Chad's Chase (Loving All Wrong Book 2) (27 page)

“Yes.”

That was a very pregnant yes. “She was framed, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

I knew it. “By your father?”

“Yes.”

I sat up now, brown sheets bunching around my waist, and dug my fingernails into my palms to prevent myself from screaming. “That…that heartless piece of…Ohmygod… “ I closed my eyes and counted to ten, lest I took my emerging rage out on Chad. “Why? Why would he do that? What was his fucking motive?”

Chad eyed me carefully as I sat next to his hip fighting rage. “My father has been planning to usurp the Pinnacle for a long time. But in order for the members to pledge him as the Pinnacle, he needed extreme wealth, and incontestable power. To build that kind of power, he needed deeper pockets. My father’s plan to take over The Organization was solid; he even had a few of the members on his side. But then Grandad fucked him over by passing the legacy on to me. His plan got shot to shit. Of course, that plan was revived years later when I made the deal with him.”

Flicking his eyes to mine, he locked our gazes. “This is the real truth: Isabel was collateral damage. She was having an affair with the Pinnacle before she moved to Russia—he was her reason for migrating there. He was madly in love with her. She was his weakness. If my father could frame her for being a mole, other members of The Organization would question the Pinnacle’s judgment. How could he not know his lover was the mole? With quite a few of the members siding with my father, it was possible for them to clandestinely order a hit on Isabel without the Pinnacle’s knowledge.”

“But it wasn’t just her!!” I screamed at him, unable to contain my anger any longer. “It was my whole family!! And then my freedom!”

Chad winced, but cautiously reached for my hand and squeezed. He wouldn’t apologize again. I knew this much about him. “The hit on the entire family was to hurt me as much as it was to hurt the Pinnacle. Killing two birds with one stone.”

“Did he succeed in taking over The Organization?”

His head shook no. “The Pinnacle had bigger, badder guns that the rest of the members knew zilch about. After Isabel’s death, he figured something was up, and pre-emptively set up a stronger defense to protect himself, but made them none the wiser that he knew of the corruptive dissolution among them. He had more wealth and more power than he’d let on, which I guess he kept a secret for instances such as usurpation. Rafail backed off. But knowing how power-hungry that man is, I’m sure he’s still searching for a way to win.”

“Why don’t the Pinnacle just boot him from The Organization?”

“Because Rafail’s seat is inherited. His uncle was a part of The Organization, and he named Rafail as the inheritor of his seat for when he died. If your seat in The Organization is inherited, you can’t be booted or voted out. You’re a lifetime member. Matters in The Organization are very sensitive, and remember they answer to no one but themselves. There are no laws to adhere to but their own.”

My shoulders slumped as a sigh breezed out. “What a stupid ass organization. Those dumb laws need to change. If I knew where to find Rafail, I’d kill him my fucking self.”

I made that comment without thinking. The man was Chad’s father, after all.

Taking no umbrage, he merely chuckled. “Get in line.”

I studied his hand on mine. His fingers were long and masculine, but delicate at the same time. They weren’t crooked from too much knuckle cracking, and he had square nail beds with clean, filed fingernails. Nice hands, he had
really
nice hands. Oh, but the dirty, dirty deeds those nice hands did…

“Why does he want you dead?”

As if tired of answering questions, he let out a loud, obnoxious sigh, and dropped back on the bed, eyes drifting back to the ceiling, probably wishing he hadn’t started talking about this.

“I had no idea who was ordering hits on me, or why, until yesterday. Now it all makes sense. My life here has been pretty peaceful, until roughly two years ago when my aunt and her husband got murdered in their home, and I became sole guardian for their daughter, my cousin, Alina. This aunt was from my mother’s side, and much like the Niiveuxs, they are from old money, and the mothers passed their legacy down to their eldest daughters. My aunt was the oldest between her and my mother, so the legacy went to her. When my aunt died, because Alina is an only child, the legacy went to her—”

“And because Alina’s under your care, Rafail wants you dead so she will end up under your mother’s care, hence his care. Then he’ll do the same thing he did to you to manipulate her into signing over her family’s legacy to him in exchange for her freedom,” I summed up, my voice hollow, my blood alternating between cold and hot, indecisive of how it really wanted to flow. Oxygenated or deoxygenated?

Oh. God.

I’m so afraid. I’m so afraid to tell him.

“Yep,” Chad said. “That’s my summation, too. Can’t see any other reason why he’d want me dead.”

Maybe I shouldn’t tell him. What good would it do?

“How much is she worth?”

“Twelve.”

“Billion?”

“Jhay?”

“Yeah?”

“Whenever I’m talking figures to you, always assume I’m talking billions.”

“Mhmhm,” I absently responded, too busy warring in my head with my decision. To tell him or not to tell him?

No, I have to tell him.
He told me everything tonight. Held nothing back, even when it hurt. If we were going to forgive each other and move forward, there needed to be no secrets. None.

“She has eyes like yours and hair like mine,” I whispered, so tremblingly soft I could hardly hear myself. “She’s beautiful.”

Chad’s whole body went still, and I could feel his questioning eyes on me, but I avoided them at all costs. “What?”

“She was so scared,” I said, voice getting even lower. “Her dark eyes were wet, pleading, as she begged me not to kill her. But I was ordered to keep her alive, so I did the same thing you did to me and told the in-training assassin assigned to me for that hit to duct tape her and lock her in her closet.”

Bracing up on his forearms, drawing himself away from me and further to the headboard, he shook his head once. “No.”

I nodded yes. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know who they were. But everything matches up. Two years ago, plus that name, Alina…I remembered her name. I remember it so well because ‘
Alina
’ was the last thing her mother whispered before she took her last breath. I remember her because when I looked at her, I saw myself at ten years old. I saw me.”

Vision blurred with tears, I stopped hiding and looked at Chad. His face was ashen, black eyes so glossy I could see my reflection in them. This was hurting him. It was clear he had a special love for this particular aunt. Of course, they had to have had a close relationship for her to leave her only daughter in his care.

“
Why
?” I cried. “Why would he order me to kill them? His wife’s only sister?!”

In a cold, gruff voice, he said, “You said it: my mother would get guardianship of Alina and she would automatically be under his care.”

“And what does—”

“You need to go.”

“What?”

Detached, hard, devoid of warmth, he reiterated. “You need to go. Go to your room.”

“Why?” I demanded.

He pinned me with that unfriendly black glare. “That aunt, I loved her. And it’s taking every bit of strength in me right now not to reach out and break your fucking neck. So just…go.”

Incensed with resentment, I eased up onto my knees and intrepidly leaned into his face. “How fortunate of you to have aunts and uncles and fucking cousins. I only had a mother, a father and a fucking brother, and you took them from me. All of them, gone! And now you want to whine like a bitch because you lost one fucking aunt? At least when I was killing her, I was killing a complete stranger. You, you knew who my—
our
family was and you still pulled the goddamn trigger.”

“Get out, Jhay,” he said, his warning deadlier now.

“Fuck you,” I venomously spewed.

He lunged for me, but I was quick in shifting and rolling off the bed, landing soundly on my back. I ignored the pain, and when he leaped off the bed and came at me, I pressed my palms flat on the ground to keep firm, brought my feet together in anticipation of his descent, so when he reached for me I drove my feet upward and slammed them to his chest, the force knocking him backward.

That gave me enough time to frog jump back to my feet and assume a defensive stance. Chad was standing upright by then.

Making the first move, I swung a punch at him, but he ducked so easily and slightly, my hand swinging through thin air, hitting nothing.

Chad’s eyes lit up with a mixture of rancor and humor. “You’ve got to do better than that if you want to take me down, Tweety Byrd.”

Gloriously, fantastically, gratifyingly naked, he was standing so calm and tall, imperturbable, like I was no match for him, and my nude jumping around was some form of entertainment. This pissed me off, and with an unwomanly growl I charged forward in thoughtless rage.

Chad moved in a blur, and before I knew what was going down, he was pressed up against me, his chest to my back, both my wrists held tightly behind me by one of his strong hands, and his other hand hooked around my neck.

Hot, peppermint breath down my ear made my stomach flip and the butterflies inside whistle. “You really think you can fight me, Tweety Byrd?”

I felt weak. Stupid. Vulnerable. Powerless. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You want to know why I’m always so calm, Jhay?” The question was rhetorical. “Because it’s easier
not
to get pissed off than it is to control myself after I get pissed off. Rage kills, it consumes you and makes you do impulsive shit. Calmness allows you to think clearly, which prevents you from making
stupid
decisions.” His lips were touching my ears now, his voice but a breath as he said, “Like engaging a fight you know you can’t win.”

“I.
Hate
. You.”

Keeping my hands in a firm hold behind me, he unhooked his other arm from around my neck, and slow and deliberate, he dragged it down the front of my body, before dipping said hand between my thighs.

I closed my eyes and cursed, because I knew my vagina was doing anything but hating him right then.

“These lips down here are singing a different song,” he breathed down my neck.

“You sicken me,” I hissed.

“If you get this amazingly wet for someone who sickens you…”—he slipped a finger inside—”I’d pay any amount to see what happens for someone who…turns you on.”

As his finger slid in and out of me, in and out, in and out, I lost all sensible thoughts, my body giving up the fight and sagging into him, soft moans floating from my lips.

I felt his mouth on my neck as he moved backwards with me, in the opposite direction of the bed. Maybe I should have been paying attention, but with his tongue on my neck and his finger inside me, I chose the overpowering sensations instead of cognition.

Then that thrusting finger was gone, my hands were released, and Chad was in front of me instead of behind. Too late, I semi-consciously realized we were at his bedroom door, and before I could think to react, he pushed me across the threshold and slammed the door in my face.

The sharp snap of the lock came next, and I cursed myself. I was such a clown. Letting my fucking vagina control me.

Pounding my fists on the door, I yelled, “Open the goddamn door, you shithead!”

Nothing.

I pounded it, I kicked it, I kneed it.

Still nothing.

Then I resorted to begging, because he finger-fucked me right out of his room and left me hanging on the edge, the weight between my legs like a frigging kettlebell. Resting my forehead to the door, I begged, “Please, Chad, you can’t leave me like this. I need you.”

Nothing.

Then I got mad all over again and banged and kicked until I was tired. “Shithead psycho killer on crack! I hate you!”
BangBangBang
. “You’re gay and you suck big black dicks.”
BangBangBang
. “I hate you.”
Bang
.

Then I went back to begging and pleading. “Open the door, Chad. I’m sorry. I meant none of it…”

After fifteen minutes of alternating between hating him and needing him, I finally resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to drag me back in and fuck me ten shades of purple. So I hauled my pathetic ass off to my room, flung myself on the bed, buried my fingers inside me, and finished what he started.

I
slept in late the next day.

After all, it was around 3am when Chad kicked me out of his room, and around 4:30am when I caved to sleep.

Now it was noon. Hot noon. The sun at its peak in the center of that inimitable blue expanse called sky, burning into the clouds; the stronger the sun’s heat, the puffier and whiter the clouds’ boast.

Simply put, the noon was beautiful. Hot as a dragon’s tongue, but beautiful.

By the time I was showered and dressed in shorts and tank top, my love/hate from the night before was no more, leaving only the love. I was hoping Chad was done hating me, too. Because, honestly, we were like two idle teenagers.