Picture Perfect (27 page)

Curtis’s upper lip rolled up into a sneer. “Look at this. Two bitches protecting one another. I suppose she’s made me out to be the villain.”

“She didn’t have to do much,” Tammara hissed, holding her ground. “You hear rumors circulating among the other girls
, but you think nothing of them. That they’re just rumors, until it strikes a little closer to home.”

Curtis spit on the floor, then took another swig of his whiskey. Amber liquid dribbled down his chin and onto his exposed chest. “She isn’t welcome here,” he drawled, lifting the end of his bottle in my direction. “And neither are you,” he added, glaring at Tammara. “It’s against the law for you to let her in, since she’s no longer an employee. You know my rules.”

“We both know your rules, but do you?” I chimed in, stepping forward. “I believe there’s a sexual harassment clause in there somewhere, if I recall.” My voice was strong, but my hands shook. I hid them behind me, steeling my face. I would
not
look weak to him.

My old boss looked me up and down. “So fragile, so broken,” he mused. “There was something about you, my dear, that made you captivating to watch. Like a train wreck.”

Tammara grabbed my arm, never removing her eyes from Curtis. “Come on, Angel. Let’s go.”

I jerked my gaze off Curtis long enough to empty the last of my locker’s contents into the bag, then zipped it shut and started after Tammara. We tried to give Curtis a wide berth, but he lunged for me and grabbed my wrist.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he seethed. “I invested a lot of money in you, and I expect those dues to be paid in full.” He started undoing his robe’s belt, yanking me closer. I tried jerking my wrist back, like I’d done when Brayden had grabbed me, but his grip tightened.

Tammara’s eyes widened and she started forward, her fist already forming a punch, but Curtis grabbed her hair and slammed her head into a locker. She clutched her head, sliding down the side of the metal to the floor, and Curtis took a step closer, pressing me up against the wall, his hard cock rubbing against my leg. “I always wondered how you’d feel, if you’d be tight and sweet, or if it’d be like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. Either way, I’m going to fuck you, just like I did that bitch who drained me dry.”

The severity of his words sank in with cold terror.
He raped his wife. That must be why she left him.

“No!” I screamed, grabbing
hold of his shoulders and headbutting him.

Curtis swore, grasping at his bleeding nose, and I kneed him in the stomach. As he bent over, the breath leaving his lungs in one harsh wheeze, I brought my palm up and caught him square in the chin. He went staggering back, and I punched him hard in the temple, sending him all the way to the floor.

Tammara was on her feet, rubbing the back of her head as I stood there, panting hard, my rage pinned on the monster lying crumpled on the floor. “You think the world owes you something, that women should fall to their feet and fawn all over you? You’re a sick bastard. How many girls have you come onto? How many women have you forced into sex so they could keep their jobs?”

Curtis glared up at me, squinting as if the lights were too bright or perhaps his head hurt. “All of you are the same. You think you’re so beautiful, that men are there to serve you. Well, where was my wife when I needed her? Why didn’t she fulfill her duties to me?”

“Maybe because you’re a sick psychopath? She was your wife! How could you do that to her?”

The smile on his face was pure evil. “She didn’t get anything she hadn’t brought on herself. None of you cheap dancers believe you ever deserve it, but you practically invite it.”

I blinked, remembering his wife had been a dancer. That’s how he met her, while bartending at the club she stripped at.

Tammara started forward, her leg pulling back as if she meant to kick him, but I held her back. “No, Tam. Leave the asshole alone. He’s going to need all the help he can get.”

A slow, deep chuckle drifted up from the floor. “You think any of you can stop me? I have friends in every office in this city. You won’t be able to touch me.”

“You’re right,” I said. “We probably won’t, considering you’ll be sitting in jail.”

“I’ll make bail.”

“That’s fine too, because it will be another hit to your already aching bank account, courtesy of your ex-wife.”

His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Go ahead. Call the police. Take me to court. You won’t win.”

“Again, that remains to be seen.” Every word out of my mouth was empowering. I’d wanted to do this for so long. “But your reputation will be tarnished. I’d be surprised if you can stay in business when we’re done with you.”

For the first time ever, Curtis’s face washed with fear.

I smiled. “Either way, you better get ready, because I’m suing your ass.”

“Me too,” Tammara said. “And I’m sure there are a lot of other girls who’d be more than willing to testify.”

“Go to hell,” Curtis snarled.

“You first,” I hissed back. My whole body shook with adrenaline. “I’m tired of being stepped on. I’m tired of people taking advantage of me, and telling me I don’t matter. I matter.
This
matters. And I swear you will never hurt another woman again.” I started to reach for my cell phone, but Tammara rested a hand on my arm, stopping me.

She flashed her phone and punched in 911. “Already ahead of you.”

She smiled at me as she lifted the phone to her ear, and I knew what that look of pride was for.

I was free, free of the darkness and fear that had kept my courage chained all these years and kept me from flying.

Finally, I could soar.

CHAPTER 30

Devin

I ALMOST WENT IN after her when I dropped my muse off. But I didn’t. She hadn’t spoken to me the entire drive back. Why would she want to talk now? What else could I say or do to change her mind?

Slamming my fist into the steering wheel, I sped off to my place. My movements were hot and angry. Her voice echoed in my head, the fear in her words ripping my heart to shreds.
“Just leave me alone!”

“AH!” I yelled
and whipped my car into my apartment complex. When I came upon the front office and the guest parking lot, I pulled into it and parked. If I went home now, I’d likely destroy everything I owned, and that was some expensive shit to replace.

I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Angel’s frightened gaze stared back at me, reminding me of the girl I’d lost, and my eyes snapped open. What the hell happened to me? When did my muse wriggle her way into my soul like this? My mother always said two alike souls called to each other, reaching for one another. Sometimes when you met the right person, no matter how wrong they seemed at first, you just knew there was something about them you were going to love. And my heart had fallen, hook, line, and sinker.

A heavy sense of melancholy weighed me down, and I yanked the gears into reverse and then drove off before I could sink into depression. This felt different from what I’d felt before. There was no craving a cigarette or alcohol, no wishing for death to take me or the earth to swallow me whole. This was quieter, more reflective. I cared about her - did I dare say I loved her? Was I ready to admit that? Hell, if I did, would it give her more power over me?

I should have fought harder to keep her. I should never have let her walk away. Something that beautiful and perfect was too precious to let slip through my fingers. For the first time in a while, I felt alive, and it was largely because of her. My muse. My Angel.

I almost jerked the car into reverse to drive back to her place when I caught sight of a figure standing outside my apartment building. I almost drove off then and there, but the haunted look on my father’s face made me pull into my spot and kill the engine. He waited while I debated with myself on whether or not I was going to get out of the car. Finally, I opened the door and stood, squaring my shoulders and staring him in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Lionel Thompson’s face was shadowed beneath the umbrella, but I could make out the grim line of his mouth. Without saying a word, he knocked on the side of his car, and a moment later, my brother emerged from the passenger side. He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet, letting the rain soak him.

I stiffened. “What’s he doing here?”

“This feud between the two of you has gone on long enough,” Lionel said. “It’s time you worked things out.”

My mouth flopped open as I tried to form a response. “I’ve been apologizing for a year now. He’s the one-”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Lionel snapped. “I don’t want to hear ‘he said’ or ‘it’s his fault’. You’re both grown men.”

I pressed my lips together, taking a deep breath.
You say we’re grown men, but you still treat us like children.

Lionel scowled at my apartment building. “Let’s get out of this rain. You can talk it over inside.”

Before I could argue, he marched toward the stairs, my brother trudging behind.

I ran a hand over my face, hesitating. Knowing how stubborn Dad was, he’d never leave until he’d fulfilled his purpose for coming. One way or another, I was going to have to face Brayden, my shame, and every sinister darkness inside me.

Swearing, I slammed the door shut and started after them.

I felt like I was strapped to a set of train tracks, waiting for the train to hurtle into me and rip my body and soul apart. My father and brother were waiting by my apartment door when I came up the stairs. Heart hammering in my chest, I tried steadying my hands as I gripped the doorknob and jammed the key into the keyhole, jerking it open. I all but ran into my apartment as my family followed after. I swore the size of the room shrunk with my father there.

“Nothing’s changed much since I last visited,” Lionel said, glancing around with a critical eye.

“I’m surprised you remember what it looks like, considering you only visited once.” I threw the keys down on the counter.
The sooner this is over with, the sooner they’ll leave.
Squaring my shoulders, I turned around and crossed my arms. “You’re here to talk? So talk.”

“Not me - him.” Lionel shoved my brother forward. Brayden started to turn on our father, a retort no doubt on his tongue, but he clenched his jaw and finally looked at me, brown eyes burning.

“I hate you,” he said.

I barked a bitter laugh. “There’s some news.”

“See? That fucking smile on your face pisses me off. Delia dying is nothing to laugh at.”

“Do you see me laughing?” My face felt heavy, like my expression was made of stone. “Have you ever heard me make light of our baby sister dying?”

“You didn’t come to her funeral.”

“You threatened to kill me if I did! Not to mention, Dad took out a restraining order on me! What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to look after her!” Brayden’s voice cracked with emotion. “Why the hell did you take her up there, Devin, when you knew how on edge she was? Why did you risk it?”

The horror of that night came closing in on me, and my blood ran cold. Blood, so much blood…

“And Mom,” Brayden went on. “You knew after her stroke, her heart was weak as it was. Were you so jealous of her spending more time with Delia and me that you needed to take something away from her?”

“No.” My hands shook. “No, I’d never do anything like that.”

“Then why? I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t mean to murder our sister and nearly kill our mother in the process.”

“I was reckless,” I said, my gaze snapping up, my voice tight. “I was selfish. I was stupid. I was so many things, but I wasn’t vindictive.”

Brayden started to roll his eyes, but I stepped forward, cutting him off.

“I’m. Not. A. Monster,” I bit off. “Mom looked so stressed, and Delia felt bad enough for worrying her. I thought everyone just needed a fucking break.”

Brayden’s jaw dropped. “So you took her to Crescent Point?”

“Our house had turned into a battlefield. There was so much anger and despair there. I was suffocating.
Delia
was suffocating. She needed to get away.”

“No, Devin.” Brayden shook his head. “You did. That’s the real reason you took her up there. You didn’t care what happened to her. She was just along for the ride. And look where hanging around you got her? Straight to an early grave.”

I punched him. Brayden went flying into Dad, who barely managed to stay upright.

“Sons!” he yelled, but Brayden growled and lunged toward me.

I ducked as his fist swung over my head, then grabbed hold on his wrist, locking his arm behind him. Brayden thrashed and bucked, but I held firm. “Stop, little brother,” I said tightly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did! You ripped my heart out the day you watched Delia drop fifty stories to her death!”

Little by little, his fighting eased, and he slumped in my arms. I held him tight while his body shook with sobs. It dawned on me Brayden had never really grieved Delia’s passing. He’d held it in, clinging to her memory like it would bring her back.