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“Look who’s decided to join us.” His voice was low, taunting. It sent chills down my spine. I sometimes wondered if Vicious’s parents conceived him on Hitler’s tombstone or if his mom had a freak accident involving poison and voodoo while she was pregnant. He was too scary for a teenager. Too dangerous for someone who grew up in pretentious luxury. Too dead for a living human.
Rowland and Vicious stopped at the last stair, where Vicious pushed him headfirst to fall to the pier. Toby winced into the gag in his mouth, coughing. Jaime and Dean picked him up and tore the cloth from his face.
“Oh, man, your mouth is bleeding. Here, let me help.” Jaime’s hand reached toward Toby’s face before he swung his arm back, throwing a punch from hell right into his nose.
Toby’s head flew backward, landing against Vicious’s chest.
Vicious clasped Toby’s arms, hissing into his ear almost erotically, “Don’t worry, I got you. I won’t let them hurt you. No. I’m planning to do all the hurting myself.”
Trent stepped forward and blocked my view with his broad back. All I saw was the three HotHoles’ backs. Vicious and Toby were well-hidden behind the other guys.
I heard Toby crying and whimpering, clomping his feet, begging, wailing, trying to break free. Then Dean stepped aside, allowing me a first glimpse at Rowland’s new face.
Bloated.
Bleeding.
Destroyed.
Seeing the welts—smelling the blood—in person, felt so much worse than looking at it on a Monday morning. The four HotHoles were so troubled. Each had their own reason to be. I knew what ate Jaime…but I didn’t know why the others were so hell-bent on feeding and consuming so much pain.
Jaime was now grasping Toby’s hair while he was on his knees. Vicious slouched down to sit on a step, lighting a cigarette nonchalantly and pointing his Zippo at La Belle. His knuckles dripped blood, and his pale cheeks were flushed pink. Yet when he opened his mouth, calmness flowed out with every word.
“Nice boat your parents have. How many years have they put into that floating banquet room? Mom used to say your pasta tasted like stale balls.”
Toby sighed in defeat, barely shaking his head, while Dean and Trent laughed.
“Okay, you’re right. She didn’t really say that. She wouldn’t have known what stale balls taste like. But your mom does, right? Rowland is a nasty piece of fuck.”
I was sure I saw Jaime’s face twitch, but maybe it was because I was privy to his secret.
“Last words before we burn this beauty down?” Vicious puffed smoke, toying with his lighter.
“Please,” Toby sniffed and coughed. “Just…please.”
“You ruined my career,” Trent said through a clenched jaw, fists tightening. “And didn’t give me the option to beg for my leg before you greased the locker room floor. Was it your dad’s idea? Or did he just look the other way?”
“So s-s-s-sorry.” Toby’s words were drenched with red saliva.
Vicious stood up, slapping Trent’s shoulder. “The kid says that he’s sorry. Does that cut it?”
Trent shook his head slowly, eyes trained on Toby. Vicious swiveled to Rowland and shrugged. “Apparently, sorry isn’t gonna do it. Guess we’re back to plan A.”
Trent took a long stride toward La Belle, unscrewed the cap on the five-gallon can, and climbed the steps leading up to the yacht and the restaurant inside. The stench of gasoline filled the air. Vicious still played with his Zippo, thumbing it teasingly.
Light.
Out.
Light.
Out.
Light…
Normally the marina was patrolled regularly. I had no doubt the HotHoles had something to do with the absence of security. Trent poured gasoline from the restaurant’s entry door along the wooden deck and back down the steps to the marina in a fuse-like line. After he threw the empty gas can into the water, he walked to Vicious’s side and planted a hand on his shoulder with a little nod. This was Baron Spencer’s cue.
“Goodbye, La Belle. You’ll be missed…but not by us.” Vicious chuckled darkly, flipping the lit Zippo toward the trail of gasoline.
A whoosh of flames erupted. Fire raced up the steps and across the deck to the restaurant door.
“Let’s go!”
The boys turned around, holding Toby like a prisoner in both arms, and dragged him back to the parking lot. They made sure his face was toward the marina so he could see the destruction of his family’s most precious possession. Flames leaped high, and black smoke engulfed the yacht in a choking hug.
I had to escape. To turn around and run away.
Why didn’t you stop them, Mel? I knew the answer to that one. The retaliation was justified. The Rowlands deserved the HotHoles’ wrath.
Running up the stairs, hysteria taking over my body as the heat of the fire licked at my legs, I heard the clank of something dropping behind me. I didn’t have time to pick it up. Not even to turn around and check what it was. I fled the scene and bolted back to my apartment.
