50

Coke Does That

Drew glanced down at Kelly’s keys on the table, hesitated, and then scooped them back up again. That hadn’t been a playful scream — like the one you got when you goosed a girl who wasn’t expecting it.

There’d been panic in that scream.

He glanced at the stairs and then went over and shut the living room door. His eyes slid to the side, to the tablet computer where he’d left on it on the lintel. Better to have surprise on his side, right? He flinched when the rock music spluttered out of the speakers.

Even through the noise, he could hear Bryce thumping down the stairs. He flattened himself against the pine wall, breathing deep that fresh, woody scent as he begged his heart to maintain something approaching a steady rhythm.

The door swung open — away from him — and Bryce stepped into the living room. A snarl distorted the man’s mouth. The hand dangling at his side was pale how he gripped the gun at his side.

Drew’s throat went tight. He strained to hear more footsteps, but it seemed the scream had been one of the girls’s. Hopefully, they’d be too scared to follow after Bryce.

In the precious few milliseconds he had to study Bryce, he could only stare at the man’s eyes. They were narrowed, but that did nothing to hide the man’s dilated pupils. Or the sheen of moisture on his face. The way his jaw bunched as if he’d never speak again.

But then he did.

His twin brother’s chest expanded. He opened his mouth. Yelled out Drew’s name as spittle and rage flew from his lips.

Drew surged forward, arm drawing back. His elbow struck Bryce in the stomach as the man was still busy twisting to his direction. While surprise still widened his eyes.

The gun clattered to the rim of exposed flooring — that small strip where the enormous rug that covered the floor didn’t reach — and became still.

Drew kicked it out of reach. And then swung his fist into Bryce’s throat.

The man fell back with a gasping wheeze, both hands closing over his neck as he collapsed to the floor. Drew cracked both knees following him, but hardly felt the pain. Adrenalin pumped like blood through his veins. It buzzed in his ears, deafening him to Bryce’s heavy metal.

That had been the figurative nail in the figurative coffin. Because he abhorred metal, and Juliet only listened to indie rock those few times that she bothered to listen to anything at all.

Coming here, finding track after track of music he’d never heard. Music that, once played, felt like it was ripping out bits of his soul the longer he listened…

It was all the confirmation he needed that Bryce was fucking Juliet. Had been fucking her for long enough that he felt he had every right to load his entire iTunes library onto this house’s sound system.

Red blood splashed onto yellow pine when his fist connected with Bryce’s jaw. The man convulsed under him, and then lay still.

He scrambled up, wiping his hands over his hair.

Angel and Kelly stood at the door, clutching each other and looking all the world like a shocked mother and daughter.

“He had a gun!” Drew stabbed a finger at his unconscious brother. “What the hell is he doing coming after me with a gun?”

“Oh my God,” Kelly murmured, disentangling herself from Angel. The girl tried to hold on, her wide blue eyes muddied by enlarged pupils, but Kelly tugged her free. “Are you okay?”

“I—” Drew swallowed. “I’m fine. But… what the hell’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know.” Kelly bent down beside Drew. “One minute he’s talking about lawyers, the next thing he pulls out a gun. He’s had a lot of coke. A lot of—” She looked up at him, face pale. “Is he dead?”

“No.” Drew let out an incredulous snort. “He’s not fucking dead.” He shook his head, but he couldn’t look away from Kelly’s face.

She was high too. They all three were. And, this close, he could smell sex on her; sweat and latex and Angel.

He took a step back before he could stop himself. Tried to force the disgust from his face.

“Drew—” Kelly rose slowly, holding up a hand to him. “I can explain…”

“You should go.” His voice was thick, almost unintelligible. “You should just go.”

“I—” Kelly looked over to Angel, hugging herself hard.

“She can’t,” Angel said.

When he looked at the girl, she flinched like he’d slapped her. Then she pushed away from the door frame she’d been holding onto and came to Kelly. They slid their arms around each other’s waists as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and Angel stuck her chin out at him. “She can’t drive. Not like this.”

Then those dark blue eyes flashed away from him. “Where’s the gun?”

“I—Somewhere over there,” he said, pointing to the opposite side of the room.

“Is it true?” Kelly asked, voice trembling as much as her lips. “What he said?”

“Who? Him?” Drew pointed to Bryce. “What did he say?”

“That you were going to kill us,” Angel said, sounding flippant. Then, to Kelly, “He was high, Kay. It’s the coke, it does that. Got it?” She glanced at Drew, giving him a brief, dismissive glance. “No one’s killing anyone; right, Mr. Sugar?”

A tremor snapped through him.

Mr. Sugar.

He forced a smile onto his mouth. “Of course not.” Then he turned the smile to Kelly, who shied back from him. “Of course not, sweetheart.”