Gypsy Brothers: The Complete Series (19 page)

FOUR

On the short journey to Jase’s apartment I scour my mind for believable explanations. A decent reason for me leaving the hospital.

And draw a big, fat blank.

When we arrive, he waits for me to get off the bike before kicking the stand down and lifting himself off. Snatching the keys out of the ignition, he shoves me forward with a firm palm pressed into the small of my back.

Up the stairs and into his apartment, I scan the open-plan area that encompasses the kitchen and sitting area, with the balcony beyond. I look down at my bare feet and shitty hospital gown, suddenly ashamed that I must look like crap.

“Shower,” Jase says, pointing at the bathroom. “Then we’ll talk.”

I nod.

“Hurry,” he adds.

I rinse off the remaining blood and fine particles of cocaine from my skin, mostly my neck and chest, before shutting the water off. The calm, hollow ache inside me has turned to a panicked stir of wasps, butting against my ribcage, making me feel like throwing up.

He’s suspicious. How long before this jig is up? How long before he figures me out?

I don’t get time to dwell on that. Jase barges into the bathroom, a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Hey!” I protest, grabbing a towel and holding it up to my chest.

Jase smirks, something he’s been doing far too much of lately. Life has beaten him down. I have beaten him down. I haven’t seen a smile from him in a long time.

“Now you’re modest?” he asks, tossing the clothes onto the bathroom counter. “I picked these up for you last night. I was coming back in to give them to you when you decided to go see your
friend
.”

I search his eyes, trying to decipher how much he knows. How much he suspects.

“Thanks,” I say weakly.

He takes a step forward, forcing me to back up until my ass hits the cold tiles of the wall behind me.

“How is Elliot?” he drawls, clearly reveling in torturing me.

I jump when I hear his name.
Oh, God
. I don’t answer. What would I say?

“You’re quiet today, Sammi,” he says, brushing a knuckle against my cheek, still wet from the shower. “Run out of lies to tell me?”

I shiver, swallowing thickly. In this moment, he reminds me of Dornan, and it is almost too much to bear.

“Is he your boyfriend? Your dealer? What?”

I still don’t answer.

“Is
that
why you went there? You’re sleeping with him?”

I shake my head.

No. But you have. I can tell.”

I don’t bother to respond to that. I jump as he slams his hands against the wall on either side of me, effectively trapping me, caged within his arms.

“Sammi!” he yells, making me wince. “Is that even your real name?”

“Yes,” I say weakly.

“Look at me,” he commands. I meet his gaze reluctantly, a fat tear rolling from my eye and landing on my cheek.

“Jase?” I say quietly.

“Yes, Samantha?”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Huh,” he says bitterly. “My dad stabs you in the leg and leaves you to bleed to death. My brother tries to get into your pants while you’re overdosing on bad coke, and you’re afraid of
me
?”

I stare up at him, thankful that my tears have stopped. I’m cold, standing here with nothing on but a damp towel pressed to my chest and cold tiles at my back.

He breaks the stare first, turning abruptly and heading toward the door. “Get dressed,” he says, jabbing a finger at the pile of clothes on the counter.

***

An hour later, I’m sitting on a chair on the roof of the clubhouse, sun beating down on my already aching head. I glance down at the outfit Jase chose for me—a pink shirt with ruffles down the front, and a plain black skirt. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the shirt is a pajama top. They might look haphazard and randomly chosen, but the more I look at the two girls sitting next to me, the more I’m sure he’s chosen this outfit of mine entirely on purpose. It makes me look young, innocent and casual, in stark contrast to Betty and Veronica, with their harsh makeup, overdone eyeliner, teeny tiny shirts and tight black pants.

Betty and Veronica—the girls from Maxi’s party whose names I can’t remember —look a mixture of terrified and defiant, pinned to their chairs by Jazz and Donny, who stand guard behind us all.  Dornan is at the edge of the roof looking out to the Venice coastline, gun tucked in the back of his jeans in full sight. He’s been like that for a full fifteen minutes now, and I know he’s doing it on purpose. Making us afraid. Seeing who’ll break first.

It’s at this point that I realize Jase was probably never ordered to take me to his place before coming here. They’ve been waiting for me to arrive, and the way the girls are looking forlorn and sweaty tells me that they’ve been here a lot longer than fifteen minutes. I wonder if anyone’s reported them missing yet.

Or if they’re like me, with nobody to miss them at all.

I try to stand, thinking that if I offer Dornan some sort of consolation, it would be the right thing to do. That’s what a real girlfriend would do, right? But I’m not surprised when a large hand clamps down on my shoulder, slamming me back on my ass.

“Bitch, did I say you could move?” Jazz asks, standing behind me. I feel something cold pressed against my neck. The barrel of a gun is right under my chin, forcing my head up. I grit my teeth, not moving an inch.

Jase, who is standing in front of me, glares at his brother but doesn’t say anything.
Great.

Dornan turns, his face a mask of fury and pain. I can’t help it; I suck in a worried breath, my eyes darting between Dornan, Jase, the girls and the bloodstains on the concrete below my feet that no amount of scrubbing could completely remove.

I don’t want any more blood spilled because of my stupid mistakes, and it’s at this moment that I decide no matter what, these girls are not going to cop the blame for Maxi’s death. Even though I planted the coke in their bags.

Even though it might mean the end for me.

FIVE

Dornan stalks over, his gaze traveling over me, before eyeballing the two girls. Rage is radiating from every pore in his body, and I can only imagine what I’ll be in for afterward, assuming I make it off this roof without a bullet between my eyes.

He leans against the railing of the building—the same railing Jase and I spent hours hanging over talking while we watched the water below—and drags a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket.

Huh. A small squeeze of satisfaction grips me as I realize he’s taken up smoking again. He quit when I was a small girl, at least twelve years ago.

Sucker.

He lights up, taking a long drag of the cigarette before stepping forward and blowing it in the brunette’s face. She coughs, turning her head away and batting at the smoke cloud in front of her.

Scared as I am, I am hyper-aware of everything around me. The hand digging into my shoulder; the way Dornan is so full of rage—he almost shimmers in the stark sunlight—miniature tremors all over his body. A vein is bulging in his neck, beating furiously, and I fight the urge to try and run.

Show no weakness.

“Recovered your memory yet?” Dornan asks her, his voice low and menacing. She chokes out a stilted little sob and shakes her head,
no
.

He chuckles, but there is no humor behind the noise. Moving across to the next girl, he takes the cigarette from his mouth and presses the lit end down onto the bare skin on top of her knee. She jumps, crying out, and tries to shuffle her chair backward, only for a set of burly arms to push her back down.

I glance up at Donny, getting a smug glare complete with curled upper lip in response.

“How about you, blondie?” Dornan growls. “Where’d you get the coke that killed my fucking son? Huh?”

She doesn’t respond, just does this sobbing thing that makes Dornan’s face turn red.

“Who fucking killed my son!?”
he roars, loud enough to hurt my ears and rattle my chest. He shakes the girl for good measure, his grip on her shoulders looking both painful and familiar.

She starts to cry. “I don’t know,” she says, pointing at me. “She gave me a pill and I don’t remember anything else.”

Great. Every pair of eyes on the roof swivels to me, the grip on my shoulder tight enough that I feel like my shoulder blade is going to snap in half.

“Sammi?” Dornan questions gruffly. “Did you give this broad a pill?”

I nod my head, putting on my best doe eyes. “Maxi had a whole bag full of them. Didn’t you find the rest?”

Dornan tilts his head to the side, his eyes bloodshot and wild. “No,” he breathes. “We found a bunch of bad coke in their bags,” he points to the girls who are cowering on their seats, “and if they don’t tell me where they got it soon,” he looks at each of them with dramatic pause, “then I’m going to get my shotgun and shoot their fucking heads off.”

“It was Maxi’s coke,” I cut in. Dornan whips his head back to me and the girls both look relieved.

“Why the fuck would my son have had coke from another supplier? We deal directly with one person, and our shipments have
always
been clean.”

I shrug. “I think he had a problem. I think he was having it a lot. He was always so wired, wasn’t he?”

Dornan huffs, looking to Jase and the other brothers.

“Boys?”

Donny squeezes my shoulder almost to breaking point, causing me to double over from the pain. “He didn’t have a problem,” he scoffs.

Dornan withdraws the gun from his belt and holds the barrel to my forehead.

“He told me who he got it from,” I say desperately.

Dornan shrugs as if to say,
yes? Who?
He leans closer and I speak loud enough so that only he can hear me.

“He said,
Ricardo
gave it to him as a sample. Said if it was really good he was going to get you on board and change your mainland supplier.”

Recognition sparks in his eyes, and something else, something dangerous. Even though I know it’s a physical impossibility, I swear I see orange flames glisten in his pupils before returning to black.

“Horseshit,” Jazz says loudly behind me. I jump. Although I whispered, he’s obviously close enough to hear me.

“He’d never do business with the Colombians.” Jazz sneers. “He knows the history.”

“That’s all he said,” I hiss, watching Dornan closely. “I swear.”

Dornan removes the gun from my temple and bounces it against his leg, biting his lip. I steal a glance at Jase, who has relaxed visibly since the gun was removed from my head. If I weren’t being eyeballed by a bunch of asshole bikers, I’d smile right now.

“Shoot them both,” he says, pointing to the girls dismissively.

“Wait!” Jase holds his hand out, tugging his father to the side and murmuring animatedly. Jazz and Donny wait patiently, their own guns aimed at the girls as they cry and cover their heads with their hands.

Because that’ll stop a bullet
.

Dornan and Jase talk a few moments more, before Dornan returns to us. “Cut them loose,” he says, gesturing to the two girls.

“What?” Jazz roars.

“You heard me,” Dornan replies, his voice deathly calm.
Too calm
.

“Cut those two loose. Now.”

Donny scoffs, but shoves his gun in his pocket and grabs each girl by an arm, dragging them to their feet. As they hurry past Dornan, he clears his throat deliberately, making Donny jerk the two girls to a stop.

“Please don’t shoot us,” the blonde whimpers, hanging her head.

Dornan places his hands on either side of her head, forcing it up so she meets his terrifying gaze.

“You tell anyone you were here, I’ll find you and gut you like a fucking fish, you hear me?”

She nods frantically, her long blonde hair falling in her eyes.

“I didn’t hear you?” Dornan says, threading his fingers through her hair and pulling.

“Yes,” the girl gasps. “I promise, we won’t say a word.”

He looks at the brunette expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“We’ll never tell,” she nods quickly. “I swear on our lives.”

He smiles and puts his cigarette back between his teeth. Jerking his thumb towards the door, he addresses Jazz and Donny.

“Throw them outside the gate. I don’t need anyone else digging through my fucking clubhouse.”

The brothers push the girls toward the door and then down the flight of stairs, where they quickly disappear.

Leaving me, Dornan and Jase on the rooftop.

Delightful.

Dornan turns his gaze toward me. “Ricardo, huh?” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

I nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He rubs his free hand on his chin, in deep thought.

“And Jase, you think the Colombians have something to do with the meth that killed Chad?”

Jase looks pissed. “You’re talking about this in front of her?”

He shrugs, dropping his finished cigarette to the ground and smooshing it into the concrete with the heel of his boot.

“Sammi knows what happens to girls who don’t behave,” he says darkly.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, wondering if I’m allowed to get up yet.

“What happens to girls who don’t behave?” Jase asks his father, his eyes never leaving mine.

Dornan just
laughs
.

“Come on, son,” he says, slapping Jase’s cheek. “You know exactly what happens to girls who don’t behave.”

Jase’s jaw flexes, his fists squeezed so tight I can see his knuckles turning white.