Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Page 12

  The air was stifling.

  “I know, but I thought it’d be better if we brought you breakfast instead,” she chirped. “Anyways, I super gotta pee. Babe, can you get the muffins from the bag?”

  “Of course,” he replied happily.

  His voice sent chills down my spine.

  This was the way he spoke as Max.

  Darcy thanked him and walked down the hall off the kitchen, towards the first-floor bathroom.

  I was now all alone with him.

  “What kind would you like? We got blueberry, chocolate chip, chocolate, and banana muffin. Darcy told me you were eating for two, so I grabbed a few different kinds.”

  I instinctively placed a hand on the small bump I was sporting, wishing I could hide it from his penetrating stare.

  “What are you doing?” I questioned through my teeth.

  “I’m offering you a muffin. Pick one.”

  “Banana,” I answered as calmly as I could, making it a point to focus on the pattern in my breakfast bar.

  The bag rustled, followed by the tearing of a paper towel. A muffin appeared in front of me, a familiar ring beside it.

  How did he get this back? I’d left it attached to the severed finger in my freezer, eventually coming clean to Reynolds about it.

  “You look so beautiful, Rosie,” Con murmured quietly. He placed the muffin down beside me and ran a gentle hand through my hair. “Please don’t be scared. I’m not here to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again.”

  I wasn’t buying that for a second. And why was he so close to me? Darcy could come back at any second.

  “Why Darcy?” I continued to speak low, listening for the sound of the toilet flushing or running water.

  “That’s the only way I could stay close to you, through your closest friend. We won’t need her anymore after tonight. I—”

  I jerked, hopping off my stool to get away from him.

  He’d removed his sunglasses. I could now see the blue eyes that haunted me every night.

  “No, not her. You can’t hurt her.”

  He looked at me quizzically. “I’m not going to hurt anyone unless they get in my way of being with you.”

  “You just said—”

  “You see your wedding ring, don’t you? I’m simply here to take make things right between us. What kind of man would I be to let the woman I love raise our son all alone and not give him the chance to have a family?”

  Him. He knew I was having a boy? I stepped backward, taking one step and then another until my back hit the counter.

  “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re engaged to my best friend. And family? Have you forgotten what you’ve done? I’m sure Molly hasn’t.”

  He took a bite of a chocolate chip muffin and nodded in agreement.

  “You’re right,” he said after swallowing. “I fucked up, which is why I’m here to make things better. You don’t have to worry about a thing, Rosie. I’ve got it all figure out.”

  “And Darcy?”

  He smiled at me. “Our friends will be here soon to help sort everything out.”

  Our friends?

  I swallowed, feeling as if the room were about to tilt.

  “Hey.” He sat his muffin down and circled around the breakfast bar, approaching me slowly.

  I slid away from him, eyeing the butcher’s block at the opposite end of the counter.

  “There’s no need to worry. I promise I have everything worked out for the best this time. You and our baby will live a good life.”

  He stepped right in front of me and gently took hold of my left hand, sliding the halo ring onto my finger.

  “Don’t get worked up. It’s not good for the baby. Neither is violence.”

  I took a deep breath to try and calm myself down, drawing the familiar scent of him into my lungs.

  “This will never work. Please. Just go.”

  “Why would I go now that you’ve let me in? You gave me the green light to walk right through your door. I’m not going anywhere ever again. You’re stuck with me till we’re laying side by side in a grave, Rosie.”

  Before I could conjure up a reply, I heard a car pulling into the driveway as well as the water running in my bathroom. Con grabbed hold of me, handling my body as if it were made of glass as he positioned me against his front, removing his gun.

  “What are you doing? You said you wouldn’t hurt her!”

  “Calm the fuck down or I’ll lock you upstairs in your bedroom. We’re going to have a family meeting, that’s it. You remember those, don’t you? I won’t hurt her.”

  Family meetings were always bloody. He may have been promising not to hurt her, that didn’t mean someone else wouldn’t. Between him speaking of friends and family, I couldn’t tell you who he was referring to.

  “Who’s here? Who did you call?”

  He didn’t answer. Whoever it was didn’t bother knocking or ringing the doorbell. As the front door opened and closed, Con’s grip on me tightened, but he was careful not to put any pressure on my stomach.

  Multiple footsteps came from my right as Darcy entered from the left, oblivious to what was happening until it was too late. She looked away from her cell, stumbling in place.

  Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out until Vicky and Justin walked into the kitchen.

  No way.

  No fucking way.

  Where had she come from? Why wasn’t he still locked away? They were the equivalent of the devil’s underlings here to do his bidding. I curled my hands into fists, struggling to keep my breathing even.

  “Rose,” she greeted me enthusiastically. “You look great, girl.”

  “Let Darcy go,” I said to Con, ignoring Vicky entirely.

  “Shh,” he hushed in my ear, placing a kiss on my cheek.

  “W-what is going on?” Darcy stammered.

  Con pointed his gun at her and smiled.

  “Nothing too serious. Why don’t you have a seat, and then we can have a long conversation about what comes next?”

  “Let Rose go first.”

  I shook my head at her. She was trying to be brave. I got it. I’d do the same thing for her if our positions were swapped, but Darcy and I were not one and the same. I’d been conditioned to Con’s type of deranged schemes. She had no idea how fucked up the man she’d fallen for truly was.

  “That wasn’t a request you could refuse, boo,” Vicky stated. I watched her walk to my butcher’s block and retrieve a knife, and then proceed to help herself to a muffin.

  Darcy stiffly made her way to the stool I’d just occupied.

  “What the hell is going on, Ryan? Who are these people?” Her voice cracked with each question, triggering the tears she’d been trying to visibly hold off to break free.

  Like a chain reaction, my own began to fall, dripping from my cheeks. This was all my fault. I should’ve hunted Con down and put a fucking bullet in his skull. No—I should’ve burned with him in that cabin.

  “You have to let her go, Con—”

  “What did I tell you about getting worked up?”

  I swallowed and clenched my jaw. How could I save her? I couldn’t be reckless like I used to be without risking my baby. Was that selfish? Was it wrong? I told her a thousand silent apologies with my eyes.

  She blinked at me and forced the smallest smile as if she understood.

  If only she really did.

  “Poor things,” Justin remarked, looking at the two of us as if we were a pair of shelter puppies. “Maybe I should just keep this bitch? Molly’s a bag of bones by now. Vick and Rose could use another sister.”

  “Hey, let’s see how this goes first. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Vicky warned.

  “They’re right. Darcy, I need you to focus, okay? I’ll explain everything after we’re done,” Con said.

  “What do I have to do?” Darcy questioned.

  He rested his chin on my head. I felt his grin, and my stomach heaved.

  “We’re going t
o play a simple game first. If you participate, I promise I’ll let you go.”

  I shut my eyes, hoping with everything I had that this wouldn’t end the way all his other games did.

  Author Note

  You’ve reached the end! If you’re wondering if that was a cliffy—it wasn’t. The original title of this book, Rose De Muerte, was something I wrote back in 2017. It has always had an open ending and I wanted to keep it that way. And who knows, I may revisit the Burrows and Rose one day because this reminded me of how much I enjoy them.

  Whether you loved or hated TOR—thank you for reading!

  OTHER BOOKS

  Badlands Series

  Savages

  Deviants

  Outcasts

  Heathens

  Degenerates

  Hellions

  Renegades

  Miscreants

  Old Money Trilogy

  Queen Of Diamonds

  King Of Hearts

  Ace Of Spades

  New Money Trilogy

  Dope & Diamonds

  Jack Of Clubs

  Ash to Dust

  Pretty Lies, Ugly Truths

  Sweet Poisons

  Sick Remedies

  Pretty Lies, Ugly Truths

  Broken Crowns Trilogy (paranormal)

  Beauty & Rage

  Beauty & Wreckage

  Beauty & Havoc (Standalone)

  Standalones

  Covetous

  UltraViolence

  Dahlia Saga

  Malice

  Obscene

  Depravity

  Malevolence

  Iniquity

  Debauchery

  Malicious

  Stygian Isle

  Del Diablo

  Muerte

  Deviant Duets

  Crucible

  Malady

  Calamity

  Misery

  Devil’s Playground

  Periculum

  Maleficium

  Daemonium

  Coveting Delirium

  Opaque Melodies

  Melodic Madness

  Reign & Ruin Trilogy

  Lawless Kingdom

  Savage Gods

  Vicious Dynasty

  DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND

  Periculum: Unus

  Chapter One

  They say that some of the best memories can come from a bad idea.

  I can personally vouch for the truth in that. But you know what else is true? The consequences that will be waiting to remind you of all your dumbass decisions.

  You’d have thought I’d learned this lesson eons ago, yet here I was, reaping everything I’d sown.

  Painfully.

  Too many shots of tequila combined with too few hours of recovery made for a deadly combination.

  I knew better than to drink the way I had the night before, even if I did have a laundry list of valid excuses to do so.

  Unfortunately for me, this never worked out well. I had never been the kind of person who could drown their sorrows at the bottom of a bottle, though I envied those that did. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to remedy the mess I was. Not to mention I had shit tolerance and wasn’t remotely attractive when I got drunk.

  Some girls had the ability to be cute while intoxicated. I became the equivalent of a dying fish searching for water…with a hint of newborn calf. Ugh. The thought of consuming even a single drop more of treacherous ethanol made me disgustingly nauseated.

  I’d brushed my teeth—twice—and could still taste it.

  While getting drunk off my ass may not have been the healthiest way to go about dealing with my mental and emotional turmoil, it had kept my sanity intact. That had to count for something.

  Although, it would be comical if liquor were the spark of me completely losing the plot, all things considered. My odds of making it through life entirely sane had the same probability of a coin toss. Heads, I’d be like my father’s side of the family. Tails, I would take after my mother’s. I had yet to determine which was worse when it came to those crazy fuckers.

  I weaved around a couple walking through the lobby of the resort, readjusting my shades and tightening my grip on my suitcase.

  “I think I’m dying. Hangovers are so underrated,” Melantha grumbled from beside me, tugging her beanie down further.

  “I haven’t felt this shitty since that party we attended the day we graduated high-school,” Gracelyn agreed.

  Both of those statements resonated with me. Deeply. I hadn’t wanted to get out of bed unless it was to sit around butt naked, stuff my face with a fry-up, and chug gallons of Powerade. That sounded like pure heaven right about now, but we had a flight to catch.

  Feeling a soft vibration against my thigh, I pulled my cell from my pocket and swiped down to see the text. I was expecting it to be one of my parents or my abuelo. Weirdly, there wasn’t any number displayed.

  Even weirder was the text itself.

  Unknown: Something wicked this way comes…

  I stopped walking, brows furrowing as I read the message two more times before typing out a quick reply.

  L: Who is this?

  Almost immediately, a box popped up. Sender Unknown.

  Message cannot be sent.

  “You okay?” Mel called back to me.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I fixed my face into a smile and started walking again, slipping my cell back into my pocket.

  “To hell we go,” Mel sighed, shouldering open one of the doors that led outside.

  “Can we at least be on the plane before you start being all negative?”

  “Is there a difference between doing it now or later? You know exactly how things are going to be when we get back.”

  “We don’t know anything yet,” Gracelyn refuted.

  “I know we’re well overdue for our ‘precious’ societal debuts. We’re going to be dragged into the corporate office so our parents can explain exactly how they’ve mapped out our futures. They probably married us off to some deranged arrogant assholes already. The ones who organize their drawers and ties by color.”

  That sounded overdramatic, but sadly, she was right. It was the way things worked in our world. However, I couldn’t openly agree. That would open the door to a conversation I wasn’t ready to have. We’d attempted that already, which was how we’d wound up in our current condition.

  Talking about it led to thinking. Thoughts came with feelings, most of which were bitter, angry, and conflicted—for various reasons. My new plan was to immerse myself in denial until we were back home. “Let’s just wait and see what they have to say, and then we can go from there.”

  She ignored me.

  “Do you think they’ll offer us pamphlets or use a full-blown PowerPoint to really get their message across and explain all the ways they ruined our lives?”

  My lips twitched as I fought a smile. “There’s a deadly disease that causes people to only see the bad side of things. My abuelo likes to refer to this as pessimism.”

  “Your grandfather is the ringleader of this whole ordeal. And I’m not a pessimist.”

  “She’s a realist,” Gracelyn joked, forcing her voice to be deep and masculine.

  I started to laugh, the sound coming from my throat akin to an angry toad’s battle cry. “Shut up.” I playfully swatted her arm.

  “Ow.” She poked out her lip and feigned being hurt, making her hazel eyes go big and round.

  “I can’t take you bitches anywhere,” Mel chastised, laughing quietly. “There’s our shuttle.” She pointed to a sleek white bus idling nearby.

  We approached at the same time two older women did, allowing them to go ahead of us.

  As we waited, the sun continued to sink lower in the sky, slowly draining the light.

  I glanced back at the resort and withheld a sigh. This would be our last time traveling leisurely. Indefinitely. I could count on one hand the number of times trips were taken for luxury versus ‘business.’

  Melantha beg
an climbing onto the shuttle. I followed, and Gracelyn brought up the rear.

  “Sit anywhere you’d like,” the driver instructed in an upbeat tone, his bushy mustache lifting as he smiled.

  I thanked him with a small one in return and then skimmed the interior. The seating was set for two per row, and there were already a few people up front.

  Ignoring the stares aimed at her colorful hair, Mel breezed by all of them, wholly unbothered.

  It was always done in one fun color or another. This time she’d gone with a deep violet, peacock blue, and white ombre bangs. She was one of the few individuals I knew who could rock it.

  Mel could pull off anything, really. She had a classic kind of beauty. She’d always reminded me of those retro pin-up girls, complete with a small diamond Monroe piercing.

  She wound up claiming three seats that were midway from the back. Directly to the right of them were a cluster of four guys that, with a passing glance, appeared to be in their early twenties, so around our age. Behind them, sitting by her lonesome, was a pretty redhead with ear-pods in.

  Not the biggest fan of confined spaces, I placed my suitcase in the baggage cubby and then claimed the seat nearest to the aisle.

  Gracelyn squeezed past me and sat by the window, leaving Mel no choice but to sit behind us.

  “How long does it take to get to the airport?” Grace asked.

  “Thirty minutes?” I guessed, pushing my sunglasses up to rest atop my head.

  “For future reference, I was going to ask if you needed help, but you looked like you had it,” a husky voice snaked across the aisle.

  “Huh?” I glanced over, nearly doing a double take as I got my first real look at who was beside us. If life were a cartoon, my jaw would have dropped through the floor. Somewhere in the back of my mind the Weather Girls began to sing about raining men.

  “Your bag,” the guy closest to me said, nodding his head towards the luggage cubby.

  He was sporting a rather dapper hairstyle—an undercut that was long on top and short on the sides.

  The smooth strands were dark brown with naturally lighter pieces weaved in. It looked good on him—really good.

  “Oh, well. Thanks for considering,” I quipped, cringing internally as soon as the last word fell from my mouth. Thanks for considering? Way to be super awkward, Lana.

  “Anytime,” he replied smoothly, brandishing an amused grin. His teeth were so white, I wondered if they were real.