Date = 8 July
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV – Enrique
“Sooo, you’re Jackson. Well, I see what Skye means … you ARE the hot one.” I roll my eyes. We’re fucking identical. Well, except for the tats … and his crazy eyes. And it’s that glower that examines the girl sitting on the kitchen counter with a critical squint. River, however, does not seem to be rattled, not even in the slightest, by his seemingly chained up intensity. Her face scrunches up, wrinkling that cute upturned button-nose, as she gives a big, toothy smile (missing a few).
“But you’re a hot mess, dude. I’ve seen better dog turds.” She seems genuinely sincere and I clench my lips to suppress my laugh. He cracks his knuckles. Right now he won’t see the humorous side of anything. Jackson is on the edge. Right on the very tip of it. I know this from years of experience living under the same roof. The slightest chuckle might push him right over. And getting into a one-on-one with my brother when he’s like this is definitely not on my to-do-list for the day. No, I have more elaborate plans scheduled, plans that involve Aria, me, no clothes, and a box of condoms.
Mouth formed into an unpleasant twist, Jackson crosses his arms tightly across his chest and eyeballs me. His pupils are enlarged, the white parts bloodshot from what I guess must be a serious case of fatigue. I wonder when last he slept. Or washed. Or ate for that matter. He speaks quietly, seeming unable to put the effort into being louder.
“I don’t have time for this shit, so you deal with it, brother.”
Aria bites her lower lip – her tell-tale thing to do when she’s tense. She seems to have lost the confidence she previously had. Her see-saw personality intrigues me. For now, the whole cocky-flirty-I’m-gonna-break-your-heart attitude is long gone. I want to deal with THAT. But first I need to figure out how to get my brother to retreat a few steps before he tumbles over that edge.
“Jeez … are you always like this?” Jackson cocks his head and glares at the little girl who’s idly swinging her legs from side to side, oblivious to the fact that she’s prodding the devil – who is agitated, anxious, worn out, hungry, filthy, and about to blow.
“Like what?” His voice drones in a weary monotone. Wonder above wonder he keeps his calm.
“This … so tense with a BMA.” She uses lots of hand gestures when she talks … like Mel … like Lee.
“BMA?” Jackson flinches. Her head moves back in union with her overly dramatic eye roll. “Oh my word!”
“Batman attitude,” Charlotte answers quickly. Call me simple-minded, but I’m still unclear on what that implies. River throws her hands in the air and then points a finger at her new acquaintance.
“Exactly.”
Then Charlotte chips in again, “It means you’re cocky, grumpy and moody.” True.
And River finishes, “Technically a grinch.” Sounds about right.
Mini-human on the counter crosses her arms and casts a forlorn glance Jackson’s way.
“You do know what a grinch is?” This kid sure is something. Different.
“A green, furry, pot-bellied, pear-shaped, snub-nosed humanoid creature with a cat-like face and cynical personality,” Jackson rumbles it of on one note and one breath. Judging by the sudden change of expression on River’s face, he tickled her curiosity meter.
“I like you, Bruiser … but maybe you should pop a Xansex before you pop a vein.” She stares up at him, squinting through the long bangs not contained in her ponytail now hanging in her face. My brother’s eyebrows shoot up, forming a high arch. Aria’s hand fly to her mouth, muffling an involuntary gasp. I’m sure, like me, she just swallowed her laugh. Little Snow White, however lets out a giggle that sounds like a cat stuck in a tumble drier. Don’t ask how I know what that sounds like.
“Xanax.” Jackson corrects her softly.
“Precisely, ’cause if you’re not careful, your assnus will clamp shut and your poop will push back into your tummy.” She looks around the room pensively as if checking whether we believe her or not. She thinks NOT, cause she adds, “Trues. It happened to my dad once.” She slowly shakes her head from side to side. “And it’s not a pretty sight.”
“ANUS! Ug … never mind.” Jackson runs his fingers irritably through his hair and turns his body full force towards me. “What the fuck is this?” Jackson’s voice dips as he looks at me for an explanation, snubbing the youngster.
“I think she means you’re either a pain in the butt, or extremely stuck up. Both accurate if you ask me,” I say smuck, biting into my smile, knowing it’s not what he meant. Him being dumbfounded by a small girl, is not something that happens everyday and naturally it leaves me feeling a little more than amused.
Clearly the devil is not. He starts pacing – his way of running things through in his mind. The force of his footsteps vivid as the soles of his boots squeak on the tiled floor – each stride a testament to the restless anger coursing through his veins. Him wearing out a groove in the floor not only calms him down, but also results in his best thought-out plans, so I let him be.
There’s a hard knock on the door. Aria’s head shoots up and she peers wide eyed at me. It must be Brian. Jackson stops and throws his frustration towards the door as if it’s responsible for all his problems. Or at least 90% of them. Oh, fuck.
“Expecting someone?” I realize that if Jackson sees Brian right now, the man will need an ambulance and end up right back in hospital. Aria fiddles with the top button of her shirt. She suspects this too.
“Eh … it’s just Charlotte’s brother that came to fetch her,” I say, gesturing with my head for Aria to go. Quickly. She grabs the girl’s hand and rushes to the door. Charlotte turns and waves at us with a big toothless grin.
“Bye Charlotte, see you later,” River shouts. She immediately turns her attention to my twin, her face turning from breezy to sudden determination.
“So, Bruiser,” his team name rolling familiarly from her tongue, making me wonder exactly how intimately my brother knows her sister. “Now that the kid is gone, what happened to my sister?” Her eyes are large and rimmed with tears. His brows pull up, knitting in the middle. She caught him off guard. Maybe even touched a soft spot.
“River is it?” For the first time he seems interested in the child. She nods, her lips pulled into a half-formed, heartless smile.
“Let me get cleaned up and munch down some food, then we’ll talk in private. How does that sound?” The sudden softness in his voice not going unnoticed. Aria returns without Charlotte and heads straight for the kitchen.
“I’ll make us something to eat. How about mac and cheese?”
“Sounds great. I’ll help.” River jumps from the counter. “I’m starving.” She’s definitely from the same gene pool as Lee – always hungry.
I follow Jackson upstairs. One thing about me and my brothers … we never lie. The truth has literally been beaten into us … pitilessly … with an iron hand … like a ton of bricks … or even with a brick and an iron. We learned to hide the truth without lying. So maybe if I manage to ask the right questions, I might find what he’s hiding.
“So where did you meet this Skye chick?” I asks as soon as the door of Damion’s room closes behind me. Jackson sits on the bed and starts removing his shoes.
A shell-shocked look flashes over his face. A quick flash. Involuntarily. But it’s a look I own. One I’m pretty well familiar with by now. When you fall for a girl, you identify as a one of Pavlov’s puppies … clearly recognizing other men in the same situation. And Jackson is in that situation. Unbelievable as it my be.
“Hmm, in the locker room.” His vocal utterance hums with natural jocundity.
“The locker room?” I repeat, as if I hadn’t heard what he just said.
“Yeah, you know … a room that contains lockable cupboards, where you shower and change clothes and …” He’s avoiding. Playing games. A strategy we learned as kids.
“I know what a fucking locker room is,” I cut in. “Answer this then … WHEN did you fall on your face?” He checks his watch.
“Three months, 16 days, 3 hours and 13 minutes ago … give or take a second.” Heaven fucking help me.
“Fuck off Jackson … I’m serious.” I sit down next to him at the bottom of the huge bed.
“It’s complicated.” When is it not. Everything about him is always complicated. That’s just how Jackson rolls. A boy with zero patience, a huge temper, amazing control (until it’s lost) and the most fascinating vigilant mind … if he would just stop and take a moment. But he usually rush in and think on the go, landing him in deep shit all of the time. Granted, he always seem to get out okay, but still.
He takes a deep breath. Blows it out as a deep sigh. I swallow the need to strangle him and continue my interrogation, adding in some begging hoping to scratch at his conscience. Hoping he might open up. I need to know what he’s rushing into this time.
“Talk to me, please. So these guys, they have both Lee and Skye?” He pines, fighting himself about something, then he looks at me as if he’s going to tell me the biggest secret in the world.
“Technically … yes.” Is that it? Really. And what does it even mean. Technically? There definitely is more to this story, but he’s definitely not going to share, and I definitely can’t make him.
All I can do is stare, at an utter loss, watching as he strips and walks to the bathroom. My eyes catch the 4 inch scar, old and nearly faded, on the backside of his left leg, just below his butt-cheek. Me … I’m the cause of that particular wound. I lay back on the bed and shut my eyes with my arm, sinking into the darkness.
“You think our brother-in-law has good taste?” My eyes jolt open, muscles stiff, I gasp in a big breath.
I closed my eyes, for what, eight minutes tops? And for those four-hundred-and-eighty seconds, time slipped away, making me feel like that scared boy tied up in the dark – silently waiting for whatever hell is coming next. It was never the same … each time it was a new sick terrifying plan cooked up in our deranged grandfather’s head – spiders, wells, balloons, needles … you name it and he turned it into the thing you suddenly feared the most. Fuck, he could turn a cupcake into a monster if he wanted to.
But, even though it was always unexpected, two things stayed consistent: It was always bad, and Jackson was always the first to crack. Unfailingly, the one to get punished. Every fucking time. The sounds of those punishments made my blood run cold, but I never heard him scream. And he never talked about it.
Strange, that, in spite of it all, none of us developed a fear of the dark … on the contrary we’re actually rather fond of darkness. However, each of us remained with our own unique phobia thanks to Alexander and his rooms.
I blink a few times. My brother leans against the open walk-in cupboard door, gazing at the abundance of clothes hanging in neat rows, a pair of green undies hugging his hips, some of Damion’s CK’s instead of his usual Hugo’s. The good-taste-question is rhetorical – his way of keeping things lighthearted … away from the deeper issues. I play along.
“The best.” I point at his crotch. He looks down, immediately catching the joke, and the corners of his mouth twitches. I amused him. He slips a finger beneath the elastic, pulls and let it snap against his skin.
“Not too shabby, but not exemplary.” Is he really going to argue about the best brand of underwear just to avoid me digging for answers. Fucking prick.
“Oh, Calvins are elite. You’re balls is just not used to such fine quality.”
“Right … ” His mouth clicks as he points at me. “But, unlike yours, my balls are fucking awesome no matter what cloth covers them.” He disappears into the closet and reapers a minute later wearing a black T and some jeans. Okay, enough of the chit-chat.
“Where were you?” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the still open closet.
“In there.” Kill me now. “Jackson!”
“Fine … I’ve been on a boat watching a-fucking-nother boat.”
“A boat?” Being an incredibly closed-off prick, one always needs to pull every little detail out of him with fucking tweezers.
“Yeah, I’ve been working with those super nerds from Blackburn Inc. to find a location, and we found it.” He wipes his eyes with the bottom of his palms. He doesn’t look to thrilled about it so, when he’s silent for too long, “That’s great, isn’t it?” I pull some more.
“Yeah, but the bastards got the boat rigged. If we go anywhere near it, it will blow … taking half of the bay with it.”
“Fuck!” I spat primly. These guys are definitely a cup-and-a-half better than Harry ever was.
“Yeah, so definitely NOT plan A.” My tongue tied up, I sit there wondering – What. The. Fuck.
“They’re not stupid, I give them that.” His voice drips with spite. And anger. And some kind of deadly threat.
“Police?”
“Definite NO.”
“So what IS plan A then?”
“Still working on the finer details … but roughly I’ll keep watching and as soon as the parcel moves, we’ll grab it.”
“And ‘we’ being?”
“So far it’s me, myself and I.” Okay, my brother finally lost it. He’s always been half-way to the loony bin, but now I think he totally flew the coop. Someone needs to keep him from doing something stupid. And by stupid, I mean anything Jackson-like. Well, strictly speaking that’s not right … Jackson’s doings are always stupid but also mindbogglingly brilliant.
“Hey, bro, let me go with you.” His jaw goes tight, a muscle ticking. A very unusual sight, and a tell that he is actually feeling stressed, something I didn’t know my brother could even feel. He doesn’t speak for a moment. And then his voice hums with animated bliss. A little too much ‘joy’ in there to be believable.
“Nah, you have your own responsibility.”
“You mean Aria, is that it?”
He stares out the window, a glassy-eyed look like someone that’s been hypnotized. He rubs his temples with a gentle, circular motion, as if seeking relief of a pounding headache. I know my brother well enough to realize that he’s doggone tired. I grit my teeth, patiently waiting for him to react. He takes a deep breath and again lets it out as a prostate sigh.
“And Leyla … and now River … please.” That was a pity-ass answer. That soft ‘please’ so out of his fashion that it caught my heart. But I get him.
“Because her sister became your most important person,” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“Yes.” His voice is underscored with timid notes of uncertainty. Is he hiding something? Duh, it’s Jackson. He’s always hiding stuff.
“And you’re going to safe them both all on your own?” He wavers for a moment. Definitely hiding something.
“Yes.” I stand up, let my arms hang loosely at my sides, slack and heavy.
“Or die trying, right?” My voice drops. No hesitation this time.
“Yes.” Between all those one-word-answers, I figured out that he’s heading for his doom. Or his death. And there’s nothing I can do to stop him. But he’s right … I have to stay here. The same helplessness of the past, being stuck in the darkness, hearing his pained groans, not able to do anything to help him, grabs me by the throat and squeeze. Hard.
“Boys, food’s ready!” River shouts from downstairs, breaking the spell. I silently gasp in some air and walk down the steps, hearing Jackson’s footsteps following behind me. I clutch at my chest, fingers trembling, trying to keep my racing heart from leaping out of my body. I need to find a way … or rather a someone … to protect Jackson from himself.
My brother gobbles up three bowls, River also eats her fair share for such a tiny body. Then Jackson takes her to the small glass room in the pool area. I let Axel know that Jackson is in town, then I help Aria do the dishes and clean the kitchen, my mind yo-yoing out of control, thinking up ways to help my brother while at the same time trying to fight the tension building between my legs.
I hand her a dirty fork, “Here.” My fingers feathers against hers. On purpose. She quickly extricates her hand and the fork falls to the floor. Some of her hair came lose from the messy bun on her head, and riots in a frizzy mass of orange waves around her face. I want to sink my fingers into it and kiss her senseless.
I want her. Hard and fast. Slow and sweet. On the counter. On the steps. On the sofa. Anywhere I can get her. I’m not picky. And it’s not just physical. I really like her … maybe even lov … I really REALLY like her. I want to claim her, leave my mark everywhere on her. On the outside. On the inside. Assert ownership of her heart, mind, soul and body … especially that voodoo little vagina of hers. I really want to claim that. As much as possible.
She gasps, quickly looking away with flustered cheeks, and bends to pick up the utensil. She wants me too. I try not to sport a satisfied grin.
“Aria.” She not quite meets my gaze as I squat at her side. Awkward moment … riddled with sexual tension.
“So,” she says, “Eh … your mind’s been drifting. Are you thinking about Skye and Lee?”
No. “Yes.” One word. Now I sound like Jackson. But I don’t know what more to say to her. Oh, I want to say a hell of a lot to her … a whole hell of a lot … but my tongue seems to be tied in knots. As she gets up and washes the fork, my eyes stick to her very sexy ass. Smiling like a love-sick moron, I sit there on my haunches, hitting pause, just enjoying the view.
“Why are you sitting on the floor looking rather con-sis-tipated?” She lispers her S’s. Most likely because she missing some teeth. Reluctantly I drag my eyes from that hot-as-hell backside to glare at the tiny pair of dunk highs standing right before me, moving up to find her baffled face almost level with mine.
“Do you need to take a dump?” My mind still spinning from all the dirty thoughts that inhabited it, I can’t fully comprehend what she’s saying. Her face hits an exasperating expression, like I wasn’t listening to her (which I wasn’t) and she starts talking like I’m on potty-training.
“Dooo youuu neeeddd tooo pooooppp?” With each word her face moves closer to mine. I retract, lose my balance and fall flat on my butt. Aria doesn’t even try to hide her smile this time. Luckily I’m the patient twin. I stand up and squeeze the bridge of my nose. Oh, heaven have pity on me.
“No, I don’t need to shit. Where’s my brother?” She points to the glass room.
“He fell asleep. He looks like that shit you don’t need to take, so I closed him up.” She looks from me to Aria and back. “He promised to get my sister back.” She fakes a huge yawn. “I’m gonna crash too. See you in the morning.”
That’s great. With Big-T and Baby-T (T standing for trouble) out for the night, I can focus on Aria and getting my own frustrations under wraps. Then, tomorrow, with a clear head, I’ll find a way to help my brother.
River turns around at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, what car does Jackson drives?”
“Well, he crashed his Ferrari … so now he’s driving his Jeep.” Strange question. Guess she’s into cars like Lee.
“Color?”
“White.”
“I see. Thanks.” She runs up the stairs. As soon as River is out of sight, Aria turns to me.
“Your brother is going to rescue them on his own, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“That is crazy!”
“No girl, that’s Jackson.” Her polka-dot crop top pulls up when she stretches to put the plates away in the top cupboard, leaving around 6 inches of creamy skin with a faint golden hue as if softly kissed by the sun. Not sure how much more of her glorious body I can take without dropping to my knees and begging for mercy, I stay rigid instead of getting any closer to her. Closer will be a mistake. Definitely NOT going closer.
Then I walk and press her against the cupboard, cradling her between my arms, my hands grabbing onto the counter top either side of her. I’ve always been a sucker for pale skin, red hair and a light dusting of freckles … but this time it’s different.
From the very first moment she walked into my house, she’d wreaked havoc with my common sense. Cracked the walls around my heart. And she continues chipping, piece by piece. And it’s scary as shit.
“Now, we need to discuss this thing between us.” She stares at me with flaring eyes. My aim was to intimidate her, but right now I’m not sure if that was the right move. Cause I’m the one feeling highly unnerved.
“There is no us.” Her words and her body is not saying the same thing. She’s lying. I stare at the buttons that trail down the rift between her plump breasts, holding her short dotty shirt together, hands itching to unbutton them and let those suckers free.
“You’re … an asshole … eh … a big fat stupid … heartless robot … baby. A pig … ”
On the inside, Aria holds a surprisingly soft, gentle, bruised heart, that occasionally overreacts … BUT she’s tough, self-assured and intelligent … she simply is not aware of it. Setting my hands on her hips, I step closer so that her tits brush my chest. I press my mouth to her ear, “I know, baby, I’m the worst,” and suck her lobe, a motion that tugs a startled breath out of her, just a little hum of helpless arousal that turns me upside down.
O fucking hell. There’s a light tug in my belly. And a huge tuck more south. Suppose I need to accept the truth. I’m a goner. I lower my lips to hers and kiss her. She lets out a little horny murmur … and holy shit … I’m undone.