Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(82)

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. I’d never seen him like this. Sweaty. Red. Angry. It’s like he’d lost control over himself. His suit was wrinkly, his hair sticking out in every direction, and there were black circles under his eyes. Now that I thought about it—really thought about it—Darren never quite looked like he had his shit together. But lately…lately he looked even worse. The crumpled clothes. The fidgeting. The long hours in his office. He was falling apart.

Was he ever put together?

“Because I care about you, Jesse. All the things I did, I did because I care about you. I never knew he’d touch you.”

“No.” I pushed his chest, and he stumbled back, his mouth falling in shock. “Why did you marry my mother? You don’t even love her. Hell, you hardly ever speak to her. Why do we live with you? I don’t even acknowledge your existence most of the time. Why do you interfere with my life? Why would you hire Bane? And a private investigator? Why, Darren? Why, why, why?”

He stared at me, an ocean of emotions swimming in his eyes. There was something he wanted to say. Something he knew better than to utter aloud.

“Tell me!” I stomped my foot, allowing the tears to fall down now.

“Because I love you.”

I sniffed, smiling bitterly. “Don’t take it personally, Darren, but I hate you. I hate you and I hate your mansion and I hate El Dorado and Todos Santos. I hate the entitled assholes who rule this town, and the fakers, and the too-trimmed lawns, and the too-shiny mall. I hate that you’re trying to fix me. I hate that your wife is a bitch. I hate that your wife is my mom.” But most of all, I hated Roman Protsenko for giving me hope and then taking it away. For giving me a false future, but also for taking the one thing that mattered. My dad. I pushed Darren again so I could climb into my Rover and leave.

The slap came out of nowhere, landing square on my cheek. It was so hard it echoed in my ear for seconds later. I had to blink to make things blur back into focus.

“Oh. Oh, Jesse, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…I never meant to…”

He held his palms up, trying to peel my hands off my face so he could take a look at what he’d done, but it was too late. I was going to run over the bastard if I had to. I hopped into my vehicle, locked the door quickly, and started the engine. I bolted out of there like a bat out of hell, getting out of the neighborhood first, and rolling onto the main road leading into downtown Todos Santos.

It was only at the traffic light, when I stared at the bright red circle on my face, that the penny dropped.

Darren hadn’t had a lisp.

And he smelled of vodka.





FIFTEEN MISSED CALLS FROM DARREN.

Eight missed calls from Bane.

Five missed calls from Pam.



Darren

Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I snapped. I apologize. Please come back.

Bane

?



Darren

We can work this out. Worse things have happened. My own father used to belt me when I was a kid. It’s no excuse for what I did, but it happens.



Bane

Snowflake, where you at?



Darren

Jesse, please call back.



Pam

You’re not ruining this for me, you little bitch, so you better drag your skinny ass back to El Dorado, because Darren is going crazy and we need to sort this out.




I couldn’t face any of them, but I also had nowhere to go.

Mrs. B was in El Dorado, the last place I wanted to be, so that was out of the question.

Instead, I crashed at Gail’s. She lived in one of the pink-yellow villas on the promenade. Gail was understanding. She didn’t call me a freak when I asked for her sneakers and yoga pants and announced that I was going for a run on the beach before I’d even dumped my backpack in her living room.

“I wish I had the urge to run every time I was anxious, as opposed to polishing off an entire tub of Chunky Monkey.” She sighed dramatically, smiling to herself.

Of course, I didn’t tell her what it was about. I just turned off my phone and asked that if Bane called, to tell him I was not there. She thought my problems were boy-stuff, so she wasn’t too anxious.

“He’s my boss, Jesse.”

“I know,” I said.

“And he’s crazy about you. He would kill me. Do you want me dead?”

I looked at her flatly.

She rolled her eyes. “You better give me a hell of a eulogy, bitch.”

Taking the stairs three at the time, I poured out to the salty fresh air of the promenade and started running. I plugged my headphones in, needing to drown the demons in my head. “Can You Feel My Heart” by Bring Me the Horizon poured through the earbuds. I put all the pieces together. Everything Darren had said and all the things Roman had probably wanted to explain before Darren beat him to it.

SurfCity.

Six-month contract.

Six million dollars.

To coax me out of my shell.

Like I was a fucking crab.

For him to throw into the boiling water while still alive.

Put on a plate.

Crack. Break. Devour.

Nausea crawled from the pit of my stomach up to my throat, but I didn’t slow down. No. I ran faster, feeling my hot tears flying in the air beside me. They felt so hot on my cold face.