Parker
I can’t seem to control my sobs. Or hers. Any comfort given from the soft drag of my palm up and down her back as I carry her is lost from the tortured breaths from my throat and my tears dampening her hair. My body shakes in perfect rhythm with hers. My sobs rough, Codi’s soft and broken.
I shut the door of my bedroom, attempting to shut out the horror of our day. Shutting it away as I break the threshold of my bathroom. Placing her on her feet, I brush away the mattered hair from her forehead; it’s clotted with blood, staining the white blonde color a vibrant red. Mira’s life now painted along our bodies in reminder of what I just lost.
She lets me undress her without dispute, her eyes empty, staring ahead, unseeing, their focus on the spatter of red covering my shirt.
I drop to my knees, tapping her ankle and she lifts silently, letting me divest her feet of her shoes and socks. Even the souls of her chucks look as though she’s stepped on a red ink pad.
Codi now free of her ruined clothing, I strip mine from my body. She stands quietly as I adjust the water in the shower, and follows wordlessly as I gesture into the spray.
This is probably a bad idea. Showering right at this moment. Cops will be descending on the loft in minutes. I heard Dominic on the phone, his quiet declaration of two shootings, requiring emergency services. But I watched Codi look over her hands, over her arms, seeing Mira’s blood covering her skin. She was seconds away from losing it, her eyes darting between Marcus, dead on the floor, Mira, fate the same, cradled in Rocco’s lap as he sobbed and begged for her to come back.
Fuck. Maybe I didn’t pull her away for her. Maybe it was for me. Because I know I was barely holding on.
Standing under the rain of water now, her head drops slowly as she watches the water turn red as it washes the blood from her body and like me, her body shakes violently. “Help me get it off,” she cries frantically.
I don’t though. Instead, I pull her tightly against me. She struggles at first, her small frame twisting and pushing against mine, trying to move me away before her body goes limp. I hold her up, her legs having lost the ability to stand and her hands move to grab instead of push. She pulls me closer, her loud, incoherent cries breaking against my naked chest.
I let her cry her tears, mourning the multitude of blows she’s just been delivered and I mourn my own.
My aunt.
Mira.
The single beacon of light in my life over the last eighteen years.
The woman who helped raise me. Who showed me love. Who showed me kindness. Who disregarded every single need in her own life, including her safety to protect Rocco and I.
Gone.
Forever.
Dead.
Dead.
Shit. I don’t even want to begin imaging what that means for my life going forward. What it means for Rocco. Jesus, she’s what kept him sane. What kept him alive.
I’m barely aware of the thick, tortured sound breaking from my throat, so lost in my grief, my anguish, I can’t find my way back to rein it in, to find any semblance of control.
Codi offers me what I gave her, support, letting me cry into the crook of her neck, her hands still pulling me in close.
I don’t know who kissed who first. Which one of our tortured souls took that desperate step to needing more. Reassurance. Support. Comfort. Distraction.
I’d like to think it was her. That Codi was the one to push us over the vicious storm of grief swirling between us. Searching for my comfort. Letting me help her detach from the world we no longer wanted to be a part of. But I can’t be sure. Because as easily as the first taste of her kiss came, she fought her want for distraction that sex could give her as heavily as I fought for it. She went from kissing me hysterically, her legs crawling up my body to wrap herself around me as tightly as she could, to pushing me away. Her small fists hit at my chest in time with her weak sobs. I pushed forward, her back hitting the wet tiled wall brutally as I fought off her fists and kissed her again.
She kissed me back. Clawing at my shoulders to pull me closer, the desperation in the way we were touching, forcing our intimacy into a frenzied mess.
I’d pull away and she’d yank me back.
She’d push at my chest, her cries coming on harder and I’d kiss her deeper.
Before I knew what was happening, she’d reached between us, my cock held tightly in her hand as she guided me to the heat of where I wanted to be more than I wanted my next breath.
I don’t hesitate, pushing forward into the suffocating choke of her pussy.
She sobbed and I cried.
We fucked hard.
We fucked angrily.
We made love while drowned in hate.
We let our hearts connect as we drifted further and further apart. The heaviness of what we’d been through casting us astray, moving each of us into an abyss we could never be certain we’d find our way out from.
The hate pouring between us morphed into the lust that always seems to cloud us. It was raw. It was real. It was soul-shattering and sad.
Our tongues warred. Our teeth clashed. Our tears collided. Our bodies came in an explosion of misery and heartache, orgasms so powerful our legs buckled and we slide down to the cold floor, our minds empty and hollow.
As much as I hoped she’d never regret this final broken moment between us. One so intimate and raw, it’ll haunt me for the rest of my sorry days, I knew my hope was futile. Her body shaking with the shame and remorse of what we just shared.
Eventually she pulls away and we stand on unsteady legs. I help her scrub the clusters of dried blood from her creamy skin. She lets me wash her hair, her neck tipped back into the shower spray as I watch the deep red dye of blood rinse from her hair and disappear down the drain.
She waits for me to wash myself, watching on in an empty daze as the last of Mira rinses from my body before she shuts the shower off.
We dry ourselves in silence, an awkward heaviness falling between us as Codi refuses to meet my eyes.
“Sugar—” I start but she cuts me off, wrapping her towel tightly around her body, eyes darting anywhere but to me.
“Do you have some clothes I could borrow?”
I wait a beat. Fuck. I need her to look at me. To talk to me. To let me explain. To let me tell her I love her. To say the words. To vocalize how I feel. But she won’t give it to me, so I nod silently, moving back into my bedroom and finding her a pair of sweats and a sweater to change into.
I dress myself as I watch her, rolling the waistband of my sweats over three or four times to keep them secure on her hips and to ensure thy fit her. She refuses my eyes the entire time.
“Sugar,” I try again but this time Rocco’s thunderous roar breaks me off and without a moment hesitation, I run toward the sound.
Dominic is attempting to hold him back as he tries to move back into Mira’s space.
“Mr Shay, I will not hesitate in arresting you if you impede forensics from doing their job,” a short, round older man tries to reason with Rocco.
“What’s there to fuckin’ know? That stupid cunt shot her,” he throws a hand out to Marcus’ body, numbered cards placed near to his body and his gun, as a man takes shot after shot of his lifeless body with a large camera.
“Sir,” he begins again but I move into his space.
“Roc. Let them do their job. Quicker they do that, the quicker they’re outta here,” I push at his chest, forcing him to move away from the detective.
“Touch her in a way I don’t like and I’ll fuck you up,” he threatens and I close my eyes in irritation.
“Roc, fucking chill before they arrest your ass.”
“I’m not gonna lay a single finger on her, I’d like to start taking statements though, asking a few questions. I’ll start with you Mr. Shay,” he indicates to Rocco and he stares at the detective blankly before his eyes flick to Dominic Rein and back again, his head offering a single nod as he moves toward the living area to sit down.
Dominic is standing by Codi and Camryn, his voice soft, undecipherable in the hum of activity in the loft. Codi’s eyes reach mine, locking for a long vacant moment before scanning the desolation in the room; Rocco, Mira and finally Marcus. Her father speaks the entire time, his lips moving fast with the words he’s working to get across.
Camryn nods the entire time, taking in everything her father says. He has to prompt Codi, his hand coming up to cup her jaw to bring her focus back to him. She flinches at his touch and I watch the fleeting flash of pain hit his eyes before he drops his hand. Finally, she nods, the emptiness in her eyes still present.
The detective moves away from Rocco, moving to Camryn and Codi steps away.
“Parker,” I shift my attention to Dominic. “I’m sorry for your loss. Didn’t know Mira by any stretch but I know she was the last of the family you had.”
I nod, refusing to speak. What am I supposed to say? Thank you? For what, an empty veil of apology that wasn’t necessary. Dominic Rein had nothing to do with the lifeless body of Mira’s slumped across my floor. No. That blame is on me. On Rocco. On the piece of shit Dominic lodged a bullet inside of.
He doesn’t expect me to say anything, stepping into my space, his arm moving around my shoulder in a show of support for any unknowing bystanders. His eyes tell a different story though. One of direction, of complete focus. Of calm.
“Dempsey came here in search for Mira, understood?”
I stare at him blankly, but he ignores my look of confusion. “They had an argument, like always, this time she came here, afraid. We were all here, meeting you, Codi’s new boyfriend when she turned up.”
I swallow uncertainly. “Nod to let me know you’re keeping up.”
I follow his instruction and he breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes glance toward the detective still with Camryn then back to me.
“He came in, saw me, lost it, shot her, turned the gun on me and I retaliated in self-defense. Nothing more. Nothing less. Understood?”
I barely have a moment to respond before he looks beyond me, smiling grimly. “Detective. I’ll imagine you want to speak to me next,” and without waiting for a response, he steps from the false embrace he’d forced me into. “Parker, like I said, anything you need, son, you come to me.”
He walks away, moving the detective back toward the living area and I stand, stunned at what just happened.
It’s clear as fuckin’ day, these cops are on Rein’s payroll. Obvious in the lax way they’re approaching the crime scene. Hell, Codi and I were in the shower when they arrived and no one battered an eyelid. Not to mention the way each and every one of them didn’t ‘notice’ when Dominic pulled each of us away to school us on what actually happened. If they didn’t see, it didn’t happen though, right? Far as they can tell, our stories all lineup because that’s exactly what happened. Crooked cops. Fuckin’ convenient as all hell.
What I don’t understand is why Dominic Rein is protecting me and Rocco. He could’ve thrown us to the wolves, made us pay for our misguided plan of revenge. One that included taking the life of his youngest daughter, but instead, he’s using cops he has in his pocket to protect us.
And I have no fucking idea why.
Codi is standing close by and I watch her, watching over the man taking shots of Marcus.
“Relation?” he asks, startling Codi from her stupor.
“Sorry?”
“Family member of yours?” he repeats, indicating toward Marcus.
She shakes her head vehemently. “No.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “My mistake. Just thought, you know, your eye color is the same, almost purple.”
She turns without letting him finish, her eyes connecting with mine and shifting away again.
The detective approaches and she pulls her arms into the too big arms of my sweatshirt, listening as he speaks. She answers his questions in clipped response. Single words. Quick movements of her head, confirming, denying. Her answers would be the ones her dad placed along her lips, following his instruction without quandary. Why wouldn’t she? Her dad just committed murder. Sure, it was to a piece of shit like Marcus Dempsey, but still, she goes off plan and her dad pays the price.
They’ll take Dominic into custody. Something I can’t imagine he’d be an amateur with. He would’ve known that with the story he’d placed into our mouths. They’ll have to, shit, he confessed to killing Marcus. Through self-defense, something all our stories would’ve collaborated, but the timeline of events will still need to be proven. Jesus, he could be charged with homicide for fucks sake. He’ll likely be exonerated because of the circumstances, and the dirty cops pocketing their monthly paychecks for moments exactly like this, but what a gamble to take. For what? Scum like me and Rocco.
The detective approaches me last and I follow Dominic’s instructed lead. I follow the timeline of events he created to the letter. I feign shock, denying memory of points I’m not certain on how to answer.
Dominic leaves with the detective a short-time later, Codi and Camryn watching on in subdued horror. Mira and Marcus’ bodies are taken at the same time, Rocco’s horror and anguish a little more unrestrained.
That leaves the four of us. Standing in the loft, death and betrayal dancing around us like an almighty storm.
“You okay?” Camryn finally speaks, her softly spoken question aimed at Codi.
“Okay?” Codi spits, her arms crossing over her chest in defense. “What wouldn’t I be okay about? The fact that today I discovered the man I’d fallen in love with had only pursued me with the intent of revenge, of taking my life? Or maybe what doesn’t sit right is that our mom is a lying, deceptive bitch who lied and cheated our whole lives. That’s not news though is it?” she shrugs.
“I didn’t mean—” Camryn whispers but Codi ignores her, her voice rising with every second.
“No. It was probably the fact that our dad, the man I’ve loved my entire life, the man that taught me everything in life, isn’t actually my dad. No. My father actually happened to be one of the most evil human beings to ever exist. I’m spawned from two of the blackest souls I’ve ever known. Yay me.”
“Codi—” Camryn tries again, but she’s too gone to notice.
“Add all of that to the fact that I just saw two people shot dead, one of which was my fucking dad and ask me again if I’m okay, Camryn. Please do, because all that’s on my mind right in this moment, is reassuring you.”
Her eyes are focused on the pools of blood, parts now dried against the floors of the loft. I can see her shaking from here, her whole body vibrating in shock, but before I can move in to comfort her, Camryn beats me to it.
“You’re right. Let’s get outta here,” she whispers and I wanna scream no. I want to pull Codi back into my room, into the shower, I want to share that perfectly broken moment, when all we had to lean on was one another. When she clung to me and cried, let me be her rock, her support.
But I don’t. I stare at their retreating forms trying to find a good enough reason to ask her to stay. But she said it herself. Our relationship was based on a plan for revenge, sure it morphed into something completely different, something one hundred percent real, but right now that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that once upon a time, she was nothing more to me than a body I would dispose of, one I would strip life from and discard like yesterday’s trash.
She pauses at the threshold of my door and hope sparks in my chest. It’s stupid, that I’d even consider she’d ever forgive me one day. That we could move forward like none of this ever happened or start over, fresh and unscathed by my failings. The hope dies as immediately as it sparked though, her head turns back, bringing me into focus and our eyes anchor for a long torturous moment.
It’s amazing what can be conveyed in a single look. Frightening that the eyes hold so much power that verbal communication is unnecessary. I guess what they say is right, that our eyes are the window to our soul. Right now, Codi’s soul has been extinguished. The dullness in her eyes hold none of the glow of life I’m so used to seeing in her. It’s gone. Replaced with heartbreak, with sorrow. She no longer knows where she belongs in the world. She looks lost and scared.
Her whole life, from the very beginning, has been a lie. Me included. She was content in the simplicity of her life and now that’s been taken away.
She blinks and tears fall down her cheeks. She looks at me again and I see it, her goodbye, crystal fucking clear in the purple eyes I’ve come to adore. It shines out at me in hate just before she turns and walks out of my life.
“How could we have been so fuckin’ wrong?” Rocco’s voice startles me. I almost forgot he was still here, so caught up in watching Codi walk from my life I’d forgotten the hell I was now left in.
“How?” he repeats the word stuttering along his broken breath.
I turn, walking toward the living area and dropping down beside him.
He turns toward me, the redness rimming his eyes bordered by the wetness of his lashes. “How did Kane not fucking see what was right in front of him? He supposed to fucking protect her and his best friend killed her. His piece of shit brother-in-law was responsible for this agony all along.”
Our mother was never safe. Not with Marcus around. Kane forced loyalty down our throats. Preached it time and time again. Yet, right under his nose, his trust was being violated on the regular. By the one person he placed his confidence in, probably more so than anyone else.
I’d like to think that if Rocco was lying to me so forcefully, I’d know. Maybe my father didn’t want to see it or maybe the power of his position inflated his ego so heavily, he couldn’t consider, for a single second, that anyone would betray him. His downfall was written by his own stupidity. Unfortunately, our mother became collateral in his idiocy.
“I killed her,” Rocco admits softly and I turn to him, confusion lining my forehead. “Mira,” he clarifies. “I was so caught up in my misguided need for revenge, I killed her. I may as well have pulled the trigger myself.”
“Roc—”
“Fuck. Even the bullet was meant for me.” A fresh wave of tears hit him and he brushes them away in anger. “He was gonna fuckin’ kill me, Parker. Without a single hesitation. His own fuckin’ nephew. I didn’t even see her move. I saw the gun, saw him pull the trigger and then she was there. Before I could even comprehend she’d moved, it,” he stutters, “the bullet,” he closes his eyes tightly, his hands pulling at his hair, a thick sob ripping from his mouth.
“She. Fucking. Died. For. Me. Why the fuck would she do that?”
Using the back of my hand, I wipe away my tears. “She loved you, Roc. She loved us. She made a promise to mom to protect us. She did right by mom,” I finish softly, knowing exactly of the love that ran through Mira’s veins. She wasn’t our mom, not technically, but she was close enough and the only one we’ve known for the past eighteen years.
“I need to get her blood off our floor. It doesn’t belong there. She shouldn’t be remembered as a pool of blood on the ground,” he declares out of nowhere, standing quickly and moving away.
“Roc—”
“Help me. Get rid of any reminder of him as well. I want everything from this day to just go, dollface. Far the fuck away.”
We spend the next few hours scrubbing the floors, watching the diluted red liquid pour down the sink. The last of Marcus and Mira’s lives, washed away, down the drain.
“At least he’s dead,” I speak at my feet when we’re done, standing in our kitchen, lost in emptiness in uncertainty. “Just wish I’d been the one to pull the trigger, not Dominic.”