Cruel Hearts (King’s Crossing #2)

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Stella

M y body cramps worse than when I’m on my period. I shouldn’t have let Zane touch me, but I missed him so much I forced myself to give in. I was so scared he was going to hurt me, and he did, but he hurt me more than just physically. He’ll never believe me.

His weight hurt my ribs. I ache like hell, but I’ll try to remember the sex as something sweet. He could have been a lot rougher, and he didn’t have to go down on me first. He didn’t have to get me off. It helped.

I walk around my little apartment. I have no idea why Zane bought this building, and it confuses me. He didn’t do it as a lucrative business decision. We had good times here, in this safe, cozy little space. Eating ice cream and watching silly movies.

Making love.

He didn’t tell me he loved me this time.

It disappoints me in ways I can’t explain that his loyalties are still with the Blacks. Knowing these past five years have been for nothing...The planning it took to escape, the meticulous gathering of information so one day Zane could destroy the Blacks for what they’ve done to his family.

All for nothing.

While I planned to bring Ash and Clayton down, they’d been working on Zane. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that. He has more faith in them than ever before. I bet Quinn’s life Zane would at least give me a chance to explain, but the minute I said Ash’s name, he closed off completely.

I lost.

There’s no point in trying again. His misplaced loyalty tells me only thing. I need to get out of King’s Crossing. I should have listened to Quinn. I should have put the flash drive in the mail and gotten the hell out of here, but my desire to see Zane ruled out common sense.

I’m so stupid.

It’s tempting to linger, but the apartment’s not mine anymore. I used to keep emergency money in my old Valley of the Dolls paperback, and three one hundred dollar bills are still stuck in the middle.

I add it to the cash I took from Quinn.

The old pay-as-you-go phone I used before Zane gave me a fancy iPhone is still sitting on the kitchen counter where I left it the night Ash generously allowed me five seconds to say goodbye to a life I had built from scraps.

The phone is dead, of course, and I won’t waste time to charge it. I don’t feel safe not having a way to communicate with anyone, but I can’t spare the money to buy another one. Quinn’s will have to do until it dies.

Sinking onto the couch where Zane waited for me, I force myself to think. The only thing I can come up with is a crappy plan to say goodbye to Maryanne and Quinn and disappear. I can hide in a little rural town in Ohio or something until Quinn heals. As long as I’m gone and not a threat, maybe Ash will let us be.

Maybe.

I think about the long list of things I discovered the Blacks are doing and my skin crawls. Never mind giving the flash drive to Zane, I should have mailed it to the police. Only, the Blacks have local and federal law enforcement in their pocket, and like they did when Ash beat and raped that girl, they would let Clayton and Ash walk.

I struggle, exhausted and sore, to my feet. It’s a shaky plan at best, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ll explain to Maryanne where I’ve been for the past five years and tell her a proper goodbye, visit Quinn and see how she’s doing, and then get the hell out of this godforsaken city. After she’s discharged, she’ll find me and we’ll think of something better together. Maybe I’m a bitch for leaving, but I already got her shot. Disappearing gives her the best chance to live.

I wrack my brain trying to think of what else I could do or where I could go once I’m on that bus. Unfortunately, I can’t do much without ID. My driver’s license was in the purse I left behind at Zane’s party, and God knows where that is now. Ash kept my birth certificate and social security card knowing I would be trapped without them. I should have left them here, but I didn’t know Zane would buy this building and that all of my things would remain intact. Maybe Luis knows who Quinn uses and I could ask them to forge me a new driver’s license. It would be a good start.

I transfer my cash to Quinn’s wallet and shove that, Quinn’s gun, and her phone into a purse bigger than the white one she gave me but smaller than her messenger bag. The white flats are okay, and I leave them on though they don’t match the black dress. When I look at them, they’ll remind me of Quinn and all she did for me because she loves me.

The key I used to get in the night Ash took me away is still under the mat, and as I lock the door, I say a final goodbye to this place.

No matter what happens to me now, I’ll never be back.

I’m too scared to take the train, and I ride the bus to Maryanne’s. I zigzag back and forth across the city in case someone is watching me.

The last thing I want is to lead anyone to Maryanne’s door.

Two miles from her street, I get off. I hate walking so far in this heat, but I cut through backyards and little parks hoping to lose anyone attempting to follow me. I stop at a convenience store and buy a bottle of water. I guzzle the whole thing and keep going.

I take such a random route I walk for two hours before letting myself reach her little house. I made some of my best memories in this house. I wonder how Jilly turned out. The day I met her, I thought I had the world at my feet. I had Zane, a budding friendship with Zarah.

I had it all.

I hope Jilly has more than me now.

Knocking on her back door, I stare longingly at the barbecue grill. The backyard, patio, and grill represent so many happy times.

The house feels empty, but Maryanne’s minivan is parked in the drive. When I saw it, I melted in relief. This is too long of a trek to make again and I wouldn’t have risked it.

I open the door and noise from the TV playing in the living room drifts across the kitchen. Tentatively, I step into the stifling house, and an odd odor meets my nose, like she hasn’t taken out the garbage. That isn’t like her or the girls who stay here. Chores were part of my responsibilities, and no matter how often I complained, she never let me out of doing them.

I step into the living room and see where the smell is coming from. I run back into the kitchen and throw up in the sink, all bile except for the bit of coffee I drank with Quinn earlier this morning.

I rinse my mouth out and drop to the floor, pressing a musty dishtowel to my lips to muffle my screams. Maryanne’s here, but she’s dead, slumped in her favorite chair, a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead.

Lying on the cream and blue tiles, I sob. My stupidity killed the one woman who was the closest thing I had to a mother. Maryanne’s dead because of me. I cry until there are no tears left and then force myself into the living room. I turn off the blaring TV, and mumbling a prayer, I close her eyes. Her death was not peaceful, but she bravely looked her killer in the eyes. Did they ask about me?

Did she tell them to go to hell?

I can’t spend any more time here, and torn between survival and looking for something, anything, that could help me, or self-preservation and leaving as quickly as I can, I go. What I want, Maryanne can’t give me anymore.

I circle around to the convenience store and dial nine-one-one at a pay phone that miraculously still works despite the graffiti and damage to the stall. I report there’s been a murder, rattle off Maryanne’s address, and hang up before the dispatch tries to question me. I left my fingerprints all over her house, but I used to live there and maybe it won’t matter.

Leaning against the store’s brick wall, I give myself the luxury of more tears, and they trickle down my face. Grief and guilt eat at me, and I aimlessly wander the streets until twilight. I buy a cup of coffee at a little café, and the barista serves me, her mouth twisting in concern. I stumble down several more blocks and find a bench in a run-down park. I didn’t want anyone following me, and I repeatedly zigzagged across the streets and avenues. Now I have no idea where I am. I’m exhausted, and my heart hurts. Zane screwed me hard, and I’m still cramping. He looks more man than boy now. His eyes were so full of hate when before they’d been filled with confusion and pain, and maybe a little bit of love. For me.

I remember his body over mine, his strong chest, his chiseled muscles, the bitter angles of his face, and the dark slashes of his eyebrows over his flat, expressionless gaze. Zane’s cock had been too much for my fragile body. It was clear he didn’t believe I haven’t been with anyone, and he treated me like the whore he thinks I am.

My body tingles thinking of it. His cum is still inside of me, and I press a hand to my belly. He’s inside me. Since the night I met him, he always has been.

He looked good, my Zane.

Though he isn’t mine anymore. How could he lose faith in me so easily? So completely? There was pure hate in his eyes, even when he licked me until I came, he hated me.

I squeeze the disposable coffee cup.

All along I thought it was Ash trying to kill me, but maybe it’s not.

Maybe it’s Zane.

Only he knew how important Maryanne was to me. Only he knew I loved her like I would a mother.

If he wanted to hurt me, if he wanted to pay me back for leaving him, he would know the best way.

Tears blur my vision. I don’t want to think him capable of that. I really don’t, but my na?veté and stupidity will get me killed if I can’t face facts.

It’s dark when I finally stand from the splintered bench. I walk down a shadowed sidewalk toward where I hope the closest bus stop is, though I haven’t decided where I’m going. It’s too late to go to the hospital. Visiting hours must have ended long ago and I’ll need to wait until morning. I’m exhausted and need sleep, but I can only do that if I know I’m safe. If I choose to go to the warehouse, I have hours of connections ahead of me. I don’t think Zane wouldn’t care if I went back to my apartment, and I doubt he’d bother me. It’s closer, and it’s tempting, but I need to tell Luis what happened to Quinn.

Decision made, I try not to cry and keep walking. A dog snarling and barking in a yard a few feet away spooks me, and I stumble into the middle of the empty road to avoid it.

A vehicle turns a corner and the bright lights of a car stare me down. The driver revs the engine, and the sound growls through the sticky air. It barrels toward me, its tires shrieking, and I stop, frozen in the street. By choice? Perhaps. What can I do? I have nowhere to go, no one to turn to for help.

Let this car kill me.

Who cares if it’s Zane or Ash behind the wheel. What difference does it make? I’m tired of fighting. I’m one lone woman against a massive power—Black Enterprises. The one person who could go up against the Blacks thinks of Ash as a brother.

The late evening breeze blows through my hair and cools the perspiration on my skin.

The car roars as it approaches me. The lights are blinding, and I shield my face.

I want to try to see the driver. I want to stare into his eyes while he runs me down the way Maryanne faced her killer.

I can be strong like her.

Brave.

I can be tired and scared and still be brave.

Someone tackles me from the side and knocks the wind out of my lungs. We slam into the curb and my head cracks against the concrete. Stars burst behind my eyes.

I struggle to see through them, but in a brilliant streak of light, my world goes dark.