Shattered: Round Four (Broken Book 4) (5 page)

Four

****

Beastly

Emily

Ever so gently, I press the edge of the stitch that runs along Huss’s cheekbone and he winces before shooing me back with a slap on the hand.

“Stop!” He hisses, his perfectly shaped eyebrows pulling together as he bares his teeth at me.

I snap my hands to my chest and roll my eyes. You can’t look at this guy without him crying “ouch”. You know, that’s probably what I hate most about working in the hospital—the hypochondriacs. You’d be surprised how many people exaggerate an ache or injury. I get some people have lower pain thresholds, but come on. A common stress headache doesn’t even come close to the thrum of one associated with a brain tumor.

“Jesu—will you let the girl check your stitches?” Ted protests with a mouth full of pancake. “You’re acting like a motherfucking child.”

Huss sneers, folding one of his thick arms over his chest. “Well, it fucking
hurts
.”

“You know what hurts me?”

“I was in a car accident. I don’t give a shit what’s hurting y—”

Ted swallows his food and points the tip of his fork at Huss. “That damn shirt you’re wearing. What color is that anyway? Pansy pink?”

Chuckling, I head over to the sink. Looking back over my shoulder, Huss pinches the bright fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s salmon! How many times do I have to say it?”

“And how many times do I have to tell you that’s not fucking Salmon.” Ted argues. “It’s pinker than the nipples on an albino.”

I snort as I turn away and reach for the soap. I pump once and foam up my hands. There’s never a dull moment when you’re stuck with Ted and Huss. The conversations these men have are ridiculous, inappropriate, and downright disgusting.

“Do albinos even have pink nipples?” Huss asks and I glance over my shoulder.

He scratches his head, the tips of his fingers running over the flaming skull tattoo that I hate so much. They both ponder the question before peering at me for an answer. I pull my head back in offense, contorting my face. Are they kidding? First of all, it’s inappropriate to ask such a question and second of all, whether or not albinos have pink nipples isn’t something I’ve ever felt the need to ask—or Google.

“How am I supposed to know? Do I look albino to you?”

“You are a little pale.” Huss points, receiving an agreeing nod from Ted.

I scoff. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Turning, I hit the tap and water shoots out. I stick my hands underneath the thin jet and let the water blast the soap off my skin. They howl with laughter while I ignore them.

“Tell us,
Kitten
. Are
your
nipples pink?” Huss asks, his voice thick with humor and genuine interest.

Shutting off the tap, I turn around and face him as he sits on the wooden bar stool opposite Ted, his knees pressed against the dishwasher.

“You should ask Jai.” I tell him, a wicked smile spreading my lips. “He knows.”

Ted lifts his arms, surrendering from the conversation. “Oh no. I’m bowing out of this one. Jai will kick your already disabled ass and I want nothing to do with it.”

Huss looks at Ted. “You scared?”

“Scared? Nah. I’m smart. Besides, fucking with a girl like her? No thanks.”

Because that’s not offensive. For a girl who has major daddy issues—which I mentally admit—I like to impress every male I meet to some degree. I mean, what girl doesn’t like to feel desired and pretty? Show me one and I’ll show you a liar.

“A girl like me?” I ask, leaning back on the bench. “What’s wrong with girls like me?”

“You’ve all got that crazy look in your eyes. It’s unsettling.”

“That crazy look?”

“Uh-huh. The ‘I will saw your dick off with a blunt pair scissors if you do me wrong’ look—and don’t you dare feign innocence. I distinctly remember you attacking me like a bat out of hell the first time I showed up.”

“Jai didn’t tell me you were coming. I panicked.”

“You almost choked me to death. You know what? It doesn’t matter. My mom would whoop my ass if I ever brought a white girl to family dinner anyway, especially after the last one.”

Huss snorts, his gray eyes flaring with interest. “She doesn’t like white girls?”

“She likes white girls...provided I’m not pumping babies into them.”

Ted scoops up scrambled egg with his spoon and stuffs it into his mouth. When he realizes Huss and I are staring at him he shrugs, swallows, and explains: “She’s very proud of her heritage and doesn’t want to water down the family tree.”

Huss laughs once and grips his glass of clean, cold water. “That’s messed up.”

“That’s my momma.”

Ted chuckles as Huss gulps down his drink. Emptying his glass, Huss places it on the kitchen bench and swipes his forearm over his mouth before grinning in my direction. Smug bastard.

“So?” He hints, tipping his head back ever so slightly.

“So...what?”

“Your nips. What color are they?”

He gives me a naughty smirk, the kind of smirk Jai would kill him for. To be honest, I’ve never been a one man kind of girl...until recently. The thought of committing to one person—to one soul—is unsettling. Curiously, I decide to take the opportunity to test myself and to test the intense feelings I have for Jai by attempting to return the suggestive smirk. Can I do it? I feel my face pinch together, my muscles forcing themselves into a scowl. I guess I’m a changed woman. Is that how deeply Jai affects me? Do I care for him so much that I don’t want to be with anyone else? Biologically speaking, Huss should make me all kinds of hot and bothered. He’s tall, hot, confident, and has just the right amount of inappropriateness about him, but the need just isn’t there. I wouldn’t have thought twice about banging him back in my ‘pre-Jai’ days...but now it’s different. Now I don’t want to share my body with anyone else.

Thunderous steps boom across the patio, growing louder and louder. Then, and only then, does a smirk tug at the corners of my lips.

Because I know the heavy feet causing such a frightful ruckus belong to
my
beast.

“Ask
him
.” I tell Huss, smiling victoriously.

The door flies open, its thin wood slamming against the wall of the house, and there he is.

Every angry inch of him.

Jai’s shoulders are squared, his eyebrows furrowed, and his handsome face is marred by a bleeding split in his lip. I’m guessing the talk with Joel didn’t go well.

Jai storms through the kitchen, as violent and as lethal as a tornado, before barging up the stairs, his feet dropping like stones against the floorboards.

Huss turns back to his plate and lifts his fork. “I’ll pass.”

Sipping his juice, Ted snickers. Behind the murderous Jai, Joel jogs in. His face is wild and angry, but his eyes give him away—panic and disappointment, emphasized by the gleam of regret. Joel heads for the stairs, but he’s not climbing them. Not on my watch. I push off the bench and swiftly cross the room. Slipping in front of Joel, I block his path to upstairs. I won’t let him upset Jai further. Not today.

He calms his breathing, forcing it through his nose. “I just want to apologize. That’s all.”

I shrug. “Give him a minute.”

If I let Joel upstairs with Jai now—in the state he’s in—I know Jai will end up doing something he’s going to regret later. I saw the darkness in Jai’s eyes when he entered the house and it wasn’t anger from the pressure his brother has put on him.

It was rage.

Murderous rage.

Team that with the fact Joel had apparently hit him in the mouth and you have the perfect cocktail for one lethal man.

Goosebumps prickle up my arms, over my shoulders and up behind my ears before dancing along my scalp. To be honest, I’m a little scared. I’m scared by the lack of emotion I felt from Jai when he entered the house. It makes me shudder…the last time I sensed that similar lack of humanity inside of him was when he fought in the tunnels underground.

He was vicious.

Cold.

He was another man—possessed by a demon who had an insatiable thirst for blood.

Jai enjoyed it. He’d never admit it, but he enjoyed beating his opponents to a pulp, and I know his brother isn’t exempt to such punishment. The way I see it, I’m doing Joel a favor by not letting him upstairs, especially if he likes his pretty face the way it is.

He tries to maneuver his large, lean body past me. “I told you I only want to apologize.”

I block his path, slamming my hand into the wall in front of his chest and look him dead in the eyes. “And I told you to give him a minute. Test me and I’ll make it so you never see your precious Monique again. Understand?”

Do I look like I’m playing? Do I look like I’m stopping him from going upstairs for fun?

No.

And I swear to God I will cut a bitch if he tries to push past me.

Our eyes remain locked. His eyes swimming with scenarios, analyzing different ways to get past me without shoving me to the side. A small eternity passes before he allows his body to slump, relaxing the ropes of muscle in his torso.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

He slinks away, strolling slowly down the hall to his room, guilt and sadness heavy in his steps.

Thank God for that. I exhale and relax my own muscles as I place both hands on my hips. At this point, I’m kind of glad I’m on my own. Outside of myself, there’s no external pressures on me. I do what I want when I want and it doesn’t affect anyone else.

Turning, I bound up the stairs, unable to shake the need to comfort Jai. One by one my conscious mind slips memories to the front of my mind—vivid memories of all the times I denied anyone comfort, choosing to treat them like a leper instead of a friend.

You’ve never wanted to comfort anyone before—not even Holli Peterson when her husband died—and she was the only one who spoke to you when you were trying to become a nurse. Maybe you’re falling in lo —

I gulp, gripping the thin, wooden banister in my hand.

Maybe I should WebMD the symptoms I’m having. I trust the experts on that site will squash my fears of the dreaded ‘L’ bug, diagnosing the way my heart pounds and my head spins as some kind of life threatening bowel issue.

That
I can handle.

It’s not that I don’t want to fall in love, the thought of it is nice, it’s just…the attachment.

I can’t handle the attachment.

I know, deep down, I’m someone who can get a little too attached and, because I’ve kept it at bay for so long, what if it’s too much?

What if he crushes my fragile heart under the heavy heel of his boot?

Then what?

Five

****

Sweet Seventeen

Jai

In the darkness, my eyes flutter open and I turn my head toward the window, but there’s no light. How long have I been up here? Seventeen hours, at least. What time is it? I blink, straightening my head to look up at the ceiling. Fuck, my mouth hurts. I run my tongue over the split, tasting the lingering hints of cream Emily rubbed into my lip. Her head is heavy on my chest, her arms draped over my ribs. Her skin is warmer than mine, her heart beating at a relaxed pace against my side. In the silence, I hear her stomach rumble. Her food intake today was practically non-existent because she preferred to sit here and watch me sulk all day. In those moments of concern and comfort, when she lets her guard down, I feel like she cares about me the way I care about her. I feel like a future with her is possible. Who would have thought that I went to the darkest depths of hell and found an angel? I’ve never been a firm believer in fate, but the circumstances on which we met are too strange to rule as a coincidence.

She is my person...and I fucking love her. I love her so much it makes me sick and, as luck would have it, the only girl I’ve ever loved will never accept it because she doesn’t think she’s worthy of love.

Just. My. Damn. Luck.

Love doesn’t discriminate. Love is pure, an accumulation of all the good feelings and none of the bad. Good luck trying to convince her of that though. It’s like flogging a dead horse. Is that the saying?

Karma is an asshole. I bet she’s enjoying this. All those girls I parted ways with because I didn’t feel the same...and now I’m the idiot who has fallen head over heels for someone who can’t bring herself to return it.

Reaching out, I press the button on the top of the alarm clock and a bright blue light lights up the room, burning my eyes. Squinting, I try to work out the numbers. Three. Five. Seven. I blow out an exhale. Four o’clock in the morning and I’m awake...now what?

I glance at Emily’s sleeping face, resting peacefully on my chest. I love the light spattering of caramel freckles that flow from one of her cheeks to the other. I love the darkness of her hair and the curve in her top lip. I love her height, her milky complexion, and the rise of her breasts.

The light from the clock shuts off, darkening the room.

Fuck Skull for threatening to take her from me. I’ll kill him for it.

I shut my eyes in an attempt to put myself back to sleep, but thought after thought flicks by—my thought train too erratic to ignore now—and that’s when I hear the handle on the bedroom door creak. I inhale through my nose, calming the sudden spike in my pulse and lessening the adrenaline that leaks into my blood. Slowly, I reach between the bed and the bedside table. The tips of my fingers slide against the handle of my handgun and slip into place, my index finger firm against the trigger. Gently, I lift it, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

“Jai?”

Joel? I lower the gun, feeling stupid for reaching for it in the first place. If Skull knew where we were, he’d make a show of it. He wouldn’t sneak into my bedroom at four in the morning.

“You awake?” He whispers through the darkness.

My pulse returns to normal as my lungs regulate the oxygen a little better and I run my warm palm over my face.

“Yeah.”

“Can we talk?”

I ponder it. Now that yesterday’s drama has worn off I feel stupid for pumping myself up. I shouldn’t have stormed out like a child. I shouldn’t have punched the tree or antagonized Joel. I’ll be the first to admit that.

Last night, Emily told me I should accept the fact Joel has changed and that I should honor his relationship with Monique. I guess if he’s willing to die for her that makes her family too. I’ll give him one more chance to justify breaking in to Skull’s home to save her.

One.

I exhale. “I’ll be down in five.”

He closes the door and Emily stirs.

“If that was your brother I’m going to kick his ass.” She mutters, her voice husky with sleep.

She lifts her head off my chest and drops it onto her pillow. I smile, rolling onto my side and draping my arm over her waist.

“You’d fight my brother for me?”

Her warm, soft hand snakes up my stomach, making my muscles clench under her gentle touch.

“For you? Yeah.”

I lean in close, until my nose touches hers. “I think I can handle it.”

“Don’t go.” She whispers, sliding my hand from her waist to her naked breast. “We have better things to do.”

Angling her head, she raises it and I kiss her mouth, stroking the side of her face with my finger. “Sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Without protest, she frees my hand and rolls over, tucking her arms under her pillow.

I exhale again, disappointed I have to get out of my warm bed and sit in the cold air to have the same discussions I’ve already had with Joel. Will it end the same?

Eventually, I manage to drag myself out of bed. I swipe at my blurry eyes as I bend down and scoop up my thick, gray sweatpants. As quietly as I can, I slip into them and chuck on a hoodie before exiting the room and descending the wooden stairs with heavy feet.

In the kitchen, Joel is sitting on the bench, his socked feet resting on one of the stools. From the kitchen, I can see into the sitting room where Huss and Ted are passed out, one on each couch, their snores vibrating the wood underneath my feet.

“It’s no wonder you can’t sleep.” I say, sauntering up to the kitchen bench.

Letting a soft smile curve his lips, Joel nods and pushes an empty glass in my direction.

I cock an eyebrow and notice the drunken heaviness in his eyelids. He’s been at this a while. Unscrewing the thin, metal cap Joel pours the booze into my cup, half filling it with straight whiskey.

“It’s four in the morning.” I point out, accepting the glass anyway.

“But the sun isn’t up and that’s good enough for me.”

Joel watches as I lift the glass to my lips and take a small sip. The tiny amount of booze is enough to set my mouth and my tongue alight, but it’s a welcome distraction. It makes me feel less…awkward.

He hangs his head, pressing the top of it against his cup. I watch, curiously, as he taps his index finger against the glass. He takes four whole sips before he makes eye contact with me.

“Remember when you were little and I’d pour you a glass of milk before bed and then tell you a story to help you sleep?”

I nod. “I remember.”

Up until I was eleven he’d do it. Though, most of the time, he’d purposely make the stories scary and I’d end up sleeping in my parent’s bed after screaming my way through a nightmare.

“Well, think of this like that…only you’re gonna need the hard liquor instead of milk to help you sleep when I’m done.”

I laugh once. “That scary, huh?”

“Scary?” He shrugs, indifferent. “A little. Fucked up?”

He shivers, sucks back a large mouthful of whiskey, and starts at the beginning. I listen, intently, hanging on every grotesque and exciting word. When he reaches the end…fucked up doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“So...” I say, frowning into the untouched liquid in my glass. “You kidnapped Monique for Skull?”

He nods, then shakes his head. “Well, I mean, it was a fake kidnapping staged by her father, but, essentially, yes.”

My stomach churns and I tighten my hands around my glass. I never thought I’d hear my brother confess to murder and kidnapping. He was always the good one. I got into trouble occasionally, but Joel never did—not even once. From what I gather, Monique’s father lost to Skull in a game of poker and, to save his expensive way of life, he gave up his only daughter. Instead of beating his sorry ass Joel took the girl.

“How could you do that?” I wonder aloud.

“I didn’t have a choice. I was in deep—too deep to fuck it all up on an unknown seventeen year old girl.”

I flinch at her age. You don’t need to be a lawyer or a police officer to know sexual relations with a minor is illegal. Not to mention the age gap. Joel is nine years her senior.

“Seventeen?!” I whisper, harshly. “Are you insane?”

“She was seventeen when I kidnapped her, but I didn’t touch her until after her eighteenth birthday.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, aren’t you a fucking standup guy?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen and I sure as shit didn’t plan on it, but Skull was adamant that I keep my eyes on her. After she agreed to stay with him I was the one who had to train her, dress her, feed her, and take her fucking shopping. She was in my face constantly, parading her beautiful body around me like it was no big deal—and it wasn’t. I was focused on my ultimate goal. Skull was going to die for what he did to our family...but then the bullshit started.”

He swallows, his face screwing up like he tastes something bad.

“Skull is easily bored…the things he’d do for entertainment. I felt responsible for the girl, you know? Most of the time I managed to talk him off the ledge, but after a while he got suspicious. By the time he was certain something was going on between us I was too far gone to deny it…and then he tore my life apart for the second time.”

Joel looks at me, his eyes puffy in the glow of the lights above the oven. I clench my teeth. How the hell can I walk away now? How can I walk away and pretend I did the right thing for the rest of my life? Maybe it’s the police officer in me, but an innocent is an innocent. I shake my head.
Monique is not your problem. You got what you wanted. Run. Start a new life on the edge of the world.

Joel tilts his head and I bring the cup to my lips, taking a long sip. The cool feel of the smooth glass against my split lip feels heavenly…until the booze pours onto it, burning the busted flesh like acid.

Please, don’t fucking ask me. I need more time to think.
Whatever I choose doesn’t only affect me. It affects Ted, Huss, Jessica, and Emily, too.

“Jai...”

I swallow. “I can’t just—”

“I need your help. I’m coming to you as a brother. I know a brother is far from what I’ve been and it’s definitely not the title I deserve right now, but you’re all I got. I will die there without you.”

I tip my head back. Isn’t that some heavy shit? Small eternities pass and I can’t bring myself to provide him with an answer.

“You know, when they had me locked up in of those industrial sheds that smelled like tuna infused asshole—”

I laugh and lower my head, my eyes locking with his. They have a happy curve to them—a curve I haven’t seen in a long time.

“No word of a lie. It was fucking rank.” His tooth filled smile fades and he glances down at his drink. “I remember when I first heard them speak your name. I was sitting in a puddle of water and rust that had leaked through the holes in the ceiling during the night. I was freezing, my body shaking like nothing else. Pick and Ghost were in charge of babysitting me. They talked a lot of shit, most of the time, but one morning I heard your name and I couldn’t believe it.” He pauses to shake his head. “I was so mad at you for following me down this fucked up rabbit hole, but then I heard how well you were doing—how you were crushing everybody and raising absolute hell—and it made me so damn proud. As the days passed and Pick and Ghost became hostile. They spoke about you and how you destroyed this year’s competition and killed their friends…Skull and his buddies won’t forget that, and I guess I’m telling you this because I know they’re on the hunt for you too. I know Skull wants Emily and that you’ll lose a lot if this mission goes sour, but I want you to know that I believe in you…and I believe, with you, we can pull this off. No sweat.”

No sweat? Ha! I’m sure breaking into a heavily guarded criminal compound is a piece of cake. Exhaling through my nose, I drop my stare to my knees. I’m a sucker for speeches—especially Joel’s speeches. My whole life he has been able to inspire and motivate me and it seems he still can. Unfortunately, a decision like this isn’t the same as deciding if I should go to school or not. Innocent lives hang in the balance. If we go down Jessica will have no one left. She’ll be an orphan—like Emily—and I don’t want that for her.

Sliding off the bench, I place my glass on the surface. It’s not easy being torn in two—being torn between what is right and what is right for me. How do I decide? How do I make that decision on behalf of everyone involved and make sure it’s the right one?

I look at Joel. His lips are pursed and his dark eyes are wide with anticipation—like an anxious dog waiting for a treat.

“If it was Emily…” I say, scratching the back of my head. “If it was her locked up there with Skull, would you help me?”

“She wouldn’t need our help. That little firecracker would destroy his house from the inside out.”

“Her bark is bigger than her bite.” I point out, unable to help the smirk forming at the corner of my lips. “She’s strong, but sensitive.”

“Oh…I see.” Joel laughs under his breath, taking a smug gulp of his drink. “How long?”

I frown as my heart kicks up in tempo. Why is it doing that? “How long, what?”

He screws his face, like I’m the idiot. “How long have you been in love with her?”