High (27 page)

He puts his cigarette to his lips, taking a long, slow drag. “Is that so? Then why are ya here girl? Felix not willing to help you out?”

I frown. “My reasons are my own.” I take out about half the cash in the envelope and put it on the table in front of him. “Now, do you want my money or not?”

His gaze darts around the bar before his hand shoots out pulling the money into the shadow cast where his big body blocks the light. “Jesus, are you tryin’ to get me shopped missy?”

“There’s about two and a half grand there. Give me as much as you can for that money.” I snap, my patience wearing thin.

He takes another long drag of his fag and then stubs it out in the ashtray. “What do you want?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Surprise me.”

He laughs and jerks his chin at the guy sat opposite him. I’d forgotten he was even there.

“You heard the lady.” He holds the cash out, pressing it into the guy’s open palm. He disappears without a word.

“Can I buy you a drink while you wait?” He asks, a charming smile pulling at his lips. Usually, I’d flirt with a man like Wayne. I always have been a sucker for an Irishman, but right now, he’s just a means to an end that I am desperately in need of.

Eventually, his guy comes back and hands me a padded envelope. I don’t even look at the contents, simply stand and walk straight out of the pub. I walk down the street and manage to hail a cab, but when he asks me where I want to go, I don’t know. I can’t go home. I can’t face Milly, so I give him Rhett’s address. It’s not like anyone is going to be there.

This time, when I step onto the street outside his apartment there is no hope, only crushing despair and lost foolish dreams.

I push the key into the lock and it clicks open, the hinges of the door squeaking and echoing around the empty space.

I dump my bag and take the envelope with me into the bathroom. I sit at the black marble vanity. I turn the envelope upside down and an assortment of drugs fall out, pills and powder all lined up in little plastic bags.

They whisper to me, promises of such bliss, of a temporary world where this pain won’t exist. But, as I stare at the stash of drugs, guilt starts to creep in because I love him. Even now, I love him. Even while it feels like he’s wedged a blade in my back. He told me I was better than this, he believed I was better than this clawing fucking need, this…addiction.

I sit at his vanity and stare at the mascara streaked face of the broken girl looking back at me in the mirror. It would almost be romantic to think that it was love that led me here, but it wasn’t, it was pure stupidity. I feel so fucking stupid, so naïve.

I recall every tiny detail of our relationship, and when I think about it now, it was obvious. He was so determined to have me—as if he couldn’t just walk out on the street and have any girl he wanted. Of course, he chose me, it was always me. I was a target. Everything he ever said, every touch, every kiss, every time he fucked me…it was all a lie, a deception, and poor little Blake McQueen with her fucked up daddy issues fell for it so easily.

I sob works its way up my throat, and tears blur my vision.

My gaze shifts from my blurred reflection to the assortment of drugs on the counter in front of me. Wayne gave me a little of everything. Cocaine, ecstasy, sleeping pills, MDMA. Lined up like this, I realise that this is all I have, my salvation, my freedom.

I empty the bag of blow onto the table and slowly, methodically, cut it into lines. The act feels therapeutic somehow. I pick up the silver straw that Felix gave me after my very first line and hold it between my fingers. I could inhale those lines and this feeling would go away. I would be free of it and Rhett Torres would no longer be able to touch me.

But as I think of him, trying to figure out what I missed, I can’t help but see all the things I didn’t miss. I hear the words he said to me, and even if he was just using me, he made me believe them. He made me feel like I was worth something, even if it was all a lie.

I don’t want to be a statistic. I want to be someone that could actually be loved.

I stand up, breathing heavily, my pulse thrumming through my veins at the possibility, the fear of being without my only salvation beating away at me. 

And then I turn around and I walk out.

I down the whiskey and place the empty glass back on the coffee table. I’m drunk, really fucking drunk.

I landed in New York a couple of hours ago and all I’ve done since I got home is drink. I feel like the shittiest person alive, but more than that, I just want to drink away this feeling. I want to drink away the memory of her because I can’t change it. I can’t go back. I did what I needed to do, what I set out to do.

I thought it was a ridiculous stroke of luck when I found out that the very same girl I picked up in a bar in New York was, in fact, Blake McQueen. I went to England to help my brother and she fell right into my lap. She already wanted me and it wasn’t exactly a hardship fucking her. It was supposed to be simple, fuck her, get seen in public with her, make her father think we were an item.

I’ve had run ins with Miles McQueen before, and let’s just say his disdain for me has always been very fucking obvious. It all seemed so easy until suddenly it wasn’t. I was expecting her to be a spoiled socialite with daddy issues who would fall at my feet. If that were the case, I never would have fallen for her, but it wasn’t. She is wild, untamed, larger than life and yet fragile at the same time. I fell in love with Blake McQueen. I fell in love with my brother’s only hope of freedom, and I was forced to choose between the girl who blindsided me and stole my heart or the brother who would lay down his life for me.

In the end, blood is thicker than water and if I think about it, there never really was a choice. I was an idiot to let myself become so entranced by her. That doesn’t mean it hurts any less though.

Of course, the entire thing is made worse by the fact that I had to ask her to marry me to get her father where I needed him. It was cruel and I hate myself for it. I only hope that she goes straight back to being the girl she was before I ever walked into her life.

My phone rings, vibrating loudly across the glass coffee table. I ignore it, topping off my glass and taking a large gulp. As soon as it rings off the phone buzzes again.

I snatch it off the table and glance at the screen. Duncan, the guy I’m paying to watch Blake. I should have just walked away, but I couldn’t. I have to know how she is, what she’s doing. I have to know that she’s safe.

I answer the call and press the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”

“She’s gone.”

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I snap, leaning forward in my chair.

“I followed her to Heathrow, and she got on a plane to Ireland. One-way ticket.”

I rub a hand over my face. “Did she go alone?”

“Just took the dog. And uh, thought you might want to know, she pawned the ring.”

I hang up the phone and drop it onto the coffee table.

I asked him to watch her because I knew she’d do something stupid. I can only imagine the trouble she’s finding in Ireland. It bothers me, but the fact is, it shouldn’t. She’s no longer my concern. She can’t be, not matter how much I love her.

Four months later…

Months can pass in the blink of an eye, and it feels like only moments ago that I was with Blake. I can’t move past her, can’t forget her, but yesterday, finally, my sacrifice paid off.

My brother, Luca was released into the custody of the United States Prison Service twelve days ago, and that was all the time the cartel needed to bribe, threaten, and corrupt him out of there. I played my part and I got my brother back on home soil, the cartel will want his loyalty in return, which pisses me off, but what choice does he have? Stay in prison and rot for the rest of his life or stick out a few more years with the Cartel. There’s that saying, you always have a choice, well for people like Luca and I, there isn’t always a choice.

“Rhett. Rhett!” I blink and look up at Luca’s impatient expression. “What is with you?”

“Nothing. What do you need?” I snap.

He sighs and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “I want to know what’s going on with you, and don’t say nothing because I know you.” He sighs. “So in the manliest, most non-sensitive way possible…spill.”

“I told you...”

“Felix rang me this morning.” He says. My heart stumbles over itself for a couple of beats.

I pick up my coffee and drop my eyes to my phone, scrolling through emails that I don’t actually see. “Oh yeah, what did he want?”

“He asked how I am, the usual. And he asked whether I’d heard from you, and said that when  I see you, I’m to ask you if you’ve been in touch with someone called Blake.” I try not to react, and slowly place the coffee on the table in front of me. “Who is she?” He asks quietly.

I lift my gaze to his, clenching my fist tightly. “None of your business.”

He rolls his eyes and slumps back into the sofa cushions. “Shit, that bad?”

“Stop talking.”

He laughs. “Did you break her heart, big brother?”

“Fuck!” I launch to my feet. “I said, shut the fuck up!”

I rub at the spot on my chest that aches whenever I think of her. They say time heals all wounds, but no wound festers quite like betraying someone you love. It’s its own brand of torture, self-inflicted and all the more painful for it.

“Sounds messy.” The smirk never leaves his face. “Women always did have a nasty habit of falling in love with you.”

Snapping, I launch across the coffee table, grabbing him by the throat. I pin him into the sofa, squeezing his windpipe with one hand. He gasps for air, his eyes bulging. “I fucking gave her up for you! You do not talk about her.” I release him and stagger backwards, breathing heavily.

He coughs, rubbing at his throat as he tries to sit up. “What the fuck, Rhett?” He chokes.

“She was the daughter of the Minister who signed off on your extradition. That was the price, your freedom if I never saw her again.” I say the words quietly as if giving them volume will make them hurt more.

He says nothing for a long moment. “You loved her?”

“Love.” I clench my jaw. “I love her.”

His eyebrows shoot up and a smile slowly makes its way on his face. “So go and get her.” I shake my head. “If you’re still hung up on her four months later,” he says, “you need to grow a set and fucking go get her.”

I look up at the front of the hotel and take a deep breath. I have to do this, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy.

Inside the lobby, there’s a sign for the fundraiser, and I follow it. I managed to track her down to Dublin, and then found out she’s enrolled at the University. When I found her on the guest list for this event, I contacted the business office saying I wanted to donate to the University. I wrote them a check and here I am.

I make my way across the room, scanning the crowd for her. People mill around, sipping champagne and talking in small groups.

I go to the bar and the barman looks up, smiling politely. “Scotch, please.” I say. He pours me a drink, and I pick up the glass, swirling the lone ice cube around. It’s then that I hear her, that laugh that sounds like music only…different.