Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 28

  And I’ve never thought that. Not once.

  Until now. Until I see some dark glimmer in his eyes that I can’t identify.

  Frustration? Regret? Anger?

  “You get all A’s. A mansion of a fucking house. The best family—”

  “Woah, yeah, really?” I cut in with a laugh. “A dad who’s never home, a dead mother? How the hell can that be—?”

  “It beats a criminal for a father and a whore of a mother.” Marcus scowls at me, and then rips his packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one.

  “I thought you said your mom—”

  But Marcus has the bit in his teeth, and there’s no way I’m leading this conversation back to safe ground.

  “My mother was a whoring cunt.” Marcus expels a fierce stream of smoke, raking his eyes over me as if daring me to argue. “Fuck knows how many men she was screwing. Certainly didn’t mind fucking my dad, but six years after I arrive—” He puts his fingers to his lips, blowing air over them. “Poof. Gone.”

  I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to say to that. I keep quiet, watching Marcus’s face to gauge where he’s going with all of this.

  Marcus takes a hit of his cigarette, and smoke fills the Mustang’s cabin.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I lean a little closer, dropping my head. “I mean, I knew about your dad, some about your mom, but—”

  “You ask your dad about me staying for a while?” Marcus asks quietly. He’s staring through the windshield again, oblivious to my attempts at making eye contact.

  “Wh—yes.” I nod. “I did.”

  “What did he say?” Marcus’s voice is cool and smooth as silk now as if we weren’t just yelling at each other. “You did ask him, right?”

  I’m tempted to tell him I didn’t get around to it, but I’d just be delaying the inevitable. Best to get everything out in the open.

  I shake my head. “I don’t get it. He made it sound like you were…”

  “What?” Marcus cocks his head and slowly turns to face me. “I was what?”

  “A delinquent.”

  Marcus shrugs. “Aren’t I?” He flicks his fingers in the space between us. “Aren’t we?”

  And then he laughs, and I swear to fucking God — I’ll die a happy man if I never hear that sound again.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Briar

  It’s perversely sunny outside this morning, as if the world’s mocking the darkness of my inner world with its godawful brightness.

  Thought you were king of the hill, did’ya?

  No one’s gonna forget what I did. Not now, not ever. Might as well have served my time — maybe then people would have considered my debt to society paid in full.

  We never did end up going to Addy’s house. It seemed so much easier to keep driving until I came to Marcus’s house. And then all I wanted was to go home and crash. I regret it now. I could have ended this all last night. Settled the score.

  But when I woke up this morning with a new text from Addy, and that unread text from my father, the culmination of the two messages broke the last restraint inside my mind.

  I glare at the safe in my father’s study. It was hidden behind the painting that’s now leaning against the wall by my feet. This one’s just as bright and colorful as the other abstracts in the room, but it depicts a fantasy forest of some kind instead of the seemingly random Rocher inkblot shapes of the others.

  Not the greatest hiding place for a safe, but I have a feeling my father didn’t really care much for the location of his safe compared to the security of his vault. Maybe he saw it as a second prize to anyone stupid enough to come in here and try to break into his vault.

  This pin code I know. There’s a handgun, our passports, and a few stacks of notes inside the safe. I remember the first time Dad showed gave me the code and showed me how to open it. I went around thinking we were part of an international crime syndicate for weeks before my imagination found something new to latch onto.

  I know how to load and shoot the gun, but I’ve never had to use it. To the best of my knowledge, neither has my father.

  I ignore it now — it’s not what I came for.

  I’m here for one thing only — Addison Green’s motherfucking blood money.

  I close the safe and hoist up the painting. As I’m adjusting it to make sure it’s hanging straight, something catches my eye. I turn my head a little and stare at the demonic face of some kind of goblin hiding behind a tree just a few inches away from my nose. It’s looking straight at me, it’s eyes so realistic, there’s no mistaking the gleam of evil flickering inside.

  I brush my hands on my ass as I step back, grimacing. I glance at the right-hand corner, at the name scrawled in the corner, but I’ll be fucked if I can make it out.

  Christ, what a fucked-up painting. Once you’ve seen that evil little shit, it’s ruined.

  * * *

  Indi

  I force my eyes open, cringing at the pain. God, it feels like someone’s gone and poured a whole bag of sand in them. Rolling onto my side, I focus on the shape beside me. It eventually resolves into Addy.

  Which means…

  I push up to my elbows, and scour the room I’m in.

  Yup — cardboard boxes, plastic wrapping. And, if I’m not mistaken, I’ve been sleeping on a bare mattress.

  My aching bladder — the reason I woke up in the first place — drives me to my feet. The world takes a slow spin as I head for the hallway, hoping against all hope that the first doorway will be a bathroom.

  It is.

  I let out a long sigh as I sit down and pee. And then groan when I see the bathroom is as bare as the rest of the house — toilet paper included.

  Damn it.

  There’s a crash from downstairs. I drag up the sweatpants Addy loaned me last night as I stand, almost tripping in the process.

  “The fuck?” Addy mutters as she stalks past the bathroom door.

  “Addy, wait!” I run after her, just in time to see Briar bursting through the door. Addy and I both stop walking, Addy letting out a strangled gasp.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” she shrieks.

  And then she does the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. She runs down the stairs and heads straight for Briar.

  “Addy!” I hesitate for barely a second, and then I spin around and race back to her room. My backpack’s on the floor. I snatch it up, my hand shaking and my skin ice-cold as I hunt through the pockets.

  Where the fuck did I put it?

  “Get out of my house!” Addy’s voice sends a lash of panic through me. I’m just about to abandon my futile search when my fingers brush cool metal.

  When I make it back to the landing, Briar’s standing by the busted-open door, hand fisted on the straps of a backpack, the other opening and closing at his side. Addy was at the foot of the stairs, but when he remains silent, she storms up to him.

  As soon as she’s close, he throws the bag at her.

  It hits her in the chest. She staggers to the side, clutching it to her as she bumps into the wall.

  “Briar!” I’m convinced he’s going to lunge at her, and I don’t wanna know even a little where that will lead. He looks ready to kick, punch and bite the fuck out of anything that moves.

  Despite the death grip on my switchblade, my legs lock, trapping me on the last step. For the life of me I can’t force myself closer.

  Addy pushes away from the wall, her teeth flashing. “What the fuck is this?” she yells, hoisting the bag up.

  “It’s what you wanted, you fucking bitch.” Briar scans the now empty living room, and for a second I feel like I’ve stepped into some kind of alternate reality.

  Where the hell has all the furniture gone? Is it truly possible I slept through moving guys dragging out a three-piece living room set, dining room table, and the leftover boxes I saw peeking out from the kitchen last night?

  If I did, then why the fuck is Addy still here? Shouldn’t she be
headed wherever her stuff’s going?

  “I want to feel sorry for you, Addy. I do.” Briar’s voice is dangerously low, but calm. He sweeps a hand out to the empty living room as Addy drops the bag to her side and watches him warily through slitted eyes.

  “Briar,” I say quietly, finally getting my legs to unlock so I can move closer to them. Fuck knows how I can remotely help in this situation, but I don’t want my gravestone reading ‘Indi The Yellow-Bellied Coward Virgo.’ For now, I tuck the switchblade into the sweat’s elastic at the small of my back. Briar can easily overpower me, even with the knife — he’s done it once before. All I have is the element of surprise, which will be a moot point if he realizes I’m armed.

  “I mean, it’s gotta suck, right?” Briar tilts his head, taking a slow step closer to Addy. She retreats, and draws the bag up to her chest again as if it can offer some kind of protection against Briar’s fury. “Losing your best friend. Losing your mind. Losing every last bit of credibility you’ve ever had.”

  Addy’s eyes go round, her mouth tight. “You don’t know anything, you fucking criminal.”

  His eyes dart down to the bag, back up to her face. “Takes one to know one,” Briar says, lips lifting in a sneer. “Now where the fuck is the video?”

  I step closer still, but they’re so fixated on each other, I doubt either of them knows I exist right now.

  Should I call the cops? Marigold? Who?

  Addy shakes her head. “What video?”

  Briar throws back his head and laughs. The sound makes every hair on my body stand on end.

  “You gotta be shitting me.” He surges forward, hands raised as if he’s about to grab Addy.

  Before I even realize I’m moving, I’m between them. Briar grabs me instead of Addy, and there’s the briefest look of confusion on his face before he tosses me aside like a trash bag.

  There’s nothing for me to hit, so I just stagger for a few feet before I find my balance, but by then he’s gotten hold of Addy.

  “You have your money, you fucking cunt! Now give me the phone!”

  Addy screams as Briar backs her up against the wall. She lifts the bag, but he bats it aside with barely a pause.

  “Briar!” I launch myself at them, grab his arm, and sink my nails into his skin.

  He shakes me off with a growl. “Don’t think for a second I’m leaving without that video, Addy.”

  I’ve never seen her green eyes that wide, that terrified. “I don’t know what you’re—”

  Briar slams a fist into the wall beside her head. There’s a moment’s silence where all I can hear is the patter of plaster hitting the tiles below.

  “Where. Is. The. Video?”

  Addy bursts into tears, shaking her head. Her hands are up now, pressing into Briar’s chest. Not digging in, not fighting. Just keeping him back.

  “Where is it?” he bellows.

  Addy’s eyes squeeze shut, and she lifts her arms over her head as if Briar’s about to start pummeling her.

  I surge forward, but my foot catches on the backpack. I go to the floor, grunting as the wind knocks out of me. I kick, trying to free my foot. When it remains tangled in the bag, I roll onto my ass and give it a furious yank.

  The zipper was only partially closed. As I tug at the bag, it opens wider and spills out a neat stack of bills.

  I stare at it. Gape up at Briar. Realize both of them are still totally fixated on each other.

  “What’s the… what’s all this money for?” I ask, clearing my throat halfway through so I can get everything out.

  “Don’t think for a second I’ll believe you’re not part of this,” Briar snaps, glaring at me over his shoulder.

  “Part of what?” Addy says, and his attention goes back to her.

  A video. A cellphone.

  Evidence?

  Is that what Briar and Marcus were talking about that night at the church? Does Addy have a video of Jessica’s rape?

  No, that makes absolutely no sense. Something that damning would have put them both behind bars. She’d have used it a long time ago.

  Except if she only just found it. But when? How?

  “Addy, what video is he talking about?” I ask.

  Briar is the furthest thing from innocent here, but I knew that going in. Addy’s been lying to me from the start. Maybe even now. Fuck knows why she’d want to assume innocence, but I don’t pretend to know a thing about her or her motives.

  “I don’t know!” Addy shrieks.

  “Who the fuck else could it have been?” Briar grabs her around the neck and pushes her against the wall. Addy breaks down into hysterical wails while I watch, feeling so detached from this moment I could be in a cinema.

  “There was someone else there,” I say. My feet take me forward even though I never gave them permission to move. “You said it yourself: you were fucked. Marcus was fucked. Someone else could have been following you up those stairs.”

  Briar releases Addy in a rush and pivots to face me. I expected shock on his features, but there’s nothing.

  Nothing.

  “Suddenly you know everything,” he says. Addy slides to the ground and collapses on her side. When she starts sobbing, she sounds so absolutely riven I want to fall down and start crying too. But I hold back everything — my fear, my sadness, my confusion.

  I shove it far out of reach and match Briar for each of his steps until we’re right up against each other and he could grab me by the throat and strangle me if he wanted.

  “She says she doesn’t have anything.”

  “She’s a lying cunt.”

  “And you’re not?”

  Briar’s mouth thins.

  “You told me you didn’t remember anything about that night, but that’s a lie, isn’t it?”

  Still nothing. His face could have been carved from frozen cream. “How long have you been following me?”

  He doesn’t have to know how I know — the facts speak for themselves. Let him think I’m stalking him — they say crazy sometimes works at keeping other crazies at bay.

  “And you know what?” I go on as if I didn’t even hear him, palming my switchblade as casually as I can. “I hope whoever does have that video, that they send it to the police.” I step closer still, until our bodies touch. The metal in my hand is warm now, hot almost. “Because evidence like that? That should be enough to reopen the case, don’t you think?”

  “I meant what I said—”

  I flick open the switchblade and press it against Briar’s throat.

  He doesn’t move.

  Not a flinch, not a twitch, nothing. It’s as if he hasn’t even noticed the metal against his skin. I drop my voice low, and force every word out steady. “Especially when I show them the shoes you left outside my house.”

  Addy’s sobs are simmering down, but I doubt she’s coherent enough to hear what I’m saying. But I go up on my tiptoes anyway and lay a hand on Briar’s shoulders, nearly meeting him eye for eye as I press the flat of the blade against his throat in warning.

  Okay, hardly meeting him eye for eye. But I’m trying really fucking hard.

  “How you broke into my house. How you watched me.”

  “That won’t—” His thick voice cuts off, and he glances away from me. “You know that’s not—”

  “The same as raping someone?” I whisper furiously, leaning in even closer so he’s forced to look at me. “I dunno, Briar. I kinda feel it’s one of the first rungs on the motherfucking ladder.”

  His eyes touch me then, and for a moment — the briefest, craziest moment — I know he’s not a bad person.

  But see, that thought has nothing to do with common sense, logic, or facts. That’s my fucking vagina talking again.

  Briar is a criminal. He dodged the law once, but I’ve vowed to myself and Addison that it will never happen again. If that means he spends a few months cleaning trash on the side of the road instead of hard time in jail, so be it.

  At least his record won’
t reflect the perfect imitation high schooler he shows the world. There will be a black mark on his name.

  Until his father washes it off, of course.

  Briar ducks, grabs the backpack off the floor, and backs up toward the door.

  “This isn’t over,” he growls. He stabs a finger in Addison’s direction, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. He gives my switchblade a contemptuous smirk, and then he’s gone.

  My legs give out, but I don’t feel anything when I hit the floor. Moments later, Addy’s by my side. She throws her arms over me and starts crying again.

  I would have joined her, but I have no tears.

  My fury boiled them all away.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Briar

  As soon as I’m in my Mustang, I take out my phone. My hands are trembling so bad, it takes three attempts before I can call Marcus. I put the car into gear and peel out of Addy’s driveaway, one hand on the wheel and the other holding my phone to my ear.

  “Pick up, pick up.” I push the words through gritted teeth.

  He answers on the next ring. “Yeah?”

  “You at home?”

  “The fuck else would I be?”

  He’s pissed off, but I can’t blame him. “Listen, I need you to do something for me.”

  There’s silence on the other end of the line. It could have gone so many ways — he could have laughed in my ear and put down the phone. He could have cursed me to the nth generation.

  But Marcus was, and always will be, my closest friend.

  “Tell me what you need, bro.”

  * * *

  As I’m waiting for the golf estate’s boom to rise, I re-read the message my father sent last night. Judging from the time stamp, and if I remember correctly, I was probably on my third game of pool and my sixth beer. No wonder I didn’t hear it come through.

  We need to talk.

  11:45am

  Angel Falls Cemetery

  Don’t be late.

  I lock my phone and toss it on the passenger seat. My eyes slide to the clock on my dash. I thought I would have more time, but I woke up late, and it took me a while to get my head straight.