn't tell who the fuck I was.
No longer bent on destruction.
No longer driven by vengeance.
No longer sated on violence, humiliation, and tears.
Honest to God, our last kiss did something indescribable.
The something I thought only happened in movies.
Something otherworldly.
Something miraculous.
Tasting Precious restored my soul. Like some kind of warped inversion of Sleeping Beauty, or maybe that kid's tale where the hot princess sucks face with the frog.
Shit. I am that frog, aren't I? And if I've reverted back to Prince Charming, all the more reason to leave.
Because the only reason this one way non-aggression pact with Jace works is if I stay far, far away from Seattle.
Sure, I can't rule out retaliation. I've been watching, waiting, expecting Jace to attack me directly or the empire I've built. That fallout, I'm ready for.
As for the rest...I can't let the new Trent Usher get anywhere near Amy Kay.
If I let my lips wander back to hers again, this quest to finally let go of the past and move on becomes impossible. Then there's no keeping this haunted peace I've found.
It's weird being back in Pops' old truck. He's had the same F-150 for twelve years. I suppose it's fitting. Touching, even. This truck has seen us through so many times: good, bad, and heartbreaking.
This was the truck I rode in the day we buried ma. It was raining like hell, a long ride out to the cemetery past the city limits. She wanted to be surrounded by nature.
Pops would've rather died a thousand times himself than fail her dying wish.
I try like hell to push the dark memory aside. We're almost to my place after eating an early dinner, where he'll let me off before driving home. There'll be plenty more time to settle into my high back leather chair with a drink, staring at the lights dancing on the other side of the Columbia.
“Glad you kept yourself out of trouble, son,” Pops says, when he knows I won't have much time to protest.
“Yeah, well...you were right. I'd be lying if I said I didn't go up there without the Chenocotts heavy on my mind.” I bite my tongue, hating how I'm still lying to him now.
Pops gives me the side-eye, his grey mustache twitching. If he knew what I'd done to that asshole, and then to Amy...fuck. No good will come of more confessions, though.
“How many times did you see her?” he sighs.
I turn, shaking my head, wondering where I slipped. “How many what?”
“How many times, Trent? You're not fooling me, coming home with your nose cleaner than I expected. Too clean, matter of fact. Did you call her? Do dinner? Sleep together?”
What the hell? Pops and I have never been shy discussing anything, but this is the first time he's asked about my sex life.
Then again, this is the first time bedroom happenings could have vile consequences.
“Christ,” I growl, tapping my fingers lightly on my temple to check if this is a dream. “If you must know, we met briefly. Not far from their old building downtown. It was tense and awkward and nothing happened.” Technically true, as far as the sex goes. It's still a goddamn lie. “You'll be happy to know she helped keep me out of bigger trouble, Pops. If we hadn't met to hash out the past –”
“You could've gotten yourself in too deep. But you didn't. If that's the long and short of it, then it's good enough for me.” I hope to fuck he's right. His grip on the wheel tightens and I see his knuckles turning white. “You're sure you didn't upset her again?”
“Nah. We won't be looking forward to any surprise visits from the cops or the FBI soon, if that's what's got you up in arms.” I'm praying this ends soon. The traffic couldn't be slower winding up the hilly road.
“Not what I mean. I stopped fearing men in black on my doorstep a long time ago, Trent.” He talks like it's so obvious. “Asked if you upset her, son. Because I think that poor girl's been through enough, having him as her brother, and you in her rear-view mirror.”
“Shit, are you listening? I told you. We sat down a couple times to bury the hatchet. Not swing for anybody's throats again.”
“That so? A couple times?” There's amusement in his thin smile. “You're no angel, son, but you've got a thing or two to learn about women outside sleeping with 'em.”
Again, my sex life.
When does this torture end?
Wrinkling my nose, I stare at the road, mentally counting the last few minutes to my place and sweet freedom.
“She never would've wanted to see you again if a part of her ain't interested.” He lets it out after a long pause, like he's been holding in a movie spoiler.
I do a slow turn. “No. Amy Kay wanted peace of mind and a few free dinners with a lonely billionaire. That's it. Thank you, Pops. How would I ever see what's right in front of my face without you?”
My sarcasm meter is so broke it's spinning off its track. Pops guns the last few miles to my place. The truck chugs up my long driveway and stops outside my door. “All I'm saying, dear boy, is get ready for trouble if she comes calling. And she will.”
I grit my teeth. “Wrong. I left without much of a goodbye. She'll get the message. We're more done now than we ever were. She's got her happy ending and I've got mine. Sweet closure.” His engine chugs through the silence, a beast on its last legs. “By the way, whenever you're in the market, let me buy you something that runs.”
Pops' face darkens. He taps the wheel with his fingers like he's stroking an old horse. “Needs a little work, is all. She's got a few more good years in her, same as me.”
I'm annoyed how predictably stubborn he is, but I don't dig. “Thanks for doing dinner. I'll call you next week.”
I'm out of the truck and inside before he sees the sad weight on my face. The old man has a remarkable way of being right without a lot of words.
That used to be ma's thing, but it's rubbed off on him since she left us.
Tonight, it's hard to figure out what frustrates me more: him refusing to admit he's hanging onto that old truck because he's heartsick missing ma, or me pretending I won't cross paths with Amy Kay again – even if it means treading dangerous ground.
That last kiss is part of my blood.
I taste her in every breath. Feel her heat every night I'm under the sheets. Let her sweet madness take too much of my headspace with too little fight.
I'm fucked, is what I am. Thoroughly, completely, madly. Thrashed to my very soul.
