Underground Secrets (The Underground #1) (31 page)

Right now, I am putting my car away and trading it for my truck. I don’t like taking my car up the mountain, even if it is a short distance before I hit a smooth, paved road, I don’t like it. I don’t want to have to put the car away either since they obviously know I have it and know where the shop is too. I’ll come back to get it once I find another place to store it for the time being. I hop in my truck and set off for my apartment to get some clothes and whatever else I’ll need.

I
GET TO MY
place and park the truck across the street. I get up my stairs and unlock the door. I get in, shut the door and then set down my keys and purse. The apartment is dark with all of the curtains closed. The first thing I do is go to the big bay window and open up it up. I look out at the city and appreciate it a little bit more today.

“Looking good, Doll.”

I freeze at the cold voice that has just come from behind me and I’m pretty sure I just stopped breathing too. My heart just went from calm and steady, to rapid beats that I’m sure are going too fast for it not to explode.

No, this can’t be happening. He can’t be here. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t want to see him, to face him.

I do nothing.

“Aren’t you going to turn around? It’s been too long since I’ve seen your beautiful face.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry
.

I slowly turn around with my hands fisted and my nails digging into my sweaty palms. I don’t look at him, though. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Get out,” my voice comes out steadier than I feel. I don’t want him to see me be weak. I want him to get the hell out of my home.

I look up at him and gasp. He looks so different from the last time I had seen him. His muscle mass is at least twice the size it was before. His hair is buzzed and he definitely has had more tattoos added. Bastard has gotten better looking to sum it up. It’s shitty that karma didn’t screw him in the looks department. He is dressed in his usual bad boy attire: white tee and ripped up faded jeans. His muscles are screaming in protest in them, wanting to break through the fabric. The very same look that has always made me weak in the knees, but not today. Not ever again will I succumb to his looks and charm. I have a real man now and the one standing in front of me is worthless.

He eyes me up and down like I’m a piece of meat. “Looking good, Marlie. I don’t remember your body being quite as tight or your ass as fine as it is now.”

I want to throw up. I feel so exposed right now, wearing the same clothes as I did yesterday; a crop top and short shorts. I don’t care how hot it is outside, I feel like wearing a snowsuit with the way he’s looking at me.

“Miss me, didn’t ya’?” he says cockily, while sitting on my fucking couch.

“Get out,” I say again.

He gets up and I am stupid enough to believe he’s actually leaving, but no, he reaches into his back pocket and hands me a white envelope. “Come on, Doll. Can’t we put things behind us and move on? I mean, I have already decided to forgive you for what you did to me long ago.”

Ha
! He forgives me for what I did to him? How fucking sweet of him. How about what he did to me? I’m still trying to repair myself from the emotional scars he had left me with. Not to mention, the one physical scar that has healed, but is more visible and real than anything else.

I don’t take the envelope from him. I don’t want to be that close to touching him. The distance between us is sickening enough.

“How the hell did you get in here?” He sets the envelope on the table and looks back to me. His eyes cloud over and that’s when I see him,
really
see him. He still might be smiling and his appearance might have slightly changed, but the evil in his eyes hasn’t. He’s as dark as ever.

He smirks wider and walks closer to me, forcing me to back against the window. “You of all people should know how I could have achieved that.”

He is absolutely right. I of all people do know how he did, but I can’t think about that right now, I need to get him out of here.

He comes in even closer to me, placing his hand above me on the wall next to the window and moves his face to where its only mere inches from mine. “God, it’s so good to see you, Doll. I’ve been keeping an eye on you, ya’ know. Having my men tell me what you’ve been up to isn’t the same as seeing it. I’ve missed you.” He rubs his nose along my cheek and I instantly move my face from him and side step to get some distance. But he grabs my arm and snaps me back to where I was before. The back of my head slams against the window and I start to see spots instantly. I whimper out in pain from my head. I’m trapped just like last time and this feels just like last time. His grip on my arm is tight and I know it’ll leave bruises. Tears threaten to surface from the pain of that and my head. “I’m not done talking to you. We need to chat. Catch up on all things going on with Marlie these last few years.”

Anger laced with fear forms from my voice. “Let go of me, Carter. You don’t need to know shit.”

He actually lets go of my arm, but he still has me trapped. I
need
to get out of here. I don’t really know what he wants, but I don’t want to stick around to find out.
Think Marlie, think
.

My purse! The gun!
If I can move quickly enough, I might be able to get to it before he catches me.

I duck down fast and move out from under his arms and go to the left and run around the couch. I get to my purse and fumble to get it open.
Jesus, Marlie. Get it together
. I snatch the gun out and turn to point it at him. He hasn’t moved. He’s just standing there, watching me.

“Get out,” I repeat for the third time.

Now he laughs at me. “Relax, Doll. I’m not here to hurt you…” he trails off making me think that’s exactly what he wants to do.

I so badly want to cry but I am holding it in. He doesn’t get to see me that way. I
can’t
have him see me that way. And I am so sick of hearing him call me that stupid name he gave me when we were together. It really pisses me off. I think my anger might be taking over the fear for now and that’s good. The gun my hand is giving me some courage I think. Which is a good thing, I need to be angry. Anger makes me stronger. I stand taller and flick the safety off still pointing at his chest. “I am not your
Doll
, Carter. Now get the
fuck
out of my home.”

He starts walking again, trailing his fingers along the couch as he makes his way towards me; his expression more serious now. “Careful who you threaten,
Doll
. I’d hate to see anything happen to your business, home, life, and friends if you piss the wrong people off.” He moves towards the fridge and opens it. Grabs a beer, twists off the cap and drinks the whole thing, before throwing it in the trash.

Why did I leave Wes’ home? Why am I so fucking stubborn? I could’ve just stayed and figured my shit out at his home, where I was safe. What I would give to be back there right now, would be everything.

I keep the gun pointed at him as he grabs another beer and leans against the counter like he plans to stay for a while.

Asshole.

“Ya’ know, I remember you having such a mouth on you. Never a dull moment when you were speaking.” He shrugs his shoulders and tosses back the second beer. “Guess time has changed you.”

“Fuck you,” I spit.

“Ah ha! There’s my little spitfire. Where’ve ya’ been?” he laughs as he disposes of the other beer. Then looks over at the table and sees the letters. I swear his smile just got brighter and my heart drops at the sight of the pleasure forming on his face.

“I see you found the letters. My condolences go out to you. How did he die again?” he laughs. He fucking laughs! I’m about to completely loose it and go ahead and just shoot his ass, when my door flies open. For the first time since I heard Carter speak from behind me, I feel relief as Wes stands in the doorway looking between Carter and me, holding a gun in his hand, pointing it right at Carter’s head.

“What’s going on?” Wes demands, looking at Carter but directing the question at me.

“Get him out of here,” I plead to Wes, trying to hold back tears of the overwhelming relief I feel right now. I don’t care why Wes is here or how he somehow showed up at the right time, but I am so grateful.

Never taking his eyes off Carter he speaks to me, “No. No. I don’t think so.” I can practically see the anger flowing off of Wes like a volcano about to erupt.

Shit. I can’t have Wes killing Carter in my apartment. I can’t have him kill him at all. As much as I want Carter buried six feet under and then some, killing him will bring evil like know other. It’ll bring his Uncle Olin and nobody wants that.

No one.

“Down boy. Marlie and I were just having a little chat and catching up.”

Carter looks at me and I can see the anger in his eyes. “I see you moved on…nice.”

I don’t respond to him because I don’t want to make things worse. I know Carter all too well. I know how jealous and possessive he is and seeing Wes right here, protecting me, must be making him go crazy. Now, I not only have to worry about Gemma and me, but Wes now too.

Fucking fantastic.

“Wes, you have to let him go.”

“Why?” he asks still not looking at me.

I ask him the same thing he asked in me, “Trust me.”

He stands there throwing as much hate towards Carter and for a split second it seems like he isn’t going to listen, but then he gestures towards the door with his head, “It’s your lucky fucking day. Count this as your one and only blessing.”

Carter starts to walk casually out the door, like he’s taking a Sunday stroll and his face looks way too cheerful, like Wes’ threat doesn’t bother him one bit. Like this whole thing doesn’t even faze him. Half way to the door with both Wes and my guns still pointed at him, he stops and looks at me. “I’ll be seeing you.” He threatens and then looks over at the coffee table by the couch where he left that envelope. I now know instantly what’s in there, my invite to the race.

“No, you won’t. Not if you know what’s good for you. Don’t come back or the barrel of this gun won’t just be pointed at you next time.” I see the anger rising in Wes to a level I have never seen him display before.

Just before the door shuts and Carter is out completely, I get stupid and yell out to him in panic. “Wait!”

He stops and turns my way, giving me a satisfied smile. My stupid mind is screaming at me to ask the one question I have been dying to know. Even though I try to keep telling myself over and over again that I absolutely do not want to know, I really truly do. “Did you do it?”

He smiles even brighter at me. “Do what?”

I close my eyes to avoid seeing his face. “My father… did you…” I trail off. I can’t even finish.

He laughs. “What do you think?” and before I can open my eyes and see the answer, the sound of the door being closed fills the room, leaving me with the answer I already knew.

My heart breaks into a million pieces all over again.

He killed my father.

Wes goes for the door and locks it instantly and then turns to me. “You okay?” All his anger he had just a second ago, depletes and is now replaced with worry.

“No.” I whisper, not caring anymore with holding back my emotions. I have strained to keep myself standing since the moment I heard that monster speak. So I let it all go. My legs give out and I collapse to my knees. I drop the gun and start to cry. I cover my face as I take short and fast breaths and sob into my hands.

Wes rushes down to my level, “Did he hurt you?” He starts checking my body for injuries that aren’t visible yet. I shake my head no and then he brings me in close to him and holds me tight, while I cry into his chest.

For the next several minutes, I let my emotions run free and once I am finally able to quit crying long enough to speak, I thank Wes for showing up.

“You don’t have to thank me. I told you I would protect you. I promise, I will never let him hurt you again.”

I pull back from him and stand up. I take a long, deep, breath and move to my fridge to get some water. “Why are you here? How did you know?”

He moves to my table and sits. “I didn’t, I came over to try to convince you to come back with me.” He shrugs his shoulders and looks down, noticing the letters from Carter to my dad. He picks them up. “What are these?”

I sigh and walk to the table; I take the letters from his hands and stare at them. “Those are letters from Carter to my dad. He wrote to him while he was in prison.”

“You didn’t know?”

I shake my head, “No. I found them after my father died while I was going through his attic, trying to clean it all out.”

“I’m sorry he passed, Marlie.” He reaches out and covers my hand with his. “Did you get my flowers?”

I look up at him. “That was you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you leave your name on them?”

“Because you were hurting enough. I didn’t want to add more pain. I was an asshole by just leaving you like I did.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, because it really is. He didn’t know what was going on with me at the time. So it’s my fault really.