Page 10 of Wicked Deceit
“My boys,” I whisper through the heavy emotions clogging my throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut so hard that pain blooms behind my eyes. They were in the car after those assholes attacked me. Their heads were limp and lifeless, and their eyes weren’t open. What the hell happened to them?
“I’m right here, Angel,” a familiar deep, emotion-filled voice responds from a few inches away, startling me out of my wicked nightmare.
Relief washes through me at the sight of him alive and well. Bruises linger around his neck, dipping down onto his chest, hidden by his shirt. A large cut over his right clavicle with blackish-bluish color tints his beautifully tattooed skin. His fingers gently squeeze my leg, reassuring me of his presence again, and my body melts into the bed. One of them is safe—hurt—but alive, and I sag in relief.
“Seger,” I gasp, looking him up and down. He locks eyes with my mom, and she pecks my cheek, taking a step back.
Tears fall down my face when he leans over the bed, gently pressing his face into my bruised neck. His shoulders shake, jolting his entire body, and warm tears fall onto my skin.
“We were so fucking worried,” he mutters into my throbbing neck through violent sobs. “So—fucking—” he gasps out, lightly clinging to me like he’ll never see me again.
I cling to him like a lifeline. I almost lost him—them. My fingers clutch his t-shirt, begging him never to leave my side again. I never want to feel the helplessness I felt inside the car.
“Where’s Zepp?” I ask, moving my aching free hand through his brown locks, soothing every ounce of sadness from his body. He lifts his head, resting his forehead lightly against mine, only pulling back when I wince from the pain of his skin against mine. I must have bruises everywhere with the amount of aches throbbing through every inch of me.
“He stepped out an hour ago with your other boyfriends to grab some food.” My eyes widen when I look at my smug-looking mother uttering a phrase I never thought I’d hear her say.
She smirks, looking down at her phone, undoubtedly conducting business from my bedside. “It’s been almost two days since your accident, Sweet Pea. We’ve gotten to know each other very well. Plus, you had some very interesting facts to catch me up on while you’re all hopped up on truth serum.”
“Almost t-two days ago?” I swallow hard, thinking back to my last memory. How could two days disappear without a trace? The last thing I remember is……. The wreck and some staticy images coming through. And that voice… God that voice. But two days? I’ve been in and out for two days with no recollection?
I look back at Seger’s grimacing face, and he nods. “You had some pretty interesting things to say while on pain medication,” Seger mutters, looking away from me as quickly as he can. Pain medicine? I can’t remember. And two whole fucking days of my loose lips without a filter? Fuck. I’m so fucked.
Every ounce of color I possess fades away, leaving me an empty, pale ghost. Even the bruises lining my flesh evacuate, running as fast as they can away from here. Dear God, where’s a hole in the ground when you need one? Because I could use it to swallow me whole.
“What—Oh, God! What did I say?” I mutter in a shrill, frantic voice, looking between the two of them. Forget what happened to me and why my arm is suddenly in a bright blue, clunky cast. I need to know I didn’t utter all the damn secrets I’ve kept from them.
“You’re lucky I like them,” my mother says again, setting her phone down. “They seem like good boys. I had to shove them out a few times and remind them to eat and bathe. They were starting to stink.” She snorts, rubbing her temples.
“I’ll tell you later,” Seger whispers, shaking his head. A small smile forms on his lips like he’s thinking about what I said, and he can’t help himself.
I really, really hope I didn’t go into detail. LikeDETAIL-detail! Shit! The last thing I need is to tell my mom about—gulp—my five ways. Or the backdoor sex I seem to enjoy. I look at Seger with desperate eyes, but he shakes his head, covering his mouth so I can’t see him laughing at me. He’s laughing at me now, turning his back with shaking shoulders. I frown. Whatever I said was funny or incredibly embarrassing. I’m leaning more toward the embarrassing side of things, considering Seger can’t look at me now without snickering.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t—I don’t remember what happened. There’s some things, but nothing……” I say in a small voice, forcing Seger to turn back to me. He clasps my good hand in his, leaning down carefully to kiss my knuckles. His warm breaths blow across my skin, and I slump into the bed. “What day is it?”
The urge to spill what happened after the accident, at least the things I can remember, sits on the tip of my tongue. But if my mom finds out, she’ll pull me from school to protect me. Even with my life on the line, I can’t back out now. Maggie needs me to solve this, and so do all the others that these psychos have killed. They’re depending on me to serve them justice because they don’t have a voice anymore. No one can do this but me and my guys. Even if it kills me, I’ll solve this once and for all. That’s what I came here for, and I’m so close to bringing these dickbags down, I can taste it.
“Neither do we,” he whispers with sadness, running a careful finger down my aching cheek. “And it’s Monday afternoon.”
“From the way they found the accident, Sweet Pea—” My mom’s lips roll together in a tight line. Tension fills her face, but she lets it all go with a long sigh. “It was a hit and run, possibly a drunk driver. By the look of the damage to the car, someone did a number on you guys.” She shakes her head, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “They called me late and a state police officer drove by the site and immediately called an ambulance. Oh, baby—” A lone tear falls on her cheek. “They found you thrown outside the car, broken, and your arm. You had surgery two days ago to put it back into place.” She nods toward the cast on my arm, confirming my fears.
I was riding in the Porsche with the twins in the darkness of the windy roads, coming back from the West mansion. The waves crashed below us, and a car rammed into the back of our vehicle like a crazy person. They shoved us off the road, and then…. Shivers work up my spine, remembering how creepy the dark, deserted road was. But after that? It’s bits and pieces. I barely remember what they did to me. Their murmured voices. Shadows in the rainbow clouds. Masks glaring down at me. But what happened?
“You’ve been in and out for almost two days,” my mom states with a tired, tight smile. “I’m glad you’re awake now. Your dad would be here, too, but he’s on a job in New York. He sends his love, and wants to Facetime as soon as you wake up.”
“Two days?” I breathe again, still baffled that it’s been almost two whole days lost to nothing but darkness and muttered confessions.
“Yeah,” Seger winces. “Angel, you have a concussion and a broken arm. It looked like someone beat you up with the bruising on your face and your fu-friggin nose.” A hiccup in his voice breaks my heart in half. He clears his throat, wiping away the evidence of his emotions. Tears swim in his eyes again as he leans down to peck my cheek, lingering against my flesh.
“I love you, Angel,” he murmurs against my cheek, reluctant to pull away.
“Love you, too,” I breathe, snuggling into his palm. I close my eyes, reveling in the comfort of his touch, finally breathing for the first time since I opened my eyes.
I shiver when rogue images of the boys in the front seats, held captive by the masked assailant, flash through my mind. Their evil faces stared back at me, sneering in my direction. Their taunts and laughs echo in my mind in splintered and broken images, leaving me to wonder if it was real. Or if my mind is making up all these crazy images because I can’t fully remember what happened. And why am I remembering this so well and the Seger can’t? What the hell is happening?
My breath shudders in my chest, and bile burns at the back of my throat. It seeps onto my tongue, distorting my taste. My mouth fills with saliva, my stomach twisting and writhing in knots. Vomit forces itself up my esophagus, burning my nose, and watering my eyes.
