THE CRACKLING SOUND OF THUNDER filled my ears and brought me up to Gail’s rooftop in the middle of the night.
It was late September. Rain had no business running down the hot roofs and dusty windows of my South Californian desert town. Maybe it was all a part of something bigger. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe it was my dad. Or Darren. Or Bane. Or just the bag of evidence lying in my duffel bag, a ticking time bomb.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
I let the drops lash against my face as I blinked at the sky. Darren’s letter fell from my backpack not long after I came back to Gail’s house. She’d asked if I wanted her to be there when I read it. I’d thanked her, but said that the words were meant for me. I needed to face them alone.
The letter was a shock, but the simple, transparent plastic bag accompanying it was what shook every bone in my body. It was the evidence from the night of The Incident. My torn bra and panties. The semen and blood-covered shirt. My old phone they’d stomped on, with their fingerprints on it. It was all there. A Post-It note was stapled to the bag.
Kept it in my safe. Good luck.
My chest rattled as rain slipped between my lips. I let the last eight years sink in. I told myself that none of it was my fault. And for the first time in years, I actually believed that. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. Replacing them was anger, rage, and a profound sense of injustice. Darren had been sick. Pam was sick. Emery, Nolan, and Henry were all sick. Bane wasn’t sick, but he was a jerk, and the price of his mistake was divided equally between us.
And Mayra? Mayra was a manipulative bitch.
It felt strangely convenient that the only memory I’d blocked out of my mind was the one of what Darren had done to me. Sure, he’d forced me to drink until I’d passed out, but that couldn’t have guaranteed a memory loss. That’s where Mayra fit in, strolling into the picture mere weeks after Darren had raped me. She’d manipulated my reality, working relentlessly toward making me forget.
But now that I remembered, I was going to fight tooth and nail to rebuild my life.
This week, I’d walked into Book-ish, a local bookstore, and asked for a job interview.
“We aren’t hiring,” the dorky teenage girl behind the counter said flatly, her eyes stuck on the Marie Claire magazine she was flipping absently. I told her I was not leaving until I spoke with the owner. An older woman came out of the back room after a few minutes.
“You need to give me a job, and here is why.”
I’d told her my story. Openly, candidly.
I’d shown her my tattoo, so she knew I wasn’t just a poser. Books were my friends, my allies, my voice. They were my weapon of choice in the war which I survived.
I got the job.
It felt good being employed again. And it felt even better to have gotten the job completely on my own. Darren had left me enough money to sustain myself and the next twenty generations, but I wasn’t going to touch a dime of it. I fantasized about donating it to women’s shelters and other good causes, but in practice, I was too sick to my stomach to think about it yet.
After I got hired, I went to Mrs. Belfort’s to say goodbye. She was boarding a plane the same afternoon with Kacey. Ryan was staying in town to deal with the paperwork. We hugged, and cried, and I wondered what had taken me so long to take the initiative and help her. Help myself. But it was always there, plain and simple.
I wasn’t alive before Bane came along.
Now I was present. I was feeling. My heart was an animal, caged and suppressed and angry. It was hungry. Restless. Out for blood. And I was going to feed it, because new Jesse died. Her quiet, submissive corpse was left on the cool sand of the beach the evening I’d had the flashback.
I realized that I wasn’t old Jesse just then. I was an even newer version, a stronger version, a version that was not to be messed with. She would make everyone pay. Everyone.
After visiting Mrs. B, the last thing I did while in El Dorado was knock on Wren’s door. Her parents lived in a James Bond-esque compound on a hilltop. I knocked on her door and sported my best innocent smile. She answered, immediately scrunching her nose up in distaste when I came into view. She was wearing a sports bra and yoga pants. A Cardi B song was blasting from the home entertainment system behind her.
“What do you want?” She put her hands on her hips, looking down.
Last time I’d seen Wren, Bane had nearly killed her friends. The less than enthusiastic greeting wasn’t surprising.
“To apologize,” I said and batted my eyelashes, laying it on thicker than her makeup. “About the night at the track. I guess you’ve heard about my dad…” I referred to Darren as my dad, even though the only title he had truly earned in his life was that of a cunning rapist. But I had a plan.
Wren’s eyes skimmed the length of me, her eyebrows finally relaxing, a look of sympathy washing over her expression.
“Yeah. I heard. Sorry.” Her shoulders slacked.
“It’s okay. It’s been pretty crazy lately. I guess what I wanted to say was that I’m sorry about what happened with you, Henry, and Nolan. I overreacted.” Each word was like a knife in my mouth.
Wren flipped her long, blonde ponytail and rolled her eyes. “It happens.”
“And I also wanted to give you this. I know that it’s your twentieth birthday in a second.” I handed her a wrapped gift. It was nothing special. The same strong, flowery, nauseating perfume I remembered she liked from when we used to go to school together. The next part was tricky, but I knew I could pull it off.
“Aw, thank you.” She took the gift, but still didn’t invite me in. “Yeah, I mean, it’s kind of a big deal.”
“Think about it. You’re entering your twenties. That’s huge.” I leaned my hip against her doorframe, engaging her in an easy chitchat. We used to do this a lot, Wren and I, back when I’d dated Emery. I’d never really felt the connection with her, but I’d tried hard for my boyfriend. Emery only ever hung out with the popular kids, and Wren had been the perfect queen bee everyone loved to secretly hate.
“Oh. I should do something, shouldn’t I?”
I widened my eyes. “You mean, you don’t even have a party planned? Wren, it’s the middle of the summer! Everyone is on a break. You have to do something.”
She munched on her lip. “I’m going to a community college in San Diego. Everyone there is meh. All our friends are in real colleges.”
Your friends, not mine.
“Invite them over, then.” I did a half-shrug. My heart beat so fast, I was afraid it’d crack. I wanted to lure them back into town, but knew that they weren’t stupid. What they were was smug, and I was counting on them seeing me as helpless and vulnerable. Being newly orphaned worked in my favor.
Wren tapped her chin, her acrylic, candy-apple red fingernails sparkling under the sun. “They said they were going to hang out in New York this summer.”
“Aw, New York.” I rolled my eyes, acting like them. Like her. “Home is the best place to be during summer vacation. Especially when it includes Tobago Beach and your family and friends.”
“You mean, you won’t mind if they come to town?” Wren shot me another suspicious look. My guess was Nolan, Henry, and Emery didn’t want to rock the boat the minute they realized Bane was in the picture. Even in high school, we’d all known who he was, and nobody was stupid enough to mess with him.
“Dude, ohmigosh.” I used her favorite phrase, reining in my gag reflex. “Everyone just needs to let go of this whole thing. I mean, it happened years ago, right? No need to dwell on it.”
I wondered if Wren was toying with the idea of actually inviting me. I hoped, for her sake, that she wasn’t, because that would put her in the category of dumb as a rock. But by the smile spreading across her face, I knew that she’d totally bought every single lie I’d fed her and was coming back for seconds. I felt deceitful—lying isn’t only about the people you lie to, it’s mostly about your own integrity—but I could no longer stomach the idea that the boys could be planning another “orgy” with someone else. Plus, that plastic bag of evidence burned a hole in my duffel bag.
It couldn’t stay unused.
“Ohmigosh, Jesse, you’re right! I’m going to call them right after my private Zumba class. Hey, you should totally come.”
I pretended to punch her shoulder. “Eeep! You’re the sweetest, but I really need to get things prepared for the funeral and everything. Thanks, though.”
Even though Wren had the intelligence of expired mayo, Emery and Nolan were pretty bright. I didn’t want any of them to suspect I was pulling any tricks by declaring I’d be there. Wren pouted like an adorable puppy, her version of condolences.
“Prayers to you and your mom, Jesse.” She rubbed my arm. We shared an awkward half-hug.
“Thanks.”
Driving back to Gail’s, I knew a few things:
- Wren was going to throw a party.
- She’d invited me, because she was an idiot.
- I was going to be there, but not in the capacity they were planning on.
Surprise.
I loved the feeling of my clothes, heavy and soaked with the unexpected rain, as I made my way down from Gail’s roof. The tropic summer episode cleared my head, and I felt so alive I wanted to scream.
Gail had fire escape stairs leading straight down from the roof of her building to the entrance. I used it to get down and was about to buzz myself back into her apartment when I noticed Bane leaning against his Harley, his head bowed down. He was standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, a look of sheer surprise at what he was doing—at how far he’d gone for a woman—crossing his face.
I turned my back to him and punched the intercom to Gail’s apartment. She buzzed me in without answering, because she knew my crazy self was out in the rain, thinking things over. Bane jogged behind me, scolding me under his breath.
“Are you going to ignore me forever?”
“That’s the general plan.” I pushed the building door open, and he strolled along with me, a trail of raindrops following him. I wanted to ignore his existence completely and go upstairs, but in reality, couldn’t tear my eyes from his beautiful face. Raindrops adorned his wet golden hair, dripping down to his boots.
“Crazy weather.” He chuckled, but it sounded so sad, the words cracking like an egg. “When I was a kid, I thought God was flushing the toilet every time it rained. Made leaving SoCal virtually impossible. It rarely rains here.”
“Thanks for the anecdote, Roman, but we’re past chitchat, so you can keep the rest of your fun facts for your next client,” I said viciously, twisting to the stairs and taking them two at a time. He caught up with my pace, and we were shoulder-to-shoulder, heat pouring through our damp clothes.
“Darren’s dead,” he said, mainly to show me that he knew.
“And this is your business because…?”
“He took your virginity.”
I stopped mid-step, turning around to face him.
“He took your virginity, and you’re my business.” His eyes were lit and burning, and I knew there was nothing I could do to diffuse them.
“How do you know?”
“Gail thought you’d already told me.”
I swallowed. I couldn’t really fault Gail. Bane was after me, and she knew I wanted to hurt him. And that nothing would hurt him more than this piece of information.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?” I pushed his chest.
“Because, unfortunately, I’m deeply in love with your ass.”
“I bet you also love the fact that you don’t have to pay Darren now.”
“I do. Makes life easier, but I never gave a shit about the money, and I think we both know that.”
I poked my lower lip up, tugging at it. The way he stared at it, like he wanted to catch it between his teeth, suck the rain from it, and bite it until it bled, made heat spread in my lower belly.
“You mean, you didn’t care about the money so much, you signed a contract to make me your little toy project for six months?”
“That was before.”
“Yeah, welcome to the ‘after.’ Sucks to be here, right?”
It wasn’t until we made it to the second floor of the building, standing in front of Gail’s door, that he spoke again. He looked broken, and I hated to see him like that. It made no sense at all. So many people had ruined me—him included—and yet, seeing him suffer, seeing his emerald eyes turning droopy and miserable, made me want to stab my own chest with a fork. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I let him go the way I had Pam and Darren?
“Emery, Nolan, and Henry are popping in for a vacation,” he said.
My fist hovered over Gail’s door, and I halted. I wanted to push Bane into the hallway and slam the door in his face, but his words made me stop. I swiveled slowly, my mouth curving in disgust.
“How do you know?”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. Especially when it concerns you.”
“This McMafia stuff is not impressing me, Roman. Sorry to disappoint.”
Plus, I was the one that lured them into town, I thought about adding, but didn’t. I only trusted one person in this operation, and that person was me.
“I’m not trying to control you; I’m trying to fucking save you,” he growled, pushing me against the door with a soft thud. He boxed me in with his arms, his forehead dropping to mine. We were both wet and shivering, our breaths heavy and charged. Our hair stuck together, and I loved that we were yin and yang. Him, blond and whole and hidden by ink. Me, black-haired and broken and clean. He locked my chin between his fingers and tilted my head up. His eyes were hard and soft, honey-edged and flinty green. Cunning, like a snake’s. But the way they looked at me, like I mattered, disarmed me. He pressed his lips to mine, and we stayed like that, in half a kiss, half a breath, for a few seconds before I pulled away and cupped my mouth.
“Don’t touch Emery, Henry, and Nolan,” I said.
“Like fuck I won’t. I’m going to end the bastards,” he snarled. My phone beeped in my hoodie’s pocket. I pulled it out. It was Pam. She was on her tenth text message to me today. We were supposed to have a meeting with Darren’s lawyer about the will. I wanted to drag it out for as long as I could before finally informing her that she was back to being dirt-poor. God bless prenups.
I thought that it was poetic justice that she didn’t get to keep the thing she’d chosen over my happiness and mental health. Money.
I sent the call to voicemail and looked up at him.
“I have a plan,” I said.
“Fill me in.”
I shook my head. “It’s mine.”
He furrowed his brows. “Who the fuck are you, Jesse Carter?”
“I’m the girl I need to be to save myself.”
He clasped my arms in his hands, pinning me to the door. I wanted so badly to forgive him, to fall right into bed with him, to be in his arms. Safe. Sound. Protected. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Bane was capable of giving me all the things the new Jesse needed. I wouldn’t have to work hard for my justice. He would bring the prey to my doorstep, like a loyal, skilled hunter.
But I wanted messy. Bloody. I wanted wonky and imperfect. I wanted to drag them into justice my way, even if it lacked his force and finesse.
I rose on my tiptoes, darting my tongue and licking the outline of his Cupid’s bow lips. He stopped breathing, his eyes hard on mine, so engrossed in the moment he couldn’t even close them to enjoy what I was doing.
“No.” He pulled away.
“No?” I raised an eyebrow.
He shook his head. “You wanna kiss me, you do it fucking right.”
His lips crushed down on mine, and before I knew it, he’d reached down, grabbing the back of my thighs and hoisting me up to wrap my legs around his waist. We were frantic, desperate. He shoved his tongue into my mouth, and I felt like he was filling me with much more than a kiss. With hope and with desire and with the ability to see the world a little brighter. He ground the bulge in his cargo pants against my clit, and I let out a muffled moan. We wrestled against Gail’s door as my hands dug into his shirt and traced his glorious six-pack while he, once again, fucked me with our clothes on. I heard Gail from the other side of the door, about to unlock it and open up, before everything went silent, and she let out a yawn.
“Oh.”
“What’s up?” She was talking to someone on speakerphone. Beck?
“Nothing. Jesse and Bane are fucking against my door.”
“Yet the dipshit still ain’t taking my calls.” Yup. Beck. “Can you slip him a note for me?”
“Hard no, Woody.” She called him Woody? How had I not noticed it before? Oh. Right. I’d been too busy trying to get Bane to touch me.
“Think they’re back together?”
“Who knows?” Gail chuckled, her slippered feet descending back to the living room. Roman groaned into my mouth, squeezing my ass tight with one hand while finding his way into the waistband of my jeans with the other. My fingers and toes curled in delight, heat gathering in my belly. He found my clit and toyed with it. Pinched it, flicked it with his thumb, and rubbed it between his two fingers like he was going to light it on fire.
“Missed you.” He stamped my mouth with another searing kiss. Overlapping sensations of complete abandon and odd empowerment zinged through me.
And love. The kind of love that made me feel immortal.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I growled into our kiss, rubbing into his big palm with my groin. “I still hate you.”
“I know,” he said, his mouth filling mine with the fresh taste of rain and cinnamon. We were grinding against each other in a rhythm that belonged to us, no one else’s, in the kind of chemistry you couldn’t fake or stage, like two pieces of an elaborate puzzle that only had one place: right next to each other.
“But I’m here for you, Snowflake. I’ll be sitting on the sidelines cheering for you because you’re the strongest girl I know, but I’ll also be there if you need me. Needing someone wouldn’t make you any less strong, Jesse. It would just make you human.”
I planted one last kiss on his nose before I slid down the door and stood up, his hard-on between us, nearly poking out of his cargo pants, the air saturated with what we’d just done. I took a deep breath, tilting my chin up.
“You gonna leave me like this?” He cupped his junk.
“How else would I leave my enemy?” I asked.
“Spent,” he deadpanned. I shook my head and pushed the door open, hearing him taking a step back behind me.
“I can’t wait to fuck the old Jesse.” He sucked his teeth. “She seems like a fighter.”
“Stay out of my shit, Protsenko.”
But he was already going down the stairs, laughing like a maniac.