Twisted (20 page)

He doesn't notice me until he
shuts it and turns around. He frowns at me, taking in my shoes. “What are you
doing?”

“I need to go out. I'll be
back soon.”

Noah walks over, shaking his
head as he looks at me with frustration. “
Blayre
, you
were just sick upstairs and after what went down last night, you need to take
it easy.”

“I'll be fine,” I insist.

“You can't drive, not with
how unstable you are this morning. Where do you have to go that is so
important?”

I can hear Cole's motorcycle
coming down the street. “Cole's picking me up.”

Noah's expression shifts to
one of disapproval. “Tate will be home soon and he could use your support.”

“I know and I'll be back,” I
promise. “Cole's here,” I say, before I quickly turn and dash out of the
kitchen and to the front door. As soon as I am outside, I see Cole pull up in
the driveway on his motorcycle. He looks completely normal, clad in jeans and a
short sleeve shirt. You wouldn't even know that he'd been shot or grazed by a
bullet last night.

His eyes flicker to my
bandaged arm as I walk over and silently climb on behind him. As Cole maneuvers
the motorcycle in the driveway, I hold on to him tightly with my right arm
while trying to relax my left. Soon we are roaring off down the street, the
wind whipping at my hair.

The drive goes by quickly and
when we pull up at the house he shares with his brother, I assume Ethan is gone
or we wouldn't be coming here. Without a word to each other, we climb off the
motorcycle and Cole leads me inside and up to his room.

He shuts his door behind us
and turns—only to have my hand connect with the side of his face as I slap him
with as much force as I can put behind it. He freezes where he stands and his
green eyes narrow dangerously on me as his cheek starts to turn red. His hands
tighten into fists at his sides and his jaw clenches. I'm expecting him to come
at me but he doesn't. Instead, he slowly nods, his eyes grim and accepting. “I
deserve that.”

The fact that he knows he's
earned my anger has my rage at him deflating slightly. I cross my arms over my
chest and stand in the middle of his room, my eyes on him with barely
controlled contempt. “You lied to me!”

He blows out a breath and
holds my gaze. “I did and I'm sorry. No one was supposed to get hurt,
Blayre
. You have to believe me.”

“Why? Why did you feel the need
to rob that store?”

Cole looks away and rubs the
back of his neck as he turns away from me for a minute. “I owe some money. I
have to pay up by tonight and it was the quickest way to get it,” he says, not
looking at me.

“Did you get the money you
wanted?” I ask bitterly.

His shoulders tense up and he
turns to look at me with resentment. “I didn't fucking mean to kill anyone,
Blayre
!”

“Then what happened!” I yell
with frustration.

“The clerk had just handed
off the cash when a guy came from the back of the store with a gun pointed at
me and Blake. It was automatic to fire at him. He got off a couple shots and I
got nailed in my arm. The clerk started freaking out and I shot him. I fucked
up,” he says flatly.

“He's dead, Cole! That man is
dead
!” I shout as tears form in my eyes and I drop weakly to my knees,
sobs making their way up my throat as I kneel on the carpet. “He was my
brother's friend! I killed my brother's friend,” I gasp as I drop my head into
my hands. My body shakes out of control as emotions sweep through me. If I were
at home right now, I'd have my razor in hand. Instead, I am here—with the man
who caused me all this grief.

Cole's arms wrap around me
and he pulls me onto his lap, his arms tight around me. “No!” he says fiercely
in my ear. “It's all on me, not you. You didn't cause this,
Blayre
.
If you wouldn't have driven us, I would have coerced someone else into doing
it. It would have went down the same damned way, no matter who drove.”

My arms creep around him and
I cry into his neck. Life had always generally sucked for me but how was I ever
going to be able to live with this burden? Cole simply holds me as I cry
against him until finally I feel limp, my cheek resting on his shoulder.

Cole sighs, his cheek
brushing mine. “We'll get through this, we'll be okay. The evidence is gone and
the video footage makes you look like a guy. They're looking for three men, so
you're in the clear,” he assures.

My head lifts and I look up
at him through spiky wet lashes. “Video footage?”

He nods. “They had video
surveillance at the store and they caught a front view shot of us at that
intersection I warned you about. You did great.”

“Great?” I echo with
disbelief. “I helped you commit a crime, not to mention murder!”

“It's over,
Blayre
. I protected you and you'll be fine. As long as I
don't get tied to the crime scene, the three of us are clear. It's all going to
be fine. The car was stolen and they have nothing on us.
Nothing
.”

“But that doesn't make it any
better!”

Cole looks at me levelly.
“And we can't change it. It's done.”

“Maybe for you,” I retort as
I pull out of his arms and rise to my feet, my hand rubbing my temple with
frustration. “I get to go home and watch my brother mourn a friend that we
killed!”

“
Blayre
,”
Cole says as he stands and reaches for my good arm, his eyes intent. “You have
got to calm down. That man was an off duty police officer. If you're not
careful, we could all go down for this and they'll throw the book at us. The
city is going to go at this with more determination than they normally would
because he was one of their own. You have to pull yourself together.”

“I hate you right now.” I
jerk my arm from his grip and give him a bitter look.

He sighs. “Hate me all you
want, but we're all in this together. You, me, and Blake...this is a secret
we're taking to the grave.”

It slowly sinks in what he's
saying and he's right. Cole and I are now tied in ways that would never be
severed. There would be no walking away from Cole. Not anymore. And what's
worse is I can't bring myself to truly hate him. I make my way over to his bed
and I sit down tiredly as I struggle with this realization.

Cole moves and sits down next
to me. He reaches for my right hand and I let him. “I know you're mad, but I
promise it'll be okay. I'll help you through this.” He reaches over with his
other hand and brushes an errant piece of hair away from my eyes. “I've got
you. I'm not going anywhere,” he promises.

My eyes lift to his and I
search his gaze for any kind of guilt, something to show that he regrets what
happened last night. “Don't you feel guilty?”

“Of course. But I don't wear
it on my sleeve like you do. We have to fix that before you go home.”

“There is no fixing it!”

“Do you want to go to prison?
That's where we're all going if you can't keep it together,” he warns.

My eyes slowly shut as I run
through my options—which are few and far between. Either I confess and we all
go to prison or I keep my mouth shut. The right thing to do would be to confess
to the crime and deal with the consequences, but the idea of going to prison
scares me. My life might be a sorry mess but that doesn't mean I want to trade
it for a tiny cell for the rest of my life. My eyes open and I see that Cole's
been watching me closely.

“How am I supposed to pretend
last night never happened?” I ask him, my voice hollow as I realize just how
far I've fallen thanks to Cole.

His hand reaches up and he
touches my cheek gently. “I'll help. It'll be okay,” he says as he leans close
and kisses me. I'm still feeling numb from the last twenty-four hours, so I
barely respond. Cole pulls back and frowns down at my left arm. “What's this?”
he asks, touching the gauze lightly.

“I fell through my window
sneaking in.” I'm not in the mood to tell him the truth.

“Shit. Was it bad?”

“Thirty stitches, I think.”

“Damn.”

“How is Blake doing?” I
finally ask.

“Haven't heard from him.”

“Were you shot or was it a
graze?”

Cole moves and pulls up the
short sleeve shirt to show me the inch long cut on his arm, just below his
shoulder. Someone had crudely stitched it up and it looked painful. “Just a
graze. Once it heals, I'll get a tat to cover it up.”

I think of the other tattoos
on his body. “Is that what the other tattoos are for?”

“Yeah.” He studies me for a
minute before saying, “Want me to come back to your brother's with you and help
you get through the day?”

The fact that he's offering
makes me feel slightly better. “My brother doesn't like you. It's a bad idea.”

He nods. “I'm only a text
message away.”

“I know.”

“I'm heading out of town this
evening and I'll be back tomorrow night. I still need to pay off these guys and
I have other business in their area.”

“You're leaving town?” I ask
with disbelief.

“Only for a day and a half.
I'll be back before you know it.”

My eyes roam over his
handsome face and I know there is no going back. I have a feeling that after
last night, I am now well and truly Cole's. This secret bound us together so
tightly that there's no hope for escaping the life that Cole has dragged me into.
Acceptance begins to flow through my veins.

This is my life now.

The last thing I want is for
Tate to hear Cole's motorcycle and get annoyed I skipped out this morning, so I
have Cole drop me off a block away. When I walk up to the house, I see that Tate's
car is back and Vince's car is parked out front. Noah happens to be gone and I
wonder if he'd had a chance to tell Tate what had happened last night.

When I enter the house, I
find Tate and Vince in the living room, their expressions grim. From the looks
of things, I'd interrupted a very serious conversation, which isn't surprising
considering the news they'd just received earlier.

It's hard to look my brother
in the eye and say, “I am so sorry to hear about your friend.” Somehow I manage
to say it without breaking down. I'd stayed at Cole's for over three hours as
we talked things out and he helped me figure out how to handle the rest of the
day.

In the past twenty-four
hours, I've gone from trying to talk myself into breaking up with him to now
being in so deep with him that there's no way out. It's crazy how life can
change in just a matter of seconds. Seconds I would give anything to take back.

Tate rises to his feet, his
expression heavy. “Thanks. Noah told me he told you the news this morning.”

I nod. “I...left for a little
bit and I didn't intend to stay out so long. I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head. “You
didn't know him,
Blayre
. I didn't expect you to
change your plans for me.” His expression changes as his eyes catch sight of
the gauze wrapped around my arm. “What is that? Noah said you got a cut from
some glass last night but we didn't have a chance to get into details. That
looks like more than a cut,” he says as he walks over to me.

“Um...can I explain later?”

His eyes narrow. “No.” Then
his attention shifts to Vince, who is still sitting on the couch, watching our
conversation. “I'll be right back. Go grab a beer from the kitchen if you
want,” he says to him before he turns his eyes back to me. “Let's talk
upstairs.”

With a resigned sigh, I head
upstairs with my brother right on my heels. As soon as I enter my room, I flip
on the light since one window is still boarded up.

“What the hell happened to
your window?” Tate demands as he walks over and inspects the large board that
is nailed to the trim on the outer edges of the window.

“Noah didn't explain it...at
all?”

His head turns and he gives
me a tight look. “There were other things going on at the time but now I am all
ears. Why is your window boarded up? Is that how you cut yourself? I want details,”
he orders as he crosses his arms, his eyes pinning me to where I stand.

Damn. Noah had obviously been
less than thrilled that I'd rushed out to Cole this morning and evidently he
felt it was my place to fill my brother in instead of his. Figures. I'd just
assumed that Noah would explain it and all I'd have to do was apologize for
sneaking out.

Then again, I'll take this
conversation over talking about his friend whose death I am responsible for. “I
kind of snuck out last night,” I say, bracing for the inevitable.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Is
that why the window is boarded up? You went out the
window
,
Blayre
?”

“Yeah.”

He gives me an incredulous
look. “Last time I checked, Noah's deaf. Why not just use the front door?”