42

Christian
Betrayal was something I was used to. I’d grown up around it, first from childhood friends, then seeing traitors punished by my brutal father. Everyone had a price, a reason or a dollar amount that would allow them to shift from the right side of the law to the other. Or to betray a confidence or even the location of a friend or colleague.
Or lover.
Money and power were excellent motivators, but often the greatest influence on whether someone selected a different moral code was centered around the need for revenge.
Both Weston and I had seen it in Clinton. We’d watched him hone his evil ways until he was certain of what he’d wanted, which was blood for blood given the murder of his brother. He’d suffered and still was suffering, never able to get over the horror. Unfortunately, he’d allowed it to consume his life, shaping his decisions, warping them until he’d become a stalker.
Then everything had changed the moment he’d seen Ava years before. She’d performed magic, her goodness conquering a portion of the demons inside of him. There was no difference in the way he looked at Maria. For a man like Clinton, it was as close to love as he could possibly get. She was the kind of woman who could be our salvation.
Or she was our curse.
Whether or not they were the same person was the question that would eat at the three of us until the truth was discovered.
However, if she was, the ugliness around the truth would eat us alive.
A single question nagged at the back of my mind and would until I looked her in the eyes again. Could a sweet, beautiful girl turn into a calculating monster, determined to destroy the three men who’d dared tempt her dark desires? I forced myself to think about the night from years ago. All three of us had pushed so hard to drive it from our minds, believing that we could let it go. We also were certain the incident would never come back to bite us.
Ava had witnessed us handling Theodore, all three of us enraged that he’d dared attack her, attempt to rape her. We’d done so violently, our rage knowing no bounds. We’d been intent on killing him. That was in our nature. Even Weston hadn’t shied away from hungering to take his life.
Maybe the act had been the final nail in the coffin, our lives spent in private prisons after watching her broken body on the pavement, her mouth trying to form words from a broken jaw before slipping away into unconsciousness. Then we’d gone off the deep end.
Our actions had been what nightmares were made of.
What we hadn’t been certain given the tragedy was whether she’d seen Clinton pulling out his knife. Even if she had, she’d fled prior to Theo managing to jerk out a gun, shooting Clinton before Weston wrestled it away.
I’d been the one to pick up the fallen knife, finishing what Clinton had started. I would rot in Hell for all eternity because of that and dozens of other atrocities I’d committed, but even then, I would have given my life to protect Ava ‘s.
Just like I would now. Fuck. How had things gotten so far out of hand?
I’d played over the horrific event in my mind so many times I could recite it, but as with all things, in time, certain aspects of what happened had begun to fade. There’s been so many people, the driver trying to flee the scene. Clinton had almost beaten the guy to death.
Then the police.
The estate where we’d lived had been shut down, several of the Elite students expelled. The scandal had rocked the university, but with dozens of lawyers intervening, the fifteen minutes of malevolent fame had eventually faded. Even with everything that had gone on, including a criminal investigation into Theo’s disappearance, we’d been protected. The truth was that we’d been treated as the gods we’d believed we were, not facing one minute of punishment for what we’d started.
Our vicious intentions.
Was I the kind of man who could have remorse or guilt? I’d convinced myself a long time ago that I had no conscience. Hell, my father had nearly beaten it out of me, forcing me to handle aspects of punishment just to dull my senses. It had worked.
Except for when I was with Ava .
She’d been the light to my darkness, the reason I wanted to make changes in my life. It was ridiculous since I didn’t really know her, but that’s how strongly I’d felt. So had Weston and Clinton.
Now, Maria.
A beautiful, intelligent miracle with the voice of an angel.
Who could be behind the acts of revenge. I found it impossible to believe and would argue it to my grave had my mother not betrayed my father long ago, leaving her only child in the hands of a bastard who could care less if I existed. A bitter laugh erupted in my throat.
Weston and I followed Clinton as he stormed down the hallway towards her suite, his anger increasing. When he reached Brock, who stood by her door, I was certain Clinton was going to kill the man. He issued two hard jabs to the man’s throat before pushing him up against the wall. “How the fuck were you stupid enough to allow her to get away?”
Brock didn’t push back, didn’t struggle. He knew what would happen if he did.
“I’m sorry, boss. There was a call about a fire on the floor. Management got everyone out. She managed to leave with the crowd. I tried to stop her, but she ran from me.”
Shit. She’d planned it. What was she trying to do?
Clinton hissed. “She was responsible for calling it in. I don’t need to check. I feel it in my bones.”
“Why? Where the fuck could she go?” Weston demanded.
“Maybe to meet with the people working with her. What else?” Clinton remained adamant, but I heard his voice crack. He didn’t want to believe it any more than I did.
“Get your head out of your ass, Clinton. We don’t know anything for certain. I refuse to allow you to condemn Maria, who could be an innocent player in all of this. If you keep doing that, you’ll need to come through me. Got it?” Weston’s upper lip curled as he fisted one hand and I took a step closer, daring him to try.
“Fine. But we will determine if she’s involved.”
“And if she is?” Weston threw out.
At this point I doubted we had a clue what to say. She’d already managed to crawl under our skin.
“Search her room,” Clinton stated as he pulled his hand away from Brock. “I’m going to hunt down her assistant. Maybe I’ll get some decent answers. I’m also going to have a chat with the detective.”
“I find it interesting that this detective you talked to hasn’t called me,” I told him.
“Me neither.” Weston laughed. “Maybe the man you talked to isn’t a detective after all.”
“Fuck,” Clinton snarled, obviously realizing we were right. “This ends today. Period.”
Mr. Omnipotent was at it again. He’d yet to learn there were some things and people he couldn’t control with violence.
The lovely woman or women was a case in point.
Damn it, my cock twitched just thinking about touching her. An ache had formed in between my eyes.
The game had been well played. And planned. The three of us looked at each other for a few seconds, the tension palpable. We’d been big and bad wolves for years. To think it was possible that we’d almost been taken down by a beautiful woman was disturbing.
Even worse was the fact that the three of us cared for her more than we wanted to admit.
Clinton narrowed his eyes as he looked at Brock. “I will deal with you later.” He moved towards her door, sliding his keycard into the lock.
He didn’t bother going inside, his face remaining twisted as he headed for the elevators.
Weston shook his head. “He’s got it bad for her.”
“Just like we do.”
I was the first one in, taking a deep breath. Her perfume lingered in the air, the delicate yet exotic scent floating into my nostrils. I could bury my face in her neck for hours, enjoying the closeness and nothing else.
“If she left, her computer wasn’t important enough to take with her,” Weston said in passing.
He moved past me, quickly looking in other rooms while I moved towards the laptop that remained on the coffee table.
As I sat down, I noticed she’d written notes on a piece of paper meant for writing songs. As I pulled it into my hands, a knot formed in my stomach. I didn’t need to try and break her code for her computer. It was obvious she was searching about the night of the tragedy and anything else she could find on us, including about the university.
Parties? Was I at a party?
Black clothes. They wore them all the time. Like Christian?
Kennedy. Was she my roommate?
Prince Albert piercing. I’ve experienced one before. Or have I?
Did someone die?
Is my father an assassin? Clinton’s brother.
“Shit.” Where had she been given the idea that her father was a killer? She’d obviously spent a significant amount of time researching every scrap of information she’d managed to find. It sounded as if it was a recent revelation, not something she’d carried with her for months or years.
And there was one line even more troubling and telling.
Is it true what the anonymous person said, that they are killers?
I’d bet everything I owned on the fact that she’d been played just like we had. That meant someone else suspected who she was.
It was obvious she had more questions than answers. There was no structured path in the information she’d found, the notes random. There had to be at least twenty more of them. That didn’t seem like the activity of a criminal mastermind, but a girl fearful that she didn’t know what she’d dropped in the middle of.
Weston returned to the room. I noticed his expression had become grimmer than before. “She didn’t take a suitcase, but it’s obvious she left in a hurry.”
I inhaled, wanting to process what I’d read before mentioning it to him. “She knows about Clinton’s brother.”
“Fuck. If Maria is Ava , then she has to be terrified of us already.”
“Do you blame her?”
“No. Goddamn Clinton and his bullshit.”
“This is what the perpetrator wants to happen. They’re leaving breadcrumbs for her to find.”
“So she can expose what happened. They won’t need to finish the deed,” Weston snarled, fisting his hand.
“We can’t sit around waiting for that to happen. Check her drawers, the closet, everywhere she could be hiding something else.” She was desperate for answers, although at this point, she didn’t seem to be worried if we found out what she’d learned.
“Do you think she’s really Ava ?”
“The jury is still out but I’m beginning to believe it’s possible. It’s also possible she was caught up in a horrible game. We need to make certain one way or the other. But the nightmares she mentioned. With people experiencing head trauma, sometimes it takes years for memories to return, if ever.”
“Which means her parents had the opportunity to insert a new life in replacement of the old.”
“Yeah.”
Weston exhaled. “This is some fucked up shit. You know Clinton is likely not to care even if we can find proof of her innocence.”
“What makes you think I give a shit about what Clinton thinks?” My tone was full of anger, although not directed towards either one of my buddies. I was finished with being jerked around like some goddamn puppet.
He opened his eyes wide, then grinned. “At least you and I are on the same page. I don’t plan on letting Maria get away. She’s the only reason I’ve fucking smiled for years.”
He was serious. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted her with me. Fuck. I loved the girl. Admitting it to myself was a surprise. Admitting it to the other two wasn’t necessarily something I wanted to do.
“From what I can tell, Maria managed to find an article on what happened that night. She wrote a few notes down.”
Weston walked closer. “If my memory serves me about the events, her parents were adamant that her name remain out of the paper. I think they used a false name to try and keep reporters from finding out exactly what happened.”
I sat back against the couch, folding my arms behind my head. “That’s right. I’d forgotten about that. We were definitely not allowed to see her.” I thought about what he’d just said and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. “Perfect. Her parents had the perfect opportunity to disappear permanently. Let everyone believe she’d died.”
“Brilliant.”
“Assassins do it all the time. Because they had a daughter, which was unexpected, The Iceman couldn’t operate under his usual methods. Her accident was the chance to be able to do so. They just disappeared, selling the fake business. It was done so quickly I was shocked. Did you go to her funeral?”
“No, did you?” He seemed surprised.
I allowed my memories to return to a place I never wanted to visit. “Yeah. I stood on the hill far enough away they didn’t see me. I watched them bury her body. Then I turned my back and tried to pretend it didn’t happen.” I was off everyone’s radar then, returning to South America at my father’s request.
“Fascinating. What if she’s following in her father’s footsteps?”
I laughed. “She’s a rockstar. I doubt she’s sidelining as a hired killer.”
“That’s not what I mean. What if all this is about revenge? What if she believes we were the ones who tried to hurt her? These nightmares might be providing some details, yet warping the events.”
“We did try and hurt her, although not like Theodore.”
He sighed. “Not like the bastard. He was out to get to us through her. We talked big back then, Cris. We weren’t monsters.”
“Weren’t we?”