Better When He's Bold

by Jay Crownover

  “Brysen, I can’t concentrate on classes right now and I don’t want to be at the house all alone. I know Race has you on lockdown, but can you tell me where you’re at so I can come over and we can talk?”

  Of course I would never tell her no. Dovie was a great friend and she sounded so stressed out and sad that all I wanted to do was give her a hug.

  “I don’t know the exact address. We’re on the docks, though, and the condo complex is pretty nice. I mean way nicer than you would expect for a place in the Point. It’s right across the street from some bar called the Rabbit Hole. We’re on the top floor.”

  She made a strangled noise and I heard her gasp. She was behaving superweird and suddenly a tingle started to lift the newly shorn hair on the back of my neck. I trusted Dovie implicitly, but everyone and everything in my life had been out to harm me lately and I needed to remember that.

  “Ummm . . . who is ‘we’ exactly?” She sounded like she had a frog in her throat.

  “Karsen and the guy I affectionately call Gigantor. His name is Booker and he’s my unofficial babysitter until Race gets his hands on my stalker.”

  She made another noise, and this time it sounded like she was in actual physical pain. I was really starting to worry about her.

  “Are you okay, Dovie? You don’t sound very good.”

  She coughed again. “I’m fine. Just freaking out is all. Hey, is the guy watching you armed by any chance?”

  That was a pretty specific question, and the entire off tone of the conversation had me debating whether I should answer honestly or not. I decided to give a nonanswer instead. “I don’t know. Probably. He looks like a modern-day executioner or maybe a hit man. I’m pretty sure everyone Race associates with runs around armed. Your boyfriend included.”

  Her voice changed a little when she told me, “Yeah, Bax carries a weapon and we’ve both been all over Race to start carrying too. Sometimes in the Point the only thing you can do is be ready for the worst.” She made another gasping noise and I got really worried. All my instincts were screaming at me that something was really wrong here, I just wasn’t sure what was going on or what I could do about it over the phone. “Brysen, I’ll be there in a few. Uh . . . be ready for me, okay?”

  The phone went dead and I just stared at it for a long second. I got to my feet and suddenly bolted back toward the kitchen, which did nothing for my throbbing head.

  “Who was that?” Karsen sounded alarmed and I realized I must look a little crazed as thoughts about how wrong and how off everything about that phone call felt started whirling and tumbling through my mind. The hair on my arms rose up and ice started to form in my veins.

  “Dovie. She sounded really bizarre, though. She said she got into a big fight with Bax and needed to come over and talk about it.” I started frantically pacing back and forth as I shoved my hands through my hair, wincing as the motion pulled at my stitches. I played the conversation over in my head again trying to put my finger on why it didn’t sit right with me and decided all of it was just wrong.

  At that moment Booker swore loud enough to rattle the walls and stalked over to where I was moving back and forth. I came to an abrupt halt as he put his hands on my shoulders and forced me to stop and look up at him.

  “Did you tell her where you were at?”

  I met his razor-sharp glare with a grimace. “She’s my best friend and she sounded really upset. Of course I told her where I was at.” But now I regretted it on a soul-deep level.

  Booker reached around me and pointed at Karsen. “All right, little puppy, you get your ass in that room and stay put. Lock the door, put all the furniture you can move in front of it, and don’t come out for anything. Not for me, not for your sister—not anything. You understand me?”

  Karsen’s eyes bugged in her face and she looked at me with panic in her gaze. Booker’s voice sounded harsh and left no room for argument.

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  He let go of me and moved to nudge Karsen as I slowly shook my head from side to side, furious at myself and my own stupidity. “I think Dovie is in trouble and I’m pretty sure she’s bringing it this way. Do what Booker says, Karsen. When it’s safe to come out I’ll text you. Until you get that message, you stay put.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Dovie would never hurt anyone.”

  I frowned really hard as the pieces of the puzzle started to lock into place in my head and all the wrong things with the situation started to burn bright and clear behind the fear that was coursing through me. “She wouldn’t. She also wouldn’t have a fight with Bax and call to blab to me about it. That isn’t how she works.” I put a hand on my sister’s shoulder and squeezed. “Please do what Booker is telling you to do.”

  We stared at each other for a long minute, her brown eyes full of things far beyond her tender years. Finally she nodded and disappeared down the hallway. Booker walked to the closed door and waited until the sound of furniture scraping across the floor could be heard throughout the condo.

  When he stalked back toward me I don’t think I had ever seen anyone look scarier or more ready to handle business.

  “Dovie is part of this place. She knows Race was freaked out about anyone knowing where you are. She’s too smart to ask for that info. None of this is right. You need to go upstairs and do the same thing I just had your sister do.” He produced a nasty-looking gun from somewhere behind his back and held it out to me. “Do you know how to use this?”

  I shook my head numbly. I had never actually been up close with a weapon before. Like everything in my life since I got tangled up in the Point, it looked cold and deadly, yet seemed so totally necessary.

  “No. I’ve never touched a gun in my life.”

  He swore some more, got really creative with every dirty word in the book, and then opened and closed a series of kitchen drawers until he produced a wicked-looking butcher knife. He slapped it on the counter in front of me and stated in a tone that left no room for argument, “Take that. If you need to use it then shit is fucked and I don’t know what else to tell you other than good luck, Blondie. Now get your ass upstairs.”

  The last of his words were drowned out by a knock on the door. I felt my eyes widen and gulped when he moved around me all tense and coiled to attack like a predator. More knocking rattled the door, and I still hadn’t moved, so I shook myself loose and ran toward the stairs with every intention of barricading myself in the master bathroom until I got the “all clear” from Booker. Only before I hit the first step there was a series of loud pops and the sound of splintering wood. Blood bloomed furiously scarlet across Booker’s chest and I saw him turn around to tell me to run when the door was kicked open with a resounding thud. I watched in horror as Booker pulled his own weapon and the sound of more shots filled the space. It sounded like a gun range or an Old West shootout, but it was the middle of the day on the docks and this place obviously wasn’t on the up-and-up if Race had managed to get it put in my name so easily, so I didn’t expect any help from the neighbors in the other units. Especially with the entire place smelling like gunpowder and blood.

  In the Point everyone only knew how to look out for themselves and how to look the other way. I backed up a few more steps as Booker’s giant frame teetered to one side and a circle of crimson started to bloom rapidly across his back as he fell to his knees. Another shot popped off and I saw him fall face-first right at the doorway as the gun in his hand clattered uselessly to the floor. I screamed but was smart enough to turn and bolt up the rest of the stairs. I needed to call Race. I needed to find help, and all I could think was I needed to put as many doors and as much space between me and the shooter as possible.

  I was worried about Booker. I was worried about Dovie. I was worried about my sister, and I was worried about myself.

  My phone shone like a beacon where I had left it on the bed after talking to Dovie. I dove for it with every intention of taking it into the bathroom
with me so I could call for help, only a heavy weight hit me from behind and knocked me to the floor. I yelped as pain exploded in my already injured head and tried to scramble away as I was yanked onto my back and straddled with a heavy weight across my chest. I went to scream again as my arms were yanked ruthlessly above my head and then I went deathly silent as the barrel of a handgun was pressed directly between my eyes.

  I made myself be absolutely still, shock and recognition rippling through me like a tidal wave as I gazed up into Drew’s deranged blue eyes. My head was aching, my reality was spinning around and turning upside down, but there was no mistaking that the guy who had just shot Booker and was now pointing a gun directly to the center of my forehead was someone I had considered a friend up until moments ago. Gone was the guy I walked to class with. Gone was the easygoing guy I borrowed notes from. Gone was any semblance of a stable and caring human being. He looked enraged. His cheeks were bright red and his breath was whooshing in and out like bellows, and I could feel the hatred pouring off of him as he jammed the gun even harder into my forehead.

  “Thanks for warning me about your bodyguard, Brysen. That’ll make this so much easier for me.”

  I gasped and stared up at him in shock. “Where is Dovie?” My voice was thready and I could hear how scared I sounded. He laughed like a lunatic and bent over me so that our eyes were locked right over the gun. I saw his finger twitch on the trigger, and I was pretty sure I was going to die.

  “She served her purpose. This has nothing to do with anyone but you and me. I just needed the guy guarding you out of the way. He’s just one more body you have laying at your feet.”

  I had no clue what he was talking about. “What?” I tried to wiggle my fingers because they were going numb, but that just had him yanking my arms higher up over my head and the gun pressing even more tightly into my skull. It was like he was trying to shove it through my face. Drew sat up a little and dragged the gun across my cheek, down my nose, and stopped with it shoved into the soft skin under the curve of my chin.

  “You’re never responsible for the people you kill. Never stop to wash the blood off your hands, do you, Brysen?”

  I still wasn’t following, so I just kept my mouth shut and stared up at him. I could feel tears burning in the back of my eyes, but after everything he had put me through, after he had pretended to be my friend just so he could torment me, there was no way I was going to give him the satisfaction of crying. I gave my hips an experimental wiggle to see if I could dislodge his weight and almost threw up when the action made him leer at me.

  “I don’t have blood on my hands, Drew. You’re the one who tried to run me over, spied on me, and pushed me down the stairs. You’re the one covered in blood. What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

  I hollered out in pain as he lifted the gun and brought the butt of it down on the side of my head. I saw another galaxy. I felt agony, sharp and blinding from the strike, and immediately I had black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Drew used his hold on my hands to pull me up into a semi-sitting position and loomed over me.

  He barked right into my face, “You don’t play by the rules. You think you’re better than everyone else and that you’re special.”

  I absolutely didn’t think that, but it seemed stupid to argue when I heard bells ringing in my ears and had starbursts of pain exploding in my head. “This is because I wouldn’t date you? You want to kill me because I don’t have romantic feelings for you?”

  I sounded confused and it wasn’t all because of the echoing hurt rattling through my brain. None of this was adding up and I needed to shake the cobwebs loose and figure something out. My sister needed me, Race needed me, and I wasn’t about to let either of them down by continuing to be a victim at the hands of this madman.

  “No, you dumb bitch.” The gun clattered on the side of my head again and this time I felt my skin split open. The coppery and rusty scent of my blood wafted into my nose. My neck no longer felt like it could hold my head up and it flopped back heavily to smack into the side of the bed. “This has to do with you and your family thinking you’re above the law. That because you have money and connections, the law and justice don’t apply to you. Your mom ruined my life by being a dumb, drunken piece of shit—and what happened? Not a fucking thing. Your dad threw some money at the situation, at the pitiful, pathetic family from the Point. He talked to some people, and poof, it all went away. Meanwhile, my mom is strung out on painkillers and my little brother ate a bullet because he couldn’t stand the thought of being in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. And what happened to the Carters? You just get to go on living life like nothing happened. Your dad and your mom, even your perfect little sister, all happy and secure in a fucking bubble. You think you’re untouchable.”

  Well, hell. I would be furious at my family if I was him as well. He let go of my hands, which had me falling back and raising shaking hands to hold my temples. If my head hadn’t been so fuzzy, I might have been able to use my legs to clamber away, but I was still having trouble fighting back the blackness that was trying to suck me under, and then he set the gun to the side and wrapped both his hands around my throat and started to squeeze. There was no way I was going to be able to fight. I tried clawing at his hands but he was intent, lost in his fury and rage. I wasn’t a person to him; I was just a means to an end.

  “I left NorthCrest to come back home and try and help out my mom. She took the blood money your dad gave her, as well as my dad’s life insurance, and used it on pills instead of thinking about the future. Instead of thinking about me. NorthCrest is an Ivy League school. But with my dad gone and my mom strung out on opiates, there was no way I could afford to stay there. I came home, saw what your family had done to mine, and knew I had to take action. I transferred to the university under my mom’s last name and made sure I ended up in all your classes.”

  While he talked he squeezed and squeezed and the darkness started to win. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything below my neck, and my hands started to fall limply to either side of me.

  “I saw through the cracks. I knew your dad was a gambling addict and owed all the wrong kinds of people a lot of money. I knew your mom was as bad as my own—drunk, sloppy, and one step away from the edge. I knew your sister gets picked on at school because the almighty Carters aren’t really from the Hill and the other kids at her high school can tell. Everyone was failing, miserable, and bound to end up just like my own family; all of them, except for you.” As he said it he gave me a little shake like I was a rag doll and I squeaked weakly in response.

  “You were supposed to fall in love with me. I was going to sweep you off your feet and then destroy you, ruin you, and leave your life in ashes, but you never let me in the front door. Then you moved home and slapped a big enough Band-Aid on things so the rest of the world could forget just how awful the Carters were. You held everything together when I wanted to watch it crumble, and for that you have to die. You have to suffer, and when I’m done with you I’m going after your sister.”

  He shook me again, and I knew if I didn’t get loose he was going to choke me to death and go after Karsen. I couldn’t let that happen. I was trying to stay awake, trying to muster any amount of energy to fight back, when Drew suddenly let out a loud bellow and let me go. He scrambled to his feet above me, which gave me the space and opportunity to lurch to my hands and knees and crawl away from him.

  Karsen was standing behind him with her hands over her mouth and her eyes leaking tears while she shook like a leaf. The butcher knife I had forgotten on the kitchen counter was embedded in Drew’s shoulder as he swore and danced around. Karsen grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet as I yelled at her to run. The gun Drew had brought with him was too close to him for me to try and grab as I hobbled to my feet and let my sister drag me down the stairs. My vision was flashing in and out, and it sounded like a river was rushing between my ears, but I knew I had to at least get her out of the condo before I
passed out.

  She shrieked when she saw Booker lying facedown and bloody on the entryway floor. She stopped, which had me slamming into her, and made both of us stumble.

  “He’s hurt.”

  “I know, but you have to go!”

  She wouldn’t budge even as I shoved her from the back. I heard a roar that sounded like it came from a wounded animal and knew our window of opportunity was about to slam shut.

  “Karsen, move! You have to get out of here!” I grabbed her arm and tried to drag her toward the broken door that was hanging drunkenly on the hinges.

  Thundering footsteps were pounding down the stairs and there was no time left to think about anything. I wasn’t going to let Drew hurt either one of us. I felt awful for the tragedy that tied us together, but I wasn’t about to pay for the sins of my parents, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to allow Karsen to suffer for their mistakes any more than she already had.

  The gun that Booker had pulled out when Drew started shooting through the door had landed by the back of the couch. I might not know how to use it, but I figured the sight of it might buy us enough time to get out of the condo and call for help.

  Karsen pulled free of my frantic attempts to move her out of danger and was now on her knees next to Booker, her hands on his back and covered in blood, while she whispered his name.

  I picked up the gun and pointed it at the base of the stairs, making sure I put myself directly in front of my sister and Booker even though he was already down and bleeding. I had never fired a gun before, but I would do it to put an end to this madness once and for all.

  Drew tripped and staggered drunkenly down the stairs. He had the gun dangling from one hand and the bloody knife in the other. One of his shoulders was drooping down at an odd angle and the look on his face was monstrous and inhuman. He was literally unrecognizable.

  He lifted the arm holding the gun and narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Which one of us do you think is faster, Brysen?”