Blood to Dust (31 page)

I know he says guns are for pussies, but what the hell does he think I have between my legs, an In-N-Out Burger?

“Give me the keys to his apartment,” Nate barks at Seb’s bodyguard, his voice uncharacteristically loud.

“I don’t have them.”

Kick to the stomach. Muscle Guy rolls into the fetal position, wincing and hugging his middle. Nate picks him up, opens the heavy lid to the dumpster and shoves his face into it. The guy’s limbs are flailing. He can’t breathe. Lifting the lid, Nate yanks him up by his hair, and the guy gasps, gulping oxygen.

“Keys, asshole. Don’t make me fondle you.”

“I don’t have keys to his place!”

Another kick, this time straight to the face. Blood. Blood and dust everywhere. The scent of his life seeping away makes me gag and shiver, but on the outside, I’m leaning a shoulder against the wall, crossing my arms and snickering.

This guy didn’t flinch when Seb kidnapped me from that Oakland Street.

“Do you want to know what it feels like when your organs explode from the inside? It’s about to happen.”

“I told you! I. Don’t. Have. . .”

Another kick, this one to his back, but he doesn’t scream and writhe this time, which makes me put a hand on Nate’s lower back. Peace can be violent. I’ve learned that from my short time with him.

“Baby, time is wasting. He’s not worth killing. Let’s go.”

My lover squats down and looks through the guy’s jeans to see if he has the key. He doesn’t. I think the man is either out or dead, but we don’t bother checking as we make our way back to the main street.

We wait patiently behind a giant plant decorating the entrance of the building, and once a drunken man in a suit uses the touch-screen keypad and pushes the front door open, we muscle our way in, shoving him deeper inside. We bustle into a lobby that’s probably wired with countless cameras. Doesn’t matter, as our faces are covered down to our necks. My Frankenstein mask is anything but sexy, but it does the job.

“What the. . .?” The young, suited man stumbles his way past the plush sofas and toward the elevators, and we follow him, Nate holding the middle of his dress shirt like he’s a dog on a leash, jabbing the elevator button with his gloved finger.

“Good evening, Sir.” Nate’s voice is as cheery as his Guy Fawkes mask. “Had a good time tonight?”

The guy stares at him with eyes like two, shiny moons and nods his head slowly, not paying me any attention. Despite my scary mask, you can still see that I’m small, curvy and a woman.

The silver doors slide open and the three of us walk into the elevator, Nate still holding the poor guy by his shirt.

“Floor?” he asks politely.

“Two.” The guy’s throat bobs, and our masks turn toward one another in a silent celebration.

“That’s exactly where we’re heading. What apartment does Sebastian Goddard live in?”

The guy’s lips are pursed. He’s looking at Beat’s mask with fear, watered down by suspicion. “Look,” he starts. “I don’t want any trouble. . .”

The elevator pings again, and Nate thrusts him into the hallway of the second floor in a firm shove. “I believe you. Which is why you should start singing right about now. Apartment number?”

“But. . .”

“Number, kiddo.”

“I don’t know,” the guy exhales. He’s lying. It’s that little twitch in his lips that gives him away. The building complex is small, and there are no more than ten apartments on every floor.

“Let’s try again.” Nate throws the guy’s back into the wall, hard enough to break a bone or two. “This time, we’ll use a little thing called honesty, okay? Keep in mind that it’s late, and my companion has a curfew. She should be in my bed in approximately forty minutes, and every minute I’m here, talking to
you
instead of fucking
her
, is a terrible inconvenience for us both.”

I flush red and my thighs clutch together.

“Show me to Sebastian Goddard’s door. Now.”

This time Nate speckles his request with a fist to the guy’s nose, and his head finds a glassed painting behind him. The frame shatters, raining glass on the guy’s face. Nate has to yank him back out by pulling on his short, damp hair.

“Okay. Okay. Fine! It’s apartment 34. Now please, just please, let me go.”

“Happily. We’ll even escort you to your place.”

The guy looks between me and Nate like this is some kind of a terrible conspiracy. Nevertheless, Nate herds him to the far corner of the hallway, hurrying past apartment 34. When I notice the number, my heart thumps so hard against my chest, it a hurts my ribs. The guy looks between us and his door, sighs, and takes out his keys, pushing his door ajar. Nate walks into his apartment, and I follow suit.

What’s he doing?

Where is he taking this?

We already have Seb’s apartment number, why is he still harassing the poor guy?

Nate walks around the living room, his fist still clutching the fabric of this guy’s collar. “Nice place.” He pushes the guy to sit on the floor under his kitchen sink and jams his wrists against one of the cabinet handles. Next thing he does is take the black cloth he used to cuff me with out of his back pocket and wrap the guy’s arms tightly against the doors. So tight, in fact, that the guy grimaces and jerks his head from side to side, fighting tears.

“Oh, shit, oh, no,” the guy curses, and Nate shakes his head and throws me a glance from behind his shoulder.

“Just for the record, it was so much more fun to handcuff you, Baby-Cakes.”

I flip Nate the bird and he laughs. I love this guy so much, the need to be around him overwhelms me. So perfect. So flawed. Ironically, in very similar ways.

Nate squats down, shoves his hand into the guy’s pocket and takes out his cell phone, tossing it aside. It lands on the floor on the opposite side of the living room in a bang.

“Sorry, bud. It ain’t personal. You look like an all right kid, but see, we can’t chance you calling the cops on us. Thank you for your cooperation and have a wonderful weekend. And let me just spare you the guilt trip—we would’ve found him with or without your help. So don’t spend a minute thinking you were responsible for Mr. Goddard’s death.” He slaps Suit’s cheek endearingly. “Sleep tight.”

Nate stands up, hooks his arm around my shoulder and guides me out of the apartment. We close the door silently and pour back into the hallway. When we get to Sebastian’s door, holding hands, our bodies draw deep breaths in perfect harmony.

It’s happening. I’m getting that piece of my soul back.

“He’s mine,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

“He’s yours,” Nate whispers back. “So am I. So is everything in this fucking world, as long as I’m by your side. I love you, Storm.”

“I love you, Peace.” My heart collapses with excitement, flowing in dangerous waves. It’s like feeling an emotional orgasm, and I blink away my tears. By the time I open my eyes, Nate releases his hold on my hand, takes a step back, gaining momentum, and kicks the door down with a loud bang that fills the hallway with noise and my gut with fear.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” Beat’s mask announces into the thin, cold air of Sebastian Goddard’s apartment. “Guess what? We’re alive, well, and fucking pissed.”

It’s show time.

Sebastian’s living room looks like a psychiatric ward. The walls are heavily padded, due to his inability to stand the sound of life. Furniture, couch, paintings, and even the TV is white. Everything is hollow, empty and bleached. Arranged neatly and obsessively in straight lines. Nothing is misplaced and everything has a purpose.

Nate moves smoothly toward the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Again, I find myself following, kicking myself mentally for thinking I could have done this on my own.

Nate kicks Seb’s bedroom door open to find him already up on his feet, reaching for his gun and loading it with bullets. His quivering fingers fail him. He’s wearing boxer briefs and a plain white dress shirt. He was going to sleep good tonight, thinking he’s safe. It makes me hate him even more.

I haven’t slept well in years. Not since what they did to me.

Beat rushes to his side and sends an uppercut right to his jaw, stunning him with the impact of his strength. Sebastian stumbles back and lands with his back against the bedframe, his ass hitting the carpeted floor. The gun drops to his feet and I hurry to pick it up and fill the revolver with kisses I’d like to plant on his skin, just like the one he left on my forehead before we said our goodbyes the last time we saw each other.

“How did you—” he starts, not quite sure what’s going on.

“Seek, and you shall find,” Nate explains. “We found, motherfucker.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispers
.

“Yeah, well,” I say with a shrug, “killing you sounded better.”

My idea of fun is killing everyone.

“Remember what we said, Baby-Cakes. Guns are for pussies. Only Seb, Godfrey and the likes of them use ‘em,” Nate reminds me, casually picking Seb up in a chokehold. Sebastian roars in pain, in the same way I held myself back from doing when he hurt me less than a month ago. The man I love leads him out of his bedroom with his grip.

“Yell, and I’m cutting off your balls and letting you bleed out while you’re gagged. Shut up, and I let my girl decide how she wants to finish you,” Nate singsongs.

“
Your girl
,” Seb spits. “Oh,
Diabla
. Always fucking your way to more drama.”

“And you love watching,” I say, still holding his gun close to my thigh. We all stumble to the padded living room, where noise is swallowed from the inside and out.

“Ah, men and their love for dangerous pussy,” Seb huffs. “No wonder I prefer dick. Less hassle.”

Beat thrusts Sebastian’s face into the nearest framed picture, and the blow is so intense, Seb almost crashes back against the opposite wall. His face is now full of little shards of glass poking out of his skin.

“Oops. At least you didn’t yell like a bitch this time. Good dog.”

Nate throws Sebastian on the sofa and kneels down, so that he is at eye-level with him behind his mask.

“You know, Seb? Out of all the things you did in prison, out of all the boys you raped, the people you conned, the murders you plotted, there’s one thing that sticks out for me.” His voice is so calm. So
light
. He’s my peace, and having him around right now ensures that I won’t get dragged into a tempest of fear and pain. “You watched my girl being raped,” Nate finished. “And you got off on it.”

Seb’s small, gleaming eyes travel up to meet mine. When our gazes lock, he uses whatever strength he has left to pull a satisfied smirk. “It was bloody fantastic. Watching them tossing her around like a football. Father and son. Pass after pass after pass. Kick after kick after kick.”

My stomach turns and rolls. I sway lightly, feeling woozy with humiliation. “There’s nothing more erotic than watching a little soul break.” His dreamy grin conceals his physical state. “You know? Sometimes I’m not even sure if I’m a homosexual. Maybe I’m not. If they’re not young and unwilling, I lose interest. But she. . .” His eyes roam over me in a way that makes me want to hug myself. “She was a weak girl when she got to us, and look at her now. A monster.
Diabla
. I’m proud.”

Nate’s fist lands on Seb’s face, nailing him to the back of the sofa with a thud. The shards dig deeper into his flesh.

“Asshole!”

Seb’s face swings back with a bloody smile. “I think the best part was when she bled. Out of her pussy. Out of her arse. Out of her mouth. God, it was beautiful to watch. The rich and entitled became poor and broken.”

Another blow follows, and this time I hear Seb’s nose crack. He yells, then groans, then swings back up, looking dizzy and disorientated, yet eerily happy. He looks up to me, his head tilting sideways, seemingly unfazed by the thick pool of blood spreading on his white carpet. I can’t stop the tears from falling. I’d give up anything to make him shut up.

“Does he know you fell pregnant?” Seb asks, and my vision clouds with thick black mist. “What we had to do to terminate your pregnancy so that we wouldn’t have any more whores to look after?”

My knees turn to sand and I feel Nate’s gaze slowly revolving in my direction. I lift the hand that holds Seb’s gun to his face, but I’m shaking. Shaking so badly, I’m afraid it’ll be Nate I end up shooting.

“Pea?” I hear his voice, and for the first time, it’s not so peaceful. It’s scary. Edgy. It’s a nightmare. I shake my head, taking comfort in the fact that the tears are invisible under my Frankenstein mask.

“Move away,” I order. He does as he’s told, still looking at me. I know he said guns are for pussies, but maybe I am a pussy. Seb took it too far. No. I didn’t tell Nate that I fell pregnant when one of these assholes—hell knows if it was Godfrey or his son—knocked me up. Because the way they aborted the baby. . .I shoved it so deep into the back of my head, sometimes I’m not even sure it happened at all.

The gun is swaying in my trembling hand, a dance of fire and hate.

“You didn’t know.” Seb licks his swollen lips on a smile. His whole face is disfigured and purple from Nate’s beatings. “Gutted like a fish, thrown in the shower like a whore. She actually wanted to keep that baby,” he says with a cackle. “The stupid little cunt.”