One Family

by Smyth, R. A

  Even if you make it out without getting shanked, you’ll have thrown away years of your life for nothing. It’s not like Kirk was ever grateful for the sacrifice those men made for their ‘brothers’. If anything, getting released showed you were tough enough to survive it and Kirk would likely set you up to take the fall again and again.

  At least if I end up going down for killing Kurt, I’ll have gone down for a fucking good reason. I’ll walk into that prison with my head held high, knowing I’ve done at least one good thing with my life. I’ll live the rest of my days knowing I had the love of an incredible, feisty woman who had enough spirit and fire in her to capture the hearts of four lost souls.

  “I’m all ears,” I say, picking up my drink and leaning back on the sofa, ready to hear him out.

  “Remember how Lizzie got kicked out of school because of her father’s transgressions? Well, I’m thinking we do the same thing to Kurt.”

  “Getting him kicked out of school?” I snort. There’s no fucking way I’m just going to settle for getting the shithead thrown out. He deserves torture. Pain. He needs to fucking suffer.

  Glaring at me, Preston continues with his stupid idea. “No. That’s only the first step. We use the dirt I have on his father to disgrace and bankrupt the family and get Kurt out of CWP and away from Sophie. With his family humiliated, they’ll flee Crescentwood.”

  “And then I can kill him?” I ask completely seriously.

  For the first time, Preston does something that makes me think I could actually get along with the asshole. He fucking smiles. This dark, wrathful grimace, only made more menacing by the glee in his eyes. “And then we kill him.”

  Smirking, I take a sip of whiskey, more than ready to get on with the plan.

  “What dirt do you have on the Chadwicks?” Barrett asks.

  “Apparently he’s been using his hotels and resorts for much more than just family getaways and romantic breaks. For a hefty price, he’s been giving rooms out to human traffickers, helping them move their victims around the country without being detected.”

  “How do you know he’s involved and not just unaware of what’s going on in his hotels?”

  “Watch this,” Preston says, opening the laptop sitting on the table in front of him. He taps on the keys, pulling something up before turning the device round so the three of us can see the screen. “The guy in the suit is Kurt’s dad. This was taken out the back of one of his hotels last week. ”

  We watch as some guy hands over a thick envelope to Mr. Chadwick. Clearly a bribe. Barely glancing in the envelope, he pockets it before pulling open the fire door behind him. I’m guessing it’s a staff or emergency entrance into the hotel.

  Several guys pile out of the back of a truck, each of them carrying or dragging a person. Some of them are women, some men, others are just kids, a few look as though they're barely in their teens. Surely someone out there is looking for these people, missing these kids? It doesn’t look like any of them have had a shower recently. Their clothes are torn, tears streaking down some of their faces.

  The audio quality is poor, making it difficult to hear what’s being said, but I can see the fucker laughing with one of the guys as he walks past him, dragging a young girl who looks like she’s half out of it. She’s stumbling everywhere, but when she sees Mr. Chadwick, she staggers towards him, clutching onto the front of his suit jacket.

  “Please,” she cries, “help.”

  I can’t make out his response, but given the look of disgust on his face as he shoves the girl off him, he’s definitely not planning on helping her.

  Several other people call out for help, but their cries go unanswered. Mr. Chadwick looks right through them as though they’re nothing. They aren’t even people to him, just a business transaction.

  I should probably be hardened to the horrors of this life, but seeing shit like this makes my blood boil. It seriously makes me question whether there is any good left in the world. Perhaps we’re all just different shades of evil.

  “So he’s been helping to hide people who’ve been kidnapped or abducted?” I ask when the recording has finished playing.

  “Yeah. He’s got hotels all over the country, hell, all over the world. Traffickers can literally move between his resorts undetected by the authorities. He’s making it impossible to ever track down people reported missing.”

  “Jesus,” Ty exclaims. “That’s insane!”

  “I’m guessing that’s how the Chadwicks have been useful to The Citadel,” I muse.

  “Oh yeah, he’s definitely using his hotels to transport girls across the country. Between the Williamson’s import/export company and the Chadwicks, not to mention the various connections the one-percenters have with legal and government agencies, it’s no surprise they’ve gotten away with this for so long.”

  “Not for much longer, though,” Barrett vows.

  “Okay, how do we go about exposing this fucker then?” Ty asks, delight ringing in his voice at the thought of destroying this shithead. I might prefer a more direct approach for eliminating Kurt, but I’m definitely all for taking his father down with him.

  “I’ve already set up an untraceable email account. I’ll upload the recording tonight and send it to various reporters and newscasters. Hopefully the news should start to spread tomorrow. It won't be long before investors start backing out of his companies and clients refuse to go to his hotels. With the media storm, the authorities will be forced to investigate. He’ll be broke and in prison in no time.”

  “It’s as easy as that?” I ask, disbelievingly, taken aback by how straightforward it all sounds.

  Preston just shrugs his shoulders. “I think so.”

  “Alright, do it and let's see what happens,” Ty says.

  Preston focuses on his laptop, typing away while the rest of us sit back, taking in this new information and evaluating the next step we’re making on the chessboard.

  “And sent,” he says, hitting the final key and closing the laptop. The four of us all stare at each other, silently communicating our readiness for what comes. “Let’s see what happens tomorrow.”

  Done, we all start to head back to bed, but Ty grabs a hold of my arm in a gesture to stay, while Preston and Barrett wave goodnight and head up the stairs.

  “What’s up?” I ask him.

  “I know that look you had in your eye earlier,” he says, glaring at me. “Don’t be thinking of doing anything fucking stupid.”

  “I’m not,” I insist, but it’s impossible to lie to him. He’s the only one who has ever been able to read me. I’ve no idea how the fuck he does it, but he’s always known what I’m thinking.

  “I know you want to go after him and mete out his punishment Beast style, but, Aid, you’ve gotta think of Sophie—”

  “I am thinking of Sophie,” I growl, cutting him off. “She’s the only reason I haven’t already killed him.” My voice is a low snarl, and I know I’m showing every part of my own beast. Unlike any other sane person, Ty isn’t the slightest bit bothered by my dark tone or icy expression. He simply continues to look at me knowingly, practically daring me to do something stupid and incur Sophie’s, and no doubt his, wrath.

  “She’d be fucking devastated if something happened to you.” It’s the first time his words resonate with me, a flicker of guilt sparking to life.

  “Yeah, but I’d know she has you to hold her together,” I respond, resting my hand on his shoulder, letting him see the resolve in my eyes. He’s not going to talk me out doing what I feel is necessary.

  Seeing it for himself, he sighs. “Just, let’s try Preston’s way first, yeah?” He pleads. I can hear it in his voice. He’s worried. As hard as it would be to leave Sophie, it would be just as hard to leave Ty. We’re brothers in every sense of the word. We’ve been there for one another every day since we were eight. Not a day has gone by that he hasn’t been a constant by my side. There’s no denying I wouldn’t know what to do without him there for me, and I
know he’d be just as lost.

  “Yeah,” I agree, “we’ll try Preston’s plan first.”

  Chapter 21

  Slipping on my black suit jacket, I run my hand down the front of it, straightening out the creases. Checking my appearance in the mirror, I cringe at what I see. My old self stares back at me. The version of myself that I was before Sophie showed up, when my dad was still alive and I was forced into penguin suits and dragged around pretentious parties and grandiose galas.

  I haven’t worn one of these stupid things since the party at Sophie’s house. It feels like ages ago, and so much has changed since then. I’m a totally different person now, but days like today call for formal black suits, regardless of how much I might want to strip it off and burn the damn thing.

  Sophie’s hands trail up my back before she rubs over my shoulders and down my arms. “You ready for today?” She asks, looking at me through the mirror, her eyes filled with concern.

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assure her, turning round in her embrace. For any other person, going to their father’s funeral might be an upsetting event. Not for me. I’m only going because it’s expected. It will only raise questions and create more problems if I don’t show up. Besides, part of me needs the closure. I need to see my father being buried and get one final look at my mom. Then I’m done, though. I won’t visit his grave or attempt to see her ever again. I’m putting that part of my life behind me and moving on. I’ve found where I truly belong and I don’t need my mom’s selfish, attention seeking ways interfering with that.

  We seem to have evaded Kirk’s suspicions and things have been relatively quiet on that front recently, so at least we shouldn’t need to worry about him today. Our bigger problem recently has been Kurt. I can’t get over the shit he pulled on my locker last week. Fuck me. The nerve of that asshole!

  It’s been several days since Preston sent that video footage to the news crews. It’s been plastered all over the front page of every newspaper and playing on repeat on the TV.

  Kurt was called out of class the next day and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. I’m not stupid to think we’ve seen the last of him, but hopefully he’s too busy dealing with his own shit to meddle in ours.

  It’s fucking bad enough that we have Kirk, The Feral Beasts and The Citadel to contend with, never mind adding Kurt’s psychotic ways into the mess as well.

  “Ready to go?” Preston asks, appearing in the doorway, dressed in his own penguin suit. They’ve always looked good on him. You’d think he would be too broad and muscular to fit in a suit, but somehow it only makes the asshole look more appealing. Not that I’m checking him out or anything, but a good-looking guy like me can appreciate when he has some healthy competition. He might look better in a suit than me, but I definitely look better naked. I’m certain Sophie would agree with me. She wouldn't say as much out loud. Preston would be a little bitch about it if she did, but I know.

  “Yup,” I tell him, giving Sophie a brief kiss before heading towards the door, following Preston down the stairs.

  “Right,” Aiden starts as soon as we appear down the stairs. “You're armed, you’ve got your trackers, and you know what to do if anything happens. Phone us if shit goes sideways, okay?”

  “Will do,” Preston agrees, barely glancing at him as he turns to give Sophie a kiss before we head out.

  “Be careful,” she shouts after us. Turning to cast one last glance her way, I see her looking our way, nerves radiating off her as she nibbles on her bottom lip, her eyes wide with worry. Ty wraps his arms around her, drawing her into him just before the door closes, cutting off my view. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself and climb in behind the wheel.

  I know she wanted to come with us today, but it’s too risky. We might not be on Kirk’s radar, but the funeral today will draw a lot of people. I’d be surprised if Kirk doesn’t have eyes on it.

  Neither of us says a word the whole way there. “Shit,” I groan, as the church comes into view, spotting a couple of leather wearing bikers along the road. If you weren’t aware of The Beast’s presence in town, or looking out for them, you wouldn’t think twice about the odd biker at the side of the road. They look like casual riders making a pit stop for water or to check their bikes, but we know better.

  “It’s fine,” Preston reassures me. “We knew he might have guys here today.”

  I know. It just makes me nervous having them watching us again.

  Ignoring them as we drive past, we pull into the church parking lot. Turning off the engine, we sit and take in the other residents of Crescentwood as they pull up, getting out of their cars and heading into the church.

  My mother is in there somewhere, hopefully greeting the guests as they arrive. I haven’t seen her since she came back. The only reason I know she’s back is because Officer Frost mentioned it when he phoned me to inform me my dad's body was being released for burial. My own mother couldn’t be fucked letting me know she was home, or you know, checking in to see if I was okay after my father’s brutal murder. What a narcissistic bitch.

  “We doing this?” Preston asks, looking at me out of the corner of his eye, waiting for my okay before we make a move.

  “Yeah,” I sigh reluctantly. “Let's get this over with.”

  Together, we step out of the car, meeting at the front grill before moving as a unit towards the church. Stepping into the entrance to the church, any concern I have for the criminals standing outside falls away as I come face to face with my mother. She looks better than ever, her sun-kissed skin shining brightly as she shakes hands with the people in front of us. She’s dressed perfectly in a designer black dress, with an obscenely large hat on her head. She clutches a handkerchief in her hand, occasionally using it to dab at imaginary tears, the guests eating up her performance as she pretends to be grief-stricken over the loss of her husband.

  “Barrett,” she cries out when she sees me, coming towards us and wrapping her arms around me in a stiff hug. I pat her back awkwardly until she releases me, stepping away and eyeing my suit critically, her lips pinching when I don’t meet her ridiculously high expectations. Of course all she cares about is how I look and how it might reflect on her.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “But not enough to bother picking up the phone,” I snark.

  She sighs, her gaze flicking around the other guests moving past us into the nave of the church, making sure none of them have overheard us.

  “Now is not the time, Barrett. You know I’ve been busy since I got back.”

  Right, whatever. I simply nod my head, knowing there’s no point in arguing with her.

  “Why don’t you boys go on in and say hello to people,” she says, plastering a fake watery smile on her face. Not giving either of us time to respond, she pushes past me. “Jackie,” she cries, going to hug one of her socialite friends. “It’s so good to see you.”

  Knowing Preston will follow me, I storm into the church, not giving a shit about greeting any of these rich twats as I make my way down the aisle. They’re all only here cause they’ve nothing better to do. They want the inside gossip as to what happened to my dad. It’s all anyone can talk about. No one gives an actual shit about him, or the fake grieving family he left behind, all they care about is the potential scandal, everyone speculating about what he could possibly have been involved in to end up the way he did. It would blow their small-minded brains if they knew the truth of what was really going on right under their noses.

  Taking our seats at the front of the church, my eyes fall on the closed casket sitting in front of us with an over the top flower display surrounding it. Once again that awareness that I should be more affected by this than I am hits me, but the image of Sophie and how uncomfortable she was in my father’s presence quickly reminds me what a scumbag he was.

  The fact his DNA runs through my veins worries me sometimes. What if I end up exactly like him, the same sleazy scumbag hitting on young girls and not givin
g a shit about the word ‘no’? I’m already a natural flirt. Giving a girl a dirty smile and a sleazy line that gets them panting has always come easily to me. I never thought twice about it. I mean, I was getting all the pussy a guy could want, but now I can’t help but wonder if my dad was the same at my age.

  What if one day Sophie isn’t enough for me? I can’t ever imagine getting bored with her, of ever having enough of her, but I’m sure every couple thinks that way in the beginning. Ten, twenty years from now, things could be totally different.

  Fuck, we could be my parents.

  Literally my worst nightmare.

  The surrounding congregation quietens down as a priest steps up to the podium. Just before he begins, the doors at the back of the room bang open, none other than my attention seeking mother striding in. Of course she had to make an entrance. With her head held high, she strides down the aisle like it’s her own personal runway, the guests in the pews her captive audience.

  Rolling my eyes at her desperate need to have the spotlight on her, I turn back to the front, not giving her the attention she wants. Taking her seat in the pew beside me, the priest looks at her—waiting until she’s settled and nods at him to continue—before speaking again.

  “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Steven Belmont,” he begins, before diving into the boring drivel about who Steven Belmont really was. As if anyone in this room has the faintest idea of the bloodsucking leech he was underneath his deceptive mask.

  I quickly zone the priest out, trailing my eyes over my mother as she pretends to cry quietly beside me, dabbing at non-existent tears and making sure her shoulders shake so everyone in the entire church knows she’s upset.

  Moving on to take in the other guests seated around us, none of them are paying attention. Other women have equally fake stricken expressions while men don’t even pretend to be listening, typing away on their phones and whispering quietly to one another. This whole thing is a sham.