by Rebel Hart
But, every single time, I pressed that button.
Because we needed jobs, and we needed to get paid.
“Yes?”
“It’s Max. Let me up.”
“Of course, sir. Right away.”
The Australian accent filled my ears as the intercom turned off. And when the wrought iron gates started moving in front of me, I revved my engine, letting Ashton know I was coming. I sped up the driveway, taking in the smell of the apple trees that lined the concrete pathway on either side. It was the only refreshing thing about this property. Picking a sweet, fresh apple off one of those trees was one of the small treasures of life. Its crisp, sweet juice was ready for my tongue as I rode off into the sunset.
After meetings with this man, of course.
Ashton would probably have my head if he knew I was actually picking fruit from his apple trees.
I pulled up to the bottom of the porch steps and killed the engine of my bike. With the kickstand down and my leg swung over, I started up the steps to the white wraparound porch. Such an innocent design to this house. And yet, it had held so many tortures over the years. I knew there was a basement to this property, but I didn’t dare go into it. Or ask to see it. Lord only knew the kinds of things Ashton kept down in that place. Especially out here. In the middle of nowhere.
No one could hear you scream in that basement.
The cherry mahogany door greeted me. But I didn’t have a chance to use the wrought iron knocker on it. The second I stood in front of it, the door eased itself open. It creaked to life, sending another cold chill down my spine. And as the man attached to that Australian accent ushered me into the massive foyer, I slid my hands into my leather jacket pockets.
I had easy access to my brass knuckles, just in case.
“Mr. Ryddle will be down soon,” the man said.
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Ashton insisted the man not have a name. Every time I tried to introduce myself, or get his name, Ashton butted in. As if his personal staff wasn’t allowed to have an identity behind these walls. It made me sick. Sure, Ashton paid his staff well. Hell, he paid all of us well. But that payment came at a price.
For his staff, it was their identity.
For us? It was our souls.
“Max.”
I slowly looked up toward the top of the steps, watching as he walked down them, his hand lingering on the shining, wooden banister. His footsteps were even and silent. His eyes burrowed into me as an emotionless smile slipped across his cheeks.
“Dad,” I said.
“Walk with me. I have a contract for you and your boys.”
He motioned for me to follow him and I looked over at the man in the suit. The Australian. The man with no name, and probably no soul, either. He had his hands locked behind him and stared straight ahead. Right by the door, in case anyone else showed up. I wondered if he ever moved from that position. If he ever flinched when my father dragged a hopeless soul through those doors. I wondered about all the atrocities he had seen at my father’s hands. Ashton’s.
Damn it, I hated calling that man my father.
“Max!”
“Coming.”
My eyes diverted away from the Australian and I jogged after him. My father’s swift footsteps didn’t so much as click across the floor. I caught up with him down the hallway, where pictures of empty eyes and empty smiles hung on the walls. Not family pictures, of course. We didn’t have those growing up. There wasn’t a picture of myself, nor John, nor our father on these walls. Nope. My father bought the frames at exorbitant prices, then put other family pictures in them. People I didn't recognize. People I’d never seen during my life. At first, I thought maybe they were the stock photos that came with the picture frames themselves. Random people in color as well as black and white. But, over time, I had come to a new theory.
These were the families my father had destroyed with his disgusting ways.
Fucking hell.
“Thirsty?”
I watched Ashton pour us each a drink into a crystal glass. I walked into the lounge and the door closed behind me, almost automatically, as if it had been waiting for me to cross over. I didn’t turn around, though I wanted to. This entire place gave me the fucking creeps. And I had been to some shady places and done some very shady things in my life for the kind of money Ashton doled out to us.
“Here. You look like you could use one.”
I took the glass from him. “Thanks.”
He sipped his amber liquid and eyed me carefully. My father did that with everyone. Even when my brother had been in the hospital a few years back, fighting for his life, Ashton studied him as if he were a project. As if my brother wasn’t the fruit of his own loins. Ashton was one of the many reasons I had sworn off ever having a family of my own. I didn’t want to bring anyone else into the world who could possibly be related to this man. To this terror. To the insanity my father brought to this earth.
I kept my ears peeled for anything shifty as I kept my eyes locked on Ashton.
My father.
And, quite possibly, the devil himself.
“I have a friend coming into town on some business.”
I nodded as I sipped my drink, but I didn’t dare interrupt him.
“He’s a high level businessman, like myself. And he has a tendency to draw the attention of unsavory characters whenever he goes.”
I nodded. But again, I didn’t interrupt.
“He’s a big deal, Max. I need you and your boys on his six when he moves. No matter where he moves. I want your best on this, because there’s big money to be had in this job. I need this business relationship untarnished. So no fucking it up.”
I sipped my drink. “We can handle it. We always do.”
“Not with the last job that happened.”
“You know what happened with that last job. We gave that man explicit instructions and he stepped outside of the lines.”
“You’re supposed to have contingencies for everything. Men like my friends don’t listen to what’s good for them. They’re powerful. They make their own rules. Have contingency plans for when the rules break.”
I nodded. “We will have this one handled without incident.”
Ashton narrowed his eyes at me. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“Because I don’t need you guys fucking this one up. This crew hasn’t been what it was underneath myself, or even your brother, since you took up position as president.”
I paused. “You mean your son?”
“Yes. Your brother.”
I held back the snicker wanting to work its way up my throat.
“It will be handled, Dad. You have my word.”
He pointed at me. “I don’t just want it handled. I want it perfect. This crew is known for providing not just services, but impeccable services. No matter the cost asked, or the life taken. You willing to do that? Can you do that, Max?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“All right. Here’s the deal. The client is driving in. Not flying. The last time he attempted to fly, someone tried taking his plane down. He’s driving in and heading straight to his hotel. He’s staying at La Grenvan Rouge on the other side of town. Top floor. There’s a private elevator he is to always take. He wants you and the boys taking it as well. He arrives in two days. When you and your boys get into the lobby, you go to the front desk and say, ‘We’re here for Mr. Penthouse’.”
Is he fucking kidding me? “Got it.”
“You say that, and the front desk will know what to do. They’ll let you up, you collect the client, and you follow him wherever he goes while he’s in town.”
“How long is he in town for?”
Ashton shrugged. “He says a week. Which, in my world, means at least ten days. Maybe more. But the longer you’re employed, the more you get paid. A week upfront quoted, plus extra tacked on for the days after that. You know how it goes.”
I finished my drink. “Ye
p.”
“Don’t bring all of your men for this, either. Just the ones you trust to handle their shit out there. I don’t need any of your no-good prospects doing this just to prove themselves. This is a ‘seasoned veteran only’ kind of job. You hear me?”
“I hear you loud and clear.”
“Good. You can see yourself out.”
I paused. “Risk factor?”
Ashton narrowed his eyes. “What about it?”
“We haven’t discussed risk factor yet.”
“And?”
“That comes with these meetings. I need a risk factor.”
My father walked over to me and plucked the empty glass from my fingertips. And as he held both of those crystal glasses in his hands, he gazed directly into my eyes. I didn’t know if my father was trying to intimidate me or warn me. I didn’t know what the purpose was of him being so close. But I dug my heels in and refused to move. Because the worst thing anyone could do in the presence of Ashton Ryddle was show fear.
“Risk factor,” I said.
His nostrils flared. “Do you trust me, son?”
I cracked my neck. “It’s standard for us to talk about this.”
“Do you. Trust me?”
I rolled my shoulders back. “Fine. I accept the job.”
“Good. Two days’ time. La Grenvan Rouge. He will be arriving promptly at three in the afternoon. Be there at three thirty. He’s got business the first night he’s here.”
“Noted.”
My father finally backed away and waved at me. As if I were a pesky fly he wanted out of his presence. And I was more than glad to leave. I turned in my boots and charged out of the room, angrier than hell at my fucking father. What the ever-blessed fuck was he thinking? Did he even give a shit about our well-being? I snickered at the thought. Of course he didn’t. He showed me that after John’s accident. How little he cared regarding the fact that a crew he used to head up lost good men that day.
Hell, he didn’t seem to give a shit that he almost lost his eldest son that day, either.
“Good evening, sir.”
The Australian’s accent filled my ears as he swung the door open. I didn’t bother responding to him, though. I leapt down to my bike, swung my leg over the seat, and cranked up the engine. I needed to get the hell out of here before I did or said something I knew I’d regret. I revved my engine, signaling to my father that I was headed out, then I kicked up burnt rubber peeling out of that damn driveway. I knew he’d have a cow over the dark marks left behind. I didn’t care.
All I cared about was getting back home. To John. Getting dinner on the stove and pouring us both a drink. I reached my hand up as I rode down the driveway, plucking every apple my hand touched and tucking them into my pockets. I'd gotten about seven of them before the wrought iron gates at the bottom of the hill rolled slowly open for me.
Releasing me from this temporary prison.
7
Dani
I sighed as the party raging just outside the door kept beckoning to me. I didn’t like the shirt Hannah had settled on. It was much too tight. My jeans were already tight enough. Why the tight shirt? And why could I see my bra through the white material?
“This is such crap,” I murmured.
Hannah poked her head in. “Hey! You coming or what?”
I waved her away. “In a second. I’m… trying to fix something.”
I tugged at the white shirt before it thwaped right back into place, making Hannah giggle.
“Come on, time’s a’wastin’, hot stuff.”
I rolled my eyes. “Never. Again.”
I felt my roommate grab my hand before we stumbled out into the hallway. With the music pumping and the strobe lights going again, it felt as if I had stepped out onto another planet. I squinted as someone shoved a drink in my free hand. I had on my only pair of heels, which somehow kept throwing me off balance. Maybe it was the effects of the light, or the fact that Hannah practically tipped the cup to my lips. But the more beer I chugged down, the looser I felt.
“Need another?” she asked.
I grimaced as the taste of lukewarm beer filled my throat. I forced myself to get it down, but I sure didn’t want another one. I tossed the red cup into the nearest trash can before Hannah started bopping around, dancing to the thumping music and reaching for yet another drink.
One of many I presumed she’d already had.
I looked up and down the hallway. Weren’t there resident assistants for this kind of thing? I walked down the hallway, eyeing the doors. Waiting for that familiar red sticker to come into view.
“Gotcha,” I whispered.
I threw open the RA’s door. But instead of being greeted by the boy who had the sign on his door, I was greeted with the back of his ass.
As he plowed his way between the legs of a girl who was much louder than she needed to be.
“Oh, fuck!”
“That’s it. Take it. You know you want to.”
My eyes bulged as I quickly closed the door, and I suddenly wanted another beer.
You know, to pour into my eyeballs in order to wash that scene from the back of my eyelids.
I peeked over my shoulder and saw Hannah getting comfortable with some guy I didn't recognize. Then again, I didn't recognize anyone. I felt more uncomfortable than I ever had in my entire life. I decided to keep walking down the hallway. I jutted into the small alcove that connected one hallway with another. Opposite sides of the dorm room building that almost felt like different worlds.
Because this hallway didn’t have music. Or strobe lights. Or drunk RA’s screwing around with their flavor of the night.
At the end of the hallway was a couple making out. The girl straddled his lap, moaning so loud I heard her on the opposite end. I sighed as I made my way for the steps. I walked down a level, leaving one set of music behind for another. And when I pushed myself through the door of the level below my room, I was met with colored lights that twinkled. Drinks that smelled like pineapple and coconut.
I decided to stick around there for a while.
Someone shoved a drink into my hand, but I didn’t drink it. I kept it around because it smelled nice and had a quaint little umbrella in it. But that was it. The drink was a nice decoy, too. No one else pushed any other alcohol on me since I carried a full drink around. Which meant I could use it as a disguise. I was more intrigued with exploring the different levels of the party than with actually partying myself.
So I kept making my way down.
Each level had a different theme. A different set of lights, and drinks, and people. Some floors did nothing but dance. Some floors did nothing but make out. One of the floors sounded more like a brothel than an actual party. Which meant I didn’t have any issues quickly bypassing that one.
Then, I came to the third floor. Which was really the bottom level of the dorm rooms, since the ground level held nothing but the kitchen and a large pool room and the second floor held a massive soundproof study hall.
There wasn’t much of a party going on with this floor, either.
I pushed through the door and the smell of cigarettes filled the air. I wrinkled up my nose as music played haphazardly from some sort of a speaker system in the corner. The music was swiftly overpowered by the thumping of the bass notes above my head. I didn’t see anyone doling out alcohol, making out or having sex in any of the rooms or the corners of the hallway. I mean, the place looked almost abandoned.
Until I heard voices.
“Dude, come on. At least blow it out the damn window.”
“He’s right, Max. Benji here could get into trouble.”
“Rupert, shut up.”
“Watch your tone.”
I froze at that voice. I recognized that voice. I furrowed my brow as I peeked around the corner, taking in the three men standing by the open dorm room window. Cigarette smoke hovered around them, the air thickening with its scent. And the more I watched, the more I recognized. There was that tall
, lanky boy again. The one that had barged into my dorm room and refused to leave. There was one with stark red hair sticking out from underneath a beanie. But the tall one—I couldn't take my eyes off the tall one.
Because it was the man who’d helped me with my things up to my room the other day.
His brow was furrowed deeply as he sucked on his cigarette. I watched the thing burn down to almost nothing as he expanded his broad chest. He flicked the entire thing into a wastebasket at his feet before blowing it out the screen window through a small hole in his lips. I couldn't take my eyes off him. The movement was mesmerizing.
The worry in his voice made my spine sizzle, though.
I couldn't tell what they were murmuring about, but I knew it wasn’t good. He talked low, with a rumbling voice that weakened my knees. The other two paid close attention to him. And even the lanky guy grew worried. I hated that I didn’t know any of their names. I needed to get into a better habit of actually asking for names.
“Are you spying on me, Daddy’s girl?”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no.
The drawl ripped me from my trance. And when I gazed into the brooding eyes of the tall one, a wolfish smile took over his face. I wanted to run. I wanted to drop my drink, race back for the door, and get away from them all. That’s what my gut told me to do. That’s what my brain told me to do.
But my heart told me not to be such a pushover.
“Danika,” I said.
The man shrugged. “Whatever. You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”
I shook my head. “No.”
He chuckled. “Said that pretty quick, didn’t ya?”
“Maybe I just talk this quickly.”
I stepped into the doorway with my drink clutched tightly in my hand. His eyes fell to it before that wolfish smile of his grew into something akin to the Cheshire cat. It unnerved me, how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. How his stare still inquired what I was doing, even though I claimed to be doing nothing. His eyes locked with mine as he walked forward, towering over me with his shadow as the smell of cigarette smoke hung between us.
