Bane (Sinners of Saint #4)(86)

Click.

Remember this picture, Jesse.

“You can stay home today. Hannah will make you breakfast,” she said coldly. “I have a session with my trainer and then lunch at the country club, but I’ll be back to check on you after. Congrats,” she snorted, her voice cracking a little. “You’re a woman now.”

That day, I started taking pictures of people’s backs. Hannah’s. Then Pam’s. Then Mrs. Belfort’s, when she went out to her maze, and I watched her through my bedroom window.

And that night, my first nightmare occurred.

Click.

He plastered his forehead to mine.

I didn’t move.

He stood up.

I didn’t move.

He looked down.

I didn’t move.

He said, “Fuck”—the first and last time I heard him curse.

I started to cry.

I tucked that memory somewhere safe and took a picture of Darren’s office door.

Never remember this picture, Jesse.





I CRAWLED BACK TO GAIL’S apartment later that night. I was covered in sand and tears and snot, and looked less than picture-ready. Somewhere along the river of memories flooding in, I’d fallen to my knees again going up the stairs from the beach to the promenade. I was bleeding. I didn’t even realize that I was until I scraped Gail’s front door like a desperate stray cat, my throat burning with thirst. She swung it open and looked down, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

“Jesse!”

She dragged me in and threw me into her bathtub while my clothes were still on. I couldn’t stop crying and clawing at my face. I wanted so badly to get back at them. All of them.

Darren.

Pam.

Emery.

Nolan.

Henry.

Even Roman. I wanted to make them suffer and watch as they did, and not spare them the mercy they hadn’t shown me. As I was planning the mass destruction of other people’s lives, Gail was peeling the heavy wet clothes off of me and taking off her sneakers. Between gasps and sniffs, I could hear her talking on the phone. It was pressed between her shoulder and ear.

“…yeah. She won’t be coming to work tomorrow.”

Bane.

Pause.

“No. Don’t come here.”

Pause.

“Why? Because you’re a fucking asshole, Bane. That’s why. I don’t know what you did to her, but she’s a mess. You’re not allowed to come here.”

Pause.

“No. You can’t talk to her, either.”

Pause.

“If you come here, I will call the police, and I don’t care that you’re my boss. You’re not allowed anywhere near her until she says so. I don’t think you understand, Roman. She is not okay.”

Pause.

“I’m not telling her that.”

Pause.

“Because she needs to hear it from you.”

She hung up, tossing her phone into the sink. I clung to her arms, pulling myself up to look at her. I couldn’t see her through the curtain of tears. She was a shadow, much like all the other things I’d loved and lost.

“Thank you,” I croaked.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub, running her hand through my wet hair. I pressed my face into her palm, naked and vulnerable.

“You need to tell me what happened,” Gail said.

I did.





Jesse

I know.



Darren

???



Jesse

About you. About Pam. About everything. I remember.





She knew.

Knew about Artem.

Knew about the deal. The contract. The betrayal. And everything in between.

She knew, and now it was my time to pull every fucking resource and connection I had to make sure that this shit was fixed.

I couldn’t sleep that night, so I settled for driving to El Dorado, climbing that gate and knocking on Darren’s door. I was half-wishing he’d call the police on me, because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that fists would be flying. Pam opened the door, and I stared at her with a mixture of disgust and disdain.

“Out of my way.” I brushed past her, rolling my sleeves up and shutting her door with my foot. Pam was feeling adventurous, because she decided to throw her body at me. I raised my palms to make sure it was known and seen by every camera in the fucking house that I didn’t touch her, but stepped sideways to watch her tumble and fall on her ass.

She jumped up again, zipping after me.

“Wait! Where are you going? What are you doing? He’s in his office! Don’t go there.” As you can see, she wasn’t the sharpest pencil in the pack, because now I didn’t even have to actively look for him. I headed up the stairs straight to Darren, Pam at my heels like an eager puppy. I gave her three warnings before turning around and pushing her against the wall. It wasn’t violent or anything, but the message hit home like a grenade.

“Touch me again and I swear your husband will not have one tooth left in his mouth,” I growled, then threw the door to Darren’s office open.

He sat behind his desk, holding his head in his hands. He was shaking with violent sobs, and that threw me off. I’d never seen a man cry like this, even though I had seen men cry in general. Artem had cried watching Disney films, for God’s sake.