22

22

KADE

I’m waiting for it – the abrupt jolt to my brain that pulls me out of this.

I fell asleep. I never fall asleep. I always fuck and leave. I always go to the nearest bathroom, vomit up my guts then snort far too many lines to forget what I just did.

Clients are becoming more frequent, to the point that I’m trying to compromise with Bernadette not to send me, to send someone else. I even offered to pay one of her guards to fuck a client fully masked and pretend they’re me.

Why did I fall asleep?

I woke up ten minutes ago with my combats down to my ankles, boots still on, and felt like I’d fallen asleep within a dream and woken up in fucking paradise.

The feel of Stacey cuddled into my side. Her breath on my skin with each fill of her perfect little lungs. Her hand splayed on my chest.

She’s alive. She’s real. She’s alive.

And she’s lying on my bed in a ripped tutu, a corset that barely contains her tits and heeled boots she usually only wears while dancing – with marks on her throat, reddened skin on her inner thighs and my cum dripping out of her cunt. I must be dreaming still.

The joint in my pocket is still intact, so I spark it, lean against my dresser and watch her. I watch the glistening liquid seeping out of her pussy, the clear evidence that I just fucked her – my cock is covered in her cum too.

I pace my bedroom again, taking draw after draw, running my hand through my hair, stopping to look at her again.

She’s real.

I stub out the smoke, go into the bathroom, soak a towel in warm water and come back out. Then I climb onto the bed, settling between her legs, and start cleaning up her thighs.

She moans as I wipe her pussy, and I freeze, lifting my gaze up to her, but she’s still asleep. The last thing I want to do is make her hot and bothered while she’s passed out, so I wipe the rest of her thighs then lean forward and place a soft kiss on one.

She moans again, and my cock twitches as if I didn’t screw her brains out not long ago.

I pull myself away, rinse the towel, toss it into the basket near my door then clean myself up. Stacey is still asleep. I even check her pulse to make sure she’s alive.

I’ve had enough nightmares of her dying, I check her pulse twice to make sure.

Then I check my phone and find four missed calls from Cassie. My eyes shut momentarily when I see a message.

Cassie: You aren’t in your apartment like you said you would be, and your motorbike is gone. I won’t tell my mother yet, but she’ll be furious when I do. You have an hour.

I exit the message and shake my head, nearly crushing my screen as I grip it. Fucking little twisted bitch. What part of “I’m not interested” does she not get? No matter how much shit they put me through, I won’t marry her. I’m not even contemplating giving in either.

It must be the drugs, but I feel blood all over my hands. Once I wash them for the tenth time, I stare at Stacey again, not sure if I should wake her up and tell her I need to leave or just… leave.

I can hear the faint hum of music playing downstairs. I wonder if my friends are still there?

I go back into the bathroom, splash my face again and try to make sure I don’t look too fucked up. But it’s no use. I’ve taken more lines than I can count tonight, needing something to take the edge off the pain still lingering from all those days I spent strapped to that goddamn electric chair.

Stacey is still asleep as I slip out of my room and down the spiral staircase I made her crawl up. Fuck, did that actually happen? Did she do that? Was it in my head?

I grab the hair at my nape as I walk through the manor, pulling it until it hurts.

If I feel pain, I won’t feel everything else.

The party is still going wild as I enter, the smoke machine and strobes making it difficult to see. Some raved-up remix of Taylor Swift’s “You Belong With Me” is blasting, and as I get closer, I spot Base – he’s topless, standing on one of the hoops hanging from the ceiling, shouting every lyric perfectly while Luciella tries to get him down.

He’s singing the chorus to my sister and replacing words to fit their situation.

He’s smashed. But I still need to talk to him.

I push through the bouncing crowd until I reach him, and he grins. “Kade! When the fuck did you get here?”

My sister turns to look at me then glances at my black hoodie and combats. Her eyes narrow, and she gives up trying to pull Base down and marches straight for me. “Where is she?”

I arch a brow. “Who?”

“Stacey.”

I shrug and cross my arms. “No idea,” I lie.

Base climbs down and pulls me in for a hug. Not even a bro hug or a pat on the back – the fucker bear hugs me and lifts me off my feet. His pupils are blown, he’s sweating from dancing like a lunatic for hours and he has pink lipstick on his cheek.

Luciella isn’t wearing pink lipstick.

“We need to go to a Taylor Swift concert,” Base says. “Reckon she’d take me on stage.”

“Sure,” I say. “Come with me.”

“Where’s Stacey?” Luciella asks me again. “She isn’t answering her phone, and security said she hasn’t left the manor. Where. Is. She?”

“Are you deaf? I don’t fucking know.”

My sister stands in front of Base as I try to grab him away from her, and she glares at me, knowing I’m talking shit, but I don’t care. I need to talk to Base.

I shake my head. “Stop trying to control everything, Luciella. I’m surprised you even have any fucking friends left.”

I drag him away from the daggers Luciella is throwing at us, and he follows me out of the room, into the kitchen and out back. The cold air hits me, and I feel like I can breathe again.

“Where the fuck are we going? Why did you talk to your sister like that?”

“Just walk,” I reply, rolling my eyes at my friend, who’s still jumping about to the faint music.

Once we get into the pool house, I pull out a bag and set down two lines of coke. “I need to talk to you about something,” I say to him as I offer him a rolled-up note. He takes it and doesn’t wait to snort the white powder.

I use drugs because I feel like I’m dying if I don’t. After having this shit fed to me for sport, it’s a habit now. Base just takes it for a bigger kick than what’s naturally within him.

“You haven’t decided to take up my offer of a blowjob, have you? I kinda fancy your sister.”

I elbow his ribs as he sits beside me on the sofa. “Shut the fuck up. No.”

“Do you want me to leave her alone?”

“Only if she tells you to,” I say, screwing my eyes shut as I take a line and lie back.

“Then I need to confess to something, and if you hit me, I promise not to hit you back.” He leans his elbows on his knees. “I had a threesome with Ella.”

My brows furrow. “You what?”

He raises his hands. “I didn’t touch her. I promise. It was one of the times I flew over to her dorm when she was sick. She got better and wanted to go out, and yeah… her rule was that I couldn’t touch her, only the other guy.”

“We’re done with this subject. Don’t tell me anything else.”

“I promise I only fucked the guy while he was fucking her.”

“Base,” I groan. “Stop.”

Sighing, he rubs his face. “Right. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Your family. The Russian side of your family.”

“Yeah?”

“I need them to kill someone for me.”

Base laughs, putting another line out for himself, but when I don’t laugh with him, he goes silent. “Wait. You’re serious?”

My leg is bouncing, and I realise his is too. “What I’m about to tell you stays between us. I mean it. This could get you murdered.”

He shivers, the joking tone gone. “Right.”

“I need them to kill Bernadette and Archie Sawyer. And their daughter. Her name is Cassie.”

My friend frowns like I’ve just asked him to fly to the moon with me on a fucking unicorn. “What? Why?”

I try to tell him as little as possible. Vague details of how they forcefully pay me to hunt people down, to fuck clients and that they’re heavily set on my marrying the daughter. If I don’t, some really bad shit is going to happen, and I don’t want to find out what.

He’s uncomfortable as I tell him more. He’s still, listening, a deep line between his brows as he bites his thumbnail.

“So you aren’t at uni?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never been to uni. I applied – that’s as far as I got.”

“The fuck have you been doing the last two and a half years?”

I tilt my head, and his eyes widen even more. “Shit, man. That’s how long you’ve been stuck with them?”

“Yeah,” I say, chewing my lip. “And there’s one more thing I need from you.”

“Anything.”

“I need to go to Russia for eight months with the Sawyers…” I hesitate, chewing my lip as I tap my finger on my thigh. “If your family can’t get the job done, I need you to watch Stacey. I need you to keep Stacey safe for me while I’m gone.”

Base rubs his face, blowing out a breath. “Are you about to tell me you’re fucking Rhodes?”

Stacey is definitely in my bed, right? I didn’t imagine everything?

I can feel the tracks of her nails on my back, so I think my mind is just going haywire again. The number of volts they shoved in me is having some annoying side effects.

“Technically, no,” I reply, pulling a cigarette out and offering him one. “She’s my ex.”

“This is too much fucking information for me. I’m not even sober, man. Can’t you write all this shit down?”

I nudge him with my shoulder, and he chuckles. “Rhodes. She was the ex?”

Taking a draw of my smoke, I nod. “Yep.”

“I can’t imagine her cheating, not gonna lie. I can’t see her fucking—” He stops, sighing. “Luciella mentioned something to Tylar about you two, but I was only eavesdropping. I thought maybe you just slept with her; I didn’t know she was the one who broke your cold little heart.”

I roll my eyes and inhale another lungful of smoke. “Will you keep an eye on her?” Maybe I’m paranoid, since my guys are also looking out for her, but so fuck. That girl in my bed is everything to me.

“Yeah. But I’ll call my grandfather in an hour and see what he can do about that family. The fuckers need dealt with.”

I pat his shoulder. “I owe you.”

I know it’s a long shot, but there’s a chance it could work. I can’t report them – I can’t go public with their abuse without criminalising myself and putting a target on my family from the underworld. My hands are tied. But Base’s family have strong ties with the mafia, him being the heir and all.

My phone vibrates, and my heart stops when I remember Cassie’s message.

Has it been an hour? Did I imagine the text?

I look at my screen, and my heart sinks.

Bernadette: I have a car coming to pick you up at your apartment at 2 a.m.

I stand abruptly. “Shit. I need to go.”

Base doesn’t catch up to me as I rush out of the pool house, leaving my bag of coke with him. He’ll probably finish it all and pass out in the damn pool. I get into the manor, through the party, and grab my sister by the shoulder. “Base is in the pool house. Don’t leave him on his own.”

I’m gone before she can say anything.

I reach my room within minutes and close the door carefully behind me, breathless as I see Stacey still asleep. Real. She’s real – in my fucking bed with my cum leaking from her.

I swear under my breath, hating that I need to leave. I can’t wait around and try to explain anything. I can’t wake her and apologise. I need to grab my motorbike keys and get the fuck away from here.

As soon as Bernadette finds out I’m not in my apartment, I don’t even want to know what she’ll do.

I pull the duvet over Stacey and kiss her forehead, telling myself over and over again that she’s real. She’s alive. She’s safe. Barry and Base will keep her safe.

Standing back, I run my hand through my hair, checking my phone to see if Barry has replied to any of my texts or calls, but he hasn’t. I know his wife is due, so maybe she’s in labour.

“Kade?”

My gaze lifts to find Stacey sitting up in the bed, the duvet dropping to her waist. She rubs her eyes, struggling to open them fully to look at me.

I stay quiet as I slide my phone back into my pocket, gripping my keys. The sound of the jingling draws her attention, and she couldn’t look more devastated. “You were going to sneak out?”

Now isn’t the time. I have a countdown – 2 a.m.

Instead of being a decent human being, I turn and head for the door.

“No! Don’t walk away from me again!”

I freeze, but I don’t look at her, even as she rises from the bed and walks in front of me, blocking me from the door. “I don’t have time for this. I need to go.”

“Please stay and talk to me. Please,” she begs, her eyes already glazing with tears. “I need to tell you so much, Kade. Please – let me talk.”

I try to walk past her and reach for the door, but she grabs my wrist. It pisses me off that I’m about to do this, but I have to. I remove her hand from me and glare down at her. “There’s nothing to talk about. Move.”

Her lip trembles. “Can we please talk? You can leave right after. Just hear me out.”

I back away, putting distance between us. “I don’t want to talk; I want to leave. Move.”

She goes to step forward and hugs herself instead. “Then you used me.”

I scoff. “I didn’t use you. You got as much pleasure out of this as I did. What more do you want?” I try to hit deeper, my timer ticking down. “You know we’re done. I’ve told you countless times, and you’re still expecting me to forget what you did.”

I try for the door again, and Stacey grabs the material at the back of my hoodie. “Please don’t walk away.”

She’s sobbing, and I close my eyes. I hate when she’s upset.

Her words are rushed as she tries to pull me to look at her. “I need you to listen to me, Kade. I need you to. I… I have an abusive brother, and he controlled me for years. His name is Chris Fields.”

My ears ring with her words. This must be the Chris Stacey mentioned before, and I’m desperate to hear more. I need to hear more. But my phone dings, reminding me I can’t. I yank myself away from Stacey as it dings again. I already know who it is, and it only reminds me that I need to hurry and get the fuck away. If Bernadette finds me here, she’ll find Stacey.

I try for the door again, and she cries out as she drops to her knees behind me. “Please don’t leave me. Please. He’s a monster and will come for me. Please don’t leave me. Please. He’s the reason I was there that night.” She’s crying so damn loud, it’s ripping my heart out. “Please don’t go.”

Another ding of my phone, and I hate myself for what I’m about to say and do.

I need to hit deep – I need her to stop. I need to leave before I run out of time.

“Stop fucking crying, Stacey. It’s pathetic. We aren’t together – it was just a fuck. We won’t ever be together again. Do you know why?”

She looks up at me with red, bloodshot eyes, and it fucking breaks me that I need to speak to her like this, but I need her to stop, to let me go. I have just over an hour to make a two-hour trip.

Images flash before me, and they add to the venom in my words. “You cheated on me a month after we lost our daughter. Not with just anyone either. You screwed Jason. My big brother. No matter how many times we fuck, I will never ever fucking forgive you.” And then I walk out and slam the door.

I’m not sure how I make it to my apartment in one piece, but I do.

My motorbike hit speeds it’s never hit before all the way up the motorway. And I think the number of times I punched myself in the head out of rage, I should definitely have crashed.

My mind is fucked.

I don’t even know if everything that happened tonight was real.

The scratches on my back are real.

I focus on them. I focus on that fucking name.

Chris Fields.

The more and more shit I do, the more I see myself as my dad. He’s an evil bastard when he wants to be, and I just tore Stacey’s heart in two and walked away from her.

You’d think a fifteen-year-old obsessing over his sister’s best friend to the point of being blind to every other person in the world romantically would be the first sign that I was like my father. I didn’t want to kiss anyone, entertain any of the girls who approached me at school, and whenever I was in the same room as Stacey Rhodes, my heart would speed up and I’d sweat.

And guess what? After teasing her constantly, I finally got her. I had her. And she admitted that ever since we met down at the pool house, she’s never been interested in anyone else either. It was like fate, but then again, fate is a fucking wanker who pushed her into my brother’s bed.

I never wanted to say those words to Stacey. I wanted to tell her that I’ve already broken rule five. That she can have every fractured shard of my heart, if only she knows how to fix it back together – but I’m an asshole, and I broke her heart instead.

Stacey doesn’t know what she means to me, and that’s fine. She’s safer not knowing and thinking I hate her – that I used her. That I’ll never forgive her.

I keep reminding myself that I’m doing all of this to protect her. Because not only is she my weakness, but she’s also my strength – my main reason for continuing, the air to my fucking lungs. When I’m around her, I feel like the person I was before – the teenager who fell in love with a beautiful girl and had no idea how to handle the emotion. The kid who always looked at her, even before I kissed her for the first time.

She still makes me nervous, even when I’m following her as she crawls up my spiral staircase, even as I fuck her mouth up against a wall or kiss her moans away.

It hurts to look at her, but I can never stop myself. Denial and bitterness coated my tongue when I told her I wouldn’t ever forgive her. In truth, I already have.

But do I want a future with her? Undoubtedly yes.

I could work on my trust issues with her. I never want to step into the same room as her and Jason again, but I would try. For her, I’d try anything. I’d even stop and call my brother right now if I had the luxury of free will and the time to spare.

But none of that is realistic. All I can do is protect everyone from afar.

Bernadette will never find out who she is and what significance she has in my life – past and present.

All I can think about is going back to Stacey and apologising – crawling into bed beside her and holding her against me.

Base pulling through on speaking to his grandfather will sort this for me. If he can get his family involved, maybe Bernadette will see my imprisonment as being not worth the hassle and free me. Who the fuck wants the mafia on their ass anyway?

By the time I pull my motorbike into my garage and haul out the keys, I’m over an hour late. There are SUVs parked outside, which means Bernie got pissed at me and brought her men over.

My phone has no new notifications. I turn most of them off anyway, but there are no angry messages from Stacey, and there’s still fuck all from Barry. I quickly message him Chris’s full name. Stacey may have already told him, but just in case, he should know.

Hopefully he doesn’t kill him, because I want to be the one to strangle the bastard until his neck snaps.

I sigh and disconnect myself from all of my apps and hide them in one of my secure folders. I contemplated tossing my phone while I was driving, but I couldn’t risk missing a message from Stacey.

I take off my helmet, toss my keys on the unit and press the button to shut the garage door, bathing myself in darkness until I walk into the main part of the house. It’s modern and rather big, a three-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Stirling. I bought it as an investment – and somewhere to go when Bernadette gave me time off.

I huff and drop the helmet when I see how crowded it is. “Is it really necessary to have all these people here? You’re messing up my floor.”

One of Bernadette’s guards is pointing a gun at my chest, but I don’t pay him – or the guy with the syringe – any attention as I raise a brow at her. “I had to go somewhere. What’s the big deal?”

Cassie is sitting on the sofa, tears staining her cheeks as she scowls at me.

Her mother tuts, clicking her tongue as she fights a devious laugh. “Who is Stacey Rhodes?”

My eyes widen, and there’s a sharp sting to my neck before I’m knocked into yet another memory that I grasp at to stay sane.