Poughkeepsie (26 page)

She’d never been with two men before. She’d never been naked in a men’s room before. She’d never had a man tell her he loved her before.

She could see herself in one smudged mirror, and the ones on either side were cracked into patterns like spider webs. Her reflection showed her the truth. She wasn’t some beautiful siren being seduced by two men at once. She was a stupid girl getting pawed at by two balding idiots who didn’t even know her name. She almost said nothing.
I’ve agreed to this, haven’t I? I am this, aren’t I?

But then something glittering on the taller one caught her attention. Buried in his thick, graying chest hair was a gold cross.
Cross. I do not want this. Cole. I do not want this!

Her head said it a few more times before her mouth had the courage to utter the words out loud. The shorter one had latched onto her right breast with his mouth like a leech. The taller one had untied her other heel and started working on her impossible pants.

Her voice was quiet at first. “I don’t want this.”

Their lack of response poured urgency in her words.

“I’m sorry. Stop.
I don’t want this!”
Kyle began to shake when they still showed no sign of hearing her.

Then the taller one went from his “ofyou” mantra directly into a snarl. “Listen, sweetheart. This was your idea. This roller coaster has left the station, so just hang on for the ride.”

He then stepped on one high heel’s laces while the shorter one stepped on the other’s, which bound her feet to the floor. She knew then that they’d planned this, at least a little. With her legs now immobile, each one grabbed an arm. Kyle had her voice left to fight with, but her shame gagged her quiet. The taller one finally figured out the two hook-and-eye closures on her pants, and she felt them loosen.

“I do not want this,” she repeated. She sobbed now, and couldn’t speak nearly as loudly as she wanted to.

Then all three looked up at the sound of the lock on the thick bathroom door clicking into place. Kyle looked in the mirror for a glimpse of her next attacker.
There are three of them now
.

But it was Cole’s face she saw. For a moment she thought her heart was projecting his image into the mirror in sheer hope. But he was there, dressed like a dad in khaki pants and a plaid shirt.

Cole had no swagger. Cole had no menacing words. Cole didn’t even wind up when he punched so viciously that the last unbroken mirror shattered with the impact of the taller man’s head.

Beckett shook his head to clear it of his obsession with Eve’s bloodstained lips. All business, she reported to him what she’d learned so far.

“The tags on that truck belong to a Chris Simmer. He’s the one who Tweeted looking for Livia and Blake.”

Beckett contemplated how to proceed.
Nothing rash
. Chris Simmer would die, of course, but Beckett’s plans were too third-world interrogation room to implement in a parking lot with a crapload of eyeballs watching.

Beckett watched the lineup of cars sitting in the traffic jam. Though they were surely frustrated, the drivers refused to leave the safety of the painted lines that marked the pretend road in the lot.
Neat, orderly motherfuckers.
After a simple hand gesture from Beckett, two of his douchebags used their cars to block the front and back of the line of vehicles like beads on a necklace.

Beckett and Eve stood in companionable silence for a bit.

“What to do? What do you think, you sweet, sexy bitch?” Beckett stared into the headlights of the F-250.

“Now’s not your moment, but you should scare him enough to stay away from Blake,” Eve said.

Beckett nodded and headed for the truck. He jumped easily onto the running board and smiled like he was delivering Chris Simmer a big check and a bunch of balloons. Chris rolled down the window.

Beckett leaned in to look around the cab while he spoke. “Hey, dude! Are you here for some fun times and partying?”

Chris raised an eyebrow, emphasizing how unimpressed he was. “Yeah, dude,” he accented the
dude.
“Why are we all boxed in?”

Beckett leaned back to take in the lineup of potential-Blake-beating watchers. He took a deep breath, his lungs filling with anger and menace. When Beckett met Chris’s eyes again, Chris’s whole demeanor had changed. He seemed to grow smaller in his seat.

“Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy. Give me your goddamn phone.” All the while Beckett smiled.

“I’m not that comfortable with that—and how the fuck do you know my name?” Chris reached for the button to raise the window, as if a thin layer of glass could ever protect him from Beckett.

Beckett almost laughed. Almost. But he hadn’t liked the use of the word
fuck
in Chris’s response. Beckett waited for the glass to reach about halfway up before he grabbed it and leaned back until it snapped off in his hands. Chris kept his finger on the window button long after it was obvious nothing was left to respond anymore.

Beckett hated to repeat a request, so he just stared at Chris.

“What? My phone? Fine. Here.” Chris rotated his phone off his hip clip.

Beckett scrolled through his messages.

Chris tried a threat. “My fiancée’s dad is a cop, so I’d be careful what you say to me.”

Beckett handed the phone back. “Oh, Chrissy, I’m going to be so careful with you. Have no worries.”

Just then the club door flew open and Merkin came sprinting in Beckett’s direction. Beckett felt his stomach curl in a ball.
What the hell?

He stepped down from Chris’s truck to receive Merkin’s frantic whisper: “Cole’s locked in the men’s room with Kyle. Someone’s screaming.”

Beckett tossed a look at Eve that told her to finish threatening Chris. She sauntered over to the truck as Beckett took off running, through the doors of the club and straight to the men’s room. He pushed through the crowd of his douchebags who’d formed a ring around the door so the regular crowd couldn’t get a peek at the ruckus.

He grabbed the nearest minion. “Make that music as loud as you can and clear this club.”

Beckett reluctantly turned his eyes to the porthole to the men’s room. The tile walls were already sprinkled with blood, and inhumane screams emanated from inside. Beckett put his hands on the metal door. There were only a few feet of visible space before the locker room turned a corner, giving Cole privacy to do his worst.
Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Cole, it’s me! Let me in. For God’s sake, Cole!” Beckett kept his hands flat on the door, wishing he could melt the metal with them.

The screaming stopped. Beckett tried again, yelling over the music to be heard. His phone buzzed and he checked the text from Eve:

Police r on their way 2 lock down 4 underage drinking. ETA 6 minutes.

Beckett gave a silent thanks that his crew monitored the police scanner as he texted Eve back:

Cl4ear the patrking lot of the purn#ks

“Cole, you have to let me in. I have to be
in
there to help.” Beckett banged the door in the quick pattern they’d used in foster care. The code promised it was safe to open the door.

“Merk, where the hell’s Blake? Where’s Livia?” Beckett yelled.

“I’m on it, boss.” Merkin headed for the dancefloor.

Beckett saw movement in the porthole. Cole approached in a red-stained plaid shirt and bloody priest pants. He didn’t look at the window as he clicked the dead bolt open. Beckett opened the door and closed it behind him with a snap of the lock.

The scene around the corner was so bloody it was almost funny. Almost. And a scared Fairy Princess with her top around her waist sobered him immediately. Her fucking huge eyes stared at Cole. He would have to work quickly.

Cole’s turned to face her as he whispered, “Kyle, I know you must be really afraid of me right now. I promise I won’t move. Beckett will take you home, okay?”

Kyle stared blankly at them. Slowly she straightened herself, stood, and walked across the bloody floor to stand in front of Cole. Only then did she speak. “I’m so sorry. Look what I did. Now these men are…are they dead? All because I wanted to punish myself? You must be so ashamed of me.”

“Can I remove my shirt?” Cole asked.

Kyle nodded. He unbuttoned his shirt and held it out to Kyle, who didn’t move. Beckett sighed, took the shirt, and put it around Fairy Princess, covering her fantastic rack. He tried to button it up, but Cole’s shirt had the smallest fucking toddler-sized buttons. He wound up getting them all matched with the wrong holes. But at least her tits were hidden now.

Kyle stepped into Cole’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. They fit together like two quotation marks. Beckett didn’t want to rush this sweet nonsense, but the cops would be here any freaking minute. He cleared his throat anxiously.

“Please leave with Beckett. Are you okay? Did I get here in time?” Cole spoke into the top of Kyle’s head.

“I’m fine. I’m stupid, but I’m fine. I think I’m going to be sick.” Kyle remained cuddled in Cole’s arms.

Beckett heard the secret knock again and felt a surge of joy that Blake was safely on the other side. He grabbed Kyle’s arm and led her away from Cole. He had a feeling if Kyle had had even one fewer drink, pulling her away would’ve been a whole lot harder.

“Wait—come with me, Cole.” She looked confused and guilty.

Cole returned and took her hand. “Kyle, will you promise me something? It’s all I’ll ever ask of you, please?”

“Yes. I’ll promise you anything.” Kyle looked into his eyes.

“Don’t let that girl inside you win. Ever again. Be the real Kyle. Promise me you’ll be
you
.” Cole looked desperate.

Kyle shook her head, eyes pleading, but she responded in the affirmative. “I promise. Cole, what’s next?”

Cole looked around the room sadly. One man was clearly dead and the other moaned softly.

“My sweet, beautiful Kyle, I have to atone for what I’ve done here. I want you far, far away when they put the cuffs on me.”

Kyle’s eyes widened, and she struggled valiantly against Beckett’s instant grip on her.

He popped the lock and passed the bundle of squirming Kyle to Blake. “Bro, take Mouse and get her home. She’ll be puking soon.”

Livia looked furious and immediately pounded Kyle with high-pitched questions about the blood on Cole’s shirt. Kyle stopped cursing and struggling long enough to tell Livia she was okay. Beckett slammed the men’s room door and locked it again. He had just moments to make this right.

“Cole, you need to leave. Right now.” Beckett started punching the wall to bruise his hands.

“I’m taking this, Beckett.
I
did this. I could have just disabled them. But when I heard her say no I just…” Cole seemed resigned to his fate.

“They were trying to rape her?” Beckett hit the wall with enough force to hear something crack—either a tile or a knuckle.

“She said, ‘I do not want this,’ and they were all over her.” Cole glared at the men on the floor.

Beckett grabbed his brother by his shoulders. “Listen to me. The police are on their way. I know you want to take this and nail it to that giant fucking cross you’re carrying around, but I can’t have you in prison. Who the hell will take care of Blake?”

Cole looked unmoved.

“You and I both know I’ve already outlived my shelf life. Do you think I’ll make it for another twenty years while you’re locked up? Who’ll make sure Blake gets what he needs if we’re both gone? It has to be you. Let’s face it, I deserve to be arrested—so many times over. So many times. Look at me.”

Cole stared at the still-breathing man.

“How many lives will you save if I’m in prison?” Beckett continued. “Hundreds? Thousands? Do it for the people I haven’t killed yet.”

Cole turned to look at Beckett.
Success
. The combination of Blake and the yet-to-be-harmed had done it. Cole let himself be dragged to the door. Merkin was waiting.