Dirty Money (23 page)

“Christopher,” I called out. “Give me a hand here.”

“God, you look disgusting.” He offered a clean, leather clad hand. I grabbed it and jumped as he hauled me up.

I would have protested, but I knew it was true. I was solid mud from the knees down. My back was damp from sweat, and everything else was damp from snow. My hair was bordering on frozen and just long enough to stab me in the eyes. And my nose was running. It was all very sexy.

“Hey, Breno,” I said. He barely spared me a glance before turning back to his hole. Christopher wasn’t kidding. Dude was slow. “Get out. I’ll take over.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’ll do it faster.”

I watched as his inner twenty-year-old argued with his outer middle-aged man. The old man won.

“Help me out.” Breno held up his hands like I had done. Christopher and I hauled him out.

I jumped into the hole. “Check on Esau, okay?”

They nodded and walked toward the blinding headlights. As I picked up the shovel, marginally warm from Breno’s hands, I tried not to think about my last Christmas. It wasn’t any different from anyone else’s Christmas. Not really. I was at my grandparents’, which sucked. But there was a warm fire. Real tree. Family. Presents. I remembered hating that Ryan was back home alone. Not alone, with Reese. They were with all my friends. And I pitied myself for not being with them. I didn’t bother to notice the warmth of my grandma’s hugs or the comfortable silence of reading next to my grandpa on the couch.

Now I was digging a muddy-ass hole in the snow. Not a hole, a grave.

“Christopher.” I don’t know why I yelled. The forest was quiet. Nothing interfered with my speech.

“What’s up?”

“Get in the other hole and start breaking down this wall.” I halted my digging long enough to tap the wall with my shovel.

“All right.”

I knew he didn’t want to. I knew his always-pristine clothing would get wrinkled and muddy. But this was his funeral. It was the least he could do.

We didn’t finish digging until the weak, blue light of dawn began filtering through the trees. Why did the temperature always drop for that hour before and after dawn?

“Breno, get me out of here.” I barely finished the sentence before his hands reached down to me. We both turned and helped Christopher climb out as well. If I looked half as bad as them, I knew I must have looked dead. “Christopher, go change your clothes.”

Christopher nodded wearily. Before getting into Esau’s rented SUV, he stripped off his coat and sweater. Breno rushed to grab a plastic bag for the muddy items. Christopher dropped his pants to knee level before hitching himself onto the seat and kicking away his boots and pants. He emerged moments later in clean pants and a clean shirt.

“Let’s do this fast. It’s cold.” He shivered and I didn’t think it was for show.

“Just a sec. Let me clean my hands.” Breno poured water from a jug into my cupped hands. I scrubbed them, held out my hands for more water. When they were clean, or clean enough, there was still dirt under my nails, Breno handed me a towel.

“I’m not a fan of this plan,” Christopher said.

“Me either.” I shrugged off my jacket. But he kept talking so I waited.

“Why aren’t you a fan? I’m the one getting beaten up.”

“It won’t be enough blood. I want a pool of it around you and on your clothing. So I’m gonna slit my wrist for you. Ready?”

“What?” Christopher asked.

“Need blood. Will cut.” I pointed to the bend of my elbow.

“You don’t need to do that. We don’t need that much blood.”

“Yes, we do. Enough for you to be dead. That’s a lot of blood. Would you rather I used Esau’s? ’Cause I don’t know where that dude has been and I can’t guarantee his cleanliness.”

“But you’re clean?” He didn’t ask in a concerned father voice. It was more a you’re a whore and a liar voice. And I was seriously tired of that voice.

“Damn it, Christopher. Yes, I’m clean. Austin used to make us all get checked every six months. For every imaginable thing. My last test was in June. Since then Reese is the only person I’ve slept with.” I put my fists up. “Now stop pissing me off because I’m about to kick the shit out of you.”

“I still don’t think you should cut yourself for me.” Back to concerned.

I shrugged. Enough talking. I punched him in the face. But I tempered the blow. I didn’t mean to.

“That barely hurt,” Christopher said.

“I know. Sorry. Maybe you should piss me off.”

“You’re a whore.”

“I’ve heard that before. Be original.”

I hit him again. But we all knew I hadn’t hit him that hard. Breno leaned over and whispered something to Christopher.

“Reese is too good for you,” Christopher said.

That worked. I hit him hard enough to make my hand hurt.

“Jesus. Ouch. She’s better looking. She’s smarter.”

I aimed for his eye.

“She’s classier.”

I went for his mouth. Which I now wanted him to shut.

“Fuck. You’ll never be able to respect her.”

My fist glanced off his jaw and landed on his throat. He started coughing.

“What the hell? That wasn’t necessary.” More coughing. Droplets of blood gathered at the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to hit you in the throat.”

“Stupid fuck. She knows you’re not good enough for her.”

My vision went black. I used my left this time. Punched him in rapid succession. Four, five blows to the head. He started to fall, but Breno caught him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Christopher gasped. He grabbed a handful of Breno’s shirt to hold himself up. He wasn’t fine.

“Should we stop?” I asked.

“Not yet.” Breno.

“Yeah, it’s okay. Keep going.” Christopher.

“You sure?”

“You put your family through hell. They asked the police to find you. Hired private investigators. Your mother didn’t leave the house for two months. Your father nearly lost his job. Adriana is in therapy. Didn’t you think about those you left behind?”

I lost my shit. Punched him so fast, so hard, I didn’t think I could stop. I just knew I had to keep hitting him. Make him stop talking.

“Reese probably knew. That’s why she doesn’t want you to find her. Because you’ll just leave her like you left them.”

I moved from his head to his body, pummeling his ribs, stomach, chest. I leaned close, pulled him to me to drive my fist into his kidney. He cursed. I let go of him, moved back to his face. A thick stream of blood leaked from his mouth. His eye was swelling. Lips too. When I broke his nose, Breno grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him.

“Stop. Stop now. That is enough. Shhh, it’s okay,” Breno said.

I felt the fight drain out of me. Breno had one arm around Christopher. Another around me. We would have fallen if he didn’t hold us up.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“I know. Christopher, you still with us?”

“Uh-huh.”

“See? He’s all right,” Breno said.

I stepped back, out of Breno’s embrace.

“Let me help.” I took Christopher’s arm. The one Breno wasn’t holding. We helped him into the backseat of the car.

“He will be fine,” Breno said.

“Yeah, I know that. I just got…carried away.”

“He was lying.”

“What do you mean?”

“About your parents. There’s no way he could know that. We haven’t been back here since you kids left.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“And Reese might be angry with you, but not for those reasons, I’m sure.”

“Totally. Thanks.” I knew he was lying. But it was a nice lie.

“He’s right.” We turned to find Christopher sitting up in the car and watching us. “I was trying to piss you off. Your weak spots are pretty obvious.”

“Thanks.” I smiled. Just a little.

“We still need to do the final blow,” Breno said.

“Ahh, yes. Please hit me in the head some more.” Christopher smiled sardonically.

“Last time, I promise.”

Christopher got out of the car. He was moving slowly. I left Breno to help him stand. When I opened the back of the SUV, Esau was awake and trying to kill me with his eyes. I ignored him and grabbed the baseball bat.

Christopher was waiting. His hands clenched at his sides.

“Make sure there’s bruising on his temple.” Breno traced a finger from the edge of Christopher’s eyebrow out into his hairline.

“Got it. Ready?”

Christopher nodded. I gripped the bat, lined up where I wanted to hit him, and swung. The heavy thud shook my arms on impact.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Christopher reached out and Breno caught him. Again.

“Was that hard enough?”

“It better be. You are not hitting me with that thing again. Christ.” He felt along his temple and winced. “Yeah, that’ll bruise.”

“’Kay. Lie down and I’ll finish it off.”

Christopher nodded and climbed into the backseat. There was a tarp already spread over the leather. I took out my knife, cleaned it with an alcohol wipe. Christopher turned his head so the already forming bruise was up. I cut his skin starting near his eyebrow and ending in his hair. My hand shook as I did it, which was good because it wasn’t a clean, straight cut. Blood welled up and spilled down his face.

“What do you think?” I asked Breno.

“Good. Perfect.”

“Looks like he was slammed into a desk?”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you’re done abusing me?” Christopher was whining now. It made him sound like Ryan. One of their more unattractive traits.

“Stop bitchin’. It’s my turn now. Clean that, would you?” I handed Breno my knife. Pushed my sleeve high above the bend of my elbow.

“Do you want me to cut you?” Breno asked.

“Yeah. Make sure you get the vein.” I pointed to the big vein in the bend of my elbow. When he cut me, I thought it wasn’t so bad. At first. I mean I’d been beaten beyond recognition, shot, and stabbed. A little cut wasn’t going to hurt.

But it did hurt. Like fucking hell. The sound of the blade slicing though my flesh made it hurt worse. I looked down at the gash in my arm, which didn’t help at all.

“Are you okay? You look a little white.” Breno was concerned. How sweet.

“Let’s just do this.” I was not going to break down in front of these guys. I wasn’t. “We should have just opened one of my other wounds.”

“Your other wounds?” Now he was definitely concerned. The two of them were victims of seriously misguided parenting moments. All about ten years too late.

“Umm, yeah. I was stabbed last week.” I tried to push up my sleeve a little more. But the stitches were too high. “Never mind. I’ll show you later.”

“What do you mean you were stabbed? And you said wounds.”

“Don’t worry about it. We can discuss it later.” With that, I extended my arm so the blood would run off my fingertips. I directed the stream at Christopher’s head wound until it looked way more serious than it was. Blood gathered in his hair, then ran down and pooled in his ear.

“Shit. It’s in my eye.” Christopher reached up to wipe it away. I caught his hand.

“Sorry. But you have officially been knocked unconscious. Just close your eyes.”

“Vito better believe you.”

“Just chill, okay?”

Christopher closed his eyes and played dead.

“Come, Cooper. I’ll bandage your arm.” Breno cupped his hand under my not injured arm.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll just be here,” Christopher said.

“I’ve never seen this whiney side of him,” I said quietly to Breno. “I think I prefer the angry asshole.”

“He was worse as a twenty-year-old, if you can imagine it.”

“Sounds horrible.”

Breno smirked and opened the passenger door to the SUV. “Sit.”

“I’m covered in mud.”

“Hmm.” He went to the back of the Escalade. There was a grunt from Esau. He was bound and gagged. Grunting was the most he could do. Breno came back with another tarp. He spread it across the seat. “There.”

“Thanks.” I kept my feet on the runner outside the car. Breno angled himself between my knees. It only took him a few minutes to tape gauze over my cut. Wiping the blood off my arm and hand took longer.

“That will have to do for now. Once we get back, you can shower and I’ll bandage you properly.”

“You remind me of them,” I said quietly.

“I do?” This seemed to make him both happy and sad. Understandably.

“Yes, you look like them. But your mannerisms, like the way you use your hands. It reminds me of Ryan. There’s a kindness about you. He’s the same way.”

His eyes had no trace of their gray, but the look he gave me was melted chocolate and sadness.

“What about Reese?”

“She’s her mother. We both know that.” Breno nodded in agreement. “But when her shields slip…I always wondered. In her vulnerable moments, she has your honesty.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes for a second. Like he was trying to preserve that moment. We both knew I was stretching the truth, but the lie was what mattered.

“Should we go check on the dead man?” I asked.

“I suppose.”

Christopher looked like hell. And the look he gave us indicated he was feeling about as good as he looked. We ignored him.

“You need to drag him,” Breno said.

“Why?”

“It will mess up his clothing, get mud on his heels, but not the bottom of his feet. That way it will look as if you dragged him. You’re working solo here, remember?”

“Got it.” I went to the other side of the car and took off Christopher’s loafers. Then I went back to his head. I lifted him up so his bloody head was on my shoulder, locked my arms under and around his chest, and pulled. Fuck, grown men weighed a lot.

The tarp he was on came out with him, but I didn’t care. If I were alone the same thing would have happened. As I dragged him across the ground, the tarp fell away. Halfway to the grave, I started to lose him. I tightened my arms and hauled him a few more feet out of will more than strength.

“Fuck, man. You’re killing me,” I told him.

“Are you calling me fat?” Christopher sounded all sleepy and shit.

“Yep. I’m gonna put you down.” I lowered him to the ground. I was going to be all kinds of sore tomorrow.

“Come on. You’re almost there,” Christopher said. It sounded encouraging, but he was taunting me.