Deliverance (The Maverick Defense #1) (12 page)

“I was.” I leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees. “The three of us were friends. Joy and I were more than friends, but it wasn’t like Donnie was a third wheel or anything.” I smiled remembering the fun we used to have, hanging out, playing pranks, and then when Donnie went home, Joy and I were left, making out, getting hot and heavy in the backseat of my Camaro.

“So what happened?” Lex asked.

“You know all this.” I told him a brief version of this when we were cellmates, and it wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on or pick over all the details. It was something I tried hard not to think about at all.

“Humor me.” Lex tapped away at the keys on his laptop and even Mikey muted the TV, giving me his full attention.

With a deep sigh, I carried on. “Joy needed money for college. She only had her grams and didn’t want to rely on getting a full ride. Donnie’s Uncle Franco needed a job done. A drug run. Weed, nothing heavy. It should have been a walk in the park.” I swallowed thickly as I hated having to retell this story. I hadn’t been a hardened criminal then; I was a stupid teenager in love who wanted to help his girlfriend out. I listened to Donnie’s uncle when he said it was easy and we wouldn’t get caught. What a dick I was to believe him. “Donnie didn’t want to do it, but he was scared of his Uncle Franco. He tried his hardest to avoid anything to do with Franco’s business. He wanted no part of it.” I curled my fingers in air quotes. “Joy was desperate, and it seemed like an easy solution.”

A derisive grunt came from Mikey’s direction and I looked over, a deep scowl etched on his face as he listened. I wondered if he’d ever heard my version of the events or just the one that my father had told everyone.

“The drop went fine, but on the way back, we were pulled over by the cops. They took one look at Donnie and that was it. Back then, they used any excuse to rattle the DeLucas. They kept asking where we’d been and found the bag of money in the trunk. I just knew they were going to haul us in for questioning. I couldn’t let one mistake ruin Joy’s dream of school, so I picked a fight with the officers. I took the fall and the two of them walked away with a warning not to associate with troublemakers like me in the future.”

Hunched over, I dipped my head and closed my eyes. Telling them all this was exhausting, it was something I pushed down, the feelings of hurt and anger that surfaced every time I thought about the unfairness of it. Of course, we were in the wrong and had broken the law, and I’d taken the blame to protect Joy and Donnie, which was my choice. I didn’t want to hold Joy back but Donnie … Donnie had been my best friend. I kept expecting to hear from him, some acknowledgment, but nothing ever came. That hurt. And now, to find out he was with Joy and that she never left … it made my blood boil, as if what I did for them was meaningless. Lex watched me expectantly, waiting for the rest of the story.

“Dad said I was a disgrace to the family, Mom cried, and Mikey, well, I made him promise to look out for Joy until she left for college.” Mikey winced, but he had made good on his promise, I was sure of that. I wish I’d known she had never left. I’d have been home a hell of a lot sooner, regardless of my father.

“And Donnie.”

“I never heard from him again.” I shrugged; he wasn’t the same guy I had known anyway, but it still stung.

“That’s why you reacted the way you did at the funeral?”

“Yeah.” I sat back and watched him, waited for his verdict.

“What do you think he’s involved in?” Lex asked.

“Extortion racket, at least. I saw two of his heavies at Hank’s, and he handed over a wad of cash. Hank said he took over from his uncle.”

“Yeah,” Mikey muttered.

“What do you know?” Lex turned his attention in Mikey’s direction.

“Rumor is he controls all the drugs in and out of Chancing.”

“Seriously?” The irony isn’t lost on me. Hank had said as much, too, but I couldn’t get my head around Donnie taking the reins. He’d never wanted anything to do with his uncle when we were younger.

“Of course, it’s big bucks. By all accounts, he got rid of the competition and paid off local law enforcement to turn a blind eye.” Mikey raised both eyebrows, and we got the message. “You don’t want to cross Donnie DeLuca.”

“How are we going to get to Joy?” Lex asked.

“I don’t know. Mikey?” Something shifted in his gaze, and he looked a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t telling me something.

“Get her away from Donnie.” He grunted and pushed up from his chair. “Don’t go making this worse, little brother.” He glowered at us both before heading for the kitchen. But paused at the doorway. “Do you still love her?” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, even though I wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“Yes.” I looked him square in the eye. I could never not love her.

Satisfied with my answer, he retreated into the kitchen and I heard the clatter of dishes in the sink before the back door opened and banged shut.

“Looks like we’re staying.” Lex pushed off the sofa with his laptop. “I’ll do some digging on DeLuca, but Dawson …” The seriousness of his tone made me look up. “Don’t make this personal. We need to keep a low profile. Personal gets messy.” I nodded and bit back my retort because he was right. This was his family’s business; I didn’t want to fuck that up by getting us all involved in a personal vendetta against Donnie. Lex winked at me before disappearing up the stairs, leaving me alone with only one thing on my mind.

Joy.

I had protected her before, and I would do it time and time again.

Only, this time, I would save her.

I
dropped the concealer into the sink and laid my palms flat on the counter. It was no use. Even after two days, the deep purple and blue bruise marring the skin around my left eye wasn’t going away. Not with all the makeup in the world. Eyes squeezed shut, I breathed through the discomfort. It felt like my bone was shattered. Hot, fiery pain seeped out in a dull ache across my cheek. I knew it wasn’t; it was just tender from the impact. Bone on bone. But there was no way I could risk going to the diner. Betty said she would cover for me—again—but not before reminding me that Hank already had it out for me.

The people in Chancing might have turned a blind eye to most things, but it didn’t mean they wouldn’t talk, and I couldn’t stand the thought of serving customers all day with their stares of pity and disapproval. And if Dawson turned up again and saw my face … no, I couldn’t go there.

Dawson.

When I had finally come around, Donnie punished my body. Over and over, clawing, biting, pinching, grabbing. I let myself shut down—as much as I could—and I went to a happier place. A time when my life wasn’t falling apart at the seams. A time when I thought I had so much to look forward to.

Tears trickled down my face, and I took a deep breath, forcing out the memories, before opening my eyes and facing my reality. My stomach lurched at the ugly sight staring back at me. I had to get out of here, but where would I go? To Sherri’s? She’d be itching for a fight with Donnie when she laid eyes on my face, and that wouldn’t do either of us any good. The hollow pit in my stomach started to fill with something else.

Craving … Need.

I left the small bathroom and rushed to the kitchen, yanking open the cupboard in search of something strong. Vodka, whiskey, tequila—it didn’t matter as long as it would take the edge off the hunger burning through me. My hand found the first bottle and pulled it down. Unscrewing the lid, I brought the rim to my lips and tipped it back. Heat exploded in my mouth burning down my throat and into my stomach. My gag reflex worked overtime, but I shut it down, clamping my lips tight to force down the alcohol.

Half a bottle later, the room was spinning. Slumped against the counter, on the cold linoleum, I could no longer feel the searing pain. The hunger, however, was still there, just beneath the surface like an ugly disease trying to claw its way out. My cell phone vibrated again, the seventh or eighth time in the last hour. It was probably Hank … or Donnie … or Mikey. No, it wouldn’t be Donnie. He’d taken what he wanted from me. Which left Hank or Mikey, and neither of them lifted my spirits. But with tingling fingers, I reached across the floor and dragged the phone closer, squinting to see the screen.

Is everything okay?

Just seeing Mikey’s name caused bile to rise up. I clutched my stomach and jumped to my feet, the half-empty bottle of vodka swinging in my hand, and rushed into the bathroom. I made in onto my knees just in time for the rush of acid to spew out into the bowl. My eyes watered and I squeezed them shut as I fumbled to flush. Everything was so far beyond okay I didn’t know who I was anymore.

My phone buzzed again and I groaned still able to taste the vomit in my mouth.

Joy …

Mikey sure was persistent. I didn’t check in with him daily, but if he went more than a couple of days without hearing from me, I would get a text or a call. It had only been three days since I saw them at Shakers, but after everything that happened, it was no surprise Mikey was worried. Unless … no, that couldn’t be it. Dawson wasn’t back for me; he was back to bury his mom. But the look in his eyes when he’d realized I was with Donnie, the confusion … anger.

Don’t go there.

My body ached as I hauled myself up, ignoring my cell phone, and rinsed my face and brushed my teeth. The effects of the alcohol were wearing off too quickly. I could feel. Too much. The shame, regret, and disgust all coiled in my stomach, heavy and suffocating. As I stared at the unrecognizable girl in the mirror, clutching the bottle of liquor like it was her lifeline, something caught my eye in the wall-mounted unit. The door had fallen off its hinges slightly and didn’t shut fully.

No!

Yes.

I surrendered the bottle and plucked the corner of the clear baggie. It slipped through the gap in the door and the shelf. The contents looked so harmless, insignificant. The tiny pills erased any second thoughts about how the bag had ended up in my apartment. Donnie didn’t allow me to keep my own stash—not that I wanted it—and I wasn’t stupid enough to stockpile any behind his back. Deep down, I hated it, hated everything about it. But somewhere along the line, I’d come to crave the high.

The escape.

Ironic, really, that the thing that landed Dawson in prison—the thing that had ruined us—was now the one thing I turned to for comfort. Except you didn’t turn to it, it lured you in. Seductive and lethal.

My fingers hovered over the opening, trembling. Somewhere behind me, my phone vibrated again, and I clamped my eyes shut trying to even out my breathing.

You don’t have to do this.
I didn’t, I really didn’t. I had this under control. It didn’t own me, not yet. Not completely. Donnie made sure of that. He kept me on a short leash and only allowed me to indulge when it suited him. Maybe that was one of the reasons why I was still functioning, still leading some life of normalcy. Because
he
hadn’t allowed me to become an addict. Not like some of the girls at that club who couldn’t dance unless they were strung out. Weed, sure. I had access to an endless supply, but anything stronger—pills, coke, even ice—only came out when Donnie wanted it to. But lately, the cravings were more.

Sickening.

Sometimes, the sheer force of them would take my breath away. So I’d light up a joint or hit the vodka. Anything to take off the edge. And, up until recently, it worked. I only got fucked up when I was with Donnie, and I kept telling myself I was in control.

I wasn’t an addict.

I wasn’t.

I needed to be out of it to survive Donnie, to be around him, to let him touch me.

So why was part of me yearning for the contents of the bag? It called to me.
Just one hit and it all goes away.
But it didn’t. Because when the high faded, the world crashed down around you leaving you wrecked.

My fingers smoothed over the baggie. I wanted to forget: the pain, the bruise, the flash of regret in Dawson’s eyes when I moved to Donnie’s side. I wanted to forget it all. Just for a little while. That was all I ever wanted.

To forget.