Greed, p.4
Greed, page 4
“Ted Bundy was good looking too, and he was a murderer,” another scoffs, pushing glasses up her nose as she comes out of her room and locks the door.
“Well, I have something he can murder,” cackles the blonde.
“You didn’t see me, ladies,” I tell them in a seductive tone, adding my signature smirk.
“Be hard to forget that face.”
“And that ass,” another croons.
Being good looking has its perks, and these bitches are thirsty. I might have to pay them a visit when my dick isn’t in big brother mode.
As soon as I find Evie’s room, I try the door. It opens, granting me access.
Sitting on the bed, staring off into space, is Evie. My chest aches at seeing her looking so fucking lost. Before she and Mason disappeared, Evie was the constant in our lives. We relied on her quirky personality to keep us laughing, and she always stopped us from doing crazy shit that would fuck up all our futures.
And now?
I don’t fucking know her.
But I want to help her. Be the brother I should have been for her.
“Hey,” I greet, soft, cautious.
Her head tilts up, and her eyes widen. “Micah,” she breathes, her gray eyes turning watery. “What are you doing here?” She glances at her phone on the end table, then furrows her brows at me.
I walk in and close the door behind me. She flinches when I approach, wounding me, but I tug her to me anyway. She smells like apples. Foreign, but still Evie. I kiss the top of her head and hold her tight.
“You okay?” I mutter. “I’m worried about you, rugrat.”
She trembles in my arms. “I’m okay. It’s just a lot. I want to be normal and thought I could keep both parts of my life separate, but then I killed—”
“No. You didn’t. It was me.”
I frown when she pulls away from me. She checks her phone, responds to a text, then slides it under her pillow as she sits on the bottom bunk. Striding over to her, I join her. I take her hand, and she sighs, a ghost of a smile tilting her lips.
“Tell me about your life. Were they good to you?” I ask, my voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ve thought about you so much over the last two years.”
“I was with a good church family,” she says, her voice taking on a robotic quality.
I run my thumb along the new scars on her arm. “And these? Did this good church family give you these?”
Fat tears well in her eyes, spilling over. “Just let it go,” she begs.
Searching her face, I hunt for clues, needing to know what’s going on with her. Whatever happened, it hurt—it fucking hurt, and I wasn’t there to protect her.
“What was that guy doing following you that night?” I ask tentatively, trying not to spook her.
She fidgets, crossing her arms over her chest and looking down to her feet.
“It’s complicated, Micah.”
“Uncomplicate it.”
She looks up at me through wet lashes, a frown line marring her forehead.
“He works for Mr. Benedict. He collects me to take me over there.”
My stomach roils, and I stand abruptly, smashing my head on the fucking bunk bed. “Evie, why?” There’s a noticeable tremble in my voice.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “It’s by choice, Micah. And not what you think.”
What the fuck does that mean?
“What’s by choice?”
“You don’t understand, and I’m not explaining things to you because it’s my business,” she states, staring up at me with conviction.
Dropping to my haunches, I implore her to laugh and tell me she’s only joking and this isn’t what the fuck I think it is. He’s manipulated her into some fucked up relationship? Based on the way she was in high school, I thought she was into chicks. She’s never indicated any interest in men, and I’d catch her watching the Chastity chick often when she lived with the Griffins.
But she doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she looks at me like I’m the one who just said some fucked up shit.
“I can help you,” I whisper, running my thumb over the back of her hand. “Let me help you. You don’t have to hide who you are, Evie.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, you’re into girls, right?” I smile, but it spooks her. She jerks away from me and paces the floor in front of the bed.
“D-Don’t say stupid things. And acting l-like you know me. I’m n-not the same person you remember,” she says sadly.
Ouch.
I scowl. “Then who are you, Evie?”
“A sinner,” she whispers. “Like you.”
I stand, feeling creeped out. I’m trying to offer support, not share our sins.
“I want to fucking help you find yourself again, Evie. I feel like I failed you. I’m still failing you.”
“I know, Micah. God, I’m sorry. It’s just…” She pauses, and I freeze, desperate to hear what she’s going to divulge.
She opens her mouth to speak, but ends up screaming in surprise when Mason bursts into the room, violence in his eyes.
“You okay?” he demands. “What’s wrong?”
“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” she asks, swiping at her tears. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No, I…” he trails off, confused. “I just got a text.”
A text? He gets a text and busts in here like he’s going to save the fucking world?
“From who?” I ask.
As soon as he realizes I’ve been in the room with Evie, alone, he explodes. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Both Evie and I refuse to answer. It looks worse than it is. But for him to even insinuate the worst is annoying as hell. It’s fucking gross.
“Anyone gonna fuckin’ answer me?” he roars.
If he’s going to demand answers, I can demand a few of my own. Let’s fucking talk, brother. Let’s fucking talk.
Micah
The cop’s eyes narrow when he walks past me on the sidewalk, and I grit my teeth. I’m about to sweat to fucking death as anxiety settles in the pit of my stomach.
I’m too fucking pretty for prison.
One quick glance over my shoulder tells me the cop kept on walking, ignoring my paranoid ass. It makes me wonder how Evie is doing with all this. She fucking killed the guy for crying out loud. I wish she wasn’t being so distant. It’s making me crazy. I continue walking to a bar in the French Quarter called The Voodoo Lounge, trying to shake away the annoying sense of dread that’s loomed over me since Mason and I buried that asshole’s body.
In an attempt to drive the emotion away, I think about Envy. Not long ago, he and I went out together to a bar for some drinks to shoot the shit. He’s too fucking excited about being friends and in this brotherhood. Behind the smiles and friendliness is something else—something I’ve seen flash in his eyes, but haven’t put my finger on. All I know is it unnerves me. And when he drones the fuck on about “someone he’s into,” it makes me want to tell him to shut the fuck up and move on. I know this mysterious someone. I’ve seen him eye-fuck her a million times. Sabella Gunner. He doesn’t have to tell me. It’s written all over his face every time they’re in the same place at the same time. Sabella, no matter how much Envy seems convinced he can get a girl like her, is not going to fall hopelessly in love and into his waiting arms. Because if Wrath doesn’t stop that from happening, I will. She’s too sweet for someone like him. I don’t fucking trust him, brother or not.
A girl walks past. Tall and leggy. Silky brown hair. I do a double take, thinking I summoned her simply by thinking about her sexy ass. When the girl makes eye contact and smiles at her, I realize it’s not Wrath’s twin, just some pretty girl prancing by. I give her a nod, but keep walking. As much as I’d love to get laid, I have more important shit to sort out.
Pushing into The Voodoo Lounge, I pay my ten-dollar cover and head over to the bar where Mason wanted to meet.
I see him sitting on a stool with his back to me. The fucker got huge. He’s every bit as jacked as Wrath. But where Mason is bulked up and slightly unhinged after a prison stint, Wrath is a goddamn lunatic.
Sliding into the empty stool beside him, I nudge his shoulder, adopting my best womanly southern tramp voice. “I give the best blow jobs in N’awlins. The first one’s free, sugah, but the rest’ll cost ya.”
He flashes me a go to hell look, but then a small, familiar smile tugs at his lips. There he is. There’s the guy I used to run the streets and get into a shit ton of trouble with. “Fuck off, idiot.”
But he doesn’t really want me to fuck off because he nudges a Heineken my way. I pick it up and take a hearty swig.
“I’m not fucking your sister,” I tell him bluntly. “I thought I should start with that.”
He snorts. “I know.”
“So, why are you acting like such a dick?”
A heavy sigh escapes him, but he doesn’t answer right away. The buzz in the bar isn’t too loud, just the usual weekday evening people laughing, listening to whatever classic rock is playing on the jukebox, and sharing a beer.
“Lillian,” he grumbles under his breath. “I am going to kill that woman one day.”
I chuckle darkly. “I’ll do you a solid and help you bury her body. That’s what friends are for.”
He helped me bury the fucker Evie took out, so it’s only fair.
“How’d we get here? So fucked up? I mean, I always thought we’d fuck up our lives,” he grumbles, “but I thought we’d be the ones doing it. Not others doing it for us.”
I tap the bottle on the bar top and shrug. “I don’t know, man. One minute we were having the time of our life, and the next, it’s two years later, both of us in a hell under the reign of a she-devil.” I slap him on the back. “The Elite can hold Evie over our heads, but not forever. We’ll keep her safe, Mase. I promise you that.”
I don’t tell him we may have lost her already and I don’t know how to bring her back, or if anyone can. No, I share a beer with my brother and catch the fuck up. It feels like old times, and I think the normalcy is something we both need—who the hell knows when we’ll get more of it.
“Do you want to hang out later?” Envy asks, eager as a fucking puppy.
I knew throwing him a bone was a bad idea. Now he wants me to keep playing with him. It’s annoying as fuck.
“Nah, man. I’ve got shit to do,” I lie.
He starts babbling about some computer code or some shit, but I’m not listening. Wrath and his twin are walking ahead of us, and I can’t take my eyes off her ass. Unlike most of the girls here wearing jeans or sweats, Sabella is wearing a demure pleated skirt that showcases her shapely long legs. Simple and conservative—but it still looks hot on her.
“I’m going to marry her,” Envy says, jerking my attention his way.
“What?”
He tears his gaze from Sabella, blinking away the weird look on his face, and grins at me. “My girl.”
“What girl?”
“You don’t know her,” he says easily. Too easily.
“You’re a little young to be thinking about marriage and shit, creeper,” I joke, playfully punching his shoulder.
“I’m an old soul,” he tells me, his eyes twinkling. “Come on, man. Let’s get drunk.
I begrudgingly agree. Maybe if I get a few drinks in him, he’ll reveal who his secret someone is, and I can rest easy knowing it’s not Sabella Gunner.
Why do I care?
I don’t.
I fucking don’t.
Okay, maybe I do.
Because it’s Wrath’s sister.
Just like I care about Evie because she’s Mason’s sister. My sister.
I’m fucking honorable like that.
I’m late for class, but whatever. My head hurts like a motherfucker and I’m in no hurry. Envy and I got shitfaced last night. He was on his phone all night, doing weird Envy shit, and I still never got any information out of him. Now, my head throbs, and I wish I stayed in bed.
Someone slams into me, then cries out in shock. I steady the girl and smile. Isabelle Savoie. It’s unusual for me to see her outside of Sunday mass. We don’t have any of the same classes and she’s a couple years older than me.
“Oh my goodness,” Isabelle rushes out. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
I chuckle. “It’ll take a lot more than a little pipsqueak like you to knock my ass over.”
Her cheeks redden and she shakes her head. “Sorry. See you around, Micah.”
Before she walks away, I grab her arm. “Hey, Isa, wait a second. Can I talk to you about something?”
Her brows furl together and she checks the clock on the wall. “I’m late anyway. What’s wrong?”
“What was Evie like? You know, when she stayed with your dad?”
She purses her lips and drops her gaze, shrugging. “I don’t know. I mean, for the most part, she was at the nunnery.”
“Why hadn’t I ever seen her at the church? My parents dragged me there quite a bit over the past two years. If she was staying with your dad, why was it so hush-hush?” This really bothers me. She’d been under my nose the entire time.
“I don’t know…” she trails off. “It was odd—the whole thing was odd. But you don’t dare question my father.”
Archbishop Savoie looks like a fucking linebacker. He smiles at the people of the congregation, but it’s fake. I can see right through it. The eyes don’t lie. He’s an asshole of epic proportions.
“Did Evie ever question your father?” I demand, anger rising up within me.
Isabelle flinches. “I’m not sure. I mean…not that I ever saw. It was more like he was assessing her behavior. Less like a guide and more like a babysitter. She seemed to obey him, though.” Her eyes grow stormy. “If he was hurting her, I’d be able to tell.” She lifts her chin bravely.
Why, Isabelle, because he hurts you?
I don’t voice my question. I’m already letting my concern over Evie and Sabella intrude my every thought, I don’t need to add another girl to the list.
“Do you think she’s okay?” I ask, frowning at her. “She’s so different than I remember. Lost.” Brainwashed.
“God will help her find the way,” she assures me, as though this is the one right and true answer.
But who is Evie’s god?
Something tells me it’s not the same one sweet Isabelle worships.
No, Evie’s god is one with dark intentions.
And I’ll be damned if I don’t get to the bottom of this.
Micah
Several weeks later…
“Where are you sneaking off to, rugrat?” I whisper-shout, and Evie almost jumps out of her skin.
“Micah,” she hisses. “You nearly gave me a damn heart attack.” She places a hand over her heart and looks around like someone else will jump out at her at any moment.
I wasn’t creeping. She was walking past me, oblivious to everything around her.
“I have class, but I could blow it off if you want to do something?” I offer, but she shakes her head and checks her phone.
“No, I have somewhere to be,” she says absently. “Maybe another time?”
That’s the only response I get out of her lately. She’s always so damn busy. I don’t want to be an overbearing prick, but I’m desperate to know what the hell she’s so busy doing.
Mase said she’s been keeping her distance from him, and he’s too wrapped up in some piece of ass to notice something isn’t right with her.
“Are you going to the Benedict estate?” I ask her.
When she doesn’t answer, I grab her arm and tug her out of the way of student traffic.
“Evie, what are you doing over there?” I demand. “Is Malcom making you do things you don’t want to do?”
Rolling her eyes, she shrugs off my hand and hikes her bag over her shoulder. “You have no clue what that man has done for me.” She shakes her head, disappointment marring her features.
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snap. “Even if he has done stuff for you, it’s not free. It’s not from the goodness of his damn heart.”
“He knows what we did,” she rushes out, folding her arms and glaring at me.
My heart is about to convulse. He can’t fucking know what I did. I don’t want him having anything on me.
“What does he know?” I growl, checking our surroundings for anyone close enough to hear what we’re talking about. We’re clear.
“I told him. All of it,” she falters, tears glistening in her eyes. “I had to. Why do you think no one has come looking for Roger?” Her voice rises with her building anger. “Why it’s not on the news or in newspapers?”
Roger. I didn’t think about him having a name. Being an actual person. It’s stupid, but it made it easier that way.
“I killed him…”
Looking around anxiously, I place a hand to her mouth. “Shhh, Evie, fuck,” I grind out, pushing her back to a tree and narrowing my eyes on her. Expecting her to panic and flee, I release her and hold my hands up in apology.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rough,” I grit out. “You just can’t say shit like that out in the open.”
Closing her eyes, she gets herself under control.
“Are you okay?” I ask, desperate for her to be all right. To be the old Evie. The one I remember so clearly as a teenager.
“Trust me, Micah. Can you please do that?” she begs.
I don’t fucking know anymore. Trust is a luxury not many of us have.
Placing her hand on my chest, she begs me without words.
Her ghost-like eyes, empty and lost, implore me.
“Fine,” I say with a nod—but it’s anything but fucking fine. She killed a man, and I covered it up. We’re both fucked if this gets out—if Benedict decides we’re not useful anymore.
I spy Lillian trying to duck and dive her way down the hall to her office, always checking behind her like she’s paranoid of being followed. She’s been MIA for a couple weeks, giving my brothers a reprieve from her fucking games. But now, the wicked witch is back and no doubt on the prowl for trouble. I rush up behind her and push her into the men’s restroom. It’s the closest door and smells fucking gross, but the stench of piss suits her.
