Both cops look at each other. “We’ll get in touch with your lawyer. I’m assuming you have an alibi, right Dolores? Someone who was with you at your salon?”
“She does.” Edge again takes over.
They both nod. “We’ll go back to Crystal.” They turn to leave until Officer Richards stops at the door.
“It’s crazy. I thought the 911 call was from a Dolly?”
“It wasn’t.” Edge straightens to his full six-foot-four glory,
“We’ll need the marriage certificate.” They walk to the door, and Officer Border says over his shoulder, “Get your lawyer ready. Crystal’s story is not the same as yours.” I’m nodding like a bobblehead. Edge’s voice calms me, which helps as I’m about to hyperventilate.
“You might want to talk to her again. I’m sure she’s had time to sober up and her memory has to be much clearer.”
Both cops turn to glare at Edge. “Don’t kid yourselves. We know how your club works—”
“Contact my lawyer.”
The room crackles with anger and bad energy and it’s all my fault. Screw that. Edge is not a saint. He’s the one who started this mess.
“Oh, don’t you worry. He’ll be hearing from us.” They smirk as they pull open the door and the stupid perky nurse enters.
“Oh… I’m sorry.” Her head swings back and forth from us to the cops. “Should I come back?”
“No, we’re done with them,” the cop sneers.
The door quietly closes, and the nurse waits until they’re gone before she hands Edge his card. He takes it. Numb, I stare at him.
The side of his jaw twitches, which is a bad sign. If he keeps grinding his jaw that way, he’ll break a tooth.
“Edge? I—”
“Let’s go.” He hands the girl the receipt and other signed papers.
“Okay,” I whisper. He doesn’t wait and grabs my hand.
“Jesus.” My feet seem not to be working. I’m either in shock or I truly did have a stroke.
“Move, Dolly.” It’s a demand. He propels us forward.
“This is so bad,” I mumble.
He squeezes my hand. “I can’t deal with any more shit, Dolly. Stay mute.” He punches the elevator to bring us down to the lobby.
It’s empty. All the crazy stuff that went down earlier is almost like a bad dream. All that remains is a bunch of people waiting for news about their loved ones.
“I hope everyone is okay,” I say.
The glass doors that lead to the outside slide open and there stand Axel and Blade smoking.
“Not one fucking word,” he hisses as we approach them.
Both of them stare at me, making me slide closer to Edge. I don’t care if he hates me. I need him right now if the disgust on Blade’s and Axel’s faces is any indication.
“The pigs talk to you?” Blade asks.
“Yeah. I need a cigarette.”
He tosses Edge his pack as we all move toward the parking lot.
I do a quick glance at him since I’ve been staring like a zombie at the palm trees straight ahead. Blade scowls at me making me feel as if I’m the biggest disappointment ever.
“Okay, so how do you want to handle this?”
“Crystal talked. I told them she’s high and drunk, so someone needs to make sure she changes her story.” Edge lights up as the sun beats down on us.
“Yeah, I already know and I’m taking care of it.” Blade looks around the parking lot. It’s calm, maybe because all the spots are taken.
“And Dolly and I are going to Vegas tomorrow to get married.” Both he and Axel look at him then me.
Blade clears his throat. “Why don’t you rest and go in a couple days?”
Edge shakes his head as he inhales. “The cops want the certificate. They know Dolly stabbed me and with Crystal freaking out, they are trying to fuck with me by threatening Dolly with attempted murder.”
I must groan because all eyes are on me.
“What goes through your head, Doll? Did you even see me and Derrick in the office with Edge?” Axel’s sapphire eyes pin me to the asphalt and I blink at him. I can’t tell him that it didn’t matter. That all I saw was red. That and my head was doing some strange buzzing at the thought of Crystal with Edge. The whole Los Angeles Kings hockey team could have been in that office and I wouldn’t have known.
Blade looks at me and nods. “I’ll take care of Crystal. You don’t have to worry about her story. As for Vegas, let us know when you want us to go.”
“Wait. What’s happening?” I try to pull away. Edge can’t seriously be thinking of getting married. I thought he was talking about getting a fake certificate.
Axel shakes his head. “Well, that’s one way of dealing with this fucking mess.” He walks to his bike and starts it. “I got shit to do. Let me know when and where to show up.” He doesn’t wait for any explanation and skids out of the parking lot. The roar of his Harley as he speeds down Beverly Boulevard temporarily distracts us.
“I said not a word,” Edge hisses and tosses his cigarette on the ground. He turns us toward Blade who is next to his bike, phone in hand, texting.
“I need a shower. I’ll be in early tomorrow.” Edge propels me toward the Uber driver pulling into the parking lot.
Blade nods, his eyes going from Edge to me. I say nothing at his almost amused expression mostly because I’m being shoved into the back seat of a Toyota Camry.
“Rest up, brother. I’ll let Eve know,” he yells at us, straddling his bike.
Neither of us says anything as we sit in the back of the car, looking out the window as all of LA passes us by.
I glance down at our hands still locked together, both covered in blood. A small gurgle of laughter threatens to spill out.
“Good thing you can’t use a knife,” he says staring out the window, not even looking at me. A shiver of fear goes down my spine. He’s holding my hand, but I can feel his rage.
“I thought you were getting a blow job,” I hiss at him, leaning close so the Uber driver can’t hear us.
He doesn’t respond and squeezes my hand tight. I lean my head back against the cloth interior of the car.
The afternoon traffic is crawling as we weave our way back up Laurel Canyon. We don’t say a word. Edge holds my hand as if warning me what’s to come. Of course, he won’t say anything now—the Uber driver is an outsider.
For an insane split second, I almost get out, open the door and bolt. But who am I running from, him or myself? And fuck all this guilt. This is his fault.
“Okay, you two have a better day.” The Uber driver breaks into the rant in my head. He’s stopped right at the entrance to the steps leading up to my apartment.
“Thank you.” Edge sounds bored but I can sense the tension bouncing off him.
I step out. The sun is still bright and warm, and I can’t remember what I did with my sunglasses. For a man who was stabbed and has staples in his leg, he’s moving as if nothing’s happened. He’s moving like he’s on a mission…
I think I might be fucked.
EDGE
Thirty-one years old
My inner thigh is throbbing but nowhere near as much as my heart.
She did it.
She’s been threatening for years, and I’m fucking livid. Mostly at myself. Dolly is Dolly. I accept her… sort of.
What I don’t accept is lying to myself. The ride to the hospital with a hysterical Dolly at my side was my wake-up call.
My epiphany.
It happened in seconds. The screaming, sirens, blood, and pain were all gone as my brain finally woke the fuck up.
And I was free. Done.
She’s made it so and now I’m at peace. This morning’s events replay in my mind as I close my eyes and let my enlightened state fill in the blanks. Her pain and rage are so strong that it vibrates in my heart where I can keep it safe from even her.
Because that’s what she needs, but I never fully understood it.
Not until
today. Not until she stabbed me.
Stabbing a person requires enough rage and passion to do the deed up close.
You experience it with your victim. It’s almost intimate. You’re close enough to see the actual pain. Smell the blood and fear that flows out of a person the moment a knife pierces flesh.
Some describe it as erotic.
It’s why I avoid the knife: too personal.
“Edge, wait a minute… my heels.” Dolly breaks my trancelike mindfuck, bringing my attention back to this beautiful day and the fact that I’m dragging her with me. Her small ankles that I can span in my hand are shaking in her five-inch heels.
She never goes out without at least a four-inch heel. Yet another reminder that she wants to be someone else. That used to enrage me. Now…
They’re just wounds.
Wounds that never healed. Dolly and I are direct products of our environment. Two kids who grew into adults and, so far, seem to be repeating the cycle.
Neither of us is perfect. Both have hurt each other unnecessarily. But this… this incident has cut through all the gray areas. The clouded murky shit that we couldn’t seem to swim our way out of.
She sliced our way to the top. It’s done.
I’m done.
For better or worse, the past is not my enemy. My shame and guilt are gone. The Disciples have been her enemy. A constant competition that she felt compelled to win. But I’m not her father. Dolly needs to open her eyes and let go.
I should have known this morning was gonna be shit. All the signs were there. Fucking Derrick with his annoying texts waking me up at 6:00 a.m. Dolly, not in our bed because she had an early client who flew in from New York. So, instead of fucking her warm pussy I had my cock in my hand jerking off to her vanilla scent as she showered in the bathroom.
“Edge, slow down.” She jerks back, forcing my focus back on her rather than the bullshit she pulled earlier.
Her stupid neighbors are sunbathing in the corner listening to Bob Marley. Which sucks. Not Bob Marley, but the fact that we have to walk past them.
“Hey, you two.” One of the dingbat girlfriends sits up and waves at us.
“Holy shit. are you okay?” Ryan the guy who lives next door to Dolly puts a hand up to shield his eyes as he looks at us.
“Yes,” I growl as I pull Dolly past them.
“Dude, I mean wow.” He stands to follow us. His board shorts have pink flowers on them.
I roll my neck, trying to have the patience not to push him off the railing. “Keys now, Dolly.”
She raises her hands as if that should stop him. “Hey Ryan, we were in a little car accident, but we’re fine.” Her voice is loud and phony making it obvious we weren’t in any accident, but Ryan’s a moron so she might have pulled it off.
“Good talking.” I nod at the shocked group, pull Dolly into the apartment, and slam the door.
“It’s time to move.” I run my hands through my hair letting my eyes adjust to her dark place. In our rush this morning, we forgot to open the blackout curtains.
“Stop it. They’re harmless.” She sighs as she drops her bag on the counter.
“We need to get you cleaned up.” She looks at me, and for a second, time stops. We’re alone now… and covered with my blood.
“Are you feeling okay?” She cocks her head at me as I move toward her.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
She takes a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Her eyes widen as she blinks. “For sta… hurting you.” She puffs out air and I’m so close to her, it caresses my face. Reaching down, I lift her chin, my thumb rubbing her cheek.
“You didn’t hurt me. Try again.”
“What?” She swallows, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck.
“I’m not hurt.” I take her hand and place it on my cock.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“So, tell me, Dolly.” I force her hand to rub my erection. “Are you really sorry? Or are you happy you finally made me bleed?”
As she tries to pull away, her breathing becomes harsh.
“I was upset. I thought you were fucking Crystal. I—” Her back hits the wall.
“But I wasn’t. You didn’t even think to look around, did you?” I dip my head still making her hand rub my dick as my lips brush hers.
“Did you?” I demand.
She jumps. “No. All I saw was you. With… your shirt off. The bartender said you were fucking Crystal.”
“The bartender? A fucking nobody says that and you walk in with your knife in your hand? Like a goddamn horror movie?”
She tries to lean into my chest to cover her face. “I don’t know what happened, Edge. I heard him, and then”—she swallows—“I stabbed you.”
“Did it turn you on?”
Her eyes bolt to mine. “No.”
“I think it did. I think the thought of stabbing me turns you on.” I let go of her hand and unbutton her jeans as her nails dig into my wrist to stop me.
“Edge, please. You’re hurt and I’m not righ—”
“I’m not hurt,” I snarl into her lips.
“But…” She shakes her head as if trying to wake herself up. “I… you lost blood.”
“I did. It’s on your hands.” I lift them so she can see that her hands are still stained with my blood, even though she washed them in the hospital.
Unzipping her jeans, I sink to my knees.
“Edge, I think we need to tal—”
I grab her ass bringing her waxed pussy straight to my face. My fingers open her lips so my tongue can lick and suck her honey. A loud moan and shudder shake her body as she reaches for the wall to steady herself.
“I want to hear it, Dolly.” I kiss her pussy. “Talk to me, baby.” Looking up at her eyes, I say, “Tell me in detail what it felt like to finally stab me.”
“Stop.” She tries to move, but I’m stronger. “What’s happening to us?”
I thrust two fingers deep inside her wet core. “You liked it, didn’t you?” I start to finger fuck her, my mouth inches from her swollen clit.
“Stop.” She whimpers.
“That mouth of yours doesn’t get to tell me no.” Leaning into her, I lick and latch onto her clit.
“You were fucking Crystal… I think.” Her head falls back with a thud on the wall.
“I only fuck you.”
She lifts her hands to grab my hair as my fingers speed up.
“Tell me how it felt,” I hiss. My other hand unbuttons my jeans, pulling them down to release my thick cock.
“Edge.” She moans. “I’m going to come.” Her legs shake as her pussy clenches and pulses on my fingers.
“Holy fuck.” She rips at my hair as I feel blood dripping down my leg. The wound must have split open a little when I kneeled.
“Take off your shirt and bra. I want to see those tits.”
She’s panting and her eyes are wild, but she obeys. Tossing off her shirt, she unhooks her bra letting her full breasts spring free.
I lean my head forward and inhale her pussy. Her head rolls to the side as she watches my tongue fuck her.
“Edge…” She tries to jerk my head away. “We have to stop. Oh my God, you’re bleeding.” She twists.
I stand. Her eyes dart to the blood dripping down my leg. “We’re broken wings, baby. We don’t stop.”
“I might have made a mistake,” she gasps.
“You did us a favor.” I pull her into my arms, lift her, and walk us into her bedroom.
“Get your pants off and spread your legs.”
“I… you can’t. I mean, you’re bleeding.” She covers her mouth as she watches me kick off my boots.
“You better have your legs spread by the time my jeans are off.” I kick my other boot and it lands on a pile of designer dresses on her floor.
Reaching down, she pulls off her jeans and lies back on her elbows, her eyes filled with tears. She bites her bottom lip.
I toss my bloody jeans in the corner and smile as I look down at her. “Spread your legs. And don’t kid yourself—we’re nothing but pain.”
I climb on top and in one deep thrust, I’m home. Her cunt is mine. I thrust in and out, mixing her wet juices with my own and, more than likely, blood from my wound. It makes me want to shoot my load deep inside her.
Not tonight though. Tonight is all about us—the true us.
“No more lies,” I growl, unable to stop my grin of primal satisfaction. “Yeah, I smell your cunt, baby.”
I roll us onto my back so she can straddle me. As much as I want to keep thrusting into her, I don’t need the staples they gave me to come out.
“Fuck me,” I grit out.
“You sure?” She starts to rub her wet, slick pussy on me.
I smile at her half-assed attempt to show concern when it’s clear her greedy cunt wants to come. “Hard.” She lifts herself up and thrusts her wet cunt onto me.
“Fuck.” My head drops and eyes roll back as I try to get a hold of myself. “That’s it, baby.”
Her concern over my wound is gone. Her wet pussy is warm and slick as her hips thrust hard up and down against me. The sound of her cunt slapping me makes my balls tighten. I force myself to breathe. It’s either that or I’m gonna come. Her back arches as her delicious, full tits bounce in front of me.
“Tight.” Reaching up, I pinch one of her hard nipples and she moans.
“Fuck, I love you.” I reach for her neck.
“Edge,” she rasps. “Not right now.”
“You don’t get to tell me no,” I hiss. I’m not playing fair, but fuck it, no one is perfect. She grabs for my wrist. My other hand is on her hips and I make her continue to fuck me as I start to squeeze her neck.
“Who does this neck belong to?” I say in a low voice.
“Edge.” She tries to twist away.
“Exactly. Me.” I tighten more as her cunt gets wetter. Fight or flight. We’ve been working on this for years; she’s been getting better. So, her denying me right now is a prime example she’s still not over anything.
“Let go if you want to come.” I thrust my hips up so that my cock is deep inside her. She rubs her clit against me, her core wet and dripping. Her nails are still attached to my wrist, and I smile. She’s my little psycho chick.
Repent (The Disciples Book 3) Page 18
