Caustic (12 page)

TWENTY SIX

SKYE

My grandfather’s services were held two weeks later. It was a beautiful funeral, and he asked us to spread his ashes up at the old cabin. That’s also where my grandmother had been laid to rest. We brought daisies. He would have liked to see them. We decided as a family to fix up the place and start spending more time there. For Grandpa, and for us.

I looked out over the water and I felt someone walk up behind me. Ellis intertwined his fingers with my own and laid a sweet kiss on my cheek.

“You okay?”

I glanced at him before looking back out over the ripples. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

“How do you feel? I mean, you’re the one who killed him.”

“Yeah I did. And you know what it felt like? Retribution. My mother shouldn’t have killed my father, I should have. I should’ve protected us. And killing Oliver was revenge against all the men that have ever hurt women. At least that’s what it felt like to me.”

“Do you think about it?”

He shook his head, “Not really. After I gave my statement that night when you and Leia went to the hospital, I haven’t really thought about it since.”

“Where did you get the gun?”

“I had it in the Jeep. I always carry a gun. I don’t have a license, so that’s the only part the cops weren’t really happy about. But I just have to pay a fine.”

“You have to pay a fine for killing someone?”

“If you want to think about it that way. Then sure.”

We stood in silence for a moment. The only thing connecting us was our hands.

“I thought I lost you. I thought I hadn’t paid close enough attention and that’s why he was taking you. That it was my fault.”

I turned to him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t taken so long to pay my tab, I would’ve seen you, and I would’ve stopped him.”

“He would have killed you. He wanted me. And I couldn’t live with myself if he’d hurt you too. Dealing with Leia, and whatever long-term effects this is going to have on her, is enough. You saved me.”

“I tried.”

“How did you find us?”

“The roommate. She recognized the van. And while Detective Aldridge and I were shouting back and forth in the bar about it, a couple of locals said that they knew where it was. I left right away, but the detective called for backup. I don’t think he expected me to get there before him. And I certainly don’t think he thought I was going to shoot anybody. He didn’t even know I had a weapon.”

“I wanted to kill him. I tried.”

He lifted my chin up so that our eyes met. “You don’t want that on your conscience.”

He let go and I turned away with a sigh. “You’re probably right.” I’d had enough going on in my brain as it was. Flashbacks of that dark basement, and Leia not knowing who I was. It was all too real still. Too close.

“You know the Sheriff went missing. He was supposed to respond to the call for you and Leia, but he never showed up.”

“Jerry?” I inquired.

“Yeah. It’s weird. They put out an APB, they’ll find him. And whatever he was involved in.”

“Right,” I agreed. Two voices through the dark planks above me…I tried to push it out of my mind. I needed to.

“So where do we go from here?” I asked him.

He kissed me, soft and subtle, nothing like the first time we were here.

“You tell me.”

“I say we try. We try to forget the bad, and we try to move forward with the good. Even if that’s dangerous.”

“I like a little danger,” he said as he put his hands around my cheeks and pulled me in to kiss him again.

From Skye

The therapist said I should write down my feelings about what happened. If he only knew that journals just like this one had been clues to locating my sister.

I can’t believe I finally found her. I can’t believe I survived almost being killed by a madman. And I can’t believe this all started because Leia fell apart.

No one tells me anymore that it’s my fault. Nobody even brings up the fact that she was in Connecticut Psychiatric for three years. She doesn’t remember any of it anyway. The drugs have killed any memory she had. It’s probably better that way. She doesn’t need to remember the dark times. I don’t want her to.

Now we spend our days putting our silly tattoos together making the fish kiss. I spend almost every day with Ellis that I can, walking Chester in the woods, and eating at the restaurant. I gave up my apartment. I didn’t want to live alone anymore. Leia moved back in with my parents, since after her ordeal she couldn’t be left alone either. But she’s going to bartending school, and wants to get her certifications to make more money. She’ll be okay someday. She’ll make it. She’s strong.

She’s stronger than she was the night my parents found her hanging by the noose in her closet. She had been so weak before that. It was almost too easy to take the pillow and put it over her face. She passed out in under a minute, her flailing limbs stopped fighting against me. And then I dragged her body and put it in the noose that I had built with her belt. So simple. She was practically weightless, but I guessed that was just my adrenaline pumping. I pulled her up while I stood on a chair and I put her head through the hole. She told me a million times she wanted to die, how she wanted to kill herself and end it all, but she wasn’t strong enough. She was too weak to do it. She couldn’t pull the trigger. So I did it for her. I was tired of listening to her being sad all the time. All that attention. It was too much.

No one blames me anymore, because no one knows the truth.

My sister didn’t try to commit suicide.

She was the victim of an attempted murder.

I won’t ever tell. Will you?

I hoped you enjoyed Caustic.

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We don’t want them to know the truth about Skye.

-M

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Turn the page for a look at the other standalone in the Darker Desires Series,

One Last Fight.

ONE

JORDAN

“Jordan, you’re up!”

I looked down at my bloodied hands and wrapped them tighter with the fabric that was once white. I’d busted through at least three knuckles on my left hand and one on my right. I couldn’t understand why they had wanted me to fight again. I’d already been in the ring today. I didn’t need any more practice.

“Leo, I’m good. I don’t want to bust my shoulder again before the fight tonight.”

Leo put his calloused hands on either of my bare shoulders. His thumb just brushed against my newest tattoo, a quote about fighting.
It was all about freedom
, that’s what it said. And to me, that’s exactly what getting torn up in the ring was about. “You need all the practice you can get, kid. The guy that you’re going up against tomorrow night, we don’t know much about him. All that I know is that he’s got some underground experience, and you know how those fuckers play. He’ll go right for your face. And by the time you realize what happened, you’ll be flat on your back and he’ll have won all our money.”

I shook my head. “You know I won’t let that happen. Besides those Mexican gangbanger fighters, they’ve got nothing on us real pros. I know what I’m doing and I rank better than anybody else you have in this gym. And when I say I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough.”

Leo pulled his hands off me and put them up in surrender. He might’ve been three times my age, but the old man did know what he was talking about. He had been a boxer first and then learned MMA. He had been my coach my entire life. But he also knew that I wasn’t just some little kid anymore. I was starting to get interest from sponsors and other investors. If I didn’t want to fight today because I knew it wouldn’t make me ready for tomorrow, then I wasn’t going to do it. After my shoulder injury two years ago I thought it was going to be completely done with fighting. But it was my passion, my life. I had done enough rehabilitation for five guys just to get myself back in the ring. And finally after another two years, I was in the prime of my fighting career. There was no way I was going to let some gangbanger fighter beat the hell out of me on my turf.

“Fine. But I want you hitting the bag for at least another hour. And then definitely take some time to do some stretching this evening. Your kick’s a little weak. Especially your left.”

I nodded and walked away. I made a stop at the locker room to grab my water and stretch out my shoulder in private. I didn’t like for other guys to see when I was in pain.

I put my hands on either side of the sink and looked into the mirror. My shaved head was new, but I liked the look it gave me. Menacing. I had the look of a guy that said, “You don’t even want to begin to fuck with me. I’ll kill you.”

I pulled my mouth guard out and spat blood into the sink from where one of the rookies had gotten an easy punch on me. I looked away at Leo for just a moment and the kid came at me. Like he had something to prove. I ended him—might’ve broken a couple of his ribs in the process. That way he’d learn that you don’t mess with Jordan Jackson.

I walked over to my locker and opened it up, pulled out a gallon of water, and started sucking it down. I pulled a towel out and wiped off my sweaty face. There wasn’t much in my locker besides those two things. I liked it that way. Clean. Everything had a place and was a necessity if it was in there. But when I reached to put my towel back, my hand brushed against something I forgot I had left here. I considered pulling it out, just to look at it. Just to make me feel little bit better, stronger, but I didn’t. I let my hand linger there just a moment too long then I pulled it back like I’d been bitten by a snake.

I was Jordan Jackson, an unbeatable fighter. But everyone has a weakness.

You can purchase One Last Fight here or read it for FREE in KU.