Rampant (6 page)

Jax pulled two beers from the fridge, popped the caps off both, and slid one over to me.

“Isn't it a little early for that?” I asked, gesturing toward the dark ale. It was barely 10 a.m.

“For this conversation?” He raised a brow. “Doubt it.” He turned the chair around and straddled it, and again I willed my mind to reach out and catch a memory.

“Did something happen here?” I gestured to the table spanning the distance between us.

“Lots of stuff happened here.” His mouth quirked into a half smile, half smirk as he tipped the bottle back and took a swig. He set the beer back on the table with a loud clunk. “Look, I said we’d talk once you got out. I know you have questions, so let’s get to it. What do you wanna know?”

That was a fucking loaded question. “Let’s start with why I was locked up.”

“The sheriff didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head, remembering how he’d questioned me in the hospital, as if I were guilty of shooting myself or something. Lyle Lewis hadn’t changed a bit, from what I could tell. His contemptuous attitude really dug under my skin. Fucking ridiculous that the town bully would become sheriff. “He didn’t tell me shit, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass about finding the fucker who shot me either.”

“I’m not surprised. Nikki told me about the uproar he’s stirred in town. He’s the reason half of Dante’s Pass hates your guts, man.” Jax winced. “Sorry, probably too brutal. Never been good with tact.”

“When did you talk to Nik? Do you guys know each other?”

He took a long drink of his beer before answering. “We talked at the hospital.”

The idea of Jax getting close to her bothered me, but I couldn’t say why. Maybe because I still thought of her as mine, even though Lyle the-fucking-sheriff Lewis had made it a point to tell me they were engaged to be married in a few weeks.

“What’d you talk about?”

“You, mostly. She was pissed you wouldn’t see her.”

Shame fissured me. I hadn’t wanted her to see me like that. I still didn’t, but too much history existed between us to avoid seeing her forever, and refusing her visit had been a low, cowardly move.

Jax cleared his throat, the sound shattering more than just the unspoken
stuff
between us; it obliterated the facade. The sheriff, Nikki, and even Jax’s involvement with her—none of it mattered as much as filling in the blanks of the last eight years.

“So we met in prison?” I asked, finally tiptoeing toward the core of the matter.

He nodded. “We were cellmates. We’ve had each other's back since the day you saved my life.”

My eyes widened. “What happened?”

Jax wouldn’t look at me. “Prison was tough on both of us. I think we should leave it in the past. What’s done is done. All that matters is I owe you my life.”

I wanted to push for an explanation, details of my time in there, but I left it for now. “How long was I in for?
What
was I in for?”

Jax lifted his brown eyes to mine, and his stare never wavered. “You sure you’re ready to hear this? I’m thinking your brother might be right. Losing your memory is heavy shit.”

“I didn’t take advice from Adam back then and I’m sure as hell not gonna start now. Tell me what happened.”

He drew in a breath, let it out. “You were in eight years for rape.”

What the…?

His words lingered, an echo that wouldn’t stop bouncing between my ears. “There’s…no. I couldn’t have done it. That’s just…”

“You didn’t do it.”

He sounded so matter-of-fact. I narrowed my brows, gripping the table to keep from springing to my feet. “How do you know? You said we met in there. Everyone in prison says they’re innocent.”

“Trust me. I know. You don’t have an iota of rapist gene in you. Well, you didn’t until she had you locked up for it. Her accusation tore your life apart. Dude, I’m being straight with you about this. You’ve done some fucked up shit, but you didn’t do that.”

“Who accused me?”

He took another draw from his beer, and the ensuing silence made me want to scream at him to spit it out.

“I’m not sure we should get into that shitstorm yet. Maybe you should give it some time. Wait for the memories to resurface on their own.”

“Who was it, Jax?”

He lowered his head with a sigh, as if he regretted the words before he said them. “Alex De Luca.”

I pushed back from the table so suddenly, the chair toppled over in my haste to get away. But there was no getting away from this. I might not remember the last eight years, but I remembered her. I recalled the delicate features of her face—high cheekbones, a kissable mouth I still ached to taste, and the sensual tones of her voice. Her image burned in my brain, as if I’d seen her just yesterday, and in a way, I had. My last memory of Alex wasn’t from eight years ago; it was from a few weeks ago.

Turning my back to Jax, I propped my good arm against the counter and hung my head. Closed my eyes. Focused so intently, I gave myself a headache that rivaled the throb in my shoulder.

Nothing.

Just an empty vault where eight years of memories should reside. No matter what Jax said, I doubted my innocence. I couldn’t believe I’d force myself on her, but she was…she’d been underage, and I wanted her with an uncontrollable urge so sharp, it sliced me up every time I got within ten feet of her.

I held that secret close. No one knew, except for maybe Alex herself. I gave a slight jerk of my head. I still hadn’t reconciled the shift in time. Then. Now. It confused the heck out of me.

“You okay?” Jax asked.

I clenched my jaw. “Yeah.”

She had to have known how I felt, especially considering the way we’d gravitated toward each other, orbiting with a forbidden vibe. How we’d pounced on every chance to banter and tease. Those intense glances she’d sent my way were too familiar. They’d imparted the same need I’d kept hidden since the day I noticed her as more than a child…more than the kid sister of my best friend.

No. Impossible. I wouldn’t have done that, no matter how much I’d wanted to.

“You don’t seem okay.”

Was
I okay? I had no fucking clue. I turned around. “What kind of ‘fucked up shit’ did I do?”

Jax hesitated, only for a moment, but it was long enough to make me squirm. “Maybe you should take a peek in the cellar.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with any of this?”

He rose, scooting the chair back in a grating manner, and chugged the rest of his beer. He glanced at mine, still untouched on the table, and lifted a brow. But he didn't say anything about my aversion to drinking the day away. “Come see for yourself.”

It felt odd to follow someone else in Dad’s cabin, but I didn't complain as he led the way to the cellar door. He pulled it open and switched on the light. We descended the stairs, and upon first sight of a cage that closely resembled a prison cell, my mouth dropped open.

“What the hell is that?”

“That's where you kept Alex after we kidnapped her.”

“We
what
?”

“Dude, she ruined your career and your reputation. One little lie from a De Luca and your life went up in smoke. Losing your dad was the final hit. I don't blame you for wanting revenge.”

He continued speaking, but I couldn't hear the words through the blaring noise in my ears, the throbbing pain at my temples. My attention cut to the cage again. Had I built it? It was sturdy, the sort of prison that wouldn’t be easy to escape from, and I didn’t miss the hook in the ceiling or the cuffs dangling from it. What the fuck had I done?
Who
had I become?

A feeling I couldn’t pin down fell upon my chest, making it difficult to breathe, and the fantasies I’d ignored since early adolescence surfaced. Those cuffs, the ability to lock away another human being…a sexy, vulnerable
woman
…I squeezed my free hand into a fist as my dick hardened. Fuck me and my deviant thoughts.

Just fantasies.

They didn’t mean anything, and they sure as fuck didn’t mean I’d lost my damn mind by acting on them. I stumbled back, gripped my head, and told myself to breathe. “I wouldn't have done this.” My voice sounded far away, as if filtering through the hollow of a tunnel. Someone else's voice. Someone else's life.

Someone else did this.

“I'm sorry, man. This was what I was afraid of. I shouldn't have brought you down here.”

With morbid curiosity, my eyes veered to the cage again, and one glaring detail finally punched me in the face. A locked up prison cell, but no prisoner cowering inside. If I’d kidnapped her…then where the fuck was she?

The fall from euphoria was like hurtling through the air without a parachute. Hitting bottom hurt worse than anything. I remembered everything. How deliriously I’d wanted him, how strong our connection was during those hours when only an infinite amount of pleasure existed. Sorrow, grief, guilt…none of it had burdened me.

I didn’t have to open my eyes to know the warm body against mine, clutching me possessively, was Zach’s and not Rafe’s. His hangover stench attacked my sense of smell. With a deep groan, I leaned over the side of the bed and vomited every last memory onto the hardwood, purged it all from my system. But my system refused to stop spiraling into the depths of horror.

I’d sucked his cock. Willingly, wantonly. Like the whore he always accused me of being. Somehow, in the confusion of my fucked up mind, I’d thought he was Rafe. How was that even possible?

“What did you give me?” I asked, my voice raspy from deep sleep. After we’d fucked half the night away and the restless energy in my veins subsided, I’d conked out like the dead.

“Just a little ecstasy.”

I shook my head, untangling from his hold. “I’ve tried E before. That was…something else.”

“That was the purest shit you’ll ever come across.” He rolled me until we lay face to face. “Plus I gave it to you anally. I knew it would open you up.” He slid a hand down my hip, around my upper leg, and burrowed between my clenched thighs.

I shrank from his touch, and his eyes darkened. His hand inched higher while he tangled his other in my hair, yanking until my eyes watered.

“Let me go.”

His hairy leg slid between mine, giving him enough room to shove his fingers in me. “You’re gonna get wet for me, Lex.”

I closed my eyes, clicked my teeth together, and tried to tune out his heavy breathing, but I couldn’t ignore his touch. He spread me wide, thrust deep, pulled out, brushed my clit, and repeated the process over and over at an unyielding pace. A subtle pressure built in my core, increasing with the slide of his fingers. I drew blood from my lip to keep from rocking my hips.

Oh God. Why? Where had my armor of apathy gone?

He leaned forward, his lips expelling rapid breaths into my ear, and whispered, “Welcome back.” Withdrawing his hand from my pussy, he forced his fingers into my mouth. “Taste that. That’s want. That’s
need
.”

I chomped down hard. As he jerked away, trying to save himself from another vicious bite, I scrambled in the opposite direction and crashed to the floor. “I hate you!”

“Last night, you said you loved me.”

“You drugged me!”

“No, I freed your mind and worked past all the shit you carry around with you. You think it’s wrong for us to be together?” He propped himself up on his elbows and glared down at me from the edge of the mattress. “Last night, you didn’t feel that way.” He reached out and ran his thumb across my trembling lips. “And you weren’t thinking of him, were you?”

Rafe. It was Rafe. I wouldn’t have done that with Zach. Only Rafe. I blinked rapidly and pushed away, ass sliding across the floor in desperation. My spine hit a wall. The corner beckoned me, offering the illusion of safety, of escape. I huddled there, arms snaking around my knees as memories from the night before hit me with full force.

For a few hours, Rafe had been alive. In my arms, in my hands, in my mouth. Alive. Warm. Mine. I pulled in a breath, tried to force it deep into my lungs, and panicked when I couldn’t. Tears blurred my vision, grief choked my throat, and the glaring truth flooded my senses. It had all been a drug-induced illusion my psyche had used to trick me. A pitiful sound escaped, part sniffle, part sob.

Zach climbed to his feet, the tangled sheets and bedding coming with him to hang over the side, taunting me with the evidence of our wild night of sex, one in which I’d been a full participant. The observation almost made me retch again, but I swallowed the sour taste of disgust burning my throat.

“Get up,” he demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. Once I stood on jittery legs, he herded me into the bathroom and switched on the shower. I clenched my hands into fists, eyes firmly shut as water flowed over me. The sobs wouldn’t subside. They drummed out in soft shudders I couldn’t control. If I didn’t open my eyes, if I blocked out his touch, maybe I wouldn’t totally lose it.

No, I was losing it. Pain was not a new entity, but this type of crushing anguish—the kind that made it nearly impossible to breathe, to think, too see beyond the next second, minute, hour—would make the strongest person crumble. And I wasn’t strong. Not in this moment. My thoughts jumbled, zipping through my mind so fast I couldn’t grasp any of them.