It’s silent again. I can literally hear the collective conclusion right before I say it.
“If that’s the case, then I’m moved to think of only one thing…” I whisper, feeling defeated somehow. “My brother was murdered.”
I don’t have to ask to see that they all arrived at the same fucking conclusion.
“Have you told Christina?” George asks.
“Hell no! Are you out of your fucking mind?” I snap.
“Well, in George’s defense, he’s comfortable sending the entire world into a tailspin,” King grits out. “After all, what better way to cause chaos and confusion by taking your friends for granted, forcing them to lie to the people they love, and then turn around and fake a death all in the name of his own happiness while some of us are still mourning the loss of a baby.”
And with that, King hangs up.
I don’t blame him. I really don’t but for just this once, I needed him to reign in his temper at George to fucking help me figure this shit out.
George looks remorseful, I’ll give him that. And I can see the hurt in his eyes, but no one can help him now. The asshole dug his own grave and now, it’s time to fucking lay in it like the fake grave that’s still at the cemetery.
“Yeah, well, now my one question is… if he didn’t kill himself, then who did?” Emmett questions just as a new text from King flashes in my notifications, exactly word for word what Emmett just said.
But then he sends me another one which simply reads: I DON’T TRUST DAVE.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that, King? Asshole!
“I’ll see what I can find out from my contacts, Noah,” George says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Then he hangs up, leaving Emmett and I just staring at each other.
“You good?” he finally asks.
“For now,” I mutter. “You?”
“I’m not the one who just found out about my brother’s violent, vicious murder,” he says. “Do you think it’s Dave?”
I blow out a rough breath, my mind racing.
“I know it’s him.”
“Then what’s the issue? We can find him and nail his ass to the fucking concrete then bury him under piles of rubble.”
“It’s just something Spider said that I can’t get out of my fucking head. Then the lawyer,” I mutter looking at the envelope. “Because if I listen to what Spider said, and the fucker is never wrong, then it means David killed Craig. But if I listen to what the lawyer said, and connect some of what Spider said then…”
“Then what?”
“Then there’s more under the surface.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
I look at the envelope on my bed, half-tempted to open it and half not fucking interested at all. I feel like I might set the damn thing on fire for all the torment it’s been causing me for two weeks now.
“For the first fucking time in my life, I don’t know what I’m going to do about this,” I mutter. “What I do know though, I’m not going anywhere until I get answers.”
I’m about to hang up until George and King both start calling at the exact same time. I swipe right, accepting their calls.
“What the fuck?”
“Did you get mail today?” George demands, his voice breathless.
“What?”
“Did any of you get mail?”
“I didn’t…”
“I’m coming over! Open the fucking door!”
As he hangs up, I look at King. His camera’s on, but he seems frozen, staring down at something.
“King? What is it?”
He looks at the phone, doesn’t say a word then pulls up whatever he’s holding until it comes into full view.
It’s a picture of… Kim with two little girls as well as Ivy, Astraea, and a baby… George’s baby girl.
All of them are laying on the bloody floor with their throats slit and eyes wide open, a crappy photoshop job but so fucking brazen with the intent and message clear as day.
“What the fuck?” I demand.
King flips over the paper now, showing me the message on the back that turns my blood cold.
“One by one, I’m coming for you
Give Daddy Monty what he wants on the day;
or it’ll be the death of three, or all, on you.”
Chapter 19
KIM
Asshole Fairy: Don’t be late!
ME: I swear you’re obsessed with me.
Asshole Fairy: And you think that’s a good thing? Don’t be fucking late.
First times are always fucking painful for some reason I still can’t fathom.
The first time I went to the beach, I stepped on a perfectly hidden sea urchin. And thanks to that, I couldn’t walk for a while.
The first time Luci disappeared, was the first time we ever got evicted from the little one-bedroom apartment we had taken up residence in when we lived in Seattle.
That was also the first time I had held out hope that my mother was ready to change when she came back home with a job at a local restaurant, and semi-new clothes for me to wear for school.
Hell, she’d even gone grocery shopping and for the first time, we had a fully stocked refrigerator full of food that I’d only seen on T.V.
It was also the first time Luci and I got along, in a way.
She hadn’t screamed at me.
She was kind, funny as hell and she’d told me all about her life before… well, before she chose the path that had bent out of shape and was struggling.
She told me stories about how she grew up as an only child—like me—and how she had hair just like mine when she was my age, but she had to get the big chop after some boy at her school stuck multiple pieces of gum in it while she was asleep in the library.
“Never let some boy mess with your crown, butterfly.”
That was the first time I’d heard her call me that, but for some reason I felt in my soul, it wasn’t the first time she’d called me that.
I just wasn’t aware of the other times.
But… what goes up, must certainly come down at some point.
The big crash with my mother came just a few weeks later.
I don’t know how she did it or if it was a mistake on her part or if she actively and deliberately looked for a dealer but the next thing I knew, she was gone for three days.
I had to catch buses to go to her workplace, only to discover that my mother was a thief—only I didn’t like the way the manager had phrased my mother’s theft, so I also kneed him the groin, grabbed some of the takeaway bags that were ready to be collected, and ran out of there like the wind.
Soon after, the eviction happened. I lived on the cold, unsafe streets of Seattle, perfecting the art of pickpocketing until one day I found her, sleeping the stupor off in some fancy Phantom that belonged, surprise, surprise, to her dealer.
So yeah, first time anything sucks, and so does my first time waking up fully employed and ready to take on the day only to go downstairs with my sisters in tow to find my tires slashed.
“You’ve got to be—” I catch myself, and clamp my jaw shut.
“Kimmy,” Laura calls. “How is it possible that all tires have a flat at the same time?”
I’m relieved that they haven’t seen the perfect slashes that… FUCKING NOAH sliced through my tires!
It doesn’t take a freaking genius to decipher the message. He doesn’t want me to work for his mother, his texts from last night were fucking clear.
Now that I think of it, he sent me those texts while he was right here, doing this!
That good for nothing…
No, Kim. Don’t let him rile you up on a Monday. Not today, Satan.
Choosing to breathe before I choose violence, I open my eyes and immediately spot the sticker of a pixie or maybe it’s a fairy… only upon closer inspection, I notice that it’s not a fucking pixie or even a fairy.
It’s some sort of mutated thing—that’s the best description I have right now—wi
th snakes poking out of its eyes.
I quickly rip it off the hood only to discover a second surprise.
I quickly grab Laura and Casey’s tiny hands and step away from the car, my face flaming red as I stare at what else was left on the hood of my car.
“Kim? What’s wrong?” Casey asks, her voice small.
I have to physically shake myself so I can respond.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I whisper, afraid to speak up. I don’t want to alert them or bring their attention to what I just saw. “I think we have to call a cab and get you both to your new school! Are you excited?”
“Yes!” Casey says, practically jumping up and down. She’s had so much energy these days, it’s adorable as hell.
“Kimmy, can we call your new boss?” Laura asks excitedly. “Maybe she’ll come and pick us up?”
Uh, I don’t think so.
Her son not only slashed my tires, but he left me two dead kittens on the hood of my car as well as an older cat, lying next to them… dead.
Jesus. How twisted is he?
“Come on, let’s go.”
Do I call the police? What do I do?
When I get my hands on Noah, I swear to God, I’m going to wring his freaking neck.
How could he do something so vulgar?
I fish out my phone from my pocket, about to call for a cab when a sleek, black Range Rover pulls up right in front of us.
Squinting to try and see through the tinted windows, I watch as Christina’s driver from last week steps out of the car.
“Miss Allory,” he greets, tipping his hat at me. “I was sent to give you this car.”
Laura and Casey are barely holding their excitement in, but I taught them well. In front of strangers, we hold it together.
“What?” I stutter.
“I was told to tell you directly, so I quote, ‘take the car, Kimberly. I don’t appreciate tardiness.’ That’s from the top.”
“And by the top, I assume you mean…”
“Master Montreal.”
I swear, if I was drinking something like my Iced venti latte like most girls on any Netflix show, I’d have spit the drink out. Instead, my jaw drops.
“You can’t be serious.”
“He’s currently waiting for you, Miss. If it’s all right, I can also take the young Misses to school so you can make your way to the estates.”
Now this is where Laura and Casey’s self-control runs out.
Both of them squeal and start jumping up and down.
“Oh, please, Kimmy, can we go with Mr.…” Laura trails off and looks up at the kind gentleman.
“Houghton,” the older man says with a small smile. “You can call me Mr. Houghton, Miss.”
“Yes, can we go with Mr. Houghton?”
“Uh, that would be great, but I don’t see the car that he…”
At this point I should already know not to ask silly questions because right at the street, and attracting attention from prying, nosey neighbors, is a black limo.
“A limo?”
“That’s from Madam. A special gift for the girls on this beautiful Monday morning.”
Well damn.
I guess the whole flair thing her son is a master of, comes from her. But did Christina also teach her son how to leave dead cats on the hood of other people’s cars? I doubt that.
My anger returns tenfold.
So, I kiss both Laura and Casey and make sure they both have everything they need, Laura’s inhaler and Casey’s afternoon medication. The school also organized for Casey to have a special nurse that checks on her every hour. And by the school, I mean Christina made that possible.
With a big wave, they run to the limo and off they go.
It’s not easy for me to let someone take them anywhere, but today, Noah has gained my attention.
Instead of getting in the Range Rover and driving straight to the estates, I make one quick stop first. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for, then I make my way to the estates. If someone told me I have steam coming out of my ears, I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m so furious, I can hardly speak when I get to the shop. I just point at what I need.
It’s game time, asshole!
But as I drive toward the mountains, I can’t help but think back to the last time I was here.
* * *
There’s a herd of wild animals stampeding in my stomach as I walk up the long, impressive driveway that leads to the Montreal estate. I haven’t really been to Noah’s house, and after all this time, I feel like turning back and running away, but I just… I have to see him.
I want the opportunity to explain myself, face to face.
I want him to understand. I had no control over my actions and now Astraea tried to kill herself. God.
She was discharged a day ago. I drove up to the estates with the intention to go and see her, to apologize again and make sure that she’s safe from my father, but instead, here I am.
As the huge mansion becomes bigger, more intimidating, I start panicking.
I can’t do this.
I freeze mid-step, but before I can turn around and leave, I hear a sweet voice speak up.
“Come on, Kim Possible. I hear you have more guts than that,” she calls. Looking up, I see Christina, Noah’s Mom, standing in the open doorway with the light from the foyer filtering behind her making her look like a giant—which she is.
She stands there with her arms folded, watching me with an unreadable expression on her face as I stand there, looking like I have a stick up my ass.
“You can’t run away now,” she says, watching me and I can see the dare in her eyes as she tilts her head to the left. “Unless of course you really are a coward.”
Fuck. Me.
Why the hell did I come here?
I knew one day I was going to have to face her, but I wasn’t counting on tonight.
We met at the hospital the day I went to confess everything to Astraea, but I don’t think she liked me.
With dread gripping my throat making it almost impossible to breathe, I start walking the rest of the way toward her, knowing damn well that there’s no way I can just up and run without looking like a coward.
She already hates me and now this thing with Noah…
“Hello,” I croak. Wincing, I close my eyes when I hear how horrible my voice sounds. I clear it and start again, trying to look and seem confident but I fail miserably. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was looking for…”
“My son,” she says, cutting me off.
“Yes,” I whisper, shame, guilt and longing filtering through me until all I need right now, is to see him. I want to be in his arms. “Is he here?”
She’s silent for a while, studying me from my high ponytail to my grunge clothes then down to my dirty sneakers.
I know what she sees. I’m from the trailer park.
I come from nothing.
My mother is addicted to the man who raped her and now that he’s in town, she’s excited and uncontrollable. I hate the way she looks at my sisters, telling them about the man who would use his own children just to destroy other kids.
To Noah’s mother, I’m no good for her son.
To Noah himself, he hates me, and to myself, I’m not good for myself either.
I’m filth, a liar and don’t deserve to be standing in front of this beautiful woman.
“Why are you crying?” her soft voice reaches my ears and I glance up at her, surprised.
“Crying?” I question, with a frown.
Her face softens as she looks at me and then she comes down the stairs until she’s right in front of me. Without hesitation, she reaches forward and with her delicate, soft thumb, wipes the tears on my right cheek.
I gasp and step back, my eyes wide as I stare at her, terror and something else stirring in me. I didn’t even know that I was crying. Where is all of this coming from?
“I’m not crying,” I whisper hurriedly, wiping away the tears that keep falling.
Stop it, damn it!
“Oh dear,” she says, her voice so soft, it makes my heart ache. “It’s okay to cry once in a while.”
I’m so stunned I can’t even say a word. I just stare at her, feeling bewildered.
Noah does get his incredibly good looks from his mother. From the twinkle in his eyes when he’s about to be naughty to the way his entire face transforms into a breathtaking monument of art when he smiles… genuinely, it all comes from her.
But the pain, the hate and fury that’s now in his eyes…that’s all me. I did that. I caused that to happen.
“I’m sorry. I must look pathetic to you. That wasn’t my intent, I just…” I trail off, not knowing what to say.
“It’s hard to explain a broken heart, isn’t it?” she questions, and I nod mutely, more tears falling down my face.
“You’re here for him, aren’t you?” she questions, and I nod again. “I don’t know if he wants to see you though, Kim.”
Pain shoots through my chest as I look up at her. I knew this was coming. I knew I was going to be rejected, even chased away from their estate like an intruder.
“Oh,” I murmur. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
I go to turn around, but she grabs my hand with a firm grip.
I look up at her only to see a smile on her face, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint I’ve loved from the first day I saw him.
“I didn’t say you should go,” she says.
“But you just said…”
“Let me let you in on a little secret,” she whispers, tugging my hand with hers as she starts up the little stairs to the open doorway. “This is my house and so long as I’m still the woman who birthed and breastfed that boy, I don’t care if he’s in the mood to see you or not, he’ll see you.”
I can’t help but smile at that, but the moment I step through the doors of her mansion, my smile freezes on my face as I take in the splendor and opulence of this mansion.
“Wow,” I whisper under my breath, and she chuckles.
“I said the same thing the first time I saw this mansion,” she says, looking around the foyer as if seeing it for the first time. “Of course, twenty-four years ago, it was a lot different than it is now.”
Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4 Page 23
