“Drink?” Devlin asks me.
I shake my head and turn on my heel to go back to the basement. I’m ready to be done with this shit so I can get to my woman and my brother. Clyde texted a few hours ago to say that Hunter pulled through surgery. If that kid had died, this would be going a lot differently.
Devlin and Jordan follow me after making a pit stop to grab a steel pipe from the garage. We go in the same order that we went in before, starting with Gary.
Devlin starts the same way each time.
“One last question for you. Bluffs or river?”
Some version of “What?” is the response he receives.
“Where should we spread your ashes? The bluffs or the river?” he clarifies and they all start to plead.
Then Jordan and Devlin hold a body while I beat it to death with a pipe. They feel what my brother and Hunter felt until they can’t feel anymore. Two of Devlin’s guys take my recent kill and dump it in their incinerator. The whole process takes two hours.
My arms are shaking by the time I cave in Dave’s skull. I’m exhausted and running out of adrenaline, pure rage fueling me at this point.
I drop the pipe when the last body is dragged away and Jordan passes me a cigarette. I’m covered in blood, flesh and bone from head to toe. I need this shit off me. But I have time for a smoke break.
“Remind me never to piss you off,” Jordan snarks as the three of us slide to our asses against the wall, staring at the massive pool of blood in the center of the room.
I quirk an eyebrow at him. I’m no different from Jordan. I never would have believed it if you told me a few weeks ago, but Jordan’s got something dark in him. There was a glimmer in his eyes as he worked those fuckers over that told me he felt good spilling blood. Well, that and the constant smirk.
“You are a BAMF beyond me, Sharp,” he compliments, tipping his head in appreciation.
I snort.
“What’s the plan with Joyce?” Devlin changes the subject.
“She’s in the wind again, man. Either she comes back or she doesn’t. The question is what to do with Hunter and Alyssa,” Jordan huffs, lighting another smoke before passing one to each of us.
I light the new one off my butt and wait for a solution to be found. I have no fucking clue what to do about this situation.
“I can’t take ’em. You can’t take ’em. Sharp’s already got Cody. They’ll get split up and spread around the county if they go into foster care. You know Social Services are already circling the wagons. You’re gonna have to work with them to keep their mouths shut about this, Jordan. If the sheriff starts pokin’ around the Donovan place, it’ll eventually lead back to those motherfuckers we just dealt with.”
“What’s the story we have ’em spin?”
“They don’t remember what happened. They went to the party and were drivin’ home. Crashed the car and don’t remember anything else. Alyssa’s back bein’ whipped to shit doesn’t play, but if she just refuses to talk about it, there’s nothin’ anyone can do. That’s why we need to keep her and Hunter outta the system.”
I know Devlin’s trying to do the smart thing here. But those kids are going to need help to get through this. Alyssa’s going to be mentally fucked up from this shit. I’m sure Hunter and Cody will be too. Sweeping shit under the rug runs the risk of making everything worse.
“Let’s talk to Em and Jenna before we decide what to do. They’ve spent the day with ’em. They’ll know what to do better than we do. My cooch isn’t as functional without my girls around,” Jordan jokes.
He’s already back to his lighthearted self. The dude amazes me. It’s as though he’s as unfazed by what we just did as Devlin and I are. I guess he is.
“Sharp, I know conversation isn’t your strong point, but you haven’t said shit since we left the hospital. You good?” Devlin is cautious as he asks, not looking at me as he exhales a steady stream of smoke.
I wait for a moment, taking a few drags while I consider his question. Am I good?
“No,” I grunt and climb to my feet.
“Right,” Devlin replies. “Let’s get showered and changed so we can incinerate these clothes.”
Jordan and I trail behind Devlin into the clubhouse, leaving the basement of death to be dealt with by a very strange character in Mayhem called Zero who enjoys cleaning messes. To each their own.
There are a few people milling about, but it’s headed toward four in the morning so the clubhouse is basically empty. Devlin leads us through the main area back to a long hallway where small apartments are located.
I take the first one offered and get naked quickly, avoiding making too much of a mess for Zero to have to deal with. I look up into the dingy mirror over the sink, staring long and hard at the reflection.
It’s something out of a horror movie. Blood dried and caked over all the skin that was exposed to my brutality. Chunks of bone and flesh mingled in the mess, causing textures of shiny bumps. Behind my thick black eyelashes are dark, haunted eyes. They’re beyond brown, which is the color they turn when I’m pissed. There’s no delineation between my irises and pupils. The color of death.
I stand with my reflection for a while longer, absorbing the vengeance. I should be ashamed of what I’ve done. I killed four people. I beat them so they felt every blow until I decided to end it. I tortured them. I hurt them. I mutilated them. I murdered them.
I feel nothing.
I’m not happy. I’m not satisfied. I’m not freed from the guilt weighing me down. I’m not relieved.
I’m pissed.
Taking a deep breath, I slide into the small shower cubicle and set about scouring my body under searing water. It takes a long time for the stream to the drain to run clear. Once it does, I wash myself again. My muscles are sore, burning with each movement, but I welcome the pain.
I cut off the shower and roughly scrub a thin white towel over my body before slinging it around my hips. I stride into the main area of the apartment and find a stack of clothes waiting for me on the bed.
When I’m yanking a long-sleeved black Mayhem T-shirt over my head, the door to the apartment opens. Zero comes in with a duffle bag in his hands. He pushes his thick glasses up his nose when he sees me. There’s something off with him. He’s the guy you see and immediately think serial killer.
He’s average in height, weight and looks. No one probably ever notices him. If I wasn’t the person I am, he’d freak me the fuck out.
I offer him a chin lift as I slide into a pair of boots. All of the clothes fit me so they must be Devlin’s. He’s as big as I am; actually, he might be a little thicker through the shoulders and waist. But we’re the same six and a half feet of intimidation.
Zero doesn’t speak to me, but when he opens the bathroom door, he smiles like he just found Christmas.
I exit the room and make my way back to the main clubhouse to find Jordan and Devlin sharing large glasses of whiskey. I don’t plan on drinking. I need to get to the hospital.
“You out?” Devlin asks as I approach.
I nod.
I really don’t have it in me to speak right now.
“We’re gonna crash here for a bit. You sure you don’t wanna sleep before you get back?” Jordan asks with a little concern in his voice.
He just watched and assisted as I beat four people to death. Maybe he doesn’t want me with Emily. I don’t give a shit what he wants. But I understand his concern.
“We’ll be there at eight when visiting hours start. Don’t think we should draw too much attention. You goin’ to see your brother won’t raise any flags,” Devlin adds his opinion.
I slap them both on the back and make my way to the back entrance where my car is parked in an outbuilding. No prying eyes will know I was here all night. When I reach the metal door, I pause.
“Thanks for havin’ my back,” I growl, low and deep.
Devlin and Jordan spin to look at me, both wearing faces of disbelief. I spoke and I thanked the
m. I’m not surprised at their reaction.
“Always, brother,” Devlin replies roughly.
Jordan and I stare at each other for a while. I start to turn and leave when he says, “You had my respect, Sharp. But now I fuckin’ trust you.”
I nod a few times and leave. I don’t know what to do with what Jordan said. So I take it. I take his trust because after tonight I trust him too. He’s got my back and I have his. If I felt something, that would feel good.
I drive to the hospital and fight the fatigue taking over my body. I’ve been up and going for over twenty-four hours at this point. The last thing Emily needs is the stress of me falling asleep at the wheel.
The hospital is silent when I make my way to the information desk. The security guard tells me I should come back at visiting hours and gives me Cody’s room number when I give him a look that says visiting hours don’t fucking apply to me.
A nurse behind the nurses’ station stands to greet me when I’m almost at Cody’s room.
“You must be Garrett,” she says sweetly. “I’m Karen. I’ve been taking care of Cody, Hunter and Alyssa. They’re all asleep now. Jenna’s in with Hunter and Alyssa. Emily’s still with Cody. I’m off at seven, but I’m on duty again tonight. Let me know if you need anything.”
I should say something, but I just nod and push Cody’s door open. There’s a small amount of light in the room from his monitors. Emily’s asleep on a tiny cot on the floor right next to his bed with her hand gripping Cody’s tightly above her head.
I make my way around to the other side of the bed and lean into Cody’s deformed face. I’m raging again as I brush my lips on the top of his buzzed hair. Killing the trash that did this to him brings me no peace. I stare at him for a good twenty minutes trying to calm myself. When I realize that’s not going to happen, I go to my woman.
I slip my boots off and scoop Emily off the bed. She wakes with a start, but recognizes me before she screams.
“Garrett,” she whimpers.
I slide us onto the cot where my feet hang a good six inches off the end and lay Emily on top of me. She snuggles into my chest, never letting go of Cody. My shirt is wet where her silent tears are soaking through. I stroke her back and hold her as close to me as I can, comforting this amazing woman who gives me everything in this moment.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too,” she says with conviction, squeezing my ribs as hard as she can.
And I feel it. I feel warm. I feel warmer than I have the other times she’s said it. It means more now. She doesn’t know what I did tonight, but she loves me regardless.
I tip her chin up with a rough finger and take her mouth. It’s not a sexual kiss. It’s emotional. I pour everything I’m able into my lips and tongue, showing her how much she means to me. I move slowly and deliberately, caressing her mouth. I drink her in and steal her warmth until she’s breathless.
Emily nuzzles into my neck and falls asleep quickly in my arms, clinging to my broken brother. I reach my hand up and cradle both of theirs in mine before exhaustion pulls me beneath a soft warm blanket of love.
It took two weeks to get Cody and Hunter discharged from the hospital. Alyssa was released after four days but refused to leave her brother. Social Services granted Clyde and Arlene temporary custody of Hunter and Alyssa. That was a huge win for all of us.
The sheriff was pushing hard to have them placed in a foster home. According to Garrett, Caleb and Jordan, that was a move to force Alyssa to talk. She won’t speak to anyone about what happened. Especially law enforcement. She won’t really speak in general unless it’s whispers to her brother or Cody.
I know what happened to Alyssa and the boys that night. I made Garrett tell me. He didn’t want to. He wanted to shield me from it, but once I argued I couldn’t help them if I didn’t know what I was dealing with, he told me.
I cried.
I yelled.
I almost threw up.
I felt my heart ripped from my chest.
Garrett took me to his car to tell me. When I was done having my emotional tantrum, I ran into the hospital, climbed in Cody’s bed and squished him as hard as I could. He let me. I know I hurt his ribs when I did that and he never complained or winced. He just let me hold him.
So we all know what happened to the kids that night. The boys have told the sheriff they left the Donovan house, crashed my car into a ditch and don’t remember anything after that. It’s a lie. It’s a horrible lie, not believable in the least. But the sheriff can’t force them to talk. It’s tense when he and his deputies are around. I do my best to be polite. He’s trying to do his job. But when I think about it, he has no idea what he’s doing.
The sheriff’s department interviewed multiple people from the party including the Donovan boys who threw the party and came back with nothing. Cody and Hunter have told us they didn’t know the men who did this to them. So even if they were honest about the night’s events, I don’t believe the sheriff would have found the perpetrators.
Garrett did.
I don’t know what happened that night. Garrett refuses to tell me anything other than he made them pay. When I said I was worried they might come after the kids, Garrett told me that would never happen. He said it in a way that I knew they were dead. Meaning he killed them or knows they’re dead. I find comfort in that information. I don’t know if I should, but I do.
Garrett also told the kids they were safe now. There wasn’t much of a reaction to that declaration, other than thanks. Cody knows about Garrett’s past. His mother told him when he was little. Not a prize-winning woman from what I know of her. Cody shouldn’t have been burdened with that information, much less having to care for himself because his mother checked out as soon as her man went behind bars.
Today is my first day back in my shop for a real shift. I’ve come in a few times to help out, but for almost a month now, I’ve been with Cody. Gossip about the accident was pretty short-lived. But people are still asking about the kids when they order and pay. I don’t mind. They aren’t asking for details, they’re asking if the kids are getting better, healing.
“A latte please,” a young man answers when I ask for his order.
He’s got the date nerves. He keeps looking over his shoulder and wiping his palms on his jeans. He’s cute like Justin Timberlake at sixteen. Tight curly hair and bright blue eyes. He gets a heart in his mug. I slide it in front of him as a young girl floats in the shop looking like a breath of fresh air.
She beams a smile at him and he beams one right back.
She orders a cappuccino and he pays for her before leading her back to the date table with his hand in the small of her back. He helps her out of her coat and pulls her chair out, taking a calming breath before retaking his seat.
She gets a swan. She has platinum hair with pale blue eyes and a long, elegant neck. She looks like a swan or a ballerina. I slide her mug in front of her and she grabs my wrist.
“I don’t mean to pry, but can you tell me how Cody Matthews is doing?” she asks politely.
“He’s doing really well, honey. Thanks for asking. He should be back at school after Thanksgiving break.”
I’ve told everyone that’s asked the same thing. It’s true and it’s not. He’ll be back at school, but he’s not doing really well. He’s struggling. We all are.
“I’m glad to hear it. My sister was at that party with him and she’s been really worried,” she explains, releasing my wrist.
“Well, we appreciate your concern.”
She looks like she wants to say something else, but she just nods. I smile at her and make my way back to the counter. She’s seems cool and confident while she speaks to her date, but her nerves get the best of her.
She bumps her mug with her hand and burns herself with the hot liquid. Her date immediately grabs her hand and wipes it dry, inspecting it closely. When he looks up into her eyes, she’s watching him with a shocked expression. Then he brings her injur
ed finger to his lips and brushes her skin tenderly. She melts.
I melt.
“Sap,” Jordan accuses in my ear.
“I’ve missed mugs of love,” I respond, leaning against his shoulder.
“Hasn’t been the same around here without you, Em,” he says, kissing my hair.
I stand there with my best friend, absorbing the warm tingle from watching the young couple and feel the heat scorch my core knowing Garrett’s watching me. My smile stretches a little wider and my heart beats a little harder.
I have my own mugs of love now.
Garrett bought an espresso machine for his house and I make him as much coffee as he allows me every day. It’s a fun way to practice my latte art. Garrett’s snorts and smirks at what I serve him make it that much better.
My massive alpha male isn’t much for hearts and flowers, but when I backed off and served him a normal cup he said, “Sugar, you wanna put hearts and shit in my coffee, I’m good with that. I don’t give a fuck what’s in there as long as it makes you smile the way it does.”
He gets me.
“Shit,” Jordan hisses, bringing me back to myself. “Go in the kitchen.”
I look out the picture window and see Adam pass before he opens the door. He looks good. Adam Warren always looks good though. I haven’t seen him since the Fall Festival. He hasn’t called or shown up. I thought he finally gave up.
“I come in peace,” he says to Jordan who has pushed me behind him.
“Just go, Warren. She doesn’t need your shit right now,” Jordan snarls quietly, mindful of our customers.
“Em, can I talk to you a sec?” Adam asks, ignoring Jordan. “It won’t take long.”
“Come on,” I say, moving toward the kitchen.
Jordan will be able to hear if Adam gets out of hand. As I walk away, Jordan hits me with an unhappy gaze but doesn’t comment. There’s no need for a fight and he knows it. Adam doesn’t have any power over me anymore.
Adam waits for the door to quit swinging as I lean my hip against the marble worktop and cross my arms over my chest.
Mugs of Love Page 26
