Sugar Rush Page 5

  He drops his head with a loud sigh and curls one hand around the back of my neck. He tips his face until his forehead rests against mine. "I'm so fucking sorry this happened to you, Sela. I'll help make this right, I swear it. I'm going to make JT pay for what he did."

  I don't say anything for a moment, letting Beck continue to take deep breaths while the gravity of everything he just learned settles in. Finally, he lifts his head slightly, grazes his lips against my forehead, and asks, "Why were you in my office?"

  Taking him by the hand again, I lead him back over to the couch. I think he needs to be sitting for the rest of my story, because I know it's going to piss him off.

  After a slight push, he sits back down, but rather than straddle his lap again, I sit my butt on the coffee table, directly across from him. Our knees brush against each other, a comforting touch. Still, I remain poised and alert for him to flip out on me again.

  "When I learned that JT was one of my rapists, I became obsessed with revenge. I considered only briefly going to the police, but it didn't hold any appeal to me because I couldn't be sure my word would hold up against his. My memory was so riddled with holes, and I'm only reasonably certain of the pieces I do remember. You have to realize, for years I thought those flashes weren't even real. I thought they were just products of my imagination...nightmares so to speak. Because my memory was unreliable as evidence, I wasn't confident I could get justice, and besides...it would only be justice against JT. I wanted to know who the other two were."

  "So you thought to confront him that night we met?" Beck asks with raised eyebrows. "Just thought you'd walk up, introduce yourself as the woman he raped, and he was going to admit to it?"

  "No," I say softly, and resist the urge to drop my gaze. "I was going to get him alone and I was going to make him tell me while I pointed a gun at his face."

  Beck's jaw drops.

  "Then I was going to put a bullet in his brain," I say with deadly promise.

  "You're fucking kidding me," he whispers in disbelief.

  "I'm not," I assure him. "I was obsessed with it. I was going to torture him with the fear of dying, then I was going to rid the world of his evil. Then I was going to find the other two men and give them the same retribution."

  "Sela," Beck admonishes, refusing to believe I could be so cold-blooded.

  "Don't," I say sharply. "Don't judge me in a place you could never hope to stand. You can never begin to understand what those monsters did to me."

  Beck shakes his head adamantly, leans forward, and places his hands on my thighs. "No, I'm not judging your intent or your desire. I want to kill him myself. But I can't let you do something that would stain your soul. Christ, you could get arrested for murder and get sent to prison."

  "I know," I whisper. "And I changed my mind eventually. I decided to give up my quest."

  "When?" he prompts.

  "When I let you into my body without a condom," I murmur, and watch as his eyes go soft and tender. "When I gave my full trust to you. I knew that you were more important than my revenge, and I didn't want to lose it."

  A low whistle of breath comes out of Beck's lips, but then he tilts his head to the side in confusion. "But then why were you in my office? You said it was about JT."

  Now I drop my gaze, because this is the part I'm embarrassed to admit. If there is one stumbling block remaining between what Beck and I could have for a future, it's right here.

  Placing my hands over his, I swallow hard and look back up at him. "That night we went to dinner with JT. I saw how happy you were. I knew all the shit he was handing you was nothing but shit. He was putting on an act, making you believe you chose wisely in a friend and partner. He was the total opposite with me in the limo. He belittled and taunted me. I saw the way you laughed and told stories and jokes with JT, knew it was a fucking act, and it pissed me off. While I think to some extent I logically knew that didn't change your feelings about me, it did renew my fury against him. I just...snapped. Suddenly, I wanted revenge again. I wanted him out of my life so I wouldn't have to suffer another fucking dinner and sit across from the table with your business partner--the man that raped me--while making polite conversation. I wanted him out of your life. I wanted to free you from his poison and then you'd have control of The Sugar Bowl, and then finally...finally, you and I could have the life we were meant to have. Together. So I decided to go through with my plan and I was looking in your office for anything that would help me accomplish it. I scored by getting his home address."

  I finish with a shuddering breath, waiting to see what Beck will do. I don't know if he can understand just how easily I was swayed again toward revenge and murder, but I don't know if I will be able to handle it if he can't accept my weaknesses.

  A look comes over Beck's face, one filled with anguish and fatigue. He pulls one hand out from under mine and scrubs it over his face. His eyes dart to the right and he takes a deep breath, and when they slide back my way, what he tells me next causes my world to tilt.

  "Sela...JT is my brother."

  "What?" I gasp in astonishment as I rear backward.

  "It fucking kills me to even claim we share the same blood, but yeah...he's my brother. Half brother to be exact."

  "I don't understand," I whisper, not able to even fathom this revelation. "I never read anything about that. You've never said anything."

  "No one knows," he says bitterly. "JT doesn't even know. Only my father and his mother. And me, of course."

  "I...I..." Fuck, I'm speechless.

  Beck leans forward, places his hands on my shoulders. His face comes near mine and his eyes pin me in place. "I'm not telling you that to elicit any sympathy for his cause. The fact we share blood isn't going to save him from me. I'm going to make him pay, but you need to know why I really kept giving him chances. I'd all but given up on him as a friend and business partner. That blood tie was the last thin straw that was causing me to give him that one final chance. And yeah...I was fucking taken in by him at dinner that night. He snowed me, apparently, and knowing we share the same blood made it easier for me to fall into it. But not anymore. He's fucking dead to me and I swear I'm going to make him pay."

  Warmth flushes through me over his heated vow. While I definitely want to know more about this blood tie he shares with JT, I'm more interested to know how complicit Beck will become in my plans. I have an avenging angel on my side now, and together we can rid JT from our existence.

  "Will you help me kill him?" I whisper.

  The blood drains from Beck's face, and now he's the one that jerks backward. "Christ, Sela. No, we can't fucking kill JT. We have to go to the police."

  "But you said--"

  He rolls right over me. "I said I'd make him pay. I might beat him senseless first, but then we're going to the police. He's going down for this but we're letting the legal system handle it."

  I try to tamp down the rage that swelters hot within me and I push up from the coffee table until I'm standing over Beck on the couch. "He raped me with two of his buddies. Took away my innocence, held me down while some faceless monster tore my ass up, and then made fun of me when the jizz I didn't swallow was dried to a crust in my hair. He put me in a cab, without a care in the world that he'd be caught, and then he went back inside to party with his friends. I'm sure the only thought that man has given me in the past ten years is to jack off to the memory of what he did to me, and you don't think he deserves to die?"

  "Yes, he deserves to die," Beck says with a hard edge to his voice. "But not at the risk of you getting caught."

  "But we could come up with a plan--"

  "For fuck's sake, Sela," Beck bellows as he stands up from the couch and gets in my face. He's furious, and for the first time during this discussion, it's at me and not himself or JT. "We cannot plot to murder someone. It won't work. We'll get caught."

  I know he's right, and because he's right and killing my dream of revenge with his practicality, I get just as pissed, so I y
ell back at him, "Then just how in the hell are you going to make him pay, Beck? Huh? What grand scheme do you have that could possibly make up for what he did to me?"

  "I don't know," he says tiredly, stepping to the side and around me. I turn my body, keeping my eyes on him as he paces over to the window. He shoves his hands back inside his pockets and his shoulders sag with the weight of what I just placed on him.

  "I can't let it go," I tell him softly, and I hope he hears the resolve in my voice.

  "Neither can I," he says as he stares out over the bay waters. "But I need time to think. To process all of this. I need to figure out how we can avenge you and let me keep The Sugar Bowl intact."

  "Murder," I whisper, even though I know that's not the right answer. Despite wanting JT's blood on my hands--fuck, despite wanting to bathe in his blood--I know there's too much at risk. I know the chances of doing this cleanly and without suspicion are low. I also know that the real reason I know I can't do it is because if I were to get caught, I would lose Beck, and he's the most precious thing in my life. He's just more important than my wanting JT's head on a platter.

  Beck doesn't answer me but he doesn't need to. I suspect his brain is on overdrive right now, trying to figure something out.

  The complete truth is out, and now it's time to destroy JT.

  Sela has two classes at Golden Gate this afternoon. I suggested she skip them because both of us are emotionally wrung out, and figured maybe we could go for a drive up the coast to continue to talk things out. I still had to tell her the details about JT's relation to me, and I assume she wants to know more about Caroline.

  But Sela nixed my idea, adamantly insisting that while we clearly had things to decide and even more things to discuss, that she needed to keep her life normal as well. This ended up being for the best, because it forced me to jump onto the problem of figuring out how to bring JT down. Ideally, I'd like to go to the police and let them handle it. They have DNA, and according to Sela, it's JT's. But I don't know if her word and faulty memory would be enough to make them force a DNA test. And I don't want JT to know we're coming after him. I want to hit him when he doesn't have a chance in hell to protect himself.

  After Sela left, I unlocked my office door and didn't have any intention of locking it again. While we may not see eye to eye on how to handle the situation with JT, I'm going to show her that I don't intend on there being secrets between us ever again.

  Within moments, I had the appropriate folder pulled from my filing cabinet and I was online, logging into the secure server at The Sugar Bowl. A few keystrokes and I was staring at a photo and personal profile of Melissa Fraye, the Sugar Baby JT tried to drug a little over two weeks ago at the mixer. One more tap on my keyboard and I was staring at her phone number and home address. I jotted them down on a yellow sticky pad sitting on my desk and pulled the note off after standing from my desk. Another fifteen minutes to take a quick shower and put on fresh clothes, and I was on my way to visit Melissa Fraye.

  I knock on the apartment door and take a step back so if Melissa is inside, she can see my face clearly through her peephole. I immediately hear footsteps on the other side of the door before it opens a few inches, secured with a chain.

  A woman who is not Melissa Fraye peeks around the edge at me.

  "Is Melissa here?" I ask her.

  "Yeah, just a minute," she says before shutting the door on me, which doesn't bother me in the slightest. This isn't the best neighborhood, so it's not wise to open the door to strange men.

  I wait patiently for a few minutes, then the door opens again, this time fully, and I'm looking at Melissa Fraye as she appraises me. Eyes sliding down, taking in my John Varvatos jeans, Tomas Maier T-shirt that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe, and my Aquatalia suede boots, there's no doubt she knows I'm wearing a fortune in designer clothes, and I know this because by the time her eyes reach me again, I can almost see dollar signs in them.

  "Do you know who I am?" I ask.

  She nods, cocks a hip, and presses it against the edge of the door. "Beckett North."

  "I need to talk to you. Can I come in for a moment?"

  "Of course," she says with a brilliant smile and a nervous flutter of her fingers through her hair. She's a pretty girl and all, but she doesn't have shit on Sela.

  Melissa opens the door and steps aside to give me entrance. I immediately take in the small but clean apartment, decorated in mismatched, used furniture and cheap prints on the walls framed in acrylic. The woman who opened the door stands in the tiny kitchen, hunched over a gossip magazine, chewing gum heavily.

  "We need privacy," I tell Melissa.

  The dollar signs burn brighter and she says, "We can go in my room."

  I don't argue with her. I don't care if we talk here or in her room, and I'm not worried about my virtue. I can handle her, but I do not need prying ears for what I'm about to discuss.

  Melissa's room is messy, with clothes littered all around the floor. She makes a show of kicking a few pieces under her unmade bed as I shut the door behind me.

  "Sorry about all this," she says as she bends to pick up a bra off the floor. She doesn't stuff this under the bed, but instead lays it on top where I guess she wants me to admire the large, pale blue lacy cups or something.

  I don't give it another thought and get straight to the point. "I need to talk to you about the last Sugar Bowl Mixer you attended on the twenty-first."

  Her head tilts at me in curiosity. "I was there. Having a drink with your partner as a matter of fact, but he bailed."

  I nod. "Was that the first time you'd met JT?"

  "Yeah," she said with a fond smile. "Never thought I'd get a shot at him, but he zeroed in on me pretty fast. I really thought something would come out of that, but like I said...he bailed."

  I reach into my back pocket, pull out the copy of the agreement that JT said Melissa signed, and hand it to her. She opens it up, glances at it once, and then looks back up to me with confusion in her eyes.

  "Is that your signature at the bottom?" I ask, nodding my head toward the paper in her hands.

  She peers down at it, brows furrowed, and says, "It looks like it."

  "Did you sign it?"

  Her eyes start flying across the words of the agreement, all the while her brow furrowing deeper and deeper. Finally her eyes raise to mine and the dollar signs are gone. I see a flash of anger as she hands it back to me. "I didn't sign that. Nor would I ever do something like that."

  I take the document from her, shove it back into my pocket. "I didn't think so."

  My stomach churns with the realization that JT was going to rape this woman. He was going to drug her, the way he did Sela, and he was going to do with her whatever he pleased. Fuck, for all I know he's got an entire gang of buddies that rape with him, and I know at least one of them is in our fraternity, because Sela saw his tattoo.

  "What's this about?" she asks suspiciously, her arms now crossing over her chest.

  I had suspected she didn't sign this agreement. On the way over here, I had debated whether or not to tell her the truth of what almost happened to her. On just a quick consideration, it could have been a good play. No doubt she's pissed and I bet she'd want to report this to the police. A criminal investigation would ensue, but then I know what would happen. JT would offer to pay her off and I figure she'd take it and drop the charges.

  So I lie to her, feeling only a slight bit of guilt, which I quickly push away by telling myself I saved her from getting raped. That should be good enough for now.

  "It's a sick-as-fuck prank someone's trying to play on me," I tell her smoothly. "Nothing for you to worry about now that I confirmed you didn't sign this."

  I expect her to question me further. At the very least, after what she read in that document, she should have some concern for her safety. Instead, she just nods and asks, "Would you, um...like to go out and get a drink or something?"

  It takes every effort for me to put an eng
aging smile on my face. "Thank you, Melissa, for that offer. But I actually have somewhere I need to be."

  "Well, maybe some other time," she says desperately as I turn toward her bedroom door.

  "Maybe," I say, just to let her down easy. She's a cute girl. She'll find a real Sugar Daddy soon.

  --

  The minute I'm back in my car but before I turn the ignition, I flip through the contacts on my phone until I find what I'm looking for, and tap the screen to dial.

  He answers on the second ring. "What's up, man?"

  Robert Colling is a fraternity brother of mine, and while he doesn't sport a red phoenix tattoo, we were and still are pretty close. He went on to law school and now handles sleazy and messy divorces here in the Bay Area.

  "Need a favor," I tell him as I start the car.

  The Bluetooth engages and his reply comes over the speakers in my car. "Anything. Lay it on me."

  "I need a recommendation for a good private investigator, and I'd like it to be one with a low moral compass. Not afraid to get his hands a bit dirty."

  Robert whistles into the phone. "Damn, man...what do you have cookin'?"

  "Can't say."

  "Let's pretend I'm your attorney and privilege is invoked. You can tell me."

  "Can't," I say resolutely, "but I'll buy you a beer sometime soon in payment."

  "You suck," he says with a chuckle. "I'll text the information to you as soon as we hang up. I have the perfect guy for you. Highly trustworthy and will do anything you need for the right price."

  "You're the best, man," I say.

  "Just don't call me to bail you out of jail when whatever game plan you have goes south," he warns jokingly.

  "I won't," I say, although he'd probably be the first person I'd call if I got arrested and needed bailing out.

  I disconnect the call and toss the phone onto my passenger seat to wait for his text. Putting my Audi in gear, I check my right passenger mirror, and seeing the street is clear, pull away from the curb. Holding on to the wheel with my right hand, my left comes across my chest and over my shoulder, much the same way it did this morning, and I press my fingers down into the muscles below the top of my tattoo.