Курок Дуглас Пенелопа

“It’s okay, babe.” I felt the car slow down. “We’re adults, and we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re not in trouble.”

Reaching over, I felt for the knob I knew would be there and turned off the radio, my ears trained on any sound coming from outside. Gravel crackled under the tires, and I knew Ethan was veering off to the side of the road. He pressed the brake, my body lurched forward a little, and I planted my hands on the dash to steady myself as he shifted the car into Park.

Shit. I’d only been in a car that was pulled over once before in my entire life, and now, tonight of all nights…

A car door slammed shut, and a quiet motor hummed, telling me Ethan was rolling down his window. His shallow breathing filled the car. He was nervous, too.

“Good evening,” a male voice said. “How are you tonight?”

I recognized the voice. Small town, limited cops, but I didn’t mix with him enough to remember the name.

“Hey, yeah, we’re good,” Ethan told him, shifting in his leather seat. “Is anything wrong? I don’t think I was speeding, was I?”

There was silence, and I imagined the officer bending down to peer through Ethan’s window. I remained still.

“Kind of late to be out, isn’t it?” he finally said, ignoring the question.

The hair on my arms stood up. What did he care?

Ethan let out a nervous laugh. “Come on, man. You sound like my mom.”

“Winter?” The cop spoke up. “Everything okay?”

Heat brushed the side of my face. He had his flashlight on me.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

But my hands started shaking. We shouldn’t have stopped. If we’d just been able to get down into the village, around people…

“Can you pop the trunk for us?” the cop asked, his tone clipped. “You have a bulb out. I’ll check it.”

Us. There were two of them.

“I do?” Ethan shifted in his seat again. “That’s weird.”

The trunk popped open, and Ethan exhaled as I waited quietly, still feeling the heat of the flashlight.

“If you see any bodies back there, they’re not mine!” Ethan called back to the second cop at his trunk, joking.

The car shifted under me a little as the second officer fumbled around at the rear, and I clasped my hands together.

“Congratulations to your sister, Winter,” the officer still at the window said. “Looks like your family’s luck is improving. You must be grateful.”

I pursed my lips.

“So where are you two going?” he asked.

“To my apartment in the city,” Ethan replied.

There was a pause, the heat left my cheek, and then he continued, “Planning on staying a while, Winter?” the officer questioned. “Is that your bag in the backseat?”

I swallowed, my heart suddenly hammering.

And then I hear the officer’s low, taunting voice. “Tsk-tsk-tsk… Damon won’t like that.”

I turned my face away, out my window. Shit. I knew it.

“Excuse me?” Ethan interjected.

But he was interrupted by the officer shouting from the back. “Found something?”

“What?” Ethan blurted out.

I turned my head back toward their direction.

They found something? In his trunk?

“Step out of the car, please, Mr. Belmont.”

No.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Ethan argued.

But the next thing I knew, his door was opening, and I could feel him getting out of the car. I didn’t know if the officer helped him or he did it of his own free will, but I opened my mouth to speak. “Ethan…” But I didn’t know what to say. They had him now.

Shuffling and mumbling, I could feel the car shift under me as they dug in the trunk again.

But then…

“What?” Ethan shouted. “That’s not mine!”

I twisted around in my seat, hearing Mikhail whine a little as I tried to hear what they were saying.

“Cocaine,” one of the officers said. “That’s a felony.”

I shot my eyebrows up. Cocaine? As in… cocaine? I unfastened my seatbelt and opened my door. No.

Stepping out of the car, I got out, leaving the door open, and kept my hand on the vehicle, using it as guide as I walked toward the rear. I wasn’t supposed to leave the car. They were going to yell at me, but…

“You guys have to be joking?” Ethan growled. “You planted that!”

I heard a scuffle and a grunt, and I sucked in a breath.

“Whoa, whoa,” one of the officers said. “Are you under the influence right now?”

What was happening?

More grunting, gravel kicked up under their feet, and I knew they had their hands on him.

“Stop!” I yelled, my hands sliding down the hood of the car to the open trunk as I reached them. “He would never do drugs. What are you doing?”

I heard heavy breathing I assumed was Ethan’s as the chilly evening air stung my nose.

“We’ve got at least fifteen baggies here,” a cop said.

“That’s intent to distribute,” added the other.

Intent to distribute. Two possible felony charges? My head was reeling.

“You son of a—” Ethan growled but was cut off and shut up.

“Wait!” I burst out. “Please stop. This is my fault.”

This was all a setup. There was no way he had drugs in his trunk. These cops stopped us for a reason, and it wasn’t a busted taillight.

I stepped closer, careful of my footing. “I called him,” I said, taking the blame. “What do you want me to do? Just please… Please don’t do anything to him.”

There was silence for a few moments, and then I heard some clicks. Someone was on their phone.

“Sir?” one of the cops said. “I have her here.”

Damon. This was him. He was who the cop was calling.

A cool hand touched mine, and I jerked, pausing when I realized the officer had put the phone in my hand. My fear and confusion slipped away, replaced with anger. I breathed hard, seething as I clenched my teeth.

I raised the phone to my ear.

“I’m very disappointed you actually thought this would work,” a hard voice said. “Although I am surprised you even got out of the house.”

It wasn’t Damon.

“Gabriel?” I barely mumbled, shocked.

Damon’s dad had arranged all of this? I was pretty sure he hadn’t been at the wedding. I knew he had to fully support what Damon was doing, but it escaped me that he’d have his back, too. He was watching me.

“Try not to worry,” he went on. “They’ll let him go in the morning.”

“They’ll let him go now!” I growled.

I wasn’t having my friend suffer at all because of me. It was stupid. I should’ve known better. Even if I had made it out, I would’ve put Ethan in Damon’s path just by involving him.

“Or we can keep him locked up until the trial,” Mr. Torrance continued. “Your choice.”

I ground my teeth together, too angry to think. Ethan wasn’t tough. I loved him, but a night in jail wouldn’t be good. Much less weeks, months, or years. Tears sprang to my eyes, but I forced them away.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to get your fucking little ass back home and in bed,” he bit out.

I shook my head, knowing he had me—for now.

But not forever.

“You think I’ll be easy?” I challenged.

“Of course not.” His tone softened, sounding amused. “That’s why he wants you, Winter. Just try not to be predictable next time.”

“What do you care anyway? You have Arion.”

“Arion is Mrs. Torrance,” he clarified. “The face of his family, and the one who will raise his children. But you?” He paused, his tone darkening and making chills spread down my arms. “You’re his cherry on top.”

 

 

 

Damon

 

Seven Years Ago

 

I snake my arm around her, pulling her close and hanging on as I bury my nose in the back of her hair. The coarse little jewels glued to her costume cut into my arm. She’s so small and fragile, like a toothpick in my coil.

The fountain spills around us as her teeth sink into my hand, but instead of yanking my arm away, the pain of her sharp, little bite fills my veins with warmth and my eyelids flutter. Tingles spread under my skin, and the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding finally leaves my lungs.

It doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t hurt the way it should.

I look at her small face, not resisting her as the pressure deepens, and I’m sure the skin has torn.

Yes.

I won’t pull away.

Not ever.

I squeezed her tighter in my arm, the curve of her body molding to mine as I refused to let go. Even as consciousness started to seep in, the fountain faded away, and the scent of her changed from flowers to my soap. The costume she was dressed in was now soft, like cotton, and her naked legs, free of their white tights, laid next to mine.

It was different. Something was different.

I blinked my eyes open, the weight of sleep heavy on my head as the dream floated away and the room came into view. As well as the body next to me.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the girl from the dream.

I stared at the back of my sister’s head, her hair laying across my pillow and nearly as dark as mine. I could feel her breathing in my hold as she slept, and my fist clenched where it lay across her stomach.

I’d reached for her in my sleep.

I never used to do that. We’d been sharing a bed for four years now. Just knowing she was there was enough.

Uncurling my fingers, I accidentally brushed against the skin of her tummy where her shirt rode up, and I stopped, my eyes narrowing as unease burned under my skin.

I lifted the sheet and looked underneath, taking in the pronounced curve of her waist, deeper than I remembered it, and her round ass pressing into my groin.

There were dips in her thighs where the toned muscles were now more pronounced, and her skin looked so smooth.

Fuck. I closed my eyes, the relief of the dream long gone by now.

She was starting to look like other girls. Girls who were old enough for guys to do things to. She felt like the girls I went out with.

“Damon,” she suddenly said, awake. “It’s Banks.”

I guessed I stirred her when I touched her. She probably thought I was thinking she was someone else.

Opening my eyes, I clenched my jaw and yanked away from her. “Yeah, I know who it is.”

I threw off the covers and got up out of bed, grabbing my cell phone off its charger. “I thought I told you to wrap yourself up,” I mumble, unlocking my screen and scrolling through my notifications.

She didn’t say anything, but I heard her scoot up to a sitting position. “When I sleep, too?” she whined. “It’s like a corset, Damon. I can’t breathe.”

You’ll get used to it.

After thumbing through a couple messages from Will and some comments on posts, I tossed the phone down onto my desk and started some music on the computer. Walking to the closet, I grabbed some slacks and a white shirt and then stopped, staring at a pair of jeans hanging next to my black hoodie. Devil’s Night was next week, and a familiar rush skated through my veins.

I grabbed the jeans, too, and headed for the bathroom to my left. I had a craving.

“Maybe…” I heard Banks say from the bed. “Maybe I shouldn’t sleep here anymore, you know?”

I stopped, narrowing my eyes as I turned to look at her.

Her gaze instantly dropped. She knew I didn’t want to talk about this.

Banks was my father’s daughter, but she was mine and had been from the day she came to live here. Her mom was some lowlife slut, one of the many my father had kept on the payroll, and if her mother hadn’t banged down our door for money four years ago, I probably never would have known Banks existed. My father certainly never acknowledged her and still barely did.

That was fine, though. She wasn’t his. No one could take her from me.

After the first time we met, I spent days scrounging and stealing all the money I could find around the house and any valuables my mother wouldn’t know were missing. It was thousands of dollars, and Banks’ drug addict mom put on a show of struggling with the decision for a full twelve seconds before taking the cash and jewelry and giving Banks to me. I brought her home and no one fought me on it. My mother, when she still lived here, didn’t let anything penetrate her happy, little dream world, and my father allowed anything that kept me happy.

Banks stayed in my room, she took care of me, and I provided for and protected her. She had her own mattress up in the little hideaway in the tower adjoining my room, but she’d barely ever slept there.

“Just in this bed, I mean,” she clarified. “In… your bed. Maybe I should start sleeping in my cubbie again. We’re not twelve and thirteen anymore. You’re bigger. You need more room.”

I cocked an eyebrow, angry and knowing I had no good reason to be. There was a reason I kept her a secret. A reason I didn’t let any other girl in my room and forced her to wear my old clothes, bind her body, and would never tell my friends my sister was the only woman who would ever sleep in my bed.

I knew I was fucked up.

I just didn’t care. As long as I was happy, I didn’t explain myself to anyone.

When she turned away, I knew she’d given up the argument, and I continued into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I stripped out of my pajama pants and climbed in, washing and shampooing. I rinsed under the hot spray, bending my head forward and letting the water run down the back of my neck.

I closed my eyes, my fingers pressing into the wall. It’s only a matter of time, though. My senior year just started last month, but it was my last year at home. Next summer, I’d be leaving for college, and Banks wouldn’t be going with me. I should let her set up her own room. Get us both used to the space. We had plenty of empty bedrooms for her to choose from, after all.

And I had no doubt she’d adjust easily and even love having her own room.

No, the problem was me. She was mine. She was the only person who knew everything, but we were growing up, and I knew she was going to leave me eventually.

I dug my fingers into the wall, feeling a face—anyone’s face—fill my hand as I tried to crush it in my fist. The familiar burn crawled up the back of my neck, into my head, and I could feel heat rush through my dick, every inch of my skin begging not to feel anything I was feeling right now.

I needed to get out of here.

Finishing rinsing, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel off the shelf to my left. I dried off, pulled on my jeans and T-shirt, and walked back into the bedroom, drying my hair on the way.

“I did the math problems and updated your research log,” Banks told me, sifting through papers on a desk I never used and slipping folders into my bag. “You need to recopy the math in your handwriting, though, and don’t forget to do the reading in Physics for your test today. At least absorb enough to pass.”

I tossed the towel down and picked up my black hoodie, sliding my arms through. “I always pass. Ever notice that?” I shot her a look before pulling the hoodie over my head. “I could piss all over that test and still pass.”

I heard her laugh under her breath. “Yeah, it’s almost like they don’t want to do anything that will keep you at that school longer.”

Nope. I would never fail a test, much less a class. The administration was practically counting the days until I was gone. They would never hold me back.

I did whatever classwork I was inclined to in order to keep people off my case, but Banks did the homework, projects, and papers. It wasn’t that I was lazy—I worked my ass off for the basketball team—I just didn’t care. And it was too damn hard to force myself to do anything I wasn’t invested in. I was selfish and completely fine with that.

Taking the bag from her with my uniform inside, I slung it over my head and stuffed my wallet, phone, and keys into the pocket. I walked out of the room and closed the door, not even half-way down the short, hidden staircase before I heard the click of the lock on the other side of my door behind me. She knew the drill.

It normally didn’t occur to me to care that my house wasn’t exactly a safe place for pretty, young girls, but I didn’t want anyone messing with Banks. That door stayed locked until she was dressed and had her guard good and up.

Swinging around the bannister, I headed through the foyer, down a few more steps, and into the dining room, straight for the table.

“Good morning,” someone chirped.

I blinked, aggravated. Some girl stood just out of the corner of my eye dressed in the standard white button-down the servants wear, but she must be new. I grabbed a slice of bread from the tray and began piling it with some eggs and bacon, then stuffing some water bottles from the rows on the table into my bag for the day.

Our cook, Marina, placed a silver bowl of fruit on the table.

“When is my father back?” I asked, tearing off the crust on the bread.

“Tomorrow evening, sir.”

“Would you like something in particular for dinner tonight, Mr. Torrance?” the girl piped up again.

Jesus Christ.

I folded the bread in half, keeping everything tucked inside as the girl waited for an answer. I took a bite, shot Marina a look, and walked out, hearing her scold the new girl as I left.

 

 

Life felt like hell, because we expected it to feel like heaven. The quote I read years ago went something like that, but I never understood it. When you’re in the thick all your life, living in ways you eventually figure out no one else is, you learn to sleep well in heat and eat fire. Until one day it’s all you need.

It was heaven I didn’t trust. High hopes and false expectations…

No, I needed the trouble.

I pinched the cigarette butt between my three fingers, feeling my phone vibrate for the second time in my back pocket as I brought my hand up to my mouth and took another drag. The faint sizzle of the paper burned to the end, the hot smoke being pulled into my lungs, and I blew it out again as I leaned against the column next to the bulletin board.

The school was still mostly empty, at least forty-five minutes to the bell.

And the third floor was my favorite place. The bustle of the cafeteria and gymnasium were far below, and there were very few classrooms up here, so it was quiet enough that you could hear every footstep. Every door. Every pen drop… You knew when you weren’t alone.

And she wasn’t alone. I wondered if she’d noticed that yet.

I turned my head and peered around the edge of the column, seeing the blur of her through the glass, across the open air, which allowed for the courtyard below, and through another set of windows. She’d gotten a little too big for her britches, but that was common with new teachers, especially the young ones. They thought college prepared them for this, and even if it did, it didn’t prepare them for Thunder Bay. Things worked a little differently here, and she wasn’t the boss, because I couldn’t be handled. It was time to educate her that teachers fell in line, not the other way around.

She moved in the room, making her copies at the machine, and I licked my lips, my mouth going dry. Come on. Go somewhere quiet, or I’m taking you right there.

Images of her loose, little bun coming down. Those legs in heels as she was bent over a table…

My phone vibrated again, and I blinked hard, swallowing through my parched throat. Goddamn him.

Gritting my teeth, I dug out my phone, swiped the screen, and held it to my ear. “Fuck off.”

“Well, top of the fucking morning to you, Grouch,” Will said. “What’s your problem?”

I swallowed again, raising my eyes to the prize once more. “Nothing my dick can’t solve if you leave me alone for ten minutes,” I told him, staring at her. “What do you want?”

“To make you smile.”

I frowned. To make me… Jesus, fuck. I rolled my eyes. But just like that, I almost gave in. He had a gift for smoothing out my edges and really fucking quick, too.

“Haha. I can hear you smiling.” I could hear his amusement. The laughter always present in his voice.

“You can hear me smiling, huh?”

He was the only one—the only one—who didn’t walk on eggshells around me, and I damn near killed him for it a few times, but now I barely did anything without him. “I told you,” he pointed out. “We’re connected. It’s spiritual and shit.”

I let out a little grin he couldn’t see. “I fucking hate you.”

Idiot.

Will, Michael, and Kai were my friends, and I’d walk through fire for any one of them. Will was the only one, though, who I was sure would walk through fire for me.

“So, what is she wearing?” he asked.

I kept my eyes on her, following her as she left the copy room and started down the hallway. “An engagement ring.”

“Kinky.”

I laughed to myself and took a step and then another, matching her pace as she walked down one hallway and me another. “Be even kinkier if she were wearing the wedding dress, too.”

“I’ll take a piece of that.”

“You’re welcome to it. I’m good about sharing.”

And sometimes sharing was necessary. When it came to women, I didn’t always keep my promises. Will finished them off if I lost interest.

She was approaching the corner and would turn left. It was almost time.

“Gotta go,” I told him. “Meet you in the parking lot at seven-thirty.”

“Yeah. I left my gym bag in your car, so I need to get it before practice. See you—”

I didn’t let him finish. I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, never taking my eyes off her. She rounded the corner and reappeared through the windows perpendicular to me, making her way closer and closer. Pulling to a stop, I slid my phone back into my pocket, leaned my shoulder into the wall, and slipped my hands into the center pocket of my hoodie, waiting for her.

She took another left, briefly disappeared from sight, and reappeared again, stopping as soon as she spotted me.

“Mr. Torrance,” she said.

I nodded once. “Miss Jennings. You wanted to see me?”

She took a step back, looking around her. I wasn’t sure if it was instinctive or if she was confused, but it amused me. She wore a short-sleeved, black V-neck dress that hugged every curve, far from the little cardigans and floral, knee-length skirts she wore at the beginning of the school year. A first-year teacher who started out looking very much wife-of-the-town-pastor seemed to like the lustful eyes of her teenage male students on her and couldn’t help but dress for it now. She still wore her glasses and her hair in tight, little buns, though.

She swallowed, a blush crossing her cheeks. “Um, during school hours, yes. I’m, uh…” She dropped her eyes, shifting in her black heels, and I held in my smirk. While she dressed sexier now, she was still shy.

And I loved that. Confidence annoyed me. I didn’t like being hunted.

“Well, you’re here, I suppose,” she said, giving me a curt smile. “Come in.”

I followed her into the classroom, feeling the blood suddenly pump a little warmer through my body.

This was what it took for me.

There were any number of girls downstairs right now. Girls my own age. The cheerleaders, the gymnastics team, the work-study students in the cafeteria… I could get laid in five minutes if I wanted to, but sex for me had little to do with my body.

It was right here. With my eyes on her back. With the door I closed and locked behind me. With the fear and the attraction and the danger I felt rolling off her at being alone with me. With the idea that she’d have to look at me every day for the rest of the year until I graduated, knowing what she’d let me do to her today and the panic that she let it happen but also the desire of wanting it to happen again.

Sex for me was in the head. Almost entirely.

She set her little pile of papers on her desk and turned around, her eyes darting to the door she just realized I’d closed. A heavy pause followed, and I saw her body go rigid, but she pressed on.

She threaded her fingers in front of her body and put on her stern face. A pretty cute attempt for a twenty-three-year-old who thought the seventeen-year-old guy in front of her who was broader—and half-a-foot taller—actually saw her as an authority figure.