Let Me: New Adult Dark Romance (Vengeful Book 1) Page 3

  “It’s okay, Caden, he—”

  “Stay out of this,” my brother growls at her.

  I let him go. For a second, she keeps her arm on mine, and we stand like that, eyes locked on each other. Her long, wavy brown hair is in two braids, one over each shoulder. I like her hair like that.

  But then my brother’s voice makes me snap out of whatever trance I’m in. “She’s my girl. I don’t need your help,” my brother says, throwing a possessive arm around her, pulling her close to his side.

  She drops my arm, her green eyes going to the floor. It’s like the fight is gone out of her tonight.

  “It sure looked like you did,” I say calmly, my gaze shifting back to Jack. “You’re going to get yourself arrested if you aren’t careful.”

  Jack laughs. “Right,” he spits at me. “Fuck off and leave my girl alone.”

  I arch a brow, glance at Riley. “I don’t want anything to do with your girl. Not if she lets herself get treated like an abused dog.”

  Her eyes meet mine and narrow. I see her anger, wait for her to do something. Anything. But she doesn’t. She just stares at me.

  I force myself to walk away. She’s not my problem. If she can’t stand up for herself, well, I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep doing it for her. My brother has always been an asshole, and Riley Larson makes him an overprotective, possessive asshole.

  Maybe she likes it.

  Maybe she needs it.

  Whatever the reason, I don’t look back as I go to find my fuck for the night.

  What was her name again?

  Six

  Present

  The condo downtown isn’t mine. It’s in Rolland’s name, because if he’s going to jerk me around like this, well, he’s got to give me a place to stay, too. I barely have enough money to cover rent back home. A hotel would be out of the fucking question. So would a flight. I work part-time at a gym back in Briar, as much as I can while I’m in school. But when I’m a professor and I can hire a lawyer and have him off of my back, I won’t ever come here again.

  And yet…

  Looking below, downtown, at the Toronto sign lit up in the night, I can’t help but think it’s nice. I can’t help but think that if Jack hadn’t—if I hadn’t—fucked things up, where would I be?

  I push that thought aside.

  It’s no good. I used to think about it constantly. I used to not be able to get it out of my head, the should-haves and could-haves. And it’s sick and fucked up and twisted because there were other things I couldn’t get out of my head, either.

  Like Caden.

  Caden’s hands all over me after that party, the one night we had together. The one night that changed both of our lives, forever. Everything I’d felt for him over the year I’d spent with his brother, finally able to come out and play. Finally, after Jack’s oppressive control, feeling free. Just for one night. Even with that other shitstorm hanging over me.

  I press my head against the glass and breathe, my breath fogging up a small circle on the window.

  My phone vibrates in my hand and I glance down at it. It’s a number I don’t recognize, and when I open it up, there’s a photo.

  My breath catches in my throat.

  It’s dark, neon lights in the background, but it’s Adam.

  Adam.

  He’s got his head buried in someone’s neck, a girl wearing little more than a bra, her panties down to her knees. There are people crowded around them, watching, drinks in hand.

  My heart thuds in my chest.

  Adam.

  I haven’t seen him yet, because I didn’t want to tell him. About Rolland, and the party. I wanted to surprise him, truth be told, tomorrow morning.

  Long-distance rarely works, and for us, it hadn’t been working well, but this…we were supposed to talk about it. If it wasn’t working, we were supposed to say so.

  I check the number again. 416, a Toronto number. There are three dots and then whoever it is sends another message. An address. As if I wouldn’t know. There’s only one club like that in the city.

  I don’t reply. Instead, I pound my fist against the glass, hard enough to hurt. I toss my phone on the black leather couch, pull off my black blouse, black pants, and pull on a tight, black dress that Rolland keeps in the closet here. My skin crawls thinking about that, so I don’t. I pull on short black boots, grab my phone, and leave.

  I’ve wanted to disconnect from this city for so long.

  Adam was just one more thing tying me here.

  As I walk to the club, I feel my chest tighten. Not at the confrontation. I’ve never been bad at those, except where Caden is concerned. No, it’s at what it means that Adam won’t be mine anymore.

  Or rather, that I won’t be Adam’s anymore. I fell into his arms three years ago, during the summer between losing Jack and moving to the States, to start university. We had gone to school together, and he was just there. I never loved him.

  But breaking up with him…it means that Rolland might not keep his distance anymore. It means that he’ll be able to do whatever he wants without any sort of worry. Or fear. It means I’ll feel eighteen again, when he was the biggest man in the world and there was no one who could stop him and when he threatened me, afterward, I believed every bit of it. I did as he asked. I still do as he asks. As he demands. Because if anyone found out…well, if Caden thinks he hates me now, he would probably kill me then.

  But I remind myself I don’t have to tell Rolland about Adam. I remind myself I’m going home in three days and sure, Rolland can take a flight whenever he wants, but he wants me to finish school, so he usually makes me come to him. A trip every few months; good for me to reconnect with Adam, to keep Rolland off my back, but to let him see me. It’s too bad all the money in the world hasn’t bought him the psychiatric help he needs.

  I walk into Viper after handing over my ID, breathless from the walk here. Rolland might pay for my flights and my food when he summons me, but he would never pay for a cab ride to a club without him.

  For a moment, I’m stunned. I’ve never been here before, and the scent of sex and too much perfume and the sound of music overtop of people moaning and screaming freezes me. I never really liked clubs. I feel claustrophobic inside of them, and Viper is no different.

  Except when I round the corner at the end of the hall and come face-to-face with the noise, the action, the breasts and bare ass and a woman with her fingers inside herself as two men watch with eager eyes.

  Fucking Adam.

  This place is huge, and there’s a stairwell with a sign that indicates there are private rooms upstairs. But the picture the anonymous do-gooder sent me didn’t seem to suggest Adam and the girl were in a private room. So, I force myself to steel my spin and walk among the bodies gyrating around me, and even though I try not to look, it’s nearly impossible not to.

  And even though I don’t want to like it, I feel my nipples harden beneath my dress and I bite my lip and some guy’s eyes meet mine and he grins. I look away, quickly, before he gets the wrong idea. Even though, in a place like this, maybe it’s the right idea.

  Then I see him.

  And his head isn’t buried in the girl’s neck anymore.

  He’s between her legs, and the woman’s back is arched, her breasts bouncing as she pushes herself up and down in his mouth. He’s shirtless, and his hands are roaming over her tits and the crowd around them is bigger now. I watch from a distance as a naked woman with waist-length hair comes up behind Adam and runs her hands through his hair and then reaches around to undo his zipper and he moans into the woman’s pussy he’s currently eating.

  Heat rushes to my face.

  That was me beneath him, just a few weeks ago. In his condo, that was me.

  Then I notice someone is at my back. I feel them there.

  I stiffen, tear my eyes away from the scene in front of me. I have to stifle a gasp as I see Caden, a smirk on his face as he stares down at me, his blue eyes cold.

 
And then behind him, a girl on his lap but his dark eyes trained on me, is Benji.

  The number I didn’t recognize in my phone.

  Caden takes a drink, what I assume is vodka in his cup, but I before I can say anything, I hear two women screaming Adam’s name.

  I whip around, my mouth open in disbelief.

  He’s on his back, one woman’s ass in the air as he eats her and she gyrates on top of him, her neck arched up as she says his name, and the other woman has his cock in her mouth, her back arched as some other dude comes up behind her for the offering.

  Caden is still at my back. I feel the heat of his body behind me, but I don’t turn around. I don’t move. All I can do is watch. Watch my boyfriend run his tongue over another girl. Watch his mouth open wide and she arches her back more, giving me a full view of her, and him.

  It’s so loud in this club, full of the sound of bodies slapping against one another, of moans and screams and sighs, but with Caden behind me, it still seems too quiet.

  Then he whispers against my skin, “You like it, don’t you?”

  I watch as Adam slips his fingers inside the girl and she arches her neck more, and her eyes glaze over until they don’t. Until she dips her head and she’s completely focused on Adam, and she smiles and moans, “More.”

  “You like watching your boyfriend put his fingers in another girl, don’t you, Riley?” Caden’s words vibrate against my skin and my nipples harden beneath my dress again and he laughs, a low and throaty sound, like he notices. And he could. Because he’s much taller than I am and he’s right behind me, looking down.

  My face warms as I realize that I’m aching for him.

  Even as I watch Adam, even as he pulls this girl’s hips away and he’s staring inside of her as if she’s his salvation, even then, I ache for Caden.

  “Do you want me to touch you?” he asks quietly, and there’s not even an inch between us but I’m dying for him to close it. Dying even as Adam palms this girl’s breasts, then slaps them, just a little. Even as he puts his mouth on one without so much as a glance at me.

  Even then, I want to tell Caden to touch me. To press himself against me.

  “Do you want me to finish what we started that night?”

  I don’t trust myself to speak. So I say nothing.

  “Riley,” he says, his voice commanding an answer.

  I take a breath. And another. I try to stand up straighter in this alcove, a bigger crowd gathering around Adam and the girl. I try to regain my composure, to think past Caden’s presence at my back.

  “You hate me,” I whisper. I don’t know why I say it. It’s true, of course. It’s why this is happening. Caden and Benji probably set this whole thing up or seized a hell of an opportunity. But I still don’t know why I say it now. I think, maybe, I want him to deny it. I want him to argue with me. He was always good at that.

  But instead, he leans closer, his lips grazing my shoulder as he says, “I hate you so much, Riley, that when I look at you, every time, every single time, I’ve wanted to push you to your knees, pull open that pretty, filthy mouth of yours, and fill you with me.”

  I tense, suck in my breath. I’m still looking straight ahead but I’m not seeing anything anymore. I can’t think. I can hardly breathe. I can hardly stand.

  And then I can’t stand at all.

  My legs give way, and I think I’m going to fall but Caden catches me around the waist. I’m trembling in his grip, and it isn’t kind. It’s tight and harsh and nearly possessive. Except possessive is when you want to own someone. Caden doesn’t want to own me. He wants to destroy me.

  “Stand up, Riley. This is nothing less than what you wanted,” he says to me, his words harsh and low.

  “I don’t want this,” I whisper, the words dry in my throat.

  He grips me tighter. “You do,” he counters, lips against my ear. “You do. Just like you wanted to watch my brother go wild for you.” There’s something desperate in his words. “And me, too. Isn’t that right? But I won’t Riley. I don’t need you anymore. I don’t need anything from you.”

  He shoves me forward, into the crowd around Adam, and when I turn around, he’s leaving, threading his way through the half-naked horde, eyes turning his way.

  Then he’s gone.

  I turn back to Adam, who hasn’t seen me at all. But I suddenly don’t care enough to do anything. To say anything. People are watching me watching him, but he’s burying himself in one of the girls now and I turn around and go, feeling something sick like relief as I walk out.

  But it doesn’t last long.

  I leave easily enough, but I decide to walk in the night, to get some air, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to sleep now. I’ve got too much to think about with Adam and Rolland, and I’m thinking of trying to move my flight up so I can go home and see Mom. I don’t trust her to be by herself for long. I don’t really trust her at all.

  Addictions aren’t easy to get over. For both the addict, and their family.

  I know, because I watched her do it after we moved. I felt a sick sense of retribution at watching her suffer. Watching her pay for all the times she let men into our apartment who didn’t always want her when they came to get a fix. Watching her go through what I felt I went through my entire life. She became an addict shortly after I was born. It’s a miracle I managed to survive long enough to take care of myself.

  I press my nails into my palms to stop thinking of her. Of that. Because the reality is, as lousy of a mother as she was, it wasn’t her that brought the real monster onto me. Not really.

  I take a shortcut through an empty alleyway. Or rather, I thought it was empty. But when I’m halfway through, I hear someone laugh behind me.

  The hairs on the back of my arms stand on end and I turn around, squinting in the dark. I see a figure coming toward me, slowly, as if he might be shuffling. My throat tightens. It was stupid to come this way. Stupid to be in a dress and boots with only my keys for a weapon. I put them between my index and middle finger anyhow and I turn back around and start to run as fast as I can. If this person is limping, then I can get to the other side of the alley and out before he catches up.

  Besides, this is Toronto, I remind myself.

  It’s safe here.

  But as I’m running, another figure steps into view ahead of me and I see a street lamp’s light fall onto his face and he’s leering at me, face stretched into a wide grin. He laughs, too, and I look back and see the other man still coming, much faster now.

  “You’ve got nowhere to go, little girl,” the man at the end of the alley says. He’s big, wide shoulders, bald-headed. He’s probably in his fifties, and he’s wearing a worn suit. He takes a step closer while I freeze in the middle of the alley, heart thudding in my chest. All I can think is that if I survive this, I’m going to kill Adam and Benji for dragging me out into this mess.

  But right now, I need to think of something else.

  That familiar fear stills through me, like ice in my veins. The same fear I had with the men who came to see my mom. The same fear I had at eighteen when Rolland first found me, stumbling into his house that June night after I ran away from Mom’s, with nowhere else to go. When Rolland pulled me into his home and offered me a drink. And it felt safe, at first, and then all of the sudden, his hands all over me, it didn’t.

  It feels like that now, but I’m not going to be another victim.

  I take a step toward the bald man, the steps coming closer from the man at my back.

  The man in front of me grins. “That’s a good girl,” he croons. “Come to Daddy.”

  My skin crawls with his words, but I keep moving closer, hoping, maybe, that I’ll surprise him. I hold my keys out in a trembling hand, but he just laughs. That sound hardens my anger.

  We’re only a few feet away now, the grime of the city beneath my feet, a man at my back, and the one leering before me, his bald head glistening from the lamp lights just out of reach. Just beyond him. If he g
ets his hand over my mouth, no one will hear me. And no one will see me in this darkness.

  Fucking Adam. I swear to God…

  The man reaches out for me, a large hand clamped over my wrist as he tugs me violently forward, off of my feet. I lunge to his neck with my keys, but he easily swats my arm aside with his other hand. He presses me against him, his stomach the only thing between us.

  And behind me, someone clamps a hand on my shoulder.

  I open my mouth to scream but a hand goes over my mouth, stifling it. I try to bite him, try to fight my way out of this, but their grips are tight, and my heart is pounding hard and fast in my chest and I can barely think.

  I knee the man in front of me, remembering the little bit of self-defense I took in my first year of university. It wasn’t nearly enough, apparently, because he grips my knee, and then both of them drive me back, against the wall, and my head hits the bricks, spots flashing in the darkness. The man’s hand goes to my throat, squeezing, and then he’s pawing at my dress, his hand going lower, then clenching around my bare thigh and I think, This is it.

  I think of Rolland.

  Of being eighteen in his arms, of trusting him.

  I squirm again, trying to twist out of their grip but they’ve got me up against the wall, closed in on either side and I feel like I’m drowning.

  I still. I don’t know why, but my muscles are aching, and the man’s hand is along my inner thigh. Fear makes me immobile. All those classes I teach at the gym, yoga and spin and personal training, none of it was good for this.

  A waste of fucking time.

  Not again.

  It’s a plea in my mind to whatever god might be listening.

  Not a-fucking-gain.

  “Let her go.”

  My eyes flash open.

  A cold voice. One that I would recognize anywhere.

  I can’t see him, but I hear his steady footsteps. And the men’s grips slacken as they turn.

  “I said, Let her go.” Caden’s voice is low. Dangerous.