Unholy Terrors, page 7
Hmm.
I slip out a knife from my boot and offer Scarlett a sympathetic look.
“I need to … well, you might want to look away.”
She doesn’t take me up on the offer, so I do what I need to do. Bodies fill with gas; they’ll float after a while. Unless … well, a plastic ball will float unless it has holes in it. Anyway, I take care of the problem and then, with Widow’s help, we wrap the body up, tape it, and then add a few holes to the tarp.
There’s a cinderblock out here, one that I dropped off long ago. This is attached to the tarp after carefully wrapping and knotting it with heavy rope.
Once again, Widow and I heft the body up and then toss it as far as we can into the center of the pond.
“What about the other bodies?” Widow begins, glancing over at Scarlett. It kills me that I don’t know what they’re talking about.
“Someone else’s problem,” she responds, her gaze shifting to Ash Kelly. Excuse me, the new and improved Aspen Kelly. Does this twin also have antisocial personality disorder with narcissistic tendencies and a kiss of psychopathy? Wouldn’t surprise me if he did. “Now what?”
“We can clean up all at once; let’s deal with Mr. Kelly next.” I look over at his twin, his eyes now on the pond and the strange bubbles coming up as the body continues to take on water and sinks to the bottom.
“Any ideas on where we can do this?” Scarlett asks, rubbing at her face with both hands. She needs a shower, some hot food, and a back rub. I’m more than happy to provide that last one. I can be sweet; I can be tender. For the right person, obviously. Scarlett is my person. The only possible person for me. The only option.
She need but ask, and I’ll tame for her.
Well, sort of.
“I know a place, but it’ll be a bit of a drive,” Ash offers up, frowning heavily. “I’ll need a ride back to grab the Cobra afterward.”
“Lead the way,” I say, gesturing at his ‘68 Ford Mustang Fastback. Too bad the car has to bite the dust along with the rapist. Clearly, the car is far more valuable, but sometimes, sacrifices must be made. “Let Alexei drive your car, Force. Ride with me instead.”
She looks up at me like I’m nuts.
Clearly, I must be, suggesting she allow another man to drive her car. The thought makes me edgy, but I’d rather have her with me than follow the usual Prescott rules. After all, tonight is clearly an emergency exception. I’ll forever be stuck with the image of Ash Kelly in the driver’s seat of my Chevelle.
Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it back.
“Okay,” she says finally, sagging slightly, too tired to fight the suggestion. She tosses her keys to him and then gives him a look. “If you want to go back to … well, wherever it is you’re staying, you can pick me up in the morning. We need to talk anyway.”
“I’ll come,” Alexei offers, surprising me. But then his eyes sweep my woman, and I see that he, too, is a problem.
Of course he is.
Because Scarlett Force, well, she’s honey and these boys … they’re flies.
As soon as Scarlett is seated in the front seat, she turns on KMZI 66.6, ignoring the mellow tones of Milicent Patrick, the host for tonight. She’s lamenting the current state of the neighborhood, a common theme as of late, but I know it’s more for the noise than the content that Scarlett tuned in for.
To my great surprise and immense pleasure, Scarlett stretches out on the bench seat and puts her head in my lap. What does this mean? I wonder as my hand hovers, and I finally give in, sweeping hair back from her forehead. I adjust the steering wheel to give her as much room as possible and start the car.
“I thought I’d lived my worst day,” she murmurs after a couple of minutes. It looks as if Ash is taking us down the 126 toward Florence. Ah, the coast. That’s a good idea. Dump the car off the cliff into some rocks, and then let it get swept up by the sea. I like that. Very much so. “But today managed to top even that.”
I stay silent, wondering how to process this, how to respond.
I’ve been waiting for a moment like this.
I’ve wanted for so long to see Scarlett Force relax around me, to give me some trust, and here’s proof of that. I doubt that she’s ever laid her head on another man’s lap. I greedily grasp yet another first of hers, pocketing the memory to keep for myself.
“You need me tonight, just admit it.” My voice is low, almost a purr. A true match for Milicent’s sultry tones as she introduces the next song, and I reach out to turn down the radio. “I’ll curl up around you in bed and keep you safe.”
There’s a long pause there where Scarlett thinks, and I hold my breath.
“My grandmother’s going to be upset if I don’t come home,” she begins, exhaling and sitting up. I lament the loss of her head in my lap, but at least I can look over and see the elegant outline of her face, limned by passing headlights as we make our way to the coast. Usually this drive takes about an hour and twenty. With me at the wheel? Much less than that. I have a police scanner and a radar on hand, just in case. “But fuck it. At best, we’ll be crawling back around, what, four? Five? I’ll text her and tell her I’m staying with Nisha. What’s one more lie?”
With a scoff, Scarlett sweeps her palm over her mussed hair. This moment should be tense and fraught with worry, but I’m so pleased to have her perfect thigh just an inch or so away from mine that I’m in a damn good mood considering.
“When I was neck-deep in this shit, when Lemon was breathing her last breath on my lap …” And here Scarlett trails off, as if she can’t bear to get the words out. I hate myself for not being there. With Lemon. Especially the part with Aspen Kelly. I need to know every detail about that.
You failed to protect her, Bohnes.
I’ll self-flagellate later; I deserve that and more.
She swallows hard and then clears her throat.
“When I was in it, Bohnes, all I could think about was … how much easier it would be if you were there.”
“Is this an admission of some sort?” I query back at her, trying and failing to hide the rampant excitement in my voice. “Because, Scarlett, if you’re interested, I want to show you how a relationship with us would work. It’s all of this and more; I’ll do anything for you.”
“That’s what scares me, Bohnes,” she says, sounding tired. Not physically. Well, perhaps. But more so, she sounds tired in her heart and soul. “What won’t you do?”
I muse on that. I can’t decide if she wants to hear the full truth. That is, that I would quite literally do anything for her. Is that what she’s waiting for? Or will that send her running in the opposite direction?
“God, fuck, I can’t take the smell of blood.” Scarlett grits her teeth and then rolls down her window, sliding across the seat so that she can stick her head out into the wind, her long dark hair fluttering like a flag.
My chest constricts and, even with the scent of blood, I can’t stop other things from constricting. Namely, the blood vessels in my cock. What can I say? I’m a monster. Born, raised, crafted. At this point in my life, I relish and enjoy my monstrosity.
The world is a dark, broken, fucked-up place, and let’s be honest: nobody ever got ahead by being nice.
Scarlett lets out a scream of frustration that gets caught by the wind and dragged away, an endless sound of pain that tears into the night and shatters it in half.
It kills me that there’s nothing more I can do for her.
Eventually, she slumps back into the seat and closes the window.
“Are you, like, in love with me or something?” is what she asks instead, surprising me. Generally, when it comes to Scarlett Force, avoidance is her primary coping technique. I glance sidelong at her and offer up a smile, pushing my hood back so that she can see my face just a bit better.
“Are you in love with me?” I retort, and she stares at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. “What made you decide to fuck me in the woods that day?”
“What made you decide to fuck me?” is what she comes back with, like we’re both five years old. “Am I the only girl that isn’t afraid of you at Prescott?”
“Afraid of me? What does that have to do with anything? Women offer sex as payment to me for services rendered all the time. I could have most any girl at that school that I want, just as you could have any guy.”
Scarlett scoffs at me in disgust.
“God, you’re so fucking shameless. How many girls have you slept with?” Her voice cracks slightly, just the barest little chip in her windshield, the only indication that she’s struggling with her emotions. I’m not entirely certain she cares how many girls I’ve slept with; it’s a distraction technique.
I’m more than willing to comply.
“One.” I follow Ash Kelly as he slows and then makes a right turn, up a private road. Interesting. Beach house? Don’t rich assholes always have beach houses? As if they’re the only ones with the right to the earth’s natural joys.
I wet my lips in annoyance.
“One?” Scarlett repeats, turning to stare at me. “What do you mean one? You’re a virgin?!”
“Virgin? Scarlett Force, you were there.”
She slaps me in the arm which I like. She’s being playful. Yes, her face is tear-streaked and she’ll probably end up with lifelong nightmares after tonight, but at least I’ve successfully distracted her. Dating me would be like dating a nightmare anyway; it would help push the others away.
“I don’t believe you.” She turns away and stares out the window, into the darkness of the woods as we find ourselves swept up in total blackness. Up we go, along a narrow gravel road that makes me a bit nervous.
What if Ash Kelly is plotting?
I mean, he is plotting, but it better not involve Scarlett, myself, or Alexei Grove. That last one is our ticket out of Prescott and poverty forever. If he pushed Widow off a cliff, eh, I could live with that. Maybe Scarlett would cry, but I’d be there to comfort her. Eventually, she’d get over the loss of a possible fuckboy.
“Don’t believe what? That you’re the only girl I’ve ever slept with? Why sound so horrified? Is it attractive for men to fuck a bunch of women they don’t care about? That’s disgusting.” I hiss this last part out as she blinks at me like I’m crazy. Pretty sure that I am, but what does that have to do with anything? It’s morally irrelevant. “Aren’t you happy about this?”
“I slept with Ash.” That’s what she throws at me. She’s deflecting, Bohnes. Still, the reminder infuriates me like nothing else. I slam on my brakes, and Alexei nearly runs into the back of my car.
I come to a full stop and then turn to look at Scarlett who’s returning my stare with a defiant one of her own. It’s impossible for me to miss the puffy redness around her eyes, the red veins in the whites of her eyes, the tremble of her hands in her lap.
She truly loved Lucy Hall, didn’t she? She felt responsible for her.
“Yes, you did. And I don’t like it. I don’t like you bending over and flashing your panties at Widow in the library. What does that have to do with anything? Do you want me to go out and sleep with another girl? Would that make you feel better?”
Scarlett just stares at me and then turns her face back to the windshield. Ash’s silver Mustang is paused just ahead of us, red brake lights casting an ethereal glow in the woods, like blood-soaked moonlight.
“The other day, Widow and I … I don’t know if it was sex. He ground against me in the library and came in his pants.” She throws that out there, still staring out the windshield as cold rage fills me, like fog rolling into a cemetery. “Do whatever you want to do to him. Anyway, he’s officially my fuckboy, too, I guess.” She parks her elbow on the door and puts her chin in her hand, closing her eyes against the pain.
“Fuckboy?” I ask, trying to wrap my head around all of this. You’d think—oh, you’d think—I might be more distracted by the corpse of the mayor’s favorite son in my trunk. Only, I’m not. I don’t care about that. This is all that I really care about. “Scarlett Force, you think I didn’t know about that shit in the library? I can’t be omnipresent, but I have eyes everywhere. I’ll punish Widow when I see fit, but how did this fuckboy thing come about? At the very least, make me your boyfriend.”
“Bohnes …” Scarlett releases a soft sounding sigh, turning to look over at me. “You’re always there for me.” She pauses again, as if she’s gearing up to say something big. “Don’t be. Stop coming to rescue me. It’ll only bring you more trouble.”
“I’m in love with you, Scarlett Force.” I can’t control my breathing. I want to scream, too. Just like she did. Stick my head out the window and yell into the wind. “I know you’re afraid of that. I even understand it. Look at what happened to Lemon.”
“No …” She grinds her teeth together and rubs both palms over her face. “Bohnes, just … stop.”
“I understand it, and I’m willing to be patient. Like I said, normal is overrated. Normal is complacency. Let’s not be complacent, Scarlett Force. Let’s be conscientious, fervent, and extraordinary.” I reach out and grab her arm, yanking her across the length of the leather bench seat until her thigh and mine are pressed together, and then I take her head in both hands and turn it so that she’s facing me. “Let me be your monster.”
I lean in and allow myself just the barest ghost of a kiss, just enough so that she knows I’m here, that she can taste my sincerity.
A fist appears, banging on my window, as I pull back from Scarlett. Her eyes aren’t on that other person though. Instead, they’re on me.
I smile gently at her, rolling the window down before I bother to turn and bare my teeth at whatever male in tonight’s murder party is arrogant enough to interrupt me.
“Don’t you have a curfew or something?” I grind out, finding Widow standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are on fire, and I decide then and there that he’s my biggest problem at the moment. How easy would it be to drown this boy?
“I do, actually. I’m going to pay for this. Probably every last cent that I have, just to bribe my parole officer once. I don’t have time to sit around so you can stick your tongue down the throat of an emotionally damaged woman. Get yourself together, Kellin.” Widow lifts the edge of his lip at me, and I squeeze my hand on the edge of my door to keep it from wrapping around his throat.
“Emotionally damaged?” Scarlett echoes, leaning over my lap in such a way that her breasts are in my face, and I let out a sharp hiss of surprise. Control yourself, Bohnes. Keep it together. But it’s hard, I’ll admit. My sweet, dark love has her tits with their pebbled nipples right next to my mouth. “Screw you, Widow. Get back in your car, fuckboy.” She leans back in and then rolls the window up herself before settling into her seat.
I may have creamed my pants or else I’m just leaking so much pre-ejac that the inside of my sweats are wet.
“How dare he call me Kellin,” I murmur as I start the car again and up we go, winding deeper into the woods. “We don’t know each other.”
“Get to know each other quickly then,” Scarlett says, pulling one leg up onto the seat. Her gaze has sharpened, narrowed, focused in on something distant and shining. “Because we’re going to be working together. You, me, Widow, Alexei, and Ash. Lemon’s death wasn’t accidental; it was planned. Aspen was involved which means the mayor was involved.” She turns her head to look at me, her face cast in a strange glow from the near-silent stereo. “I almost let them have my neighborhood, but I’ll be damned if I let them use Lemon to get it.”
She turns away from me again, but I can’t disagree with any of that.
The mayor, the police chief, the CEO of Archer Realty.
There’s a plot there, one that involved Alexei’s father, that involved Lemon.
It makes sense for us to work together on this. All of us except for Widow. He has no part in this unless … he’s here for the same reason that I am.
That he’s in love with Scarlett Force.
Yeah, maybe I will kill him after all.
Scarlett
“I’m in love with you, Scarlett Force.”
How dare Bohnes spring that shit on me tonight of all nights and yet … it softened some of the jagged edges in my shattered heart. Lemon. I can hardly believe that she’s gone. Now that her body’s no longer in the car, it’s easier to pretend that tonight was just a dark and twisted nightmare.
Only this nightmare is my life, and it’s nowhere near over yet.
Rationally, I know I should let sleeping dogs lie. Let the mayor and his posse do whatever they want to this horrible city. I should run. I should leave Prescott and Springfield and Oregon altogether, start a new life somewhere else.
I’m talented; I know how to win races. Shit, that dream of being a stunt driver in Hollywood, that could happen for me. I know how to open doors. I’m driven.
But … I can’t let this go.
Dark blood bubbling from her lips, the fear in her eyes, that last, awful kiss with Ash.
Fuck.
Even in death, Lemon is screwing everything up for me. And yet, this is the last thing I’ll ever be able to do for her, the last time I’ll ever be able to save her from herself and her terrible decisions.
We come to a stop at the crest of a hill. There’s a house in the distance; I can see the peaks of various rooflines from here, but it appears dark. There’s not a single light on, not even a porch light.
I shove my door open to the sound of the sea, this angry murmur of crashing waves that matches the sound of my own rapidly beating heart.
“What is this place?” I ask as Ash climbs out beside me, looking down at me with eyes crafted of shadow and pain. The closer we get to saying goodbye to Aspen’s body, the more his real emotions begin to drift to the surface, like oil on pavement after a hard rain. It’s being drawn out, making everything slick and unsure.
