Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(75)
Here’s the thing about life: most of time, you’re in motion, so you don’t really know what’s happening around you. You are simply reacting to situations, and that’s why it is said that your life is actually nothing but a collection of your decisions. But sometimes, life is more than that. Sometimes, it’s a puzzle that falls into place with a click. Everything made sense now.
Pam and Artem had never been married. Therefore, Jesse was a Carter, not an Omeniski.
Artem had cheated on Pam with my mother, tearing Jesse’s family apart.
Artem was loved and adored by Jesse, and Darren hated him, or the idea of him. Consequently, he knew that I was the bastard child Artem had taken under his wing all those years ago. That’s actually how my mom and Artem had met. Around middle school, he’d gotten assigned to make sure I wasn’t going to grow up to be a serial killer or something, and we had weekly meetings. They’d wanted a Russian-speaking social worker I’d feel comfortable with, and I did. We hit it off. He’d come to our house. Eaten from our plates. Taught me shit. And my mother was always warm, perceptive, beautiful, and soft-spoken. They had similar values and thoughts and culture. I couldn’t fault him for cheating on Pam. Hell, he’d probably stuck around just to be in Jesse’s life. Who knew what Pam would have been capable of if he’d left?
“So you wanted to get back at Artem through me?” I rubbed my chin. “Are you aware of the fact that you can’t hurt dead people? They’re kind of beyond that.”
Darren shrugged. “Still. Jesse loved the bastard so much. He didn’t deserve all this admiration.”
“Did you kill him?” As far as everyone knew, Artem had fallen down the stairs and died in the office building where he’d worked. Broken neck. His death sounded too convenient. Darren stared at me with confusion. “I’m not a killer.”
“So Vicious was a part of this plan,” I said, trying to make sure all the pieces of the puzzle were neatly placed. Darren shook his head. “He helped you get to me.”
I thought about the meeting with Vicious all those months ago. About how he’d directed me to Darren. The latter shook his head.
“I met Baron at the country club a few months ago. Knew you were going to ask him if he wanted in on the deal because you look up to him. Everyone in this rancid town knows that you’re the next heir in line for the title of king. So I casually mentioned that I was looking to invest in local business. He didn’t know of my plan for you—he simply took the bait.”
“And how do you think Jesse is going to react when she finds out about this?” I gritted out.
“That’s the beauty of our situation.” He smiled, stretching his arms wide. “You would never tell her anything, unless you want to be drowning in debt for the rest of your miserable life. Everything I did was for Jesse. Artem was a vile man. I knew that from the moment I laid my eyes on Pam and Jesse all those years ago. I wanted to give Jesse the life she never would have gotten. And I did. But after Jesse was attacked by those boys, I needed to find a way to lure her back into reality. You were perfect. Beautiful, boyish, and most importantly—openly for sale.” He stopped, his eyes darting to my face. I didn’t even offer a tick of a jaw, looking blasé as ever. He continued cautiously. “I knew you’d be able to slay her demons for the right price, and I was eager to pay it. I thought it could go two ways—either you would fulfill your part of the deal and let her go quietly, because let’s admit it, a girl like Jesse is simply too good for a punk like you.” He hitched a shoulder, smirking. “Or you would break the contract, in which case, not only would I be preventing Artem’s favorite bastard from getting his precious SurfCity, but I would also be owed some serious money. Now, here is what’s going to happen—you are going to walk out of my office and end it with Jesse. Tell her you don’t want a relationship, and that she can still keep the job at Café Diem. Erase her contact from your phone. Ignore her texts. Leave her alone. Do all this, and consider us square. Disobey, and you’re in big trouble. Millions of problems, to be exact.”
There’s an unwritten rule about confrontation. The last one to speak usually won. Or, at the very least, the last one to speak normally didn’t lose. I wanted to be that person, so I did the only thing I saw fit. I smiled, like he’d just offered me a deal that was way too easy to refuse, when in reality, I knew that I was no longer drowning in deep shit. I was already half-dead.
I sent a hand to his neck, running my fingers through his tie, then yanking the tip. Hard. Not to choke him, but enough to show him that I could. And that I would, if need be. My face was so close to his, I saw the panic swimming in his pupils. He may have faked a lisp, but he couldn’t fake bravery. He was scared. Rightly so.
“I think you didn’t take one thing into consideration, Morgansen. I grew up here. I know this place. I am the place. You may have the money, but not the respect. Or the friends. Or the connections. You have zero power over me, and if you think I will cower and bow down to you, get lawyered up right now.” I let go of his tie, letting him drop like a sack of potatoes back to his executive chair, gagging a little. I paced to the door, easy, unconcerned, and smiling, though I felt none of those things. I stopped at the threshold and turned around. “You messed with the wrong motherfucker, Darren.”
“Dump her.”