Drowning (Tears of Sin Series) (2 page)

Molly reads it off to me, and after two minutes of hunting and pecking, I finally find it. “Gotcha, you little bastard.”
“Alice, really?”
Damn. My mouth will be the death of her virgin ears. “Fine. I’ll try to keep it simple.”
I clutch her elbow and help her behind the keyboard, turning on the music she likes to write to—some classical nonsense—and leave her to work. She doesn’t let me get far before she calls out, “Alice. Go. Create.”
Not again. “I’m not feeling it today.” Lie. I do want to paint out Seth James’ beautiful smile. “I’ll watch some TV or do some yoga. I’m good.”
“It’s been weeks since you’ve even talked about your art. If you don’t start creating again and soon, you’re going to explode. I know you.” She pauses. “Last time really broke my heart, Al.”
Last time nearly broke me. I shout back at her, “I don’t hear those fingers clicking keys.”
She makes a noise—a cross between a snort and zerbert—but leaves me alone. I decide to read the letter from my father while Miss Priss is out of the room. God forbid if he makes me cry. He’s probably the only person in the world who has ever been able to.
The utilitarian stationary fits the masculine scrawl written in flawless cursive. My father doesn’t appreciate anything less than perfect—except me. He appreciated me any way he could get me.

The acrid taste of bile and bad memories trickle up my throat. That’s it? Why the fuck even put a stamp on it?
I call out toward the bedroom, “I’m going to step out in the hall.”
Alice’s clicks pause. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, go back to writing. I’ll be right back.” I tug the door shut behind me and pad barefoot down the corridor. To the right, the doorway leading into the stairwell promises me sanctuary. I smash through and brace a hand at either side on the stucco walls. The panic attack wells up inside, threatening to snap my head off as my blood pressure rises. Dark corners bracket the walls, and I find peace in the dark. It calms me just enough to keep me from hyperventilating.
Phantom hands trace a path over my shoulders, down my arms, and stop at my wrists. I can still hear his words,
“Come on, baby girl. Scream for Daddy.”
He didn’t control me anymore. He wouldn’t hurt me. He is nothing. I know this. Know it in the way children believe Santa isn’t real but still hope. Know it in the way the idea of love kept every woman hoping to change a man, even when they won’t. Know it in the way children trust in adults to protect them—mothers, teachers, and even priests—but they don’t.
The hoodie is stifling me. I rip it off and press back against the scratchy wall and scream out my anguish. I scream and scream until my voice garbles into a hoarse rattle. Tears seep from the corners of my eyes. Damn him. He’s done it once more.
I slide down the wall. The pointed edges of the stucco bite into the bare parts of my shoulders exposed by my tank top, and I wrap my arms around my legs. He’d written that it was my fault like I wasn’t aware of the fact. The asshole has always regretted his transgression—as he likes to call it—with my mother, and never fails to remind me of it. I’d been a regret most of my life, except for when I was
“Daddy’s good girl.”
But for him to throw that shit back at me, when I am doing everything I know how to make up for it, hurts. It hurts deep. Deeper than the bruises. Deeper than the welts. Deeper than the reminder of what I’d done to Molly. And the pain doesn’t come from his words as much as the truth in them. Everything was my fault.
The door to the stairwell bursts open and my humiliation burns hotter. Seth James glowers over me. He sucks in a ragged breath like he’d run a race and kneels to one knee. “Are you okay?” He reaches out, and I flinch away from him. “You’re a mess.” One hand lowers. His fingers twitch in a come here motion in front of my face, and he waits. “Come on.”
I press my forehead to my knees. “Go. Away.” The thought of dying right here on this cold stairwell is more appealing than ever.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Something in his voice catches my attention, and I raise my head. I have to look at him. His thumb rubs a tear from my cheekbone, and I suck in all the comfort I can from that touch. “You’ve fucked up your face.”
We could stay like this—at a standstill—for hours, but I’m tired of being alone with all this guilt. It would be nice to let someone else carry the burden for me. For just a few minutes.
“Why are you here? I wanted to be left alone.” I slide my fingers against his, and he draws me up from my hiding place. My breath holds at how close he is, and at the unexpected gentle grip around my palm.
“Shouldn’t have been making so much noise.” He glances back at me, tugging at my hand and leads me toward the hall, into the light. I jerk against him. I need to get my hoodie back on before he sees me. His grip tightens, and he stops. “Are you mental?”
“No. What the hell kind of question is that?” In all honesty, probably a practical one. I’d gone through almost every gambit of the emotional roller coaster since our chance encounter this morning.
He glances over his shoulder. One dark brow arches.
“N-no. I’m not.”
He doesn’t say anything else and continues down the hall. After opening his apartment door, he guides me inside. I try to work my fingers loose, but he won’t release me, and oddly, I’m not scared.
“Where are we going?”
He shakes his head and points forward like that’s a good enough answer to drag some strange woman into his apartment. “You’re bleeding.”
I reach over my shoulder to the raised scratches decorating my skin and pull away with two damp fingers. I’ve had worse. “I can clean up at home.” I twist my wrist against his unforgiving grip. “How do I know you’re not going to take me in there and rape me or something?”
He stops, spins around, and leans into me until I’m forced to step back. “If I wanted to hurt you, I’d have done it on the stairwell and not in my apartment.” His eyes hold me captive. I shiver beneath the glare and drag my hoodie to my chest. He glances at my neck, the bare bits of my exposed shoulders, and then back to my face.
I think he meant it as a joke, but the perversion of the statement didn’t strike me as funny. “Hey, listen. I was only seeking a place to vent. I don’t need a knight in shininggrey-T-shirt to come to my rescue.”
He grins and winks. “I’m nobody’s hero, baby.”

W
ITH THAT
, I
TWINE MY
fingers through hers and lure her down the hall. She has scars all over her upper body. Some are larger than others. Some had different patterns, but they all look like they were created from something horrific. I want to ask her what happened, but I think she’ll bolt. It’s not my business anyway.
I drag her around a few open boxes. The guys still haven’t arrived with the bulk of my shit, and I don’t need this curious girl with the mouth that makes me smile or the eyes that notice too much to ask too many questions. She quit fighting me somewhere between the living room and the hall that leads to my master bath, and the fact that I’d even forced her in the first place doesn’t sit quite right in my stomach, but I wanted more time with her.
I think she needs someone to take control sometimes. I don’t think she’ll like it, but she does need it.
We stop in my ridiculously huge bathroom that’s more pretty than manly and doesn’t really suit my needs. For now, it’s free, so I don’t complain. The pale beige room reminds me of egg slime lined with small black stones. Pretty. She’ll probably like it. I glance back, and she’s taking it all in with those big, brown doe eyes.
“Wow.”
I snort. Of course.
“Up.” I lift her to the vanity. She doesn’t weigh anything. I’d have thought her at least twenty pounds heavier, but I guess sweats can do that to a girl.
She watches every move I make, like she’s barely tolerating my hand along her jaw and the cool damp cloth I use to wipe her tear-stained face. I’m not sure that anyone’s ever done this for her before, but they should have. She’s softening under my fingertips. The tension has eased from around her lips, almost involuntarily like they want to tell me something even when she doesn’t. I’d give anything to crawl inside her head. I’d never been a good communicator and after Mom left, I was even worse. Growing up in a house of men, no one else noticed, but I’d need words if I wanted to get to know this woman better.
I rinse the rag and swipe at the dried blood on her shoulder. My knuckles graze a raised ridge of flesh, and she flinches. I feel her gaze on me.
“So, what are you like a pre-med student? Is that why you feel the need to drag complete strangers into your lair and mend them?” There’s a bit of a bite to her question, but I ignore it.
“No.”
My fingers keep slipping from the cloth and dragging across her skin.
She glances over her shoulder at the mirror. “I think that’s good.”
Shit, I’d freaked her out. I step back and sling the dirty, wet rag to the floor of the tub.
She wrinkles her nose at me. “You’re cute, but next time, I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Thanks. I think. I don’t mind helping you.” I wait for a hint from her. A flair of the eyes. A deep inhale. Most girls are easy. I don’t have to talk. It’s enough to just have this face. I’m not usually this out of place around a woman, but this girl sets me out of sorts. I press forward—to see if I can even the game a little—aligning myself between her thighs. I stroke both thumbs below her eyes, removing the mascara smudges.
She grasps my forearms. “Sure about that?”
“Y-yeah.”
She drops her gaze. I think she knows that I know her too well in that look. I use it to peek deep into her soul the same way she’s digging at mine, and if I’m not careful, we’ll see our monsters reflecting behind the stare.
“Are you going to tell me who hurt you?”
“My father.” The words twist from her full lips. “I…I don’t want to talk about it.”
I lift her face with one hooked finger beneath her chin. “I’d like to be friends.”
“I can’t.”
I get it. She’s hurting, and I know what pain like that can do to your soul. I step back and nod. “Don’t cry over him. Those tears give him power.”
She smiles, and I feel like someone whacked me behind the knees.
“It’s a good thing he never sees them.”
I nod again and catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Talk about flipping through the channels of getting to know someone. I fucking suck at this.
“Uh…no.”
Maybe I’d imagined her teasing earlier. “Girlfriend?”
“No. Well, almost once, but that was a form of curiosity and the fact that Lisa Sweeny’s touch was more tolerable than most of the boys I’d tried to date in high school. It hadn’t taken me long to realize I was tolerating her for the intimacy with another human on human contact and not because I wanted a relationship.”
That was quite a share, and I take a minute to absorb it. I brace an arm on either side of her and lean close, staring her down. “You’re honest.”
“I have no reason to lie.” Her fingers dig into my pecs, pushing me away before she hops off the counter. “Thanks for the rag and wipe down, but I have to get back. I shouldn’t have been gone this long.”
She passes through the bathroom door, but I catch her upper arm and pull her back against my chest. Her hips fit into the cradle of my thighs. I can’t explain this fear I have in letting her go. It’s an irrational theory that she’ll always run if I don’t make her stay.
I watch for any hint that I’m getting to her too. And then she shifts, her neck lifts just a fraction of an inch. I resist the urge to place a chaste kiss there. Instead, I have to know. “You aren’t mad at me?”
She steps forward, and I release her. “Why would I be mad? For being nice and helping to pull me back together? Sorry, Gorgeous, but that doesn’t usually piss me off. It’s not often that someone cares enough.” She winks and backs up toward the door. “You just might be wrong about that hero thing.”
“You’re going to be a problem. I can see it now.”
“Nah, G. you won’t even know I’m around.”
“What’s up with the ‘G.’ thing?” She’s nervous now. It’s cute. I hope she’ll rise to the challenge and stay. Talk to me some more. That hope alone is scary as hell.
“You know you’re hot. And, you haven’t introduced yourself yet—even though you did caveman me to your apartment under the guise of helping me. So…I’ll call you G. until you find your manners.”
I laugh—this girl makes me do that. “What about you? I don’t know your name either.”
She’s staring at my mouth and my cock twitches. The reaction can’t be helped.
“Well, I didn’t kidnap
you
, so I figure it’s your go first.”
“Oh?” I go for it, stalking forward until her back hits the closed apartment door. I reach for the knob, brushing her hip with my thumb. “Seth. Seth James.” I dip my face lower. Our foreheads brush before I back up a fraction of an inch. “Now, you know me.”
“I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but the truth is that it’s been awkward and semipsycho.”
I snort. She’s not too far off the mark. I never act like this. “Who are you?”
“I’m…late.” For whatever reason, she’s not planning on giving me her name, and it turns me on even more. “I’ll see you around.”
She twirls and rips the door open before I can recover. “Wait.”
The tear-stained little hellcat shuts the door across the hall, and I’m left standing here with a semi and a need to know her more. Her scent lingers by the door. Sweat, outdoors, and something feminine but wild. Like a lovesick asshole, I take another deep breath, holding onto her memory for as long as possible.
“Seth. What are you doing in the hall?”
I feel the first degree heat rising in my cheeks. No way in hell I want my baby brother to see me following the perfumed air. “Nothing. Talking to my neighbor.” I wipe away any lingering redness from my face and frown at him. “You guys are late.”
My little bro stands a good three inches taller than me and looks like a UFC fighter, but has a heart of gold, and I am constantly stuck with the job of protecting it. Yet, I’m usually the one busting his chops.
“We stopped for food. The guys are bringing the trucks around, and Deacon has the beer and pizza. They should be up in a few.” He breezes past me. “I figure we’d eat and get your shit loaded.” A screeching whistle squeaks from between Gabe’s teeth. “How the hell are you going to fill this up? Wait.” He spins around and slaps his hands together. This isn’t going to be good. “I got it. Let’s leave this room completely empty, and we can have huge parties up here. We can charge and everything. It should help you pay off your equipment loan, and it will irritate the hell out of Dad.”
I shake my head. I didn’t need to give my father any ammunition for putting me out. The last few years were hard enough without me adding unnecessary fuel to the flame.
“Ah come on, Seth. A few to piss him off? Maybe one or two?”
“Why do you want to piss off Dad?”
Gabe finds the floor fascinating and refuses to meet my gaze much like when we were kids and I was fussing at him. “We’ve been having some problems.”
My dad was a fairly reasonable guy, just an absent father. “What did you do?”
“None of anybody’s business.” Gabe turns his back to me, and I know I won’t get anything else from him. Aside from me, I’m not sure if there’s a more stubborn bastard on the planet.
Many times when we were younger, we’d resort to heavy wrestling matches to settle our differences, but rarely did I take him on anymore. He doesn’t work out as much as I do, but he still can put me down and has been doing it for the last three years.
“You know I can’t piss him off. I need this place.” I pace up to Gabe, spin him around, and twist his shirt around my knuckles. “Get this through your head, kid. I mean no.”
“Shit.” Gabe bends my pinky finger back until I release him. “Fine. What fire crawled up your ass? I haven’t heard this much chatter from you since junior high and Macy Doss let you grope her boob.”
I shrug and grin. It’s probably the little senorita next door, but I’m not ready to share that with him.
Deacon and Evan file in through the still open door. Their laughter stops when they see the tension easing between us. Deacon balances pizza in one hand and carries a case of beer with the other. “Damn, can’t we leave you two alone for a minute?”
“Just putting big bro in his right place.” Gabe flicks a hand out and thumps me.
While I’m pulling my left nut out of my ear, I hear them high-five each other. Evidently, my ass was even less popular with my band than I thought. I’ve been so cranky with all the fights with my dad that I’ve been a total dick to them. These are my friends. Deacon and Evan are just as close to me as Gabe. We’re brothers in heart, and I’d do anything for them and them for me. It’s time to get my shit straight and get focused. They counted on me to get this music gig off the ground. I couldn’t let them down.
“No parties, Gabe. I mean it.” My voice still hasn’t dropped back to normal, but I’ll be damned if he is going to know it.
Deacon laughs. “I told you.” He carries the food and beer into my kitchen and drops them onto the bar separating the living space. “Gabe, you have parties at your dad’s all the time. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to have some place you can go and relax?”
Gabe flips Deacon off and snags a beer. I, in turn, yank the beer from Gabe and gift him with my very own love tap. He bends forward so fast he pops his head against the bar top and falls on his ass. Evan and Deacon hoot, and the high-pitched giggle from the door makes us all groan.
Lilith has found us.
“What are you guys doing?” She rotates her hips in a ridiculous sway and stops beside me, brushing her thigh against mine. “Hi, Seth. Love your new condo. Is there room for sleepovers?”
“God, Lil, can you not be a slut for two minutes.” Gabe swallows down his beer in a few quick slugs and tosses the empty bottle in the sink. It doesn’t shatter, but I still scowl at him. He’d better get his shit together and calm the fuck down. “I’m getting after it. Tone her down before I get back.”
Deacon watches Gabe disappear around the corner. “What crawled up his ass?”
I shrug and follow his gaze. We still haven’t shut my door, and for some reason, my eyes keep darting to the neighbor’s place. I wonder if she’s thinking about me. If I got under her skin the way she’d somehow penetrated mine.
“Seth, you okay?” Lilith tips up on her toes and traces a thumb across my chin. “You seem distracted.”
I dodge her hand. “I have a lot to do.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here. To help.” She strokes my forearm, and I inch out of her reach. Lilith is the fourth lead singer we’ve had in a year, and she’s decent. I can’t afford to piss her off. I can sing, but I don’t write songs for a male lead. Probably something to do with my fucked-up view of women.
Gabe makes it back with a box under each arm. “Are you guys going to stand around shooting the shit or give me a hand?” He drops the boxes next to the door and turns for the next trip.
Something is going on with Gabe. He’s normally the life the party, but today he’s full of attitude.
“Wow, I didn’t know he was going to be this pissy.” Lil places a hand on her hip and twists her mouth into a frown.
Worry creeps in, and I know that somehow my little brother has fucked up once again. “What do you mean?”
“Well, last week we partied, and ever since then, he’s been a big baby.” Oh fuck.
Deacon pats me on the shoulder and asks the questions that I can’t. “You partied?”
I hope like hell she’s talking about beer and maybe even an all-night fuck session. My bro was known to gift the girls with a good time, but hell, if he was partying with Lilith, he may be into more than I’d thought.
Deacon snaps a finger in the blonde’s face. “Lil?”
“We hooked up, did some blow, and crashed. It wasn’t much, Seth. Don’t be mad at him.” She plops out her bottom lip in a pout. I’ve never wanted to hit someone so bad, but my dad raised me to never lay my hand on a woman, and I’d be damned if this trash was going to make me disrespect him like that.
Evan and Deacon snag each of Lilith’s arms and gently prod her toward the door. “Come on, let’s go grab some things and give Seth a minute to calm down.”
“What?” She glances from Deacon to Evan and back at me. “Are you mad? Jealous? Cause, you know the only reason I did him is because of you, right?”
I don’t know how much more of her I can take. A deep sigh bursts from my lips, and Deacon stretches a hand around her waist. “Come on, hot stuff. Let’s help Gabe.” He tows her reluctant body toward the door and shakes his head at me. “We’ll be back up in five.”
This is not supposed to be happening. It took me two years to convince my dad to let me have the condo and another six months to calm him down after I told him I left college to devote my time to my music. I didn’t go through all that hell so that Lilithfucking-skank-snatch could do my brother and mess with the band. No matter what, I have to keep my cool and let the two of them play this out. I have to. But when she leaves, I am taking Gabe straight to the doc to get his dick swabbed.