Pucking Road Trip (Bay Rebels #3)

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Haunted House, Los Angeles

S hay

Despite the hot Los Angeles sunshine bathing the courtyard, I shiver.

Robyn slips her arms around my shoulders.

I stare up at the wide steps that lead to a grand front door, which is flanked by gray columns.

Above it, swings a banner in spooky writing: HAUNTED HOUSE .

In case we miss that this is the right location for the dare.

D’Angelo stomps through an overgrown flowerbed, hissing as he catches his hand on a bramble. His suit jacket rips.

I wince.

The suit is one of D’Angelo’s favorites. Yet another reason to kick Gibbs’ arse.

Eden is standing unnaturally still. He’s glaring at the mansion like he’s imagining it exploding into flames.

D’Angelo attempts to peer through a window. “The drapes are pulled. I can’t see inside.”

“I didn’t think that it’d be as easy as that.” I shrug. “Why don’t you all go and wait in the motorhome? Eden can make you some tea or something. No sense you waiting out here in the sun.”

“Nice try.” Robyn draws away from me, only so that she can kiss me instead. “We’re waiting just here…”

“So that we can run inside and save your ass, if we hear screaming,” D’Angelo drawls.

“I’m not Scooby-Doo,” I say, disgruntled. “Anyway, this place is so large that I doubt you’ll be able to hear me scream.”

“Of course you’re not Scooby. You’re Shaggy.” D’Angelo disentangles himself from the brambles, stumbling out of the flowerbed toward us. He grimaces, stroking over the tears in his suit. “Shit.”

“I can fix those.” Eden’s gaze darts to the damaged suit, before settling back on me again.

D’Angelo rests his hand on my lower back, and I lean into his touch. “I don’t know about this, cucciolo. This place is giving off serial killer vibes.”

“Isn’t that the point of a haunted house?” Excitement rushes through me, as well as fear. I fucking love this type of thrill. “Whatever Gibbs thinks he has in there that will freak me out, he’s made a mistake. I was babysat by late night horror movies. I never thought that being desensitized would end up saving me.”

“You’re only desensitized to moving lights on a screen,” Robyn points out. “Real life isn’t the same thing.”

“And this isn’t England,” D’Angelo raises his hand to the back of my neck, squeezing in the way that makes me melt back against his chest, “where all the criminals are armed with is a harsh word.”

“Have you seen the size of the zombie knives in London?” I huff.

“Have you seen the size of the guns in LA?” D’Angelo shakes me.

Robyn holds up her phone. “I have the cops and our security team on speed dial. Gibbs said that you needed to be in there alone for one hour. A single minute longer, and we’ll rush in to find you. If anything goes wrong, we’re calling them and…”

She breaks off, hugging her arms around herself.

“Hey, nothing will go wrong because the bastard picked the wrong bloke for this dare.” I give a bright smile. “I’m the horror fanatic, right? The one time that my parents took me to the fair, there was this brilliant haunted house with a man dressed up with a chainsaw. He chased you and shit. I went on the ride three times, until my money ran out. Do you remember, bro?”

Eden’s lips tighten. He doesn’t answer.

Concerned, I squirm out of D’Angelo’s grip. “It’ll be fine. I like being scared.”

Eden’s eyes narrow.

When I take a step toward the door, however, he deliberately blocks my path.

“You’re not going in.” Eden tilts up his chin.

I know that look.

Eden has spent his life giving in to me on anything that will make me happy. He’s more dominant than I am but he’s never used that to push me around, only look out for me.

It’s what he thinks he’s doing now.

He’s more scared than I am.

Throughout our lives, Eden has done anything to make sure that he’s the one suffering the pain, rather than me. But he doesn’t understand that watching someone you love suffer instead of you, is worse.

It hurts more than anything in the fucking world.

I rush to my brother, resting our foreheads together. I give him a one-armed hug.

Eden never takes his intense gaze off my face.

“We both adore our Robyn,” I whisper. “And this man could destroy her family. She loves her dad. I don’t know what’s behind this shit Gibbs is talking about but I won’t risk screwing this up for coach or the Bay Rebels. I know you wouldn’t want Robyn to be hurt in the crossfire. Just one short hour, yeah?”

“We’re twins.” Eden’s eyes are stormy. “I’ll take your place. Gibbs won’t know. It doesn’t matter what happens to me.”

Something sick twists inside me.

Not again.

He can’t expect me to watch him do that for me again .

“No, Dee,” I hiss. “And it fucking does matter.” I take a deep, steadying breath. Then I say, louder, “I need you to wait out here and guard Robyn for me. I can’t trust Jude. He may fall into more brambles like a himbo Prince Charming.”

“I heard that,” D’Angelo says, icily.

“I know.” I grin, drawing away from Eden.

Then before Eden can protest that he should pull some twin switching place trick because he’s more expendable than me or other bullshit that’ll make me want to knee him in the balls, I bound up the steps.

I stare up at the intimidating door with the banner swinging above it.

Is this Gibb’ mansion, or has he simply hired it?

He’s truly planned this.

He’s been careful to make sure that this place is secluded at the bottom of a long driveway.

Yep, serial killer vibes.

“Anybody home? Ghosts? Vampires? Psycho coaches?” I knock on the door.

No reply.

When I push on the door, it swings open.

And that makes me shiver more than anything in the haunted house back in Guildford managed.

There’s something freaky about stepping into someone else’s home uninvited, especially when it’s the type of multi-million dollar mansion that your mum cleans for a living.

“Leave the door open,” D’Angelo calls.

I rip off my t-shirt and bundle it into a ball like I would when I played soccer with my mates in the schoolyard and needed something to use as a goal.

I shove the t-shirt onto the floor, using it as a wedge to keep the front door wide open.

Light streams in through the door, otherwise the entrance hall would have been pitch black.

“Wow.” I stare around at the giant ghosts that are hung in shadowy sheets from the ceiling.

I bounce on my toes.

It’s like a film set.

I’d have walked straight into the ghosts, if I hadn’t propped open the door to allow in the light.

Gibbs may expect me to be fearful and on the alert. But if this is the level that the game is going to be played at, then I’m not going to lose it.

I bat the swinging ghosts, pushing them aside.

My feet are loud on the marble floor. The further that I walk from the front door, the darker it becomes.

Anxiety itches under my skin that the further I move into the mansion, the less likely my lovers are to be able to hear me, even if I do scream.

I wrinkle my nose against the smoky stench.

What’s that smell underneath it? Something rotting?

I tense up.

I didn’t expect to be this hyped. Yet this doesn’t feel at all like it did in the fair.

Robyn is right.

Real life truly isn’t the same as watching the movies or false frights for entertainment.

I know that some bloke with a grudge has set this up. It’s easy for thrills to turn into genuine terror.

Then they don’t become as fun.

I strain to listen.

Shit, is that someone else’s footfall?

Is somebody else inside here with me?

Or am I hearing the other’s moving around outside?

It’s disorientating.

My heart hammers hard in my chest.

I lick my dry lips, shoving through the ghosts to the back of the mansion.

I move into a room, which is deep in the haunted house.

It’s completely dark now.

I strain to listen.

Is someone breathing close to my ear?

Hot breath gusts against my neck.

My skin goosebumps.

I twirl in a panic, flailing out my arms.

My pulse roars in my ears.

But I touch nothing but empty air.

“Who’s there?” I yell.

Silence.

For a long moment, I don’t move.

Did I imagine it?

Slowly, I force myself to turn around. Then I hold my hands out in front of myself, edging forward slowly.

All of a sudden, something falls down on top of me.

“Fuck right…absolutely…off.” I rip at the person…thing…I don’t even know.

I swipe with my arms, as my heart leaps into my throat.

I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone. I use its small light to see in front of me.

It’s a giant, grotesque skeleton.

I stare at it for a long time, as my heart slows.

Then I give a relieved laugh. “Bloody hell, D’Angelo is never learning about this.”

I push at the skeleton, feeling my way into the next room.

Something sticky wraps across my face and chest.

I scrub furiously at my skin, but when I take another step, my cheeks are covered again in what feels like spiderwebs.

I drop my phone to the side in shock.

My eyes widen.

“Fuck.” I stumble forward, frantically breaking through the webs.

My skin is crawling like I’m covered in spiders.

Could I be?

I’ll kill Gibbs, if I am.

“Only silly string,” I chant to myself. “Only silly string.”

I raise my phone and check myself.

My chest and hair are covered in pretend spiderwebs and silly string.

Nothing else.

Relieved, I collapse against the wall.

It’s fake like the ghosts and the skeletons.

Perhaps, there’s no one else in here with me.

Gibbs is relying on my imagination playing tricks on me.

After everything that I’ve been through in my life, if he thinks that Hollywood nightmares can put me off my game, then he’s the one who’s dreaming.

If anything, I’m feeling energized.

Defiantly, I stride forward like the lights are on.

How long have I been wandering around in here?

It feels like hours, but I bet that it’s only been minutes. I can’t see my watch, how am I meant to know?

When I reach what must be the wall, however, I notice a sign stuck on the wall above a door.

ENTER HERE, IF YOU DARE

I laugh. “Cute.”

I push the heavy wooden door open and swagger into the room.

Immediately, I fall over something soft.

I drop my phone.

I feel around, and to surprise, realize that it’s a thin mattress.

I wrinkle my nose at the stink of musty mold.

All of a sudden, I hear fast footfalls behind me.

Horrified, I push myself to my feet.

Someone is in here.

“Who…?” I demand.

Then the door slams shut.

My guts churn with dread.

I throw myself at the door, feeling for its handle.

There isn’t one.

My stomach drops.

That’s not good.

I shove on the door, but it doesn’t budge.

“Hey.” I bang furiously on the door. “Open up right bloody now. Let me out. Let me out… ”

My head feels like it’ll burst. I’m sweating.

Suddenly, I feel young and out of control.

Claustrophobic, I’m trapped.

This is familiar. The smells, darkness, and the sensation of the wood beneath the fingers.

Banging on the door and demanding, let me out.

I stagger back, falling onto the mattress, which I realize with revulsion is familiar too. “He wouldn’t. He hasn’t. I’m not back there. This isn’t the same. I escaped.”

Bile rises up the back of my throat. I choke.

Putting my head between my knees, I spit up.

My breathing is too fast.

I’m trembling.

This is the Room.

The bloody Room.

My nightmare.

And my worst fear, which is the same as my brother’s, that I never escaped from here.

My thoughts are spiraling. Sitting in the dark, I’m shaking apart.

I’m slipping back to that time.

I can’t let myself.

I hit my head hard with the heel of my fist to ground myself. I mustn’t fall into a flashback.

It’s not a proper mental health technique, but it’s all that I have right now.

“I’m not back there,” I mutter because in the darkness, hearing my voice is the only thing that I have to hold onto. “I’m a grown man. Dee saved us. This is just my past haunting me.”

Believe it, believe it, believe…

Except, tears still well in my eyes.

When Eden and I were kids and had been sold by our biological parents to the other couple, I begged them each night to choose me to play with.

Except, they always chose Eden.

The bastards had a contest going to see who could get him to speak first.

Neither of them won that bet.

I’ve had to live my entire life, however, with the guilt that they didn’t want me , and sick as that sounds, I did everything to try to get them to choose me instead of my twin. Because then Eden wouldn’t have been beaten so hard and repeatedly that now he can’t play hockey.

Being locked up in the room next door, listening to my twin being hurt through the wall, while I banged and screamed, until I lost my voice, is my hell.

Only, it really happened.

And Gibbs has recreated it.

“Dee is safe.” I draw my knees up to my chest and hug my arms around them. “He’s outside the house.”

I have my phone.

I could call for Robyn or D’Angelo.

They’d rescue me. Stop this. Free me in a way that my brother and I had no one to call to help us back then.

I’m lucky to have found two people who I trust will always come to save me from the monsters.

Yet I promised that I’d stand up and be the one to face the danger this time.

Eden spent weeks facing the monsters alone, when he was only a kid.

What would it look like, if I’m the one who backs out now?

I can’t let Robyn down.

I’m bloody crazy over that woman.

Plus, D’Angelo had to face his past. Aren’t I merely doing the same thing?

I can handle this.

It’s nothing more than a dark room, right?

I take a steadying breath. “Dee’s safe…he’s not next door…he’s safe.”

Memories force themselves into my mind.

Eden carried into the Room, bruised and bloodied and not moving. Sitting with him for hours afterwards, desperate and holding him in my arms. Having no idea whether my brother was dead or alive.

The fear, when his eyes would finally flutter open.

Dee, Dee, don’t close your eyes. What if you don’t wake up and leave me alone with the monsters?

Unexpectedly, something loud thumps against the wall in the room next door.

I jump.

It sounds like someone being thrown against the wall.

A kid.

The noise is followed by a slap, punch, and…

“No,” I shout.

I can’t help it.

I hold my hands over my ears but I can still hear it.

Sobbing, I scrabble back against the wall. “Stop it.”

The sounds continue.

I’m back there.

They have my brother.

They’re hurting my brother.

I shake my head from side to side. Dazed, I’m lost in a maelstrom of emotions.

“Dee.” I can’t see through the blur of tears but I stagger to my feet, falling against the thick door.

I claw at where the handle should have been in my desperation. My nails snap off, but I hardly feel the pain.

“Let me out,” I scream. I bang on the door with my bloodied hands. “Stop hurting my brother. Dee! Let me out. Dee! ”