Wrong Series: Wrong Part 5

Marney sighs. "Let me just get a little more information on the p.r.i.c.k. See if I can figure out if the girl has a clue or not, all right?"

Before I can say anything else to Marney, my phone buzzes with a text: She got out. She's one h.e.l.la feisty little b.i.t.c.h.

"Aw, f.u.c.k!" I groan, rolling my eyes as I slam my fists on the counter.

"What?"

"That d.a.m.n girl." I shake my head.

"Until we can find out more, don't trust her."

I stand, grab my coat from the back of the chair, and walk out of the bar.

The entire way back to my house, I fume over everything. I pull up to the gate and punch in the pa.s.scode, looking at the security camera as it scans the grounds.

I park the car and walk up the stairs, wondering what in the h.e.l.l my brother can be trusted to do, aside from st.i.tch up a stab wound. He's too d.a.m.n nice sometimes. I want to hate him for it, but that sympathetic side of him came straight from our mother, which makes it hard to hate.

I enter the house and find only one of my uncles in the living room, and right next to him, bound and gagged, is that girl.

"Bob, what the h.e.l.l?" I ask, tossing my keys on the coffee table.

He shrugs. "Your little brother's a pushover, that's how. He let her out of that f.u.c.king room, and first chance she got she clocked him one and ran." He glances down at her, then back at me. "She's got a f.u.c.king mouth on her too."

"Yeah, I know."

She's staring at the floor. Her hair is tangled and frazzled with pieces of pine straw matted in it. The clothes she's wearing are covered in dirt and gra.s.s, and her face is smeared with mud. She's a fighter, that's for f.u.c.king sure.

I walk around the back of the couch and squat in front of her. "How stupid are you? Huh?"

Her chest rises and falls in uneven draws. She's shaking, her eyes wide, and she's struggling around the gag.

"I swear to G.o.d, if I find out you're anything besides just a f.u.c.king unlucky girl..." I can't even finish my sentence because the prospect makes me so angry.

Her brows pinch together in a frown and she glares at me.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? Why can't you just f.u.c.king listen and stay put until that stupid boyfriend of yours pays up?"

And then what? Release her so Joe can show up at my house? f.u.c.k, I am beyond screwed here.

I rise, repeatedly combing my hands through my hair. I can't stand to look at her right now. "Where the f.u.c.k is Caleb?" I ask Bob.

"f.u.c.k if I know! I've been dealing with her s.h.i.t for the past half hour."

I storm off, shouting for him as I wander through the hallways.

"Caleb?" Silence. "Caleb!" I deepen my voice as I round the corner to find him sitting at the foot of the stairs.

"You f.u.c.king let her escape?" I shout. He's my brother, but his stupidity p.i.s.ses me off.

He drags a hand through his hair, refusing to look up at me. "I f.u.c.ked up. I'm sorry."

"Jesus f.u.c.king...how the h.e.l.l am I supposed to trust you if you can't even look after a f.u.c.king girl? One girl, no weapons!" I yell, launching a vase from table. The sound of shattering gla.s.s gets Caleb's attention.

I grab him by his shirt, forcing him to his feet. I can see the flash of fear in his eyes, because he knows what's coming. "What did I f.u.c.king tell you?" I ask.

He keeps his eyes down. "Not to let her out of the room."

"And what did you f.u.c.king do?" I twist the material in my hand and pull him to my face.

"I let her out," he says quietly.

It's ingrained in me that when you get p.i.s.sed, you fight. I pull my elbow back and punch him square in the jaw. His head jerks to the side, and he rears his fist to punch me back, but stops, and his hand falls to his side.

"f.u.c.k, Caleb!" Releasing his shirt, I push him away from me.

He's holding his jaw. I know that hurt. I shouldn't have hit him, but d.a.m.n. "Sorry. You f.u.c.ked up." I shrug.

I don't wait for him to respond. I turn and head down the hall. "Like I said, if she has to p.i.s.s, you tie her a.s.s up. Got it? I've got a meeting. Think you can handle the simple f.u.c.king task of watching her for a few hours until I get back?"

I make my way back to the front of the house, angry as h.e.l.l and late for an appointment.

When I pa.s.s Bob and that d.a.m.n girl, all I can manage is a growl. "Probably best to leave the f.u.c.king gag in her mouth," I grumble as I walk out the door.

As soon as Jude slams the door behind him, Bob grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me forward. "Get the f.u.c.k back in that room."

Every few steps, he shoves me and I stumble. We come to the door and I see Caleb standing at the end of the hallway. Bob pushes me through the door and I fall against the chest of drawers.

Caleb walks in after me, and I hear the lock click shut. There's an awkward silence between us, and he can barely look at me.

I wish I could tell him I'm sorry, but I have this stupid gag in my mouth. My head hurts from where it hit the ground. My feet are cut and my knees are skinned. Worst of all, though, it was all for nothing. I barely made it fifty yards before they caught me.

Caleb looks up at me and sighs, running his hand over the back of his neck; I've noticed he and his brother both do that when they get angry.

I'm waiting for him to shout at me, but he doesn't. "It's my fault," he mumbles. "I knew not to trust you."

I shake my head, trying to talk around the gag. The look on his face nearly kills me. He looks hurt and angry and confused, because surely he knows he shouldn't feel sorry for me.

Caleb is nothing like his brother. He's kind, too kind for this corrupt s.h.i.t, and I just kicked him in the nuts for it. Literally.

Taking pity on me, he steps forward. His eyes have gone all puppy dog. He sighs, shaking his head as he unties the makeshift gag.

Guilt is eating me alive.

"I'm so sorry, Caleb!" I blurt the second I can speak.

"I trusted you, Ria. I felt bad for you."

Oh my f.u.c.king G.o.d, could he make me feel any worse right now? His round brown eyes are gutting me.

He frowns, and a look of hurt crosses his features.

"I'm sorry!" I can feel my eyes starting to p.r.i.c.kle. s.h.i.t, this is ridiculous. I feel guilty for trying to escape. Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

He rubs at his jaw, and I notice it's red and swelling.

"What happened to your face?" I ask quickly.

He sighs. "What do you think? I told you he would kick my a.s.s for letting you out of this room."

"s.h.i.t." I lose my grip on whatever emotional stronghold I had in place, and the dam bursts. I start crying-like ugly crying.

"Oh, f.u.c.k!" His eyes widen and he's checking me over as though I might be hurt, lifting my chin like he's looking for choke marks or something. "What the h.e.l.l did Bob do to you?"

"I can't...I just..." I cry through heaving breaths. "I miss my sister, and my job, and my f.u.c.king life, Caleb! I don't want to die here!"

His shoulders drop a little, and his eyes soften even more. "Look, I know this is in no way ideal, but I promise, you'll get that all back soon." He paces for a second. "You're not gonna die. I mean, h.e.l.l, this is not normal. Not normal at all. Jude doesn't deal with hostages. So you"-his eyes scan over me and he shakes his head like he's sorry for something-"you are not meant to be here. Trust me."

"You don't see the way he looks at me, Caleb. He's going to f.u.c.king kill me!" I sniff through my tears.

His eyes close and he pulls his lip in. "No, he won't. I know you can't see it, but he's not a bad person. We're all f.u.c.ked up. We grew up in this s.h.i.t, so..." He pauses and looks at me. "But he won't kill you."

"Jesus Christ, Caleb, wake the f.u.c.k up. He is a killer. It's what he does! I'm going to die in this f.u.c.king place. My sister will never know what happened to me. I'll never become a doctor..." My voice breaks on a loud sob.

"He's a bookie, not a killer. It's just business." He pats my back, his face the image of uncomfortable. "Don't cry," he says, trying to sound rea.s.suring, but I can hear the slight tremble in his voice. "I...it's...s.h.i.t. What do you want me to do, Ria?"

"Nothing," I wail. "There's nothing you can do."

Poor guy looks like he'd rather shoot himself than deal with me right now.

"Ria, I promise I won't let anything happen to you, okay?"

I stare into his big brown eyes, and despite my inner turmoil and my fear of Jude, I actually believe that he means that. The problem is that if Jude wants to hurt me, nothing will stop him, and certainly not his baby brother.

Forty minutes after leaving my house, I pull into the gravel lot outside of the lodge. As I walk toward the entrance, I watch a few drunk old men stumble out of the doors and head to their cars.

"Ah, h.e.l.l, Frank," one of the white-haired guys grumbles. "You know d.a.m.n well this country's gone to the Democrats."

The other man swats his hand through the air, losing his balance and falling against the side of the building.

I push the door open, and a thick haze of smoke slaps me in the face. My eyes dart around the dimly-lit room and hone in on the guy who's slumped over the bar.

I nod to a few of the other men as I make my way across the room. I lightly touch my hand to his shoulder and he groans.

"Hey, Jim. You know today's the last Friday of the month, huh?"

He rolls his head to the side, peeping up at me with only one eye. "Yeah, JP, I know."

He sits up, leaning back in the chair and digging in his back pocket. He pulls out a manila envelope and hands it to me. "I gotta stop making bets with your boss man. He's got a lot of juice for this old square."

I smile as I take the envelope. Most people think I'm a beard-they think I'm the person between them and the bookie. They have no idea I'm the person they really don't want to p.i.s.s off.

"Ah, come on, now, Jim. You say that every time." I shake his shoulder and open the envelope to peek inside. "It's just for fun anyway, right?"

He snorts and picks up his gla.s.s, swirling the beer in the bottom before dumping it into his mouth. "Yeah, d.a.m.n good time draining my bank account, but one of these days," he says, shaking his finger at me, "I'mma win big. Then I'll stop."

"See you in a few weeks, Jim," I call out as I head toward the door.

I climb in my car and barely get make it back onto the road before my phone rings. I answer it, and all I can hear is maniacal laughter.

"I'm busy. What the h.e.l.l is going on there now?" I ask, switching lanes.

"Oh," Bob manages through a cough, "you just need to come home. See what your p.u.s.s.y-a.s.s little brother's doing."

"What? Oh, for f.u.c.k's sake. Tell me he hasn't gotten his a.s.s handed to him by that little girl again?"

There's hooting and hollering in the background from the rest of the guys. "Go, Brown. Go! Run that d.a.m.n ball!" A loud eruption of screams ring out. "Looks like you're gonna have a lot of collecting to get at. Florida just lost."

"Good," I groan, more concerned with what the h.e.l.l that woman has done than the money I'd just made. "Now, what the h.e.l.l is Caleb doing?"

"You just need to come see this, Jude. Sad to say I don't know that he's cut out for the family business. I think he may be hiding a v.a.g.i.n.a between his legs."

I hang up and toss the phone in the pa.s.senger seat. "d.a.m.n it, Caleb!" I pound my fist over the steering wheel and swerve across the traffic to exit.

As soon as I walk in, I find a group of my uncles crammed around the kitchen table, pounding back beers and playing poker.

"Am I gonna have to beat his a.s.s?" I ask.

Bob smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "If you ask me, I think he's probably been traumatized enough by the sound of it."

I shake my head and head down the hallway. Caleb's just a f.u.c.king kid. He's twenty-one, and at times I feel remorse that I allowed him to get involved with this s.h.i.t. Sure, it's our heritage, but at some point someone has to say they're too good for this f.u.c.ked-up way of living. I tried that. I tried to get out of this, but I am undeniably damaged from growing up in the middle of threats, dirty money, and vengeance. It was my job to carry on my family's legacy, but Caleb, he has no business here. He still has morals, and sometimes I hope that one day I'll be too much and he'll leave, forgetting how f.u.c.ked up we all are.

I stop outside the door, jamming the key in when I hear sniffling.

As soon as the door swings open, I see him with his head on her shoulder and he's f.u.c.king crying. She has her arm around him, soothing him. She looks up when I walk in and shoots daggers at me.

"What the..." I glance at the TV and see the end credits of a movie rolling. "What the f.u.c.k? Caleb?"

He looks up, wiping the snot with his sleeve. "Dude, Jude, that's some sad s.h.i.t. That's true f.u.c.king love...and the birds at the end flying off"-he pulls in a breath-"that was like their souls flying away to spend eternity together. Deep-a.s.s, sad s.h.i.t!"

My eyes bulge and my jaw unhinges. I am literally speechless as my gaze darts back and forth between the TV and the two of them snuggled up on the bed.

"The Notebook," Victoria says. "I'm going to take a stab in the dark here and say you haven't seen it."

"Are you kidding me?" I shake my head and comb my fingers through my hair, trying to understand exactly what the h.e.l.l has just happened.

This woman has turned my little brother into a dribbling p.u.s.s.y. He's watched people brutally lose their lives, and here he sits, crying over some movie, being consoled by a girl. "f.u.c.k, Caleb!" I stomp toward them and yank him up. "Just....get the f.u.c.k outta here." I open the door, intending to shove him out into the hall, but stop.

"You know, you redefine a.r.s.ehole," she snaps.