Get Bent (23 page)

“What are you even going on about you crazy bitch?” I ask her, staring at the knife in terror. I can't go to prison. I can't. And if this gets traced back to me, it's not hard to connect the dots. Stabbed foster parents, stabbed a rabid fan, stabbed a cop.
Fuck. Fuck.
And … “FUCK!” I shout so loud that some of the crowd does glance this way. I duck down.

“This shit is
big
and
old
and it's not even our faults, but we're suffering for it. That's it, Naomi. That's all I know. If you want to learn more, ask your crazy incest foster fucks.”

I just stare at the crown of her head while she hangs limp in Turner's arms and lets her chin fall to her chest. He, on the other hand, glares at me over her shoulder, dark eyes sparkling with
I told you so
and loads and loads of machismo. His blue-black hair shimmers like a raven's feathers.

“What did you just say?” I ask, removing the can of mace and stuffing it in my back pocket. The knife goes in the sweater and my mind belatedly wonders how the shit I've gotten away with carrying this crap around. The guards might be there, but they certainly haven't stopped me to see if I'm packing. “What the
fuck
do you mean by that?” I snarl, getting in close and grabbing her hair the same way she grabbed mine the other day. Admittedly, that feels pretty good.

“Eric and Katie,” Hayden says and my blood chills. “She's fucking pregnant with his baby. Told me herself.” My stomach lurches painfully.
No.
“Crazy incest screw up
freaks.
I don't want to be a part of this, but if I stop, they blow my cover and take me down with you. I don't want that, Naomi. I want to sing forever.”

“Just shut up!” I whisper fiercely. I look at Turner, but he's just wrinkling his face in horror. Fat load of help he is. I look back in the direction the cop ran and have no clue what to do about that. My mind is on overload right now, about to crack in half and spill my crazy out into the eerily still air of the afternoon. Hayden has no idea what she's just implied. If Katie really is pregnant with Eric's baby, it's not by choice.
The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I throw up in my mouth and swallow it back down.

“We should take this somewhere else,” Turner says, glancing over his shoulder. There's a large group of people heading straight towards us.

“I stabbed a cop,” I say. Turner releases Hayden with a shove and puts a boot to her ass. She goes down hard and kisses the pavement. I notice she doesn't try to get up.

“No, you didn't,” he tells me, looking into my face, studying me, desperate to see what I'm up to behind the shades. “That's bullshit. You weren't even here.”

“Where was I then?”

Turner looks down at Hayden.

“You're missing, remember?” He pokes at Hayden's ass with his foot and I'm happy to see that it jiggles.
Flabby ass little cunt.

“Why is a cop involved?” I ask her as she drags herself to her knees. I really, really hope there isn't some sort of inside police corruption bull going on here. This better just be a surface scratch.

“He's a friend of Eric's. Your brother has money, you know? Lots of it. Money makes people do crazy things. That's all I know, really. I'm an outsider who made a terrible mistake and I'm paying for it everyday.”

“You're more full of shit than a Porta-Potty,” Turner growls, kicking aside the cigarette I dropped from my lips without even realizing it. “You're going to tell us what's going on here. Everything. From floor to fucking ceiling, and you're going to smile while you're doing it.”

“Or what?” Hayden asks, getting snippy and rising to her feet with a smirk plastered on her bloody face. “You'll make me suffer through another horrible fuck? First time was bad enough, thanks.” Turner laughs, harsh and echoing. People are definitely noticing him now. Not good.

“Baby,” he says, cruelty lacing his every word. “I don't even
remember
your ass. You're too damn skinny and you have a bad fucking attitude. Thanks but no thanks. You can banish that little fantasy.” I watch curious faces start to move down the hill. The group approaching us already has their cell phones at the ready. “You're going to tell us or we're going to plaster that picture of you across the web.”

Hayden doesn't stop smirking. She just gets a nastier look and shoves past us, moving around the side of the chain link fence toward the back gate. The crowd really gets a good look at her now, covered in blood, tits bouncing as she starts into a jog. They follow and we run.

“I feel strangely violated,” I say, panting and pulling off the hood of my sweater. The knife comes out next and goes straight into the sink. I start searching in the cabinets for cleaning supplies, but either a mythical cleaning fairy visits here regularly or Indecency hires that shit out. “This murder/kidnapping thing is doing wonders for our careers.” I grab some dish soap and cover the blade in it, scrubbing at the metal with quivering fingers.

Hayden slumps down in a chair and lets Dax clean her up with paper towels, once again refusing to lift a damn finger for herself. He's too nice. I have no clue why he does it. Ronnie leans against the door after locking it and shakes his head.

“I want to hear all about this shit,” he says with a massive sigh. “And I've got to give you the latest gossip.” He points at Hayden. “First off though, who invited this girl?”

“She's our hostage,” Turner says, grabbing towels from the back and throwing them on the table. He watches as I pull of the sweater and throw it in the sink, filling it with soapy water and hitting that bitch like it owes me money. “Until she explains why she tried to attack Naomi. With the help of a cop.”

“Aw, man,” Ronnie groans, hand to his face. “The cops are involved? This is not going to turn out well for us.”

I glance over my shoulder and watch as Dax stands up and backs away from Hayden like he's never seen her before. She's been carrying a torch for him for years, so I imagine that's gotta hurt. I shake the soap bubbles from my hands and rinse my arms under the cool tap, turning away and letting the fabric soak.

“I don't have a choice,” she repeats for the hundredth fucking time.

“We always have a fucking choice,” Turner growls, moving to the fridge and grabbing a beer. When he hands me one, I don't protest.

“But they're not always good,” Hayden whispers, looking at Dax with a resigned sigh. She peels her shirt over her head and slaps the bloody monstrosity on the table. She gets up and wets one of the towels, scrubbing at her tits and not caring who's looking. In fact, I think she likes the attention. “Sometimes, you get shit held over your head and your choices are so limited, you make the wrong ones, okay?”

“No sympathy bullshit. Doesn't kick in for like, seventy-two hours. Make this count.” Turner sips his beer and I take a step closer to him. It's unconscious, but there it is. He may not be the best knight in shining armor, but he's trying. That's what counts. I don't need anybody to save me anyway.
Naomi,
my mind warns.
Don't let him trap you. Men like this are bad news.
I take a conscious step away.

“You want the play by play?” she asks, but nobody answers, so she starts off on her rant, scrubbing at her bloody nipple with angry motions. “After that stupid bloody bird
thing,
I get some weird messages from this girl who says she knows more than just Naomi's dirt. She tells me to meet her, so I do when we're in Denver.” Hayden stops attacking her boob and runs her tongue along the inside of her cheek. “I get there and they fucking knock me out. I don't see who does it. Then I wake up in a room, tied and drugged. A few days pass and Eric shows up. He takes my blindfold off and tells me that he's sorry, but that he needs my help.” Hayden sniffles again. I want to shake the shit out of her, watch the pieces of this story fall to the floor and shatter, open up and reveal themselves. Instead, I just stand there and clench my fists tight. Behind me, Turner moves and ends up pressing against my back. I pretend that my cunt doesn't moisten as fast as a flick of the tongue across the lips. Not exactly the most appropriate time for a screw.

“He tells me that he'll make me a deal.” Hayden swallows. “He only wants two things, he says. Katie and Naomi.” Hayden takes a massive breath and her ribs poke out of her skin. She really is anorexic, I think. Despite my constant insults, I never really believed it was true. Right now though, she looks all skin and bones.
Eric.
I knew, somehow, that he was behind all of this shit. I knew it, knew it, knew it, but I didn't want to believe it. What happened to the kid I shared flasks with under the stars? He turned into his parents? How? Why? When? My head fucking hurts. “But he said there were other people involved and that if I wanted to walk out of there alive, I'd play along and they'd leave me alone. He said I was one of their targets, but that he could get them off my back if I helped out. So I did. And I am. I. Don't. Know. Shit. Don't ask me who the other parties involved are or what they want. So, I'm sorry for what I did. I really wanted to save Naomi, okay? I was going to figure out a way to help her without putting my ass on the line. Right now, Eric is pissed, and I'm afraid of him.” She grabs the countertop and curls her fingers around the edge. “I said it. There. I'm
terrified
right now, and you all should be, too.” Finally. Some fucking honesty from her.

“Why?” Ronnie asks, moving up the steps and pausing with his eyes on Hayden. Dax stays silent and Turner growls low in his throat, like he can feel the storm brewing in the sky and even worse, here on the ground.

“Because,” Hayden whispers, keeping her eyes on the pink water in the sink. “Eric said the other targets,” she pauses and looks around the room. “Are all of you.”

Night falls on the camp and the weather gets real weird, real fast. Hail storms from the sky like a torrent of tiny soldiers, pummeling the metal of the bus and pinging off the sides. It coats the ground in ice and traps us on the bus with our thoughts.

Naomi and I sit together alone in the back, quietly playing a game of cards and nursing some beers. We've been talking for hours, her and me and Ronnie and Dax. Indecency and Amatory Riot. We're the targets. Not just Naomi, but
all
of us. I think about the baseball cap and wonder who sent it. Eric? Or somebody else?

“At least we know where the guitar came from,” Naomi says as she slams an ace down on the tabletop. “From Eric. My foster brother and own, personal stalker. Wonder if he sent the doll head, too?”

I don't respond, but I do watch the way Naomi's lips move when she talks, how they form syllables with rolling motions that remind me of much dirtier things. After a few moments of silence, she sighs and drops her hand to the table.

“God, I'm exhausted,” she moans, running her fingers up her throat, bringing my cock to attention without even realizing she's doing it.
Shit, this girl is toxic.
I want to get poisoned and die between her beautiful thighs. “I can't even begin to untangle this shit. There's too much. Eric's paying cops off with money from God knows where, blackmailing people,
fucking
his little sister. Shit.” Naomi drops her arms to the table and lays her head on them. “Let's talk about something else for awhile, anything else.”

“We could leave the talk out and go for something deeper,” I tell her, knowing that I sound like an asshole, but unable to hold it back. I'm not going to lie, the information we got from Hayden, from Ronnie, from that girl, Spencer. It's a lot. It needs to be mulled over, but it's hard to focus on that when I'm tired as fuck and twice as horny.

Naomi ignores me.

“Turn out the light and tell me a fucking story.”

“I don't like being bossed around, Knox,” I tell her, but I'm only half-serious. We shared a joint earlier, so I'm calm. Enough. I spin in the bench and use my boot to knock down the switch, plunging that tiny room in shuttered darkness. I lean back and let my head smack against the cushions with a sigh. For awhile, the only sound is the violent crash of ice cascading from the dreary sky.