Курок Дуглас Пенелопа

Confused but intrigued, I remained quiet as I followed him down the street, hearing the sizzling sound of a neon sign with the smell of pizza damn near making me moan with hunger. Sticks. We were across from the park in the town square right in front of a local hangout. A bar that admitted minors, because it had bands and pool tables, so really, people of all ages could be found there. Is that where he ran to a moment ago?

He held something up to me, and I took it, turning it around in my hands and finally realizing it was a helmet.

A helmet?

I heard something move, a key being inserted, and I hesitated a moment, because I was in sleep shorts, and if we fell, I’d have no clothing protecting my legs, my most prized possessions on which I trusted my future in dance.

I groaned to myself. As long as he didn’t expect me to drive, I guess…

Fastening the strap of the half helmet under my chin, I held onto his arm as he helped me climb on behind him. It was a little chilly, and the wind might be too brisk. I brushed the back of his head with my hand, feeling that he wasn’t wearing a helmet at all.

“Whose bike is this?” I asked.

“A friend.”

I put my hands on his waist, but his body shot up and then came down hard, sparking the motor to life, and I didn’t need him to tell me what to do. I wrapped my arms around him, and put my head down behind his back, but I was nervous as hell. I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.

“Don’t let go,” he ordered me.

Yeah, like, duh.

I tucked my feet up on the footrests and squeezed him tight as we shot off, kicking up gears and picking up pace.

I whimpered, but I didn’t think he heard it.

This was faster than the car. Or maybe it was because I could feel the wind.

He veered left, turning around the square, and the bike leaned so far, I thought we’d tip over.

“Can you slow down a little bit?” I yelled. “Please?”

But once we rounded the corner, he sped off, shooting to warp speed, and I yelped, locking my arms around his body and squeezing him between my thighs.

“I don’t feel…” I laughed for good measure, “Like really secure. Slow down!”

But he didn’t. He veered right, then left, then right again, the weight of our bodies feeling like too much as we tipped from side to side.

There was a dip, my stomach vaulted up and down, and we shot up a steep hill, and I gasped, holding him tighter.

We raced over the top of the hill, leaving the ground and picking up air as we flew over the hump and to the ground again. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt like I was on a ride I couldn’t control and didn’t have time to think, and even if I could, I couldn’t stop what was happening. My body rushed with heat and energy, terror swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh, puke, or scream.

He sped around a bend, we leaned, and I could almost feel the ground an inch under my leg. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m gonna fall!” I cried out. “Stop, please!”

And he did. He slowed and halted, and as if by magic, everything was quiet again.

I didn’t let him go.

“This is black,” he said. “Fear, falling, release. Excitement, risk, danger.”

I sat there, hugging him and trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It scared me just like he did when he broke into the house last week. I hated that, but… I didn’t really hate it anymore. Probably because I wasn’t as scared of him anymore. It was fear in a controlled environment. The motorcycle wasn’t.

Or maybe I just needed to try it again.

“I won’t let you go ag—” He stopped and evened out his voice. “I won’t let you go,” he said. “Hold on.”

I inhaled a shaky breath and readied myself for another go. And when the bike shot off again, I lifted my head, making myself not hide from it.

He won’t let me go. He won’t let me go.

The wind cut my face, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. After a moment, I found my body molded to his and moved with it as he turned and leaned, sped and broke, and it was like we were one rider.

When he leaned, and I thought we were going to fall, I squeezed my eyes shut and stopped breathing, letting him handle the bike and me and carrying us around in one piece.

When it happened again, I eased my muscles a little more, trusting him and letting him do it. I tipped my head back, feeling the wind and my body move with his, no longer needing to squeeze him so tightly.

I wanted to go all night now, because for the first time in forever, I was seeing things again. And just because I’d lost my sight didn’t mean that I needed to fear getting lost.

Just maybe, it was exactly what I’d been dying for.

The rumble of the motor shook my tummy, and I smiled, hoping for a thousand more nights like this.

He slowed to a stop and put his feet down on the ground. “Fear, falling, release,” he said again. “Excitement, risk, danger.”

“And at any moment, death,” I mused, still with my smile toward the sky.

“Freedom,” he added.

I laid my head on his back again, and he put the stand down and took out the key.

“We’re done,” he told me, sounding a little amused when I wouldn’t let him go.

“I’m cold.” I nuzzled closer.

He chuckled under his breath, and the smell of Sticks pizza wafted through my nostrils again. “Can you show me red?” I asked.

I didn’t want the night to end.

He paused for a moment and then whispered over his shoulder. “Someday.”

“Are you still going to hurt me?” I joked.

But he paused again, his whisper barely audible. “Someday,” he said.

 

 

 

Damon

 

Present

 

I was glad Michael and Rika weren’t having their engagement party at St. Killian’s. I refused to step foot in the nightmare they no doubt made of one of our favorite high school haunts.

St. Killian’s was an old, abandoned cathedral we all explored as kids, precious hours spent away from parents and left to our own devices, and when we became teenagers, the catacombs underneath were our obsession. I could still smell the earth and stone and hear the water trickling down the walls. It was decadent and indulgent, and my domain.

We ran and hid, scared each other, drank, and had all kinds of hot fun down there growing up. It was our pathetic little empire, but it was freedom.

And they just had to douche it up by buying it and renovating it into their new, lovely home, probably taking away everything that was wild and primitive about it.

God, please, someone fuck me in the ass. Where the hell did the kids at Thunder Bay Prep go now on Devil’s Night? Did anyone keep up the tradition after we’d left? Was everything we did pointless and dead now, lost in vague memories that wouldn’t outlive anyone who knew us?

I tipped my head to the side, hearing my neck crack, and took a drink of the Stoli in my glass. I said I would stay at this party for three minutes. It had been eight.

They got engaged two years ago, and they were finally celebrating it? Maybe Rika had wanted to finish school first or Michael’s schedule had been too busy. Whatever.

Pods of people loitered around the art museum, dressed in their best and here to wish Michael and his little monster a happy little life. But really, it was just a precaution. Michael and Rika were American royalty and would inherit a lot of power, eventually. Best to pay your respects in hopes of earning a seat at their table one day.

Glasses clinked, chatter melted together, sounding like a flock of birds, and everyone was smiling, except me. They all avoided me. Even though two of my friends went to prison with me, I was the only real criminal here. I was the rapist. The sexual deviant. The sick one. Lock up your daughters, wives, sisters, and moms. Hell, lock up Grandma, too.

I caught their sideways looks at me, and then they’d freak out when I looked back, and they hurriedly turned their heads. I laughed to myself and emptied my glass. Jesus Christ.

Crane, my head of security, approached my side, and I set the empty glass on a passing tray, picking up a new one.

“Where did she disappear to the other night?” I asked him.

“Coldfield,” he reported low for only me to hear. “The new haunted house. With her friends. No men with them.”

I scanned the room slowly, looking for Winter but not finding her. “Did she like it?”

I didn’t know why I cared. Maybe it would tell me if I needed to up my game when the time came.

“I think so,” he said. “I lost track of her for several minutes. Her friends did, as well.”

I spotted Arion and her mother talking to a group of older ladies. Vicious cunts like the rest of the matriarchs in this town.

“Was she meeting someone?” I suggested. She was blind. She would’ve been careful not to get lost by accident. Was it on purpose then?

“I don’t think so,” he answered. “When she reappeared, she looked shaken. Flushed. I think she just got lost.”

I laughed under my breath. She always did scare easily.

“And the attorney?” I asked about the rest of his list of duties I’d given him.

“Yes, the appointment’s set up.”

I locked eyes on Rika on the dance floor with some guy I didn’t know. His hand sat too low on her hip, his fingers brushing the top of her ass, and I narrowed my eyes on them, taking another sip. “And the council?”

Crane chuckled. “Yeah, it’s done,” he said. “If your father finds out how much of his money you’ve thrown around town…”

“Oh, he will,” I mused. “When it’s too late, of course. But I need all my ducks in a row first.”

And then I spotted Michael Crist, my old-friend-now-enemy, heading straight for me. Oh, great.

“Quack, quack,” Crane mumbled, probably seeing him approach, too.

I grinned at his joke as he walked away and squared my shoulders as Michael approached.

“Do you think I won’t kick you out?” he sneered. “The women don’t protect you.”

“Maybe not my women.”

He thought I thought I could be here, because the Ashbys were invited, but my insinuation was clear. Both his fiance and Kai’s wife held less of a grudge. They may not hate me being here.

“Speaking of which…” I gestured to Erika on the dance floor. “Have you noticed the paws someone’s putting all over yours?”

“She is none of your concern.”

“Do something about it, or I’ll make it my concern.”

Why did I even care? I didn’t know. I spent a lot of time resenting Rika and her influence over the guys that I didn’t really realize…she belonged. Maybe I kind of liked her.

“Michael? Everything okay?” Kai walked over, and I rolled my eyes so far back in my head I almost saw my brain.

Two peas in a pod.

I glanced over to Rika again, noticing by just the guy’s look and smile that he was flirting. And Michael had his back turned, fucking oblivious.

“You know,” I said, stepping forward into Michael’s space, “when the alpha in a pack gets old or sick—weak—the other dogs can sense it.” I narrowed my eyes on him. “And they stop backing down.”

He stepped up to me, too, both of us nose to nose, him gauging how far he wanted to take this at his own engagement party and me not giving a shit. My family had money and connections, too, and I was done vying for a place among them. I was stronger. While Will and Kai took a plea deal on their assault and battery charges, I never gave in. I was in prison longer, and I’d been alone enough. This was my fucking town, too, and if I had to tear everything down and rebuild it to make some of it mine, I would do it.

Kai stepped in as he always did, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Damon, if you’re not enjoying yourself, you can leave,” he said.

“Nonsense,” I taunted, taking in the string quartet, champagne, and servers with trays of shit-colored canaps. “I like your party. It’s so…tasteful.” I laughed, taking a sip of my drink. “I remember when you had an imagination.”

“And I remember when you had a prayer,” Michael shot back, inching in. “I have my own bank account, Damon, with my own money, credit cards, and an education. I have connections outside of my father, friends, respect, standing, a fucking credit score, and the door is open to me at any restaurant, bank, or country club I want to do business with in the world.” He grinned. “Tried to get into Hunter-Bailey lately?”

Prick. He’d had me banned from the men’s club two years ago.

“I can fuck my beautiful fiance any time I want,” he went on, “and she looks really amazing dressed only in that quarter-of-a-million-dollar necklace around her neck right now. A necklace I bought without asking my daddy for the money.”

“And how about fun?” I retorted. “Are you having any of that without me?”

This was not the party it should’ve been. My sister didn’t get the party she should’ve had, either. God, they were pathetic. We would’ve laughed at this polite, bland, and pretentious snooze-fest back in the day, and then grabbed the girls and taken them for an all-night ride through our underworld. What a shitshow.

Kai looked at me, his dark eyes only a shade lighter than mine. “Banks loves you,” he said. “And we would never disinvite the Ashbys. Those are the only reasons you’re here. You burned down my dojo, you tried to kill us, and you’re not to be trusted around Rika. We’re not friends, so when we run into each other, we’ll keep it brief and civil for the women’s sake, but I’m not ready to pretend anything is okay.”

“Everything okay?” Arion popped up in front of us, asking.

I snorted, the little speech he thought would have me shaking in my boots ruined now.

The whole group arrived—Will and Alex, Margot, Arion and Winter, along with that little shit-stain Ethan Belmont. He was next on Crane’s list of duties.

But I guessed they had to invite everyone to get the pretentious part right. Rika was circulating now, and my sister was AWOL. I imagined these things made her as uncomfortable as me.

“Peachy,” Michael replied and then leaned over to Margot, kissing her on the cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” she said and then joked. “Even if your mother made you.”

She smiled at him, and I knew Michael’s mother and Winter’s mother were friendly, both of them probably finding common ground in their family drama.

He offered her an arm and led her off to the dance floor, Kai faded away, and Arion sidled up to me, taking a sip of my drink. I cast her a glance, able to appreciate how beautiful she actually was in her skin-tight gold dress, long golden hair, and every inch of visible skin glowing and soft.

But she was cold, shallow, and boring. Someday someone might be able to get inside her head and reach her, but it wouldn’t be me. I’d already been there with someone else and never again.

“Wanna dance?” I heard Ethan say.

I looked over to see Belmont with his arm around Winter, and I let my eyes fall down her body, noticing she had changed clothes. Her gown was gone, replaced with a thin, black fabric that draped over a black bodysuit—or leotard—with the gauze twisted into straps over her shoulders and fitted around her breasts. The sheer fabric draped past her ass, down her legs, and not quite to her ankles which were laced with matching black ballet slippers. No tights. Her bare legs were completely visible through the dress, which slit up the middle, giving her free rein to move.

“I was just about to,” she answered. “Rika and Michael asked me.”

Asked you? To dance?

“Sweet,” he replied.

But I cocked an eyebrow. “Why the hell would they do that?”

Was this Rika’s way of keeping an eye on Winter? Installing herself in her life again?

Winter’s chin lifted a hair and she set her jaw. “Because I’m good,” she stated.

“Well, this should be entertaining,” Arion mumbled with a smirk.

I didn’t know if I agreed. Winter would dance. For me. I didn’t like they’d gone behind my back to arrange this with her.

“Oh, Winter, this is Alex, by the way,” Will said and then eyed me. “My new best friend.”

My lips twitched with a smile. Touch.

Alex reached out with both hands, taking Winter’s and shaking it. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“Alex goes to school with Rika in the city,” Will explained to Winter.

She nodded, and I chuckled to myself. Yeah, Will, that was how we knew her. Sure.

I lifted my drink to my mouth. “Is Alex for hire tonight?” I asked, gazing down her body, the caramel-colored gown perfectly accenting her deep brown hair.

Will turned his glare on me. “Fuck you.”

“I’m completely serious,” I maintained, turning to my wife. “Do you like her?”

I mean, she was all ready to bring another woman into our bed—or my bed—days ago, right? And this was Alex’s job. As an escort, she should appreciate the business.

Arion remained quiet, her eyes falling and looking uncomfortable. “Damon, it’s not the place.”

“Do you like her?” I pressed, gazing down into her eyes and threading my finger under her necklace, gently pulling her mouth up to mine. “I like her. Tits for days and big eyes. I’d love to see those big eyes on me when she fucks you.”

“Jesus,” I heard someone mumble.

Another person sighed their aggravation.

But Winter remained silent. I could feel her, though. She was all I felt. I wanted her to hate this. To feel hurt that her eyes would never be on anyone, and she would never be as enjoyable or as sexy as Alex or Arion, because they could taunt with a single look.

She was pathetic, and less, and without. Like I could’ve ever enjoyed you like a real woman. Is that what you thought, Winter?

Arion kept her eyes down, not wanting what she was willing to do in the privacy of our bedroom displayed in public and in front of others.

Her lips pursed, but she finally answered. “You’re in charge.”

I quirked a smile, hating that she was so pliable, but glad Winter heard that. I didn’t need her. I could get what I wanted from anyone. Let her sit on that in bed tonight.

Even if I didn’t want it from just anyone.

I dropped my hand, peering over at Alex. “Is it still full price if I just watch?” I teased. “And if we do like a punch card, can you blow me on the eighth visit?”

Arion growled and spun around, walking away, while Ethan grabbed Winter’s hand and left.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Will said, turning to Alex. “Let’s go.”

I laughed, watching him walk away and thinking his little escort was following. Instead, Alex shook her head and sauntered over to stand at my side.

She crossed her arms, observing the party with me. “It is an art how quickly you can make everyone want to kill you.”

I shrugged, hearing the smile in her voice. “I just can’t help myself.”

I took another drink, kind of wanting to kill myself for a second, too. The shit that came out of my mouth. All for Winter’s sake, because she was my sole motivation in everything I did, and I was kind of fucking ashamed she had that power.

I didn’t have to explain myself to Alex, though. She knew what I was doing. I respected her, because she was no nonsense and made no excuse to do what she needed to do to get what she wanted. The world respected people who didn’t crave approval.

“How’s the job going?” I inquired, glancing down at her.

Her brow shot up, looking dissatisfied. “It’s almost not worth what you’re paying me. That old fuck is agonizingly boring, Damon,” she told me. “And pompous.”

“I know.”

Michael’s father had information I needed, and I doubted he’d care that I put Alex into bed with him to get it. It was for a good cause.

“Are you getting close?”

She pulled a flash drive out of her bodice and held it up to me. “I was able to grab this. But there’s more,” she pointed out. “Gimme a few days.”

I took it, hoping lots of good things were on it. For all our sakes. Her computer science minor was definitely a perk for this job.

“Make it two,” I told her, “and you get a bonus.”

I held up the flash drive, looking at it and pleased that everything was coming together. All the ducks. “Quack, quack,” I mumbled, feeling fucking great all of a sudden.

Someone bumped into me, knocking my shoulder, and the flash drive fell to the ground.

“Oh, excuse me,” a blonde woman dressed in a gray gown said.

She dove down and plucked the flash drive off the floor, and then stood up, raising her hand to give it back to me.

But she froze, meeting my eyes. Her face fell, and she didn’t move except to breathe.

Christiane Fane. Rika’s mother.

And even though she had a full-grown daughter and spent years on pills and alcohol, she was still incredibly beautiful. Her hair was loosely pinned back, strands framing her face, and her skin shimmered in the candlelight. Jewels hung from her ears, and her eyes flaunted several shades of blue that ade them look exotic.

I wondered why my father never pursued her after her husband died. My mother had left by then, and Christiane was the wealthiest woman in town. She was gorgeous, still young enough to have more kids, and kind of stupid. I’d never understand how anyone remained that weak their entire lives, but here she was.

Why the fuck was she staring at me?

“Like what you see?” I smarted off, snatching the flash drive from her hand.

Jesus, go away.

She blinked, snapping out of it, and then dropped her head and walked away. Was she drunk or something? I thought Michael got her to kick that shit.

Whatever.

“So you going tell me what you’re doing exactly?” Alex asked once she’d left.

I tucked the drive into my pocket, letting out a deep breath. “Getting my family back. I—”

But I didn’t have a chance to finish. The string quartet stopped playing, and everyone exited the dance floor as I was sure a speech was about to start.

But it was Winter’s voice I heard.

“I have a special gift for Michael and Erika,” she said, and I moved a few steps to the right to get a view of her standing in the middle of the dance floor. “Something I hope they’ll find entertaining. But…” she smiled, looking beautiful with her hair piled on top her head. “I hope the lovely couple doesn’t mind—I’m dedicating this to my sister’s new husband.”

What?

And then she moved her head around the room. “Damon?” she called out, making everyone turn their heads in my direction.

“I worked very hard,” she told me. “I hope you like it. You know how much I love Christmas.”

Christmas? The village she wanted out of the basement when she was in high school sprung to mind, and I remembered that she decorated for the holiday the day after Halloween. Which would be soon.

My eyes didn’t leave her as I took a step closer and placed my glass on a tray as the server passed.

She wouldn’t dance for me. Not willingly anyway.

Finding her mark already placed on the dance floor, she settled into a traditional pose, one foot turned out, the other laying behind her, and her arms positioned down, forming a circle.

She never started like that. She always came in already moving, natural and unsophisticated. That was how she danced. Uncivilized. It was what I loved.

The music started, a slow, jazzy guitar sound, the beats all poised and separate. With each string, she moved. Controlled, routine, and trite, a new pose for every chord. Arm out, toe out. Arms up, feet moving from one elementary position to the next. There was no flow. It was like a warm-up.

But then the lyrics started, a deep and raw voice coming out of the sound system, and she popped up on her toes, stepping one foot in front of the other, her body all of a sudden coming to life and slinking from one move to the other.

And that’s when the song registered. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.

But it was a cover—some bluesy, rock variation—sexy, slow, and taunting.

I clenched my jaw.

Her shoulders rolled, one after the other, and her hips swayed to the music, her eyes closing and her neck bending like a seduction.

The drums kicked in, building up the song, and she jerked her body with every beat. Then she threw her head back, moved her arms, spun around, and rolled her head, pulling the pin holding her hair up, and it all came spilling down around her as the music let go and the singer’s voice cried out its raw rendition.

“Whoo-hoo!” Shouts went off around the room as people started to lose control, and I balled my fists, watching her.

That wasn’t fucking ballet. She may as well be taking her clothes off.

“Oh, hell yeah,” some guy cheered.

“Shit, that’s hot,” another one chimed in.

Motherfucker.

She twirled and stepped, moving like sex and running her hands all over her body, the muscles of her toned thighs visible through the sheer skirt all the way up to her crotch. The leotard left nothing to the imagination. Her hair whipped around, falling in her face, and her lips parted, making her look hot and breathless. My cock warmed with the rush of blood, and I wanted nothing more than to give her the spanking she damn-well deserved out in the car right now.

God.