Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3) (6 page)

“What?”

I didn’t answer
straight away. My mouth was dry.

“Aaron?” she
asked. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She sounded like she cared.

“Yeah. I just
pressed your name by mistake. Is Antony still there?” He shouldn’t have been.
Not at that hour.

“No, he left
hours ago.”

 “Okay. Go back
to sleep.”

“Are you sure
you’re alright?” she pressed.

“Yeah. I’m
sorry.” I ended the call.

Another day of watching. The brothers
grabbed a football and headed to a nearby park. Young, strong and athletic.
That could be a problem.

I stayed
watching the mother. She waved her sons off before sitting down on the porch
and lighting a cigarette. She inhaled deeply as if this simple act gave her such
joy. She would have been pretty when she was younger; before time and stress
engraved lines deep in her skin to make her look older than she really was.

I tried to
imagine Rachel at her age. A mother? A loving mother? It didn’t really seem to
fit, just like the image of Rachel aging, that didn’t fit either.

And if she did,
she would age like her mother with smooth skin, excellent hair and stylish
outfits. No, the evil did not age with grace. Everything was a game to her
type, even outplaying time…

Not that Rachel
was evil. I had to get that fucking idea out of my head, but nor was she
innocent or naïve. That bitch that gave birth to her had destroyed that.

I tried to put
images of the mother and daughter out of my head. Why the hell did Antony want
these people dead? It wasn’t my business. It didn’t really matter anyway.

Too late, I
figured out that the woman was watching me. I’d parked too close and become
complacent by how utterly unthreatening these people were. I could have started
the car and driven off. There was nothing remarkable about the vehicle that I’d
chosen and it didn’t stand out in this neighborhood. The windows were dark and
she wouldn’t be able to see me through them.

It was on a whim
that I got out of the car. Something in me wanted to speak to her. I didn’t
know why.

Sometimes it was
fun to play with victims, like when I’d spoken to Rachel in the diner that very
first time. I’d basically called her a whore while she looked puzzled. It was a
warning. She didn’t realize that. She could have gotten a friend to pick her up
instead of walking, but she’d chosen not to, and the consequence was that I
took her that night. I would have taken her eventually, but it would have
bought her a little more time.

I removed my
sunglasses as I crossed the road to where the woman sat watching me. It was
better if people could see your eyes. It was the easiest way for them to trust
you. I flashed my teeth at her as I strolled in through her gate to stand in
front of where she sat.

I got nothing.
No reaction but the staring eyes through the cigarette smoke that drifted
upwards between us.

“Hi, you can’t
tell me how to get to Haymitch Street, could you?” I kept the smile, made my
voice bright and easy. I was all fucking charm.

And this bitch
didn’t even crack a smile.

“You don’t have
GPS?”

“No.”

“On your phone?”

“Left it
behind.”

Still no
reaction as I countered her. She took another deep drag of her cigarette before
saying, “Never heard of Haymitch.”

I eyed the
cigarette packet beside her. “Well, say, do you mind if I…” I indicated toward
them. I didn’t smoke, not normally, it fucked with your body and I liked to
keep mine in perfect condition, but on occasion, it had its uses.

“Help yourself.”
Her voice was cool and her face nothing like the relaxed version that I had
observed prior. Her guard was up, but not in a fearful way, more like a
resigned way.

I took a
cigarette and borrowed her lighter. “Thanks.” I inhaled deeply. “Getting lost
in a strange town always stresses me out,” I lied lightly, my friendly persona
intact. I’d win her over sooner or later. I hated to lose.

She tilted her
head as I passed her back the lighter. “Somehow I doubt that.”

I raised an
eyebrow. “Really?”

“I know what you
are,” she said calmly, and I nearly choked.

“Sorry, I don’t
know what you mean.” I grinned down at her.

“You think that
I haven’t noticed you driving past. I notice everything, and you don’t scare
me.” Her hand didn’t shake and her voice didn’t waver. She was calm. She was
ice.

“I really don’t
know what‒”

“I don’t run.
You tell him that. Which brother is it?”

My smile
dropped. “I really don’t know what you mean,” I told her softly.

“Oh, I think you
do.” She scooped up her cigarettes from the step and stood. “I know what kind
of man you are. I can tell from a mile away. Always could. You might think that
you’re big, bad and dangerous, but you’re still just a fucking minion doing the
dirty work. Have some self respect, and tell your boss…tell him that he’s a coward.”

She turned and barged
into the house, the screen door banging behind her before she slammed the
wooden internal door closed.

I stood staring
at it. What the fuck was that?

My fingers
twitched. I could have kicked in the door and grabbed my weapon and emptied it
into her head, but I didn’t. I just stood there, unmoving as her words ran
through my head. The smart thing to do would have been to just take her out.
She knew what I was. She knew someone was coming for her. I should have just
killed her. It could be so simple.

I took a step
backward, and then another, until I found myself back down on the pathway and
making for the car. I opened the door and then paused, looking up to the house.
Was she watching with her gun in hand? But I saw nothing. It was time to go.

As I pulled away
from the curb, I called Antony. It went straight to voicemail.

“Call me,” I
barked into the phone before tossing it onto the passenger seat.

What the hell
was I doing? I’d let the woman notice me. I’d been too complacent. Fuck. I was
acting like some pussy amateur. And when she’d confronted me, I should have
just shoved her into the house and broken her neck before she could scream. I
wiped at my forehead. It was slick with sweat. What was wrong with me? Why the
fuck did I care who this woman was? Why was I screwing up what I was good at?

I put my foot
down on the gas abruptly and screamed off into the streets. I was going home. I
was going home to fuck Rachel senseless. Shit. Was she the reason I was acting
so weird? Was it that stupid dream?

I couldn’t get
home fast enough and sped all the way, weaving in and out of traffic and daring
anyone to fuck with me. I was in the mood for a fight.

As I screeched
to a halt in my own driveway, I was confronted with the sight of Antony’s car
parked right there. Slamming the car door shut, I pushed through the front door
violently, letting it crash against the wall.

She was laughing
as I entered. It was on odd sound‒sweet and light. She stopped abruptly
as I entered, instead taking a sip of her wine. My anger died abruptly at the
sight of her.

“Aaron.” Antony
raised his glass to me. “Come join the party.”

“A party with
just the two of you? Really?”

“It’s three now.
Although,” he got to his feet, “I gotta get going. See me out.” He winked at
Rachel. “See ya, Paige. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem,”
she said, smiling at him.

I walked him to
the door and he leaned in close. “Did you get a chance to look at the stuff I
gave you?”

“Yeah. I’ll take
care of it soon.” A million questions burned for me, but I didn’t want to talk
to him right then. I just wanted Rachel.

“Good.” He
nodded, looking at the ground. “That’s good.” He didn’t make any move toward
the door.

“What’s this
about?” I asked finally. I didn’t ask questions. It was none of my business who
needed to die and why, but the way he was acting was disconcerting. If this was
going to be trouble…

His phone rang
and he answered, sounding cheerful and smiling once more. “Hold on,” he told
the person on the other end. He reached out and patted my arm. “I’ll talk to you
later,” he told me, still in the jovial tone, before he opened the door and let
himself out, still continuing his conversation.

I reached for
the bottle and poured myself a glass before looking to where Rachel sat. I
settled myself down beside her on the sofa, putting one hand on her warm, bare
leg and rubbing at her skin.

“Take your
clothes off.”

Her eyes slid to
mine and for a moment I thought that she would refuse, but she stood up in
front of me. “What’s wrong?”

I reached out
and placed my hands on her hips, before leaning forward and pulling up her
t-shirt to reveal the flat stomach that it hid. “Nothing.” I kissed her
abdomen, just above the waist of her jeans. She smelled delicious. “Just take
your clothes off. Please.”

She paused, then
did as I asked, removing each item slowly, not as some tantalizing strip tease,
but more like she was unwrapping something special. The t-shirt dropped to the
floor, and then her bra fell, releasing her full breasts with their nipples
hard from the cold. Next were the jeans, and then the panties. I stopped her
before she could remove the latter, pressing my hand against her mound through
the cotton and kissing her just above, on her skin. “Beautiful. You should show
your skin all day,” I murmured against her. “If I could keep you naked all the
time…”

She stiffened.
The hands that had begun to run through my hair froze just as I realized what I
had said.

I lifted my head
up so I could look her in the eye. Her own head was bent down with her hair
hanging around her gorgeous face. “You need to get over that.” I sounded like
an asshole, but I didn’t care.

She crouched
down so she was eye level with me. “How?” she asked in a low voice. “How would
I ever get over what you did?”

“I don’t know.”
Once more I took hold of her, kneeling down on the floor beside her, I gently
pulled her down onto the rug so she lay on her back, naked but for the panties.
Her legs were bent at the knee and I scanned my eyes down her perfect form. “I
had a dream about you last night.”

“What happened?”

“You were…you
were bad, and so was I.” My hands traced down over her stomach now, my fingers
twitching for the top of her panties. I dragged them down, grazing over her
skin as I revealed her in her entirety. I could feel her eyes on me as I dipped
my head down to in between her thighs and inhaled her scent. I knew why. I knew
why they were always so spellbound by her. She was intoxicating, she was
addictive…

I inhaled again
deeply before placing my mouth on her. I heard her gasp and her hips move as I
took her clit in my mouth, sucking on that sensitivity like I would never give
it up. My fingers moved to dig into the strong, muscled flesh of her thighs and
I smiled against her as I heard her moan. My cock strained against my pants,
but I ignored it. I wanted her to scream in pleasure for me. I wanted her to
moan uncontrollably. I wanted her to be all mine for just that moment.

Beneath my
touch, she quivered, trying to thrust up even more as I worked her with my
mouth. I kept a firm grip on her. I would control this one thing about her. I
would control her pleasure.

She was swollen
underneath me and she moaned with frustration, her hands grabbing at my hair.

“I have to…I
have to…” she repeated on loop, her body shaking. “God,
Aaron
.”  Her
nails dug into me.

That’s when I
let her cum, using my mouth on that sensitive bud just the way she needed it.
She cried out, arching up as heat covered all of her. I didn’t let up until she
finally lay limp on my rug, nude and beautiful. Her eyes were open at half mast
dreamy, and her mouth lax.

I lay down
beside her and would have slept like that, but she found control of her limbs
again and began to touch me.

Her hands were
warm and so soft and gentle. Why was she being gentle? I watched. That was all
I could do‒watch, mesmerized at her soft touching like she was exploring
something special.

But then she
pressed her hand against my bare chest, right on my heart. “You’re terrifying,”
she said in a low voice that no emotion touched, “yet you’re beautiful.
Something, somewhere, went so very, very wrong long ago. You are so…wrong.”

I snatched at
her wrist as I rose up on my knees, dragging her up with me, encircling it
easily in my hand so she was trapped and I squeezed it, almost wishing to hear
her bones break so she would make a cry of pain, a cry of anything, rather than
that cold voice. “You’re wrong too, Rachel,” I told her, my voice sharp and
menacing. “You’re one hard, sick and twisted bitch. You’re a piece of ice.” My
teeth were bared.

Her flat eyes
just continued to gaze at me, showing nothing. Then, suddenly, her lips twisted
into a smirk. “Sick and twisted…isn’t that what you like about me?” Her voice
was almost playful now. “Twisted Aaron of the terrible scars and the blackest
mind…and as for ice, well, I haven’t melted yet, have I? Although it’s not like
you didn’t try your best…and failed.”

Then she kissed
me with sharp teeth that bit and a tongue that ruled my mouth as she fucked it
ruthlessly. Her hands pulled at my clothes but all I could process was that
tongue penetrating me like she owned everything. My cock didn’t seem to mind
half as much as my mind did though as it pressed against my jeans, dying for
release and to be
in
her. I felt her grin, just before my pants were
tugged down. Her mouth left mine as she dropped to her knees before me, pulling
down my underwear so my hardon sprang free. She was eye level with it,
inspecting it, still with that evil smirk on her face. Slowly she lifted one
hand to stroke along its length ever so gently.