Perversion Page 7

  My ‘save your ass’ mode kicks in.

  The man is blocking the only exit. My only other chance of escape is to scale the same wall I used to drop into the alley.

  I keep moving backward as he approaches until my back hits the wall. I look left and right for something to use to climb on.

  There’s nothing but emptiness.

  My stomach sinks, but surrender is not an option.

  I swallow hard as the alarm bells scream in my head for me to run. Somewhere. Anywhere.

  There’s nowhere to go!

  My legs tremble. Fear crawls like a million spiders along the backs of my legs. I push myself further against the wall as if I can squish the feeling away, but it’s useless.

  Fear consumes me. Swallows me whole.

  He continues toward me. As he gets closer, I realize it’s not just sweat glistening on his skin. There’s something else splattered across the tattoos on his chest and on his stubbled jaw.

  It almost looks like wet paint.

  My breathing stops when he’s close enough that I can make out the tattoo on the front of his throat.

  A bleeding black rose.

  The symbol of the Bedlam Brotherhood.

  I’ve heard stories about Grim. The man in the hood. The executioner for Bedlam. They were all terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the reality of coming face to face with the man himself.

  “We didn’t do anything,” I blurt. “I mean, we did, but it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll…I’ll give the money back. Just tell your men not to hurt my friend. It was all my idea. Let her go, and you can take me.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asks. His voice is so thick and deep I feel it more than hear it. Shivers erupt all over my body.

  He raises his arm, revealing a long-curved blade.

  For the first time in my life, I can’t seem to be able to hide my fear with my wit or sarcasm. My throat tightens. I can’t swallow, never mind speak. I’ve lost my words completely, along with my nerve.

  The man’s blade drips red onto the pavement from the serrated tip.

  Every fear response I didn’t even know I had runs rampant. I’m holding my breath. My muscles tense as if running was still an option. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck prickle my skin as they stand on end. I raise up to my tip-toes and push back, trying to make myself disappear into the wall.

  I glance from the knife back to his chest, then back again. The splatters across his skin?

  It’s not fucking paint.

  Before I can process what the hell is happening, he switches from slow-stalking mode into hyper-speed, pinning my wrists above my head. His hard, bloodied chest pushes against me, smearing blood across my white tank top, forcing the back of my head to connect roughly with the wall.

  “I’ll only ask you this one more time. Who the fuck are you?” His low guttural growl rattles my bones.

  His unblinking, angry, golden eyes lock onto mine. Without the fluorescent light, they’re more golden brown than a glowing yellow. As much as I want to, I can’t look away. He could be the last person I ever see.

  The thought is just the spike of adrenaline I need.

  “Let me go,” I say, finally finding my words. I try and jerk my wrists from his grip with no luck. I’m trapped. My fear and anger rise to the surface, but I shove it back down. Fear won’t get me out of this situation, so it will have to wait for its damned turn.

  He digs his rough fingers into my skin. “Answer me. Who the fuck are you?”

  The bite of pain only makes me angrier. I throw his question back at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

  He glances down at my rapidly rising and falling chest before pinning me with his stare. The corner of his mouth tugs up in a half-smirk.

  “So much confidence for someone who's trembling,” he says with an amused glint shining in his demonic eyes.

  I shrug. “Maybe, I’m just not a fan of enclosed spaces,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “You didn’t answer me,” he says.

  “Why do you have blood all over you?” I answer him with yet another question. “You know, if you were committing some kind of crime back there, you should be more careful. I recommend a bleach bath and death by fire for your clothes the first chance you get. If it’s self-harm, I’m sure there’s a helpline you can call.”

  He cocks his head to the side. His nostrils flare. His face is only inches away. I can feel the heat from his body against mine. His cool breath flutters against my neck.

  I’ve never been this close to a man before. My trembling grows. My inner thighs shake sending a rippling wave of something very unfamiliar coursing through the center my body. I try and press my legs together to stop it from happening again, but when he uses his knee to wedge my legs apart, caging me in even further, it only grows, uncoiling from within like a slinky being pulled apart at the ends.

  I swallow hard as the stubble of his jaw presses against my neck.

  “Name,” he demands, his voice raspier than before.

  I shut my eyes tight for a beat, trying to gain composure, control, something that will help me as I try and reason my way out of this. “Listen, I didn’t see anything,” I blurt. “That is, if you did anything. I’m not going to call the police if that’s what you're worried about. I wouldn’t anyway, even if I saw something, which I didn’t.”

  His brows knit together in a harsh line. “Why?”

  His question confuses me.

  “Why what?”

  “Why wouldn’t you tell the police?”

  Because Marco owns them.

  “Let’s just say that I haven’t exactly been a model citizen myself tonight. Let’s face it. If the police around here weren’t being paid not to do their jobs, half this town would be locked up.” I take a deep, shaky breath. “Especially people like us.”

  He stills. There’s no more talking. Only heavy breathing and a battle of wills. He releases one of my hands. I think he’s reaching for his knife. My blood turns cold. I can feel my face pale as my heart starts beating as faster and faster as if it wants to get in as many as possible before the end.

  I’m surprised when he doesn’t go for his knife. Instead, his hand travels slowly down my chest into my cleavage.

  “No, don’t!” I say, but it’s too late, he’s already yanked on my locket.

  “Please just give it back, and let me go,” I plead. Feeling like it’s my real heart he's torn from my chest. “It’s the only thing in this world that means anything to me. Besides my best friend, it’s all I have.”

  I hate the desperation in my voice, but it’s the truth.

  He’s silent for a moment. He raises his arms. I flinch, raising my arms over my face defensively. But when nothing happens, I lower them, just in time to see him push back his hood, revealing his face.

  “Why?” I ask, closing my eyes knowing full well that the only time a criminal reveals himself to a witness is right before they take them out.

  “Look at me,” he demands, holding my face in his hand.

  “No!” I say, shutting my eyes tighter.

  “Look at me!” he bellows. He’s on me again. This time, he holds my head in his large rough hands. “Open your fucking eyes so you can see me.”

  With no other choice than to get my head squished like a turtle under a car tire, I do as he demands. Opening my eyes, I blink through the haze, and when it clears, I’m met with tousled, medium-length, light brown hair, slicked back on the top, shorn close to head on the sides. His nose is slightly crooked like it’s been broken a few times before. The stubble on his square, defined jaw is a few days over needing a shave. A jagged scar runs through his chin like an angry white lightning bolt.

  He’s the most fucking beautifully terrifying man I’ve ever seen.

  He’s searching my eyes for something, but I don’t know what.

  “Why?” I ask in a whisper.

  His hands release mine, but he doesn’t step back. He leans in closer, speaking again
st my cheek in a rumble of a whisper. The strange feeling from earlier comes back as a zap of electricity bouncing around my insides looking for somewhere to ground.

  I’m breathing heavy. Our lips are so close, almost touching. He slides one hand off my face, snaking it around my neck, pulling me closer. He starts to answer in a rumble of a whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on my already prickled skin. “Because I want you to see the face of the man who’s just—”

  “Where the fuck are you?” calls Gabby from the other side of the wall. “I lost them!”

  The moment, whatever it is, is now broken. The man releases me so suddenly I brace myself against the wall to keep from falling. I turn my head toward her voice.

  “Gabby!” I shout back.

  My heart is beating out of control. Out of habit, I raise my hand to my chest, seeking familiar comfort.

  I look up. The man in the hood is gone.

  And so is my locket.

  Eight

  Gabby and I empty our pockets and backpacks onto Marco’s war room table inside his office. After the casino and having my locket stolen, the weekend got better, but not by much. I just hope what we have is enough. We’ll be close, it will depend on what kind of mood Marco’s in. The man is unpredictable. Even when he’s smiling, I’m convinced it’s only to hide the sharpened shark teeth growing in the back of his jaw.

  Gabby and I finish emptying our take onto the table. The parade two towns over turned out to be profitable. Hundreds of onlookers all distracted by the passing homemade floats to notice their pockets and backpacks were lighter. We’d also pinched flags and souvenir t-shirts from empty lawn chairs, reselling them down the parade route.

  “What do we have here?” Marco whistles, looking over the pile.

  “Our take for the week,” Gabby says with pride in her voice. She should be proud.

  We busted our asses for all this shit. To earn our keep. To show our loyalty. Gabby’s hardened over the years, and although she’s still afraid of Marco, she does a much better job of hiding it, showing only loyalty to Marco.

  Fake loyalty. But still, at least it’s buying us time.

  Marco sorts through the pile. He opens the wallets and stacks the cash, setting aside two iPads and a laptop. “Did you disable the find features?” he asks.

  “We cleaned them before we even left the parade,” Gabby says.

  Marco nods his approval and counts the cash, silently moving his lips. “Four hundred and seventy-six,” he says. He scans over the goods. “Not sure what I can get for the electronics, but you’re cutting it close this week. Too close. He glances between the two of us. “You two keep anything for yourselves? You know the rules. Don’t let me find out you’re fucking stealing from me.”

  “No. We didn’t take anything,” I lie. Well, it’s only sort of a lie. I took something, I always do, but Gabby doesn’t know about it yet. I did that on purpose to protect her and keep her from having yet another lie to tell.

  “We wouldn’t do that,” Gabby replies.

  You wouldn’t do that.

  “Pockets,” Marco grunts, his smile turning into a straight line. “Now.”

  Gabby rolls her eyes after we turn around and she's sure Marco can’t see. We comply, flipping the insides of our back and side pockets to the outside to reveal their emptiness. I wasn’t stupid enough to have the forty dollars I’d skimmed off the top on me. Or the ID’s I kept.

  “Shirts,” Marco grunts. “Take them off.”

  He’s never asked us to take off our shirts before. Gabby and I exchange a worried glance.

  “Shirts. Now,” he demands, leaning across the table on his knuckles. “When I ask you to do something, you fucking do it!” He’s more irritated than usual. There’s a thick blue vein throbbing angrily through the middle of his forehead.

  “Marco—” Gabby starts.

  Marco cuts her off. “Gabriella, I’m dealing with a lot of shit today and don’t have time for yours. I’ve been lenient with you two because you’re my sister and you two were young. But, you’re both old enough now to be treated like the others and prove you’re not taking off the top. As of now, this applies to the two of you. SHIRTS.”

  “Why would we…” I start, planning on talking my way out of it.

  “Not today, EJ. Just fucking show me!” Marco roars, shutting down any further arguments.

  Gabby’s face falls as she lifts her shirt first. Her hands shake as she pulls it over her head.

  “Bra,” Marco demands. Tears form in Gabby’s eyes as she pulls down the cups of her bra, she stares blankly ahead as she reveals her bare breasts and empty bra cups to her own brother.

  After a few seconds, Marco nods, and she quickly puts her shirt back on.

  He turns to me. “EJ.”

  I do the same, lifting my shirt and pulling my breasts from the cups. I stare straight at Marco but don’t get the same quick approving nod as she did. Instead, Marco gives my bare breasts a long, lingering stare, one that sends a spike of revulsion up my spine. He licks his lips.

  I hold steady, trying not to vomit.

  “You’re good,” he says hoarsely while still staring at my chest. Marco adjusts the crotch of his jeans, and I taste bile rising in my throat. I quickly pull my shirt back on.

  Gabby and I both turn to leave.

  “Did I say you two could leave?” he snaps. “I’m in charge here. Show some fucking respect.”

  We turn back around slowly and silently. “Your take,” Marco says, handing me a twenty.

  I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from him, but I know refusing it would only anger him further. I take it and shove the bill in my back pocket.

  His eyes roam down my body slowly before rising back to meet mine. “I’m finally starting to see how special you are. What kind of potential you have. I expect extra next week since you cut it close this time around.” He reaches out and runs his thumb across my cheek. It’s not lost on me what he’s saying.

  I hold back a cringe.

  “Extra?” Gabby asks with a horrified look in her eyes.

  I know what she’s thinking. We’d worked our asses off all week to come up with the pile on the table, and unless there’s going to be another parade next week, we might not make it.

  Marco uses the hand that isn’t holding me to backhand Gabby across the face. She stammers back, stunned, holding her hand to her face. He’d never hit her before. Not that I’d seen.

  “Now, it’s double, and if you have a problem with that, I’ll put you both to good use in other, more profitable ways.”

  “I’m your sister,” she reminds him on a shaky breath.

  “Which is why I expect more from you,” Marco says, glaring back at her with every bit of seriousness in his hatred-filled eyes.

  This man isn’t her brother. He is a ruthless gangster, high on power. Control.

  Blood is thicker than water.

  But money and power are all that matters to Marco.

  I stare at him without blinking, waiting for this moment to be over. Suddenly, he grips my jaw tightly and leans in close.

  “Don’t cross me, EJ. You think I don’t see the defiance in your eyes, but I do. I see you trying to put up your front, but I’ll break you. Show me your loyalty. Earn your place here. And if you so much as think about crossing me, I’ll do more than put a price on your pussy. I’ll gut you and decorate the ‘welcome to Lacking’ sign with your fucking insides.” He grips me tighter. My jaw stings as his nails bite into my flesh. “You feel me?”

  “Yes,” I answer with false confidence. Marco growls at my continued defiance.

  “If you play your cards right, who knows, I might even make you my queen someday.” Marco releases me with a rough push. I stagger back but quickly compose myself, straightening my shoulders and my spine.

  “Get the fuck out,” he barks.

  Gabby’s shoulders are shaking with silent sobs as we head for the door.

  “I’ll break you yet, Emma Jean,�
� he calls out to me with a menacing laugh.

  I make sure we are out of the building in the false safety of the night, well out of earshot, before I respond under my breath.

  “No. No, you fucking won’t.”

  I’m not going to let Marco’s bullshit affect me tonight because I’ve got other plans that require my attention.

  As stupid as those plans might be.

  Nine

  “I talked to Mona today,” Gabby says, standing in the doorway of our room. “She sounds great. She graduated early. Top of her class. Got a full ride to some fancy college on the West Coast. She wanted to come visit…” Gaby trails off.

  I know she feels bad about having to tell Mona that she can’t come here. Marco said that she could come visit, but I understand why Gabby wants to keep her as far away as possible from all of this. I’d do the same.

  Gabby’s been quieter lately. Distant. And when I ask her about it she just waves it off as paranoia, but I realize now that it’s because she misses her sister.

  “We’ll figure out a way for you to see her again,” I try to reassure her.

  “I don’t see how.” She sniffles. “And I hate telling her I can’t see her. She takes it personally. She thinks I hate her because I’ve used every excuse I can think of, and now I’m all out. I just tell her no and hope through the phone she’ll somehow understand, but she doesn’t.”

  I pull her in for a hug, but she releases me when she sees my backpack open on the bed. “Where are you going?”

  “To get my locket back. Leo gave me intel on where he lives. I’m going to sneak in, grab it, and sneak out.”

  “You’re insane, you know that?” Gabby throws her hands in the air and blows out a long, frustrated sigh.

  “Yeah, I kinda figured that out a while back,” I reply, packing my backpack. “Thought you caught on to that by now.”

  “You should have clued me in to your mental status. I didn’t figure it out until four seconds ago when you told me you were going to sneak into a house in Bedlam and steal from the man they call The Executioner!”

  “I’m not stealing,” I reason. “He took my locket. I’m just taking it back.”