Chapter 27: Taunt Her: Chapter 27

I storm away from the pool house without looking back. I can’t. If I so much as glance over my shoulder then I’m going to break.

Something rustles in the trees beside me, but I’m too focused on where I’m going to look if someone’s there.

I did what I needed to do. My plan is in motion, and I need to stay strong. This is what it’s all about: making James admit the truth and putting together those final missing puzzle pieces from my life.

He’s the one to blame for how my life turned out. Things were good… okay, no, things were fine before dad die— was murdered. Or at least that was the plan. I don’t think anyone, James especially, expected him to turn up again like fucking a ghost.

He wanted me to discover the truth myself.

I’m not only doing this for me, I’m doing it for my brothers. Dad might have set this all in motion, but he should be under no illusion that he’s next on my hit list, should he ever be brave enough to show his face again.

He might have successfully blackmailed me into handing over the chunk of cash I’d stashed to protect my family, but he went against his promise to stay away. I know he saw my mom, and I know he’s the reason she overdosed that night.

When I was a child, I thought he was a God. I doted on him. Wanted to be just like him. But after my most recent interaction with him, I fear my memory might be doing me a disservice.

He is not a good man.

I can’t argue that James probably had his reasons reasons for his actions, , but he didn’t need to leave us after. Dad might have been an asshole, but at least back then we had two parents and I didn’t need to step up to the plate.

Throwing my leg over my bike, I rev the engine and get the hell out of the Bay. I can’t be here right now when every little part of this town reminds me of her.

I arrive in the Heights in record time. After stopping for some supplies, I pull up in our old trailer park and bring the bike to a stop. There’s a patch of land behind the park, and every weekend it’s where everyone heads to get fucked up.

With a couple of bottles of scotch in hand, I make my way down. Nearly everyone ignores me—they’re too high and wasted to pay me any attention, let alone recognize me.

I wasn’t lying when I said that Cruz and D weren’t my real crew. They’re good people. They have honest jobs and mostly live honest lives. These motherfuckers down here? These are real Heighters, and I would never bring Remi here.

“Are my eyes deceiving me? Is that really Ace fucking Jagger walking towards me?” JJ barks after doing a double-take.

“Well, fuck me. The wanderer returns. Decided against living it up with the rich chicks in the Bay, then? Thought you’d come back and have a pop at our pussy?” Dean says, amusement filling his dark and dangerous eyes.

“Talking of pussy, Kelsey is gonna be real happy to see you, bro.”

“Not interested,” I grunt.

“Fuck. They really are turning you into a stuck-up motherfucker, eh? Kelsey not good enough for you all of a sudden?”

All eyes drill into me as I fall down onto the old couch. “Nah, that’s just not why I’m here.”

“Why the fuck else would you be?”

I lift the bottle in my hand and make a show of twisting the top and downing mouthful after mouthful until my throat burns for reprieve.

“You motherfuckers got any blow?”

“Sure thing, man. Line ‘em up, Pike.”

I alternate between taking swigs from my bottle and doing a line of the good shit Pike keeps hidden for special occasions. My homecoming is apparently the perfect opportunity.

“Fuck me, this is good.”

My body buzzes as the cocktail of alcohol and sniff takes over my thoughts.

Fuck yes.

Memories of what I left behind start to get hazy, and I settle back into where I belong.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ace Jagger.” Kelsey’s dulcet voice makes my skin crawl, and she blows my escape from reality to shit.

When I don’t turn around, she walks directly in front of me. “I missed you, baby.”

Just like the last time I saw her, her eyes are blown, her face is gaunt, and as she decides she needs to climb onto my lap, I get a look at her forearms. “When the fuck did you turn into a fucking junkie, Kels?” I snag one of her wrists in my hand.

“About the same time I was left behind with nothing to do.”

“Don’t you fucking blame this on me. I didn’t shoot that shit into your veins.”

“I don’t need it now you’re back,” she purrs, settling herself so she’s straddling me.

“Not back two fucking minutes and he’s got every chick’s pussy fucking wet. Jag, man. You need to teach us your secret,” one of the guys complains as Kelsey’s lips go to my neck.

I swallow down another few shots of scotch as I try to drown the fact that her touch does nothing for me. Electricity doesn’t shoot around my body from her kiss. My skin doesn’t prickle with excitement when she runs her fingers down my stomach. And my cock does fucking nothing.

Safe to say, in my quest to break the prep school princess, it seems I only went and broke myself in the process.

I’m back in the place I thought I belonged, with the guys I once thought of as my family, but nothing feels right. I don’t feel like I’ve come back home. I feel like the outsider. The one who left and is trying to claw his way back in.

I never thought I’d say it, but I don’t want to be here. I want to drive my ass back to the Bay and crawl into bed beside her hot little body and lose myself in her instead of this bullshit.

I’m just about to push Kelsey off when a shadow looms over me. Glancing up, I find one of Donny’s henchmen staring down at me. His face is cold, murderous.

Fucking great.

This night is going from bad to fucking worse.

Kelsey hits the floor as I stand. She complains, but all I do is step over her to find out what the fuck Bruce wants. Donny doesn’t send him out for any old reason. He sends him when he wants a job fucking done—and done properly.

“What?” I bark, stepping up to him. I might not be all that happy about his appearance, but there’s no fucking way I’m letting him know that.

“Donny’s pissed.”

“And I care because?”

“Because he needs you, and you’re not doing your job.”

“I’m done, man. I can’t keep up with school and shit.” I don’t mean for the excuse to come out loud, but as it does, the motherfucker’s eyes widen in shock. I swear, even a smile tugs at his lips for a second, before he remembers that he came here for a reason.

“You don’t call the shots around here, kid. If Donny needs you, you come running. You know how it works.”

“And what if I don’t? Then what? Or is that why you’re here? Disposal of the unwanted trash.” Something flashes in his eyes, but I don’t need to see it to know I just hit the nail on the head.

I square my feet, waiting for his first move and praying that I’m sober enough right now to stand even half a chance going up against this guy.

“Come on then, big man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

A crowd starts to gather around us. The only thing more addictive than the drugs in this place is people’s need for blood.

I dodge his first few swings. He’s not as agile as I once remember him being, and I wonder why Donny didn’t send someone younger. He knows I can handle myself. I’d have thought he’d know to send someone who could match me.

Unlike him, I land my first few blows. I ram my knuckles into his ribs, his jaw, and shatter his nose. It’s then he sees red and he comes flying at me.

The pain of his fists is nothing less than I deserve and I revel in it, using it to spur me on.

The crowd cheers as we continue. Blood streams from his nose as I spit out what’s filling my mouth from the cut in my lips.

“You ready to give up yet?” I taunt as we stare each other down.

He bares his teeth and reaches behind him. His knife reflects the roaring bonfire that’s somewhere behind me. I follow his move, but when I reach for my own weapon, it’s not there.

I briefly remember the events of tonight, of how quickly I dressed and got out of that pool house. I never leave my knife or gun behind, but because of her I fucking did. And exactly when I need it most.

He takes a step forward, and I prepare myself for what’s to come. I can take this motherfucker down easily, but with a knife in his hand I’m much less confident.

The atmosphere around us becomes heavy with tension, and my previous thoughts about being in bed with Remi come back to me.

Why the fuck did I bother with all of this bullshit?

Is my need for revenge really worth all the pain? I remember her face as I said those final words to her. The devastation in her features guts me almost as much now as it did only a few hours ago.

My body moves on autopilot. I no longer feel his blows, nor when my own fists connect with him. The roar of the crowd fades away, and I’m no longer fighting a person but my own fucking demons, my own bad and fucked-up decisions that led me here.

Clarity comes back to me a couple of seconds too late.

That’s the moment his final blow comes.

Everything goes black as pain shoots from my knees as they hit the gravel beneath me only moments before the rest of my body crashes to the ground.

Before everything fades away, it’s only her face I see. But she’s not smiling, she’s got tears streaming down her face as she watches me leave.

I’m used to pain. Alongside anger, it’s what’s fueled most of my life up until this point. So coming back around with every part of my body screaming in pain is not uncommon. I’d just forgotten how much it fucking sucked since living the high life for the past few weeks.

I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to discover the reality about where I am and what’s happened to me since that motherfucker took me out. It could have been an hour ago, or days ago, I’ve no fucking clue. All I do know is that the darkness, the nothingness, was a hell of a lot better than reality.

I crave being dragged back under so I don’t have to think, so the regret and guilt that’s been eating me since walking away from Remi will leave me once again. But it doesn’t happen.

My body comes back to me more with every passing second, and when my urgent need to take a piss makes itself known, I risk cracking my eyes open. “What the fuck?”

I blink a few times, not believing what I’m seeing. But each time I look again, my surroundings are still the same. Still familiar.

“How the fuck?”

Pushing up from the bed, I look for evidence of how I ended up back inside the pool house and in my own bed.

Bruce was sent to kill me, or to hand deliver my broken bloody body to Donny, of that I’m sure. He had that look in his eye, so how did I get back here alive?

I know it’s not all a really fucked-up dream—the pain is too real and when I push from the bed, and the sight of my busted up and bloody knuckles confirm that the fight really did happen.

I pad to the bathroom to do my thing before resting my hands on the cold basin and preparing to look up. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my face all fucked up. But I deserve it. All of it.

Lifting my eyes, my breath catches for a second as I stare back at myself. No fucking wonder it hurts so much, although I’ve no doubt it’ll look a hell of a lot better once I wash the blood off my skin.

Both of my eyes are black and swollen, my cheeks are bruised, and my lip is still trickling blood. Looking lower, I take in my darkened ribs, although from how easily I walked in here, I doubt they’re broken, thank fuck.

I brush my teeth and turn the shower on. Images of her joining me fill my head as I step inside and the regret that’s raging inside me only grows.

I shouldn’t have done that last night.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I stalk back into the bedroom and look around. I picture us on the bed as I selfishly took the one thing from her that she can never get back. She’s going to regret ever meeting me after last night, and I hate myself even more for it.

I locate the camera I set up for the final part of my plan to bring James to his knees and pull the memory card out. There’s no fucking way I can go through with it. I’ve already done too much. I’ve already destroyed her.

And in the process, I know I’ve destroyed a part of myself too.