Deception, p.8
Deception, page 8
I hate this place.
I hate him.
I’ve barely made it into my room when thunderous footsteps can be heard behind me. I swivel around to face my father’s furious glare.
But this is more than an angry look.
He’s pissed and he pounces before I can prepare for it. The strike of his hand across my cheek is startling and powerful. It sends me careening into the wall. A cry of surprise bursts from me. My ankle screams in protest when it tries to twist wrong and I fall hard to my hands and knees.
Owww.
I reach up and touch my cheek that’s burning from the smack. The tears I’d been holding onto all night escape their confines and race down my cheeks. I can’t help but snap my head up, shooting him a horrified, accusatory look.
Whatever hateful alcohol-induced fury had been possessing him melts away and his features pinch in a pained way, like he suddenly realizes what he’s just done. He takes a step toward me and I cower in response.
“D-Dad,” I croak out. “Y-You hit me.”
He grabs hold of my shoulders, hauling me to my feet. I yelp when I’m dragged into his forceful hug.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Dammit, I’m sorry.” He strokes my hair and kisses the top of my head. “I drank too much and you know what that does to me.”
A sob that won’t be quieted garbles its way out. I shudder in his grip. He strokes my back, clearly attempting to calm me.
Why is this my life?
At least it was me and not her this time.
But when he hurts me, it’s different. It’s worse.
“Please forgive me,” he begs. “Please.”
Never. I’ll never forgive him.
“I forgive you,” I lie.
“That’s my good girl. My sweet, sweet girl.”
Chapter Ten
Scout
Wednesday
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The second hand on my black BLVGARI Octo Finissimo skeleton watch—one of the last gifts from my mother before she went to prison—moves silently, only the slightest jerk as it moves from second to second.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I supply the ticking sound inside my head. Just like when I was a child. We’d had an antique grandfather clock I used to sit and watch for a full hour straight just to hear it chime when it hit the top of the hour. It was even more spectacular whenever it’d turn noon or midnight, the sounds going on for what seemed like an eternity. Those audible, constant ticks were soothing to me. Warm and comforting.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
These days, not much soothes or warms me. The cold darkness I’d been afraid would consume me when I was a child has slowly crept its way inside me as time wanes on. I’m barely able keep it out anymore. If it weren’t for the constant nearness of my brothers, it’d probably swallow me whole.
I suppress a shudder at that thought. Being separated from my brothers would be my ultimate demise.
They probably think I hate them. Worse yet, don’t feel anything for them. It couldn’t be further from the truth. My brothers have always been in the center of my world, no matter how dark and demented it gets.
Dark and demented is an understatement. Sometimes, I lose control. Completely. My anger is like a flame on a matchstick, seemingly harmless and not at all bright. But it always explodes. Hits gasoline and spreads until it consumes…everything. I don’t actively set out to destroy everything in our lives.
It. Just. Happens.
The gun last night was an example. I saw Sully and Sparrow have their silent “he’s fucking crazy” talks about me. They forget I can hear. I’m in on the whole triplet mental communication.
I honestly thought it was some asshole I beat the shit out of for Bryant. The prick said he’d find out where I lived and pop a cap in me when I least expected it. Since we’re hidden from anyone actively searching from us, I wasn’t too worried. Yet, when I heard the banging, I had this awful fear that spineless prick was going to shoot one of my brothers in the damn face.
I lost it.
It turned out to be nothing and now my brothers think I’m even more of a head case than I already am.
The darkness that thrives inside me can fuck off if it thinks it’s going to scare my brothers off. I’ll keep it at bay in order to keep them. I have to.
My phone buzzes, tugging on the tether I’ve managed to keep my hold on of reality, and drags me to the present. The murky darkness fades and the interior of my car sharpens into view. I inhale a deep breath, letting the scent of new leather ground me before picking my phone up from the cupholder and checking my messages. It’s the group text with my brothers.
Sparrow: Your cat’s a bitch, Sull.
Sully: I know, but so are you, so I guess you’re both even.
Smirking, I add in my own two cents.
Me: She’s my cat now.
Sparrow: Are cats allowed in Hell?
I’m about to tell him to go fuck himself when I see movement from my periphery. I settle for a quick middle finger emoji before shoving my phone in my pocket and sliding out of my vehicle.
This morning I feel like Sparrow—donning a bespoke Tom Ford suit and looking like a million bucks. I prefer when I can dress how I want, but this new job Bryant has us on requires a little more than the usual from each of us. We’re no longer fists and muscles and terror. We’re sly and sneaky and manipulative. It’s not what I prefer to be doing, but it keeps things interesting.
Not to mention, it gets me closer to him.
Winston motherfucking Constantine.
With each limped step I take, fury builds higher and higher like a fiery tsunami of lava born from the depths of hell. I want to make that man pay for what he’s done to my family.
But I can’t.
I’ve looked at it from every angle. He’s too powerful. Too fucking rich. We’ve had our pissing match and he proved he’s got the bigger literal dick. So, since I can’t cut the head off the king cobra, I’ll just hit where I can.
In this case, Ty Constantine.
Bryant says Winston wants to buy Croft Gaming and Entertainment, or at the very least, partner up. This means giving Alexander Croft something of considerable value in return—the Constantine name by way of marrying off his cousin to Alexander’s daughter. Ty, just a nobody in that family, is expendable to Winston.
Ty, to me, is important.
He’s a blade, though seemingly insignificant, I can use to poke at Winston.
“Hey,” I call out to Ty as he enters the parking garage elevator. “Can you hold the elevator?”
He sees me approaching, limp and all, and shoves an arm out to keep the doors from closing. I grit my teeth together, forcing a frown into a smile. Ty has the Constantine signature looks—golden hair, sharp blue eyes, powerful aura. It’s hard not to keep from punching him in the face.
I’m playing a long game here, though.
A fist to the face is something I would have done a year ago, but not now. I’m smarter than that teenager who got bested by Winston fucking Constantine. I’m a goddamn snake now too.
“Thanks, man,” I say as I step into the elevator.
He flashes me a megawatt smile, much friendlier than any Constantine I’ve ever known. Poor sap. We’re going to fuck with his life and he has no idea.
“You work here?” he asks, nodding his head up as he mashes the top floor button.
I hit the button to the floor below his. “Yeah. Started this week.”
“No shit? Me too.”
“Working for the big man?”
His cheeks turn pink like he’s embarrassed to admit that. Arrogance is a Constantine trait, so this is new.
“I’m a glorified intern.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Probably not as cool as whatever you do.”
I scoff. “I’d rather be some rich dude’s coffee bitch up at the top than pushing a pencil in my cubical from eight to five.”
“It’s kind of awkward shadowing Mr. Croft—”
“Mr. Croft? As in the CEO?” I let loose a low whistle. “Lucky bastard.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, man. Not so lucky. He’s just…he makes me nervous. Last night, he invited me to his house for dinner—”
“You fucked the CEO?”
His face turns from slightly embarrassed pink to mortified crimson. “W-What? Hell no. Dude, I’m straight. He introduced me to his daughter.”
The elevator dings and then the doors open to my floor. I step in front of the doors to keep them from closing. “Was she hot?”
He smirks. “Hot. Shy but seriously hot. But the dinner itself with Mr. Croft was tense.” A sigh rushes past his lips. “I’ve honestly been eager to hang out with someone who isn’t family. I didn’t grow up here or go to college here. I don’t know anyone. It’s boring as shit when you don’t know anyone but your damn cousins.”
This guy just makes it too easy.
“I could give you my number,” I offer with a grin. “We could go bar hopping or some shit. You could tell me all about this tense dinner and the hottie. Hell, maybe we could invite her to come along without her daddy.”
His blue eyes sparkle and he nods emphatically. “Yeah. I’d like that.” He thrusts his phone at me. “Plug it in. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name…”
“Ford. Ford Mann.” I type in my name and number before handing it back to him.
“Ty Constantine.”
“I best get back to the boring-ass cubical. Go have fun with Daddy CEO.”
His face doesn’t redden this time now that he knows I’m just giving him shit. “I’ll text you later. Nice meeting you.”
“Likewise.” I tip my head at him before moving out of the way. The doors close and then he’s off to the next floor.
After waiting a good five minutes, I hit the button to go back down to the parking garage. Bryant got me this in with the company so I could get closer to Alexander and Ty. Since Alexander is on the top floor and hidden away from people who work in cubicles, my only attainable person is Ty. I managed to get an in with him inside of five minutes, so I’d say my work for the day is done here.
When I reach my car, I pull out my phone to see I’ve missed an actual picture of Sully flipping me off and then a video of Sparrow in his car singing “fuck you” to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” Idiots.
This is what’s at risk if I allow my darkness to consume me.
Losing them.
We’ve been together since conception, and being separated, because of the crazy shit that goes on inside my head, would fucking kill me.
Me: Met Ty Constantine.
Sparrow: Do tell…
Me: Desperate for a friend. Lo and behold, I was available.
Sully: You? A friend?
Me: I found out our boy here had dinner last night over at Alexander’s. Met Landry. Said she was hot.
Sully: She’s not hot.
Sparrow: She’s all right.
Fucking liars. If it’s anything like Ivy Anderson—a girl we all wanted and had back in high school—then I know they’re downplaying things. As if I can’t sense their interest. Sometimes they’re so obvious it’s ridiculous.
Me: I invited him to go bar hopping.
Sparrow: Did he actually accept???
Sully tries to call me, but I hit decline because if I wanted to talk to him, I’d call him.
Me: Yeah. We swapped numbers.
Sully: You can’t beat his ass, Scout. This job is different than our usual.
For fuck’s sake. Like I don’t already know that. They really do think I’m a lunatic. It rankles me.
Me: I get real sick and tired of you always handling me with kid gloves, Sull.
Sully: And I get real sick and tired of you blowing up our lives!
Sparrow: Guys…chill.
Sully: I can meet Ty for drinks.
Me: Already tired of babysitting duty? Are you sure I’m fit to tutor some little girl?
Sparrow: He’s being an idiot, Scout. We know you’re not going to kick Ty’s ass.
Me: Does Sully know this?
Not sure what’s crawled up Sully’s ass lately, but it’s starting to piss me off.
Sully: Fuck off.
Me: Fine. Since your panties are in a wad, you go for drinks with Ty and I’ll tutor the runt. Although, I must say I’m more likely to be found out considering I haven’t been spending hours learning sign language like you have…
I know he’ll cave. For some reason, he’s really into his role in this operation. A damn ASL book came in the mail today for him. And, since he can’t be in two places at once, he’ll have to choose. Ty or the girl.
Sully: Whatever. Have fun getting plastered with a Constantine. Don’t call me when you accidentally kill him and get hauled off to jail.
Sparrow: Yeah, don’t call me either. I have more important shit to do than deal with cops.
They continue slinging insults, but I’m no longer interested in our conversation because Bryant is calling.
“Hey,” I grunt out, answering on the second ring. “What’s up?”
“I got you a little intel. On your…obsession.”
My hackles raise and I suppress a growl. “What sort of intel?”
He chuckles, deep and a little evil. “The good sort. Date, location, time.”
“Legit?”
“Confirmed and legit.”
“Go on…” I grit my teeth, hating how eager I am for this information. Bryant’s “intel” comes at a high price. He’s had me do some shit that my brothers don’t even know about. The kind of stuff that really would get me sent away to prison for life.
“I’ll need a favor, of course,” he croons. “You understand. Family takes care of each other.”
Family.
This fucking guy.
He might be running through my blood, but he’s not my family. The only family I have is my mother, who was wrongly taken from us, and my brothers. Everyone else is irrelevant to me.
“Of course,” I mutter. “What do you need?”
“A property needs dealing with. The Morellis have many enemies and I make sure they’re cut off before they become a problem.”
“Deal with…how?” I implore. “Break in? Vandalism?”
“The latter.”
“Elaborate.”
“I want you to burn their building to the fucking ground.”
That’s a little more than vandalism…
“If I were to get caught…” I trail off. “Your intel better be good.”
“Don’t get caught. Look but don’t touch or Winston won’t be the only man who will rip you to shreds,” he clips out. “And my intel is well worth the risk.”
Look but don’t touch.
Sure thing, Uncle. I’ll be on my best behavior…
“I’m listening.”
“Winston’s little wifey. She’ll be at a baby shower this weekend for a friend of the Constantine family.”
Ash.
My ex-stepsister.
It’s about time we’ve caught up…
“I’ll do your dirty work. Now tell me everything.”
“Thatta boy, son.”
I’m not his son, but I’ll let him call me whatever the fuck he wants as long as he gives me the information I need.
Chapter Eleven
Sparrow
I thrum my fingers on my desk, my stare fixed on the doorway to the classroom. Energy buzzes beneath my skin and I’m not sure why. Maybe I’ve had too much coffee this morning.
Or maybe you’re just excited to see Landry…
A derisive snort escapes me and the dude beside me whips his head my way. Ignoring him, I continue to wait for my target to arrive.
It’s not excitement to see her…it’s excitement to get back to doing my job.
Fuck with her.
Make her fall in love with me—us.
Scout learned that Ty Constantine went to her house last night. Alexander Croft isn’t wasting any time. I suppose trying to marry off his daughter to one of the wealthiest families in not only the country, but the world, would be high on his list of priorities.
My mind drifts to fantasies of defiling her in the backseat of my car. I’d keep her bratty mouth quiet with my dick. If Ty is already on the move, going to dinners and shit, then I need to up my game. I don’t usually have to work so hard to get a chick into bed with me.
Annoyance ripples through me.
Landry is difficult.
Sassy and prissy and kind of fucking rude.
A flash of blonde in the doorway steals my attention. It’s her. Little Landry. This morning, though, her prickliness from before is gone. Beneath her heavily made-up face is a tight, tortured expression. Her eyes are bloodshot like she’s been crying.
Irritation burns in my gut, this time, no longer toward her. Someone made her cry. I don’t know why that bothers me—a girl I’ve literally only just met—but it does.
I sit up straight, clenching my jaw as I watch her make her way willingly toward me. She sets her bag down on the desk and sits down. After a huff that seems to be an effort to ward off more tears, she begins gnawing on her bottom lip, blue eyes searching mine like I have answers.
Just ask the right questions, baby.
“Laundry.” I smirk at her. “Looking good.”
“Chevy. And you look all right yourself.”
All right.
The gall of this girl.
“I see someone woke up and took their bitchy pill this morning. Do you ever forget it?”
“Never.” She makes a sour face but it doesn’t hide the slight tremble of her chin. “You left our house in a hurry yesterday.”
I blink at her in confusion for a moment until I remember that she’s referring to Sully, not me. This acting gig is hard sometimes.
“Homework,” I lie. “Why are you sad?”
“Sad?” Her head shakes and her upper lip curls slightly. “I’m not sad.”
