Twelve of Roses: A Dark Standalone Page 5

  If this were a movie, it would be the part that would freeze-frame before a wise narrator began to explain all the ways Constantine Burrows was going to tear my world apart and drag me down to hell.

  “Con, I should—”

  “No,” he growled, like a Tasmanian devil, and gently pushed me back towards his bed. “I can handle her. I’ll decide when you leave this room.” He smiled innocently at me, all signs of anger gone.

  He was good.

  “In the morning?” I asked softly, going back to the demure girl he knew me as.

  “In the morning. Now get in bed and lie on your back. I’ll only be a minute.” He slipped out of the room and shut the door behind them.

  His and Vicky’s whispered words carried down the hallway, too low for me to hear them. Looking over at his bed, I began taking everything off and doing as he told me.

  Little did I know that no one would see the girl they knew as Roselynn Morgue for a very long time.

  Chapter Eight

  Present

  It was never okay to ring a doorbell at seven in the morning. Especially mine. My big house was virtually empty, making the chimes that much louder and my head throb. Not having to work until four, I’d planned on sleeping in. The person continuously ringing my doorbell had blown that plan to shit.

  Stumbling off my air mattress, I scrubbed a hand over my face, ambling to the front door. A steady drip, drip sound came from the living room, signaling that the water dripping from the ceiling was close to overflowing the bucket.

  “Motherfucker,” I muttered as the bell chimed again. Angrily flinging the heavy oak door open, I planted a hand on my hip, not giving a flying fuck that the only thing I had on was a thong and tank top. They were the ones at my door, after all.

  All that boldness disappeared the instant I saw who it was.

  “Max?”

  Now wide awake, I stared at him, taking a quick inventory of the coffee carrier in his hands and a small brown bag. I’d expected to see the guy around town a time or two, maybe. He wasn’t supposed to show up at my doorstep.

  “Well, good morning, sunshine,” he drawled, a huge grin on his face.

  He smelled amazing and looked even better, wearing a simple white T-shirt that fit him like a glove, and dark denim jeans. But not even his good looks and southern accent could ease my discomfort.

  “How do you know where I live?” I questioned, peering over his shoulder.

  “Oh, I live across the lane.” He jerked his head in the direction of the large house, his smile never faltering.

  “Just wait until you see the guy next door,” were the exact words the realtor had said.

  “Oh my god.” I couldn’t help but laugh. What better way was there to meet the neighbor than letting him bend you over the hood of your car?

  “I saw you pull the sign out of the yard the day you moved in. I was getting ready to head to work,” he confessed.

  “And you were all the way at Gooskis because…?”

  “It’s the only dive in town.”

  His reasoning was the exact same as mine; I couldn’t find fault in it. We eyed one another for a few silent beats. He looked at me like the sun was orbiting my face. I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or uncomfortable.

  “Come in.” Shaking my head, I turned and headed for the kitchen, peeking over my shoulder to make sure he was following. Of course, his eyes were locked on my ass. He quickly looked away when he saw me watching him, glancing everywhere else but back at me. Smothering a laugh, I shook my head, deciding not to make a big deal about it.

  I knew it was impossible not to notice the major lack of furniture, the walls that desperately needed painting, and the overall depressing state of the house, but Max, being the gentleman I pegged him for, didn’t say a word.

  “So, why didn’t you introduce yourself sooner?” I asked as we entered the kitchen, gesturing to the round wooden table for us to sit at.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you at Gooskis,” he replied with a shrug, leaving out the rest of our nightly festivities.

  “This is for you.” He sat one of the coffees in front of me and pulled a large blueberry muffin from the brown bag.

  “Thank you.” I flashed him a smile, happily accepting my coffee and sweet.

  “You don’t want to put some clothes on?” he checked, eyeing me with a smile.

  An unladylike snort flew from my nose. “You just saw my bare, naked ass on the way in here. Is it bothering you all of a sudden?”

  “No, you have a great ass. I was just making sure.”

  This guy.

  “So, what is it you do, exactly?” I inquired after swallowing my fifth bite.

  “I’m a detective.”

  Seriously?

  I choked on my muffin until my eyes watered, cursing the hot coffee that burned my tongue as I desperately attempted to wash it down.

  “Since when do detectives fuck girls in parking lots?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I must have missed the memo that said I can’t like pussy,” he deadpanned.

  I laughed at his bluntness. He was kind of a cocky asshole. “Isn’t that a little bit cliché? A small-town cop a detective of all things?” I asked, playing off my surprised reaction.

  He gave me an amused look.

  “Isn’t it just as cliché for a woman to move to a small town and fall in love with said attractive detective?

  Fall in love? I fought the urge to crinkle my nose.

  “That was actually pretty smooth, but I won’t be falling in love with anyone.” That’s for damn sure, I mentally added.

  “It’s too late; you already are.”

  He gave me a shit-eating grin, linking his hands behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankle.

  “Am I?”

  “Uh huh. We’re well on our way to becoming best friends this very second. Soon, you’ll be spilling all your secrets.”

  All I could do was scoff at him. He had no idea who I really was, and it had to stay that way.

  “I kind of feel like you should have asked me all of this last night,” he joked. “I have my identification in the car if you want to see it. And if you still don’t believe me, you can call the station and ask about me whenever you want,” he stated lazily. “My last name is Harrison, for the record.”

  “You know this isn’t how one-night stands work, right?” I asked him, sitting my coffee down.

  “I’m not a one-night stand; I’m your neighbor,” Max corrected, still smiling.

  He was always smiling. I wondered what it was like to be genuinely happy and carefree, something I would never have the privilege of knowing.

  “The neighbor I had a one-night stand with,” I pointed out.

  “It wasn’t a one-night stand. I’m going to have you again.”

  “Get over yourself.”

  “And get inside you?” he asked, leaning towards me.

  What?

  “You’re such a cheese ball! You did not just say that.”

  We laughed for a few seconds before his expression turned somber. When he looked as serious as he did right then, he reminded me of Con. I could almost trick myself into believing his eyes were bright blue instead of black.

  Jesus, Rose. What the hell is wrong with you?

  “I want to take you to dinner.”

  Then he said things like that, smacking me in the face with reality.

  “Maxwell,” I groaned. “Max, I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s never going to happen.”

  “I just want to take you to dinner.” He held his hands up innocently. “As a friend—you’re new here, right? Don’t you want some friends?”

  Shaking my head, I sighed for the thousandth time that morning. He was right: I did need to try to form more relationships here.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked in a soft voice.

  Hurting you. Fooling myself.

  “I’m not afraid of anything. I just don’t want a…relationship,” I trailed off
.

  “Then we won’t have a relationship. I’ll just be your friend with COD.”

  “What is COD?”

  “Cock on demand.” He shrugged.

  I cradled my head in my hands to hide my grin. I hadn’t smiled this much in a long time. Being able to laugh at his childish sense of humor made me feel a million times lighter.

  “I get off at eight,” I gave in.

  “Then dinner will be at eight thirty,” he drawled, smiling victoriously at me. When his phone began to ring, he answered it, and I watched that beautiful smile fall right off his face.

  If only I could have freeze framed this moment ten seconds earlier.

  Chapter Nine

  Present

  My past and present collided on the side of the road on the way to work.

  I was none the wiser, paying no mind to the small crowd of people and caution tape, driving right on by it. My mind was still on Max, hoping everything was okay. He left before he was even off the phone, talking low and barely sparing me a second glance.

  Lauren, my new co-worker and something close to a ‘friend’ gave away the plot as soon as I walked into the salon.

  “Did you hear what happened?” she asked, following me to the back room where our employee lockers were.

  “Nope,” I huffed, pulling my hair into a makeshift ponytail, still oblivious to the distress the usually perky brunette was in.

  “They found Jamie,” she breathed out on a sob, twisting the butterfly charm on her necklace.

  I had no idea who Jamie was, but her tear-filled eyes alerted me that they were close. Or at least acquaintances.

  “And is Jamie hurt?”

  “She’s dead,” she choked out, practically throwing herself on me.

  “Okay, let’s go sit,” I soothed, walking to the waiting area with an arm around her shoulders. Her body was trembling so violently I knew that if she didn’t calm down, she would make herself sick.

  After a few more minutes of her crying, she finally started to speak again.

  “They found her on the side of the road. If it wasn’t for her scorpion tattoo, they might not have even recognized her.”

  An image of the blonde from the Gooskis flashed through my mind. How many blonde women in Black Pine had scorpion tattoos?

  I wanted to ask what she meant by not being able to recognize her but didn’t want to trigger anything, so I impatiently waited for her to continue.

  “It’s like they tried to make her look like someone else. Her hair was dyed red, like yours…and,” she hiccupped, taking a deep breath, “they cut off her finger.”

  Her words reverberated inside my brain, striking me like a single bolt of lightning. It could be completely unrelated, right? It had to be.

  Con was dead.

  Ponty-Poole’s Sheriff Reynolds had confirmed it—personally.

  “Do you want to go home?” I swallowed down my rapidly growing paranoia and tried to put the distraught girl beside me first.

  “No. I’ll be okay. We weren’t super close—we just went to school together.

  Besides, I don’t want either of us to be alone right now.” She shook her head back and forth and forced a smile.

  I forced myself to do the same, tempering the chaos that was threatening to take over my psyche.

  It was no surprise that such a violent crime slowed business down. I managed to sneak to the back and shoot off a text to Molly, telling her to call me ASAP.

  Lauren seemed to be coping okay, answering the phone with a small dose of pep in her tone.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked me for the fifth time. It made me feel like shit—she was the one who had lost someone she knew.

  “I promise, I’m fine.” I gave her yet another fake smile before looking back down at the magazine I was pretending to read.

  “Today isn’t all bad. Joshua is taking me to the Peak on Sunday,” she damn near squealed like a teenage girl.

  Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ started playing in my head. Did I respond to this news with matched excitement?

  The Peak was for couples that liked to fuck in the car after high school basketball games. At least, that’s what I overheard while grabbing a sandwich from the deli a few nights ago. My high school days were far behind me at this point in my life, but Lauren was religiously saved and had been dating this Joshua guy since before I moved to town.

  Unless she was ready to sin, the situation didn’t exactly scream raunchy-sex-in-the-car to me.

  “That should be fun, right?” I settled with, looking at her for some clarification.

  “Yes. Annnd,” she sang, leaning forward like she was about to share something life changing. Her brown eyes were round with excitement. “He has a friend—”

  “Absolutely not.” I cut her off before she could even get the sentence out of her mouth.

  I looked back down at my magazine and saw the section headlined: ‘Top twelve tips on how to land a hot date.’ The irony wasn’t lost on me. Was the universe giving me a sign to stop acting like a whore? Oh well, the universe could kiss my ass. It had never done me any favors before.

  “Oh, come on, Rosie!” She crossed her arms and poked out her lower lip.

  “After what just happened, we need to do something to lift the mood.”

  I gritted my teeth. Did she forget how much older I was than her? And I’d asked her not to call me Rosie about a hundred times.

  “No,” I said, harsher than I intended.

  Her expression fell, making me feel even worse. I had too much on my mind to deal with this. I didn’t want to be there, but I needed a job to survive adulthood, and it wouldn’t be right to ditch Lauren.

  “Look, why don’t we just meet up for pizza or something one night after your date?” That was my compromise. She had offered me olive branch after olive branch ever since I applied for this job, and I kept turning her down.

  She let out a loud whoop, practically jumping up and down. Ignoring her excited tirade, I pulled my cell from my back pocket to check the time.

  The hours couldn’t fly by fast enough.

  Chapter Ten

  Present

  By time I finished locking the store up, it was well past eight thirty in the evening.

  I hadn’t heard from Max, so I let Lauren leave an hour early. I regretted that act of kindness as I walked through the back parking lot. My Camry was the only car left.

  I opened the door, tossed my purse across to the passenger side, and got in. With a loud yawn, I started the car and checked my mirrors, doing a double take at what was reflected in the rearview. Time seemed to freeze. I gripped the steering wheel with clammy hands when they began to shake.

  I’m not sure how long I stayed like that before slowly turning my head.

  I stared into the backseat at my old brown bear, which should have burned up right along with the Burrows’ cabin.

  He was missing his right eye, the brown fur that was once bright had faded significantly, and the button that served as his nose was gone.

  It was my bear.

  The single rose laid across a white box sitting on his lap solidified that. That feeling I had of being watched came back so strong I physically felt it, like a heated iron was being pressed into my skin.

  Turning back around, I hit the lock button on the doors and had my car in reverse in two seconds flat, peeling out of the parking lot. I wanted as much distance between me and the salon as possible.

  Driving with one hand, I reached for my purse, manically digging for my cell. Once I had it, I hit send on the last call I’d made, putting it on speakerphone.

  Every few seconds, I glanced in the mirror, as if the bear were going to spring into action.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Molly sang through my speaker. It felt good to hear her voice, but now that I had her on the line, I was questioning why I’d called in the first place.

  She would be back in two days. If I told her not to come back at all, she would come immedia
tely. If I mentioned my little surprise in the backseat, she’d probably levitate back home before we hung up. I wasn’t even sure if it was safe for her here.

  “I…haven’t heard from you. Just wanted to check on ya.” Forcing my voice to remain calm, I gripped the steering wheel, fighting every urge to freak the fuck out and scream at her to run far, far away.

  “I’m fine, Mom,” she chuckled, saying something else right as the phone began breaking up. “Fucking reception. I’ll call you in—”

  My phone beeped twice, the screen flashing that the call was lost.

  “Shit.” I hit the steering wheel in frustration.

  I drove home as fast as I could. After grabbing everything I needed, I rushed into the house, double checked the locks on the doors, and then ran to the dining room. Sitting on the edge of my air mattress, I eyed the little white box I’d removed from the back seat as if it contained anthrax. It looked like the kind someone would get from a jewelry store. Swallowing, taking a steady breath, I cautiously lifted the lid off and peered inside. My stomach dropped to the floor—right along with a severed finger.

  Shining like a beacon in the dark was the wedding ring Con gave me the night we were forcibly wed. It shouldn’t have been recoverable; it was in the house when it burned down.

  Con was dead. The Sheriff had assured me that he and the rest of the Burrows didn’t make it out.

  I jumped up and ran through my house, checking every window and all the doors, dialing the Sheriff as I went. I circled back through the kitchen, stopping dead in my tracks, my body coming to an abrupt stop just inside the doorway. My heart slammed into my ribs and everything went cold. Ice seeped down to my bare, brittle bones, turning me into nothing but a vestigial organ.

  “Sheriff Reynolds,” I heard from a million miles away.

  “You told me he was dead,” a voice completely foreign to me nearly wailed into the phone.

  “Roselynn?”

  “You told me you’d identified him by dental records. You promised we’d be safe! Why did you lie to me?”

  That same strange voice demanded answers, clogged with emotion. I couldn’t look away from the black roses sitting on my table. They were perfectly arranged in a vase from my old bedroom.