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My hand is in the damp strands of his hair, my breathing still heavy. “That was a near-death experience.”
He laughs, kicking up from the floor. He moves across the kitchen, opening one of the many cupboards and flicking open a first aid kit. “Turn around. I’ll bandage you up.”
Who would have known? Sex with Brantley contains hot wax, blood, and always, always a Band-Aid. For your skin, you’re out of luck if you need one for your heart.
After dragging my half-dead body back up to my room, I’m tugging clothes down from the hangers when I hit dial on Bishop’s name.
He answers instantly. “You okay?”
I pang with another surge of guilt. “Yes, I was wondering when the ceremony is?”
“Not until Sunday,” he answers carefully. It’s Wednesday. I will be back by then. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I pause. I could tell him. No, I can’t. I shove the clothes into a small duffel bag and zip it up. “Yes. I’m fine. You worry too much.” I reach for my passport and emergency cash inside the closet. Brantley put it there when I was thirteen. Told me if anything happened to him that I needed to run. I take out my passport, a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, but leave the black cell phone.
“I worry because I care, and contrary to how you’ve been treated since you’ve been in my life, the emotion is rare for me.”
I chuckle, tossing everything into a small shoulder strap bag. “Just like Brantley?”
“Not that bad…” Bishop grunts.
“How are you feeling about the ceremony?” I ask, moving the curtain out of my way so I can see a clear view of the driveway. I watch as Brantley moves around his Bugatti, his phone pressed to one ear with his hand resting on his car.
“Ready for it to be over.”
“Bishop?” I whisper, as Brantley climbs into his car and Tillie in hers. “I love you.”
He sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m just telling you.”
“Saint, I—”
I hear shuffling in the background and people calling out to him. “I’ve got to go. I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
I smile. “Sure. Bye.” As I bring my arm down, my stomach drops with it. I know what I’m doing is going to be seen as a betrayal, but I have to do this. I made a promise.
She sent me the details I needed, which included a damn limo ride to the nearest airport. I didn’t know where. I hadn’t stepped inside the city before, so everything was like bright lights to me. The rushing, the urgency that everyone moved to didn’t process through my brain. Why was everyone in such a hurry? For what?
We pull up to the airstrip and the driver slides the tinted window down that separates the back and the front.
His eyes come to mine in the rearview mirror. “Miss Vitiosis, your jet awaits…”
I gape up at the sleek black private jet. The cabin is open, with stairs leading out to the tarmac. There are three men in suits standing at the end, all armed with heavy guns.
“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching for the door and opening it. The trunk is already popped and one of said men in suits is carrying out my duffel bag.
I pull out my phone and hit dial on the number I have for her.
She answers.
“Madison. I’m leaving now.”
Blood soaked through my shirt, my hands stretched wide and tied to the tree stump. I knew I was done for. I would never see my family again. I would never get to bully Sandra Mckenna again, even though I got great pleasure in rubbing it in her face that the reason why she suffered from poor body odor and acne was because she couldn’t stop eating all that greasy and nasty food. Sure, shoving her head into the oil pot in the cafeteria was probably taking it a little too far, but I mean, it could have been worse. Duh. I could have waited until the oil was boiling before doing it. But that would have killed her, and I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to destroy her. I liked destroying people, but I liked sex more, which was how I ended up here in the first place.
I had too much pride to say anything else. My daddy taught me better. You go down proud, not a coward, and that’s how I will do it.
“Smile for Daddy, Ava Garcia. Your playtime is almost up.”
Brantley
There’s a secret. A fucking big one. One that I’ve kept from her forever, and one that no one talks about. People know about it, but they don’t speak of it.
I floor it forward until my car shoots off the main highway, sticking to the same route I always stick to when Nate’s name flashes over the screen on my dash.
