Page 118 of Riot Act
My vision doubles, then merges again as I try to breathe through the pain. “For god’s sake, Jonah. Why can’t you just…leave me alone?”
“I don’t like your friend,” he says, ignoring me. “He threatened to call the cops if I didn’t hang out here in New York and wait for him. Said he’d tell them thatmycar dropped you off at the hospital the other night when we had our fun. Said he’d sic his little friend on me and find out all of my dirty secrets. That’s how I knew you hadn’t told him the truth.” Jonah shifts forward. I feel his leering gaze on my skin like a thousand crawling bugs. I feel dirty. Filthy. Sick. “If he knew that I’d fucked you ragged that night,” he croons, tracing his fingers along the line of my jaw, “I don’t think he’d have been making threats. If he knew I’d cut your wrists, he would have come to find me. I could tell he liked you from the way he spoke to me at your stupid fucking school…”
“Stop, Jonah. Just…fuckingstop!”
He doesn’t, though.
“He’s a bully, your Pax Davis. He thinks he can just jab at me and get me to do what he likes? He’s got another thing coming, little sister. Did you know I was meeting him tonight? Did he tell youthat?”
“No!” It makes sense now, though—how angry Pax was when we showed up at his hotel. How he kept trying to bait me, to make me go home. He’s been talking to Jonah, trying to figure out what’s been going on between us, because I made him promise never to ask me again. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone?
Jonah holds the knife tight in one hand, chewing on his thumb nail thoughtfully. “When we’re done here, I’m gonna deal with him next, y’know. I’m gonna gut the piece of shit and pull his insides out. He doesn’t get to threaten me. No one does.”
“There are cameras everywhere,” I say wearily. “Your face has been recorded on all of them. They’re gonna know it was you.”
Jonah lunges forward, grabbing me by the throat. “I’ll be in fucking Mexico before they figure out who I am, you dumb cunt. I have a whole life set up there, waiting for me. Rosarito, baby. I don’t care if I never come back. So long as I finish what I started with you, and I make that fucker pay for his arrogance, I’ll be happy as a pig in shit.”
“And what about…Dad?” I rasp. “He’ll know what you…did.”
“I don’t care anymore. Our father is a weak, sorry excuse of a man. Pathetic. I’m glad that he’ll know it was me.”
“Jonah—”
He shakes me, raising his hand and holding the knife to my eye. The point hovers a millimeter above my pupil. If I so much as blink, he’ll drive the steel straight into my brain. I know there’s no talking him down this time. No sense in bargaining.
“I think I’ll fuck you again, Presley,” Jonah sneers. “For old time’s sake. I’m gonna leave you conscious this time. You can kick and scream all you like. I wanna see the fear in your eyes when I—”
He comes out of nowhere, a roaring streak of black fury. One moment, Jonah’s pinning me to the ground, wielding the blade perilously close to my eye, and the next he’s tumbling off me, slamming hard into the dusty bare concrete next to me.
Pax is living, breathing rage.
He stands over me, his jacket gone, his hat gone. His knuckles are bloody. His normally cold eyes are full of fire. I don’t even recognize him. He looks like he’s about to explode when he turns to me and says, “You’re hurt?”
“No. No, I—” I flinch, sucking in a sharp breath. “Well. My head…”
Pax focuses his attention on Jonah, who’s scrambling to his feet, still clutching the knife in his hand. “You are a fucking dead man,” he says. I can hear the ice in his voice. He speaks calmly, very clearly, but I can tell he’s about to lose control of himself. “Put down the knife.”
“You really are fucking stupid, aren’t you?” Jonah spits. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“You don’t put it down and I’m gonna wind up using it on you, you fucking psycho. AndIwon’t slityourwrists—”
“The hell are you talking about?” Jonah sputters.
“—I’ll shove that thing up your fucking ass and make sure to twist it good.”
Cold shock hits me.He knows. He knows Jonah cut my wrists, not me. Why would he say that otherwise? Pax flares his nostrils as he stalks forward toward Jonah. “Crazy how sound travels in places like this. You’d be amazed at what I just fucking heard,” he spits.
“You don’t know shit,” Jonah laughs. “And you can’tproveanything. I just came down here to make sure Presley was okay. That’s all.” He cackles, and the sound ricochets around the parking garage.
“So you weren’t about to rape your own sister?” Pure, unadulterated hatred drips from Pax’s words. “You weren’t about to force yourself on her and then fucking kill her?”
I thought I’d seen Pax angry before. I haven’t. The veins in his neck, and his arms, and his hands stand proud as he steps toward Jonah. He is something lethal and deadly, something to be feared.
Jonah doesn’t see the brutal desire to kill in Pax’s eyes, though. He darts forward, willing to risk capture to try and skirt around Pax…to get to me. It’s the worst move he could possibly make.
Pax roars as he slams into Jonah. They’re the same build, the same height, but it doesn’t matter. Pax is possessed. He hurls Jonah to the ground, and the two of them tangle into a confusion of arms and legs as they wrestle. Jonah lands a series of blows that look like they hurt, but Pax doesn’t even flinch. He’s a terrifying sight as he shakes off each hit and keeps coming for Jonah. Amongst the chaos, I don’t see the knife. Eventually, I hear it clatter to the ground, and I rush forward, kicking it out of the way so neither of them can use it.
It would be terrible if Jonah used it on Pax.
