NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 16
She did.
“You hungry?”
“Nah.” I return my attention back to the designs in the table. “I’m going to crash here tonight and head upstate.”
“To your Ma’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” I shake my head and shove my chair back. Blowing out a heavy exhale, Emmy’s small hand shoots out to stop me. Thankfully, it doesn’t touch me.
I don’t know why that thought comes to mind because I’m constantly fucking around with Ems. I’m always tucking her into the crook of my shoulder, screwing her hair up with my fingers and hugging her so tightly that she squeals for me to leave her alone but the thought of her skin on mine makes me nauseous.
“Mills…” My eyes flick up to her honey browns, and while my ass is hovering over my seat, her hand doesn’t move.
She wants me to stay.
She needs to talk.
It’s for her mental health, not mine because I’m not discussing what happened. I just need some personal space and no one in my bubble just yet. I have to clear my head to move on and decide what to do—if anything. I haven’t let my thoughts go that far yet. I know I’ve threatened those women up and down and planned ways to torture them but I’m not in the mood for all that just yet.
Dropping my ass back to my seat, Emmy retracts her hand and begins fidgeting with her thumb and index finger.
“Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m here. I know how it feels to be…to have something happen.”
“Sure.”
“You’re going to go through stages.”
I offer her a tight smile. “I’m fine, Ems.”
“And you’re not going to want to eat and—“
“I’m fine, Ems.” I notice that I’m gripping the end of the chair, my knuckles white before I quickly loosen them. I take another breath and straighten my spine. “I’m cool. I just want to go home and visit my grams and ma. I haven’t been there in a while, and Dad has been gone for a few months. I’m past due.”
“Of course, I’m just…” Emmy’s frown deepens, and I can see the pain that I felt mentally written all over her pretty features. She’s all grown up, has kids, but she’ll always be that young and innocent-looking woman who always wanted to fit in. Who fit in with me because we just clicked like that. She’s my best friend, someone who I’d die for, kill for, and literally put my life on the line for, but I can’t do this with her right now. “Mills, please, don’t shut me out. I don’t expect you to talk to me now, but…I love you. You’re not alone.”
My eyes burn while forming tears. “I know.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely.”
She doesn’t look convinced, eyeing me like one of her small children. “Okay, I won’t push any further. I’m working on my overbearing bullshit.”
“You’re a mom.” I give a dismissive shrug. “Isn’t that kinda your job?”
Emmy smiles. “I think we can both agree that I’m a little more than the normal standard of moms everywhere.”
I shrug. “True. You’re kick ass.” I shoot to my feet before Emmy can stop me. “And I gotta piss.”
Rounding her body, I stroll through her house and hit the john to do just that. I hear her in the kitchen pulling out pots and pans, the perfect opportunity to slide through the living room without the kids seeing me and out the back door to smoke a blunt.
Bishop handed me a canister the moment we got into the car after my rescue. Even though he silently gave me permission to smoke in the same vehicle his kids ride in, I didn’t.
Now plucking one of the rolled papers, I pocket the rest and realize, no fucking lighter. Then I hear the click of one go off.
“Here.” A flame shows up in front of my face, and I place the blunt between my lips, leaning forward to light it.
After a few inhales to blaze it up, I glance over to find Bishop looking out over his spacious backyard. There’s a swing set and a slide, a small trampoline, and a picnic table for the kids, then nothing but trees to the left and grass to the right.
“Let it sink in,” he conveys, pulling a cigarette out of a red box of Marlboro’s. “Then burn it to the fucking ground.”
“Burn what?” I take another hit of my weed and continue looking at nothing because it’s comfortable and mind-numbing.
“Whatever you went through.”
“Wasn’t that bad.”
“Couldn’t tell.” He’s not one for small talk bullshit, but I believe Emmy put him up to this. Maybe she does need to chill with the overbearing crap.
We stand in silence, listening to the soft trees blow the leaves and branches together. It’s all blurred noise at this point.
“I’ve been there, done that,” my brother in arms suddenly states, and we know his story. He was raped by some piece of shit biker and his buddies. He watched his father burn alive in a trailer park and watched his high school sweetheart get addicted to cocaine, which broke his heart.
Then he met Emmy; the rest is history.
Me, I don’t know. I got raped by three women and never thought that for me, it’d hit this way. I’m afraid it’d weigh denser if I allow it to sink any deeper in my brain, but I can’t—not here.
I’m afraid I might snap.
And Bishop, Emmy, the boys…they don’t know what happened to me.
No one will know.
“You don’t have to stand out here and talk to me, man,” I emit. “Like I told your wife, I’m fine.”
“I’ll drive you to New York.”
“I remember how to drive, dude. I just need some time.”
“Then you gotta eat.” He pivots his body but doesn’t move, standing side to side with me as he looks at his house. Probably through the kitchen window to watch Emmy cook dinner. “My wife still considers you her best friend. I forgave you once for lying to me. Got lucky that I didn’t kill you because of her. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.”
I release a heavy sigh because this conversation is actually worse than the one with Emmy. Never thought I’d say that.
“Why don’t you go inside, Bish. I’m seriously not in the mood to talk about dick right now. I just need some damn—“
“Space. Yeah, well…it’s funny how I told you that once before and got you on my porch step. Family, Mills, we’re all fucking family. I’m not asking you to spill your guts to me. I’m not even asking you to ever tell anyone about what happened. But you will snap out of it. And you will come back to B723.” He bends down, using his few inches over me to also add in, “And you will also make sure my wife doesn’t worry about you anymore.”
“And you will get the fuck away from me before I drop-kick your ass on your back porch,” I sneer, watching a robin land on top of the blue swing set.
Bishop chuckles, exhaling smoke through his nose. It wafts around my body in a cloud of his bullshit. “Up for round two whenever you are, dummy. Just don’t touch my dick…I’ll need it for later.”
Just the subtle hint of fucking makes my stomach knot.
Bishop takes his hint and gives me the quiet I’ve been asking for.
Tomorrow…I’ll get none.
“I’m here.”
“Awesome.” I hear Emmy’s sigh of relief as a little toddler screams loudly in the background. She’s been on the phone with me for the last twenty minutes as if I needed directions finding my childhood home. “I’ll come up on the weekend and—“
“No.” I turn off my car and stare at the back of my mom’s Ford Escape with the same bumper sticker she’s had on it for over a decade—I’m the proud mom of a John Glenn High Honor Student. “My mom is going to have me here busy fixing shit. I’ll be busy doing a bunch of stuff.”
“Okay,” she replies slowly. “Call me tomorrow then?”
“Can you not read text messages?” I’m being an asshole, I know. The thing is, I don’t care. I’m the clown, the jokester, the optimistic one, and Emmy’s best friend. However, she’s the last person I want around me right now. She has enough on her plate with the kids, Bishop, being a wife, and keeping up with the house. Then she still works for B723 even though our commander, Ledger, pretty much has her on part-time hours.
“Have a good time,” Emmy drones, feelings hurt. I can hear it rattle in her voice. “I’ll talk—“
“Love you, Lou Boo.” I hang up, pocketing my phone in my gray sweatshirt, and pop my trunk. I barely get my suitcase out when I hear the screen door at the front of the house loudly shut, and I know my mom is running through the front lawn.
I look over the top of my trunk lid, and my grin is immediate. “Hey, Ma.”
“My baby!” Her arms are extended, wearing a smile that could light up a black hole. They wrap around me immediately, coming right above my waist, and I return the gesture.
Ma is just as tall as Emmy, a short little thing with a big heart. I’ve always been close to my parents, so coming home is always a treat. And right now, I need it more than ever.
“I didn’t know you were coming home!” She doesn’t let go of me, squeezing me with all her might for all the time that has passed. It’s been a few months. I’ve been so fucking busy with B723 that I’ve been spending all my free time—which are typically between missions or right before the next one—with my second fam. It’s why they’re such a massive part of my life.
It’s why they’ll never know the truth.
I can’t have that carried with them. I don’t want them to look at me like I’m broken.
Because I’m not.
My nostrils flare over Ma’s head, and I coerce myself to chill the fuck out at the reason on why I’m really here suspending over me.
I smell the same rose shampoo off Ma’s hair and demand it settle me down.
I’m not there. I’m in my childhood home with my family. No one can screw with me here.
“What’s wrong?” I glance down to see Ma with her lips tipped downward. Her forehead knitted in instant concern as mothers normally do when they sense conflict in their children. The wrinkles around her eyes, some I’m more than likely responsible for, deepening as she scans my face looking for clues.
“Tired,” I avoid, hurling my suitcase from my trunk before wrapping my arm around my mom’s shoulders. “C’mon, feed me. I’m hungry.”
It’s the only thing that’ll get her to forget or not notice the non-existent pep in my step. The teasing smile that always crosses my lips.
And now…I have to force this food down my throat that my stomach does not want.
* * *
“Rhett, sweetheart, the door! I got flour all over my hands.” Ma’s voice comes from the kitchen, trying a new pasta recipe while I throw up some shelves in her bedroom.
I’m looking for shit to do to keep my mind off things.
I’ve already repainted the spare bedroom, went through all the junk that Ma still had in my bedroom since forever. I’ve rearranged shit in the garage, put some things in the attic, and re-stained the privacy fence that goes all the way around the backyard.
All in four days.
Shoving the hammer into the back pocket of my jeans, I stride from her room painted in mint green and bordered rose wallpaper that I’ve been trying to get her to update. My boots hit the hardwood floors over Grandma’s daily soap operas as she comfortably sits on the love seat.
“C’mon, Gran, you couldn’t answer it,” I tease, passing her to get to the front door. “You gotta pull your weight around here.”
“Not a commercial,” she replies, too enthralled in the latest drama.
I roll my eyes and shake my head at the moment my hand twists the doorknob. Whipping it open, and praying to God it’s not a solicitor because I don’t have the time or patience for that shit, my focus sharpens on the body on my cement porch.
And not just anybody.
Her.
My fingers push the black handle to open the screen door as the heel of my boot hits the bottom, sending the aluminum door flying open and almost hitting her frame.
She gracelessly stumbles back, almost falling off the porch steps, and I’m fucking livid.
Done up in black, ripped jeans that curve around her shapely hips and legs, a pink Coach tee that teases the waistband of her pants, and matching Chucks, Amirah stands in front of me, biting on that lower lip of hers again.
My body is taut, rigid, ready to slam the back of her skull into the white brick of my parent’s house and paint it red.
Her green eyes, so vibrant and stunningly gorgeous, stare nervously back at me. That famous reddish-brown hair waving and passing her breasts, and she looks…well.
Too fucking well.
“What in the actual fucking shit are you doing here?” I leer through my teeth, careful to keep my voice down so I don’t alarm Ma or Gran inside. “Did you come back to grab me again?”
“No,” she quickly replies, shaking her head and holding up both of her hands defensively. She better keep them up because that hammer in the back of my jean pocket is calling to me right the hell now. “I’m not here to start any trouble. I just came to see if you were alright.”
“Alright?” I cock my head to the side and glance at her palms. “A proper get well, or sympathy gifts are cupcakes or a fucking pie. You’re neither of those things. You’re someone I want to murder, Rus. So get the hell off my porch.”
“Mills, I—“ My body unexpectedly moves. I don’t know why; she’s one of the last people I want to be near right now, but it gets her to back the hell away from me, flinching and pressed into the house.
I have the strongest urge—the most I’ve ever had in my entire life—to end this woman right now. The sweet demeanor caked in bullshit and how she purposely went the hell out of her way to sets me off.
How she looked me up and decided to bring her entitled ass to my parent’s house is a definite no-no for me. It’s grounds of extermination and all-out war.
“Did you miss me?” I growl, feeling adrenaline begin to course violently through my veins. “You went through all this trouble because I escaped your fucked up little dungeon?”
“No—“ I think I see her mouth tremble a tad as she peers up at me. Her skin is so damn immaculate that I want to tarnish it.
Mark it.
I want to ruin the only good thing she has going for herself right now and make her feel as appalling and hateful as I do right now towards myself.
What goes around, comes around, right?
“Tell me—“ I breathe in her coconut smell, not by choice, but, fuck me, I like it. It sets off a tick inside my brain that we’re on a battlefield, equally matched and unrestrained. That she’s the enemy.
In front of my parent’s house.
“Can you still taste me off your tongue?” Amirah blushes a deep red as she shifts her weight, trying to slide out of the small space I’ve put her in between me and the brick behind her. “Stop moving.”
She does.
Surprisingly, if I’m being honest.
Her forest eyes are wide and cautious as she keeps them glued on me. Honing in to see if she can make out what I’m going to do before I do it. The pads of my fingertips prick at touching her skin at the thought. On my own. To be able to reach out and feel it without metal wrapped around my wrists.
“How prepared do you like to be?” I ask, allowing my eyes to fall down to her full lips.
“Prepared?” Her chest begins to heave breaths as I continue to trail my attention down her body.
“You’re at a disadvantage with me,” I allude. “I wanna even out the score.”
The pads of Amirah’s fingers dig into the sharp bumps of the brick. “I’m not here to—“
“I heard why you’re here.” I connect with greens again. “I’m just thinking you’re not understanding what I’m telling you.”
“You hate me,” she grounds out, her jaw hardening. “I get it.”
“Do you? Showing up at my house was supposed to make me feel better?”
“Of course not.” She shakes her head. “I mean—“
“Selfish reasons,” I input for her. “You wanted to do some bullshit good deed and check up on me. Do your sisters know you’re here?”
This time she violently shakes her head and snaps her eyes closed. “No. I don’t want them to.”
I wish this bitch would sprint away from me, but she remains deadly still. It creates confusion to mix in with everything else I’m feeling, and I don’t like it. I loathe that I’m attracted to this woman who wasted her time trying to convince me that she was sorry. Still trying to convince me that she’s apologetic.
“Tell them.” Her eyes snap open them, slamming into mine in a whirlwind of confusion and surprise. “I’m ready for my turn.”
“Stay away from them,” she warns, a line forming across her forehead. “They’re crazy. They’re out to hurt anyone and everyone around them.”
I snort and take a step away from her, needing to get back inside the house and her out of here.
I’m not scared of anyone.
Mainly a bunch of entitled bitches.
“The plan was to get you out of that basement,” she quickly adds in. “My brother went down there to—“
“Ah, so that’s who my brothers knocked the hell out. He’s lucky to be alive.” I bow my head to the side. “That little girl whose neck I snapped…not so much.” A slow and heinous curl of my lips illuminates off my face. “Next time you want me to die inside, Rus, do it yourself. Don’t send down teenagers to do it.”
“I didn’t want that to happen.”
“Apparently, you did.” I erase some space between us again. Her chin lifting to meet my face as I survey the numerous expressions off her face. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t keep you waiting too long. I had some things I had to do here first.”
“Mills—“ My chest hits hers, warm and soft, but I keep my arms latched to my sides.
“Yeah, just like that. Nice and sweet at first, innocent. I’m going to tear that persona off you, Rus. And then I’m going to fuck you raw while I kill that monster inside. You see, I have a similar one. But I don’t force myself on other people. I just make them bleed…a lot.”
