Raw Bloody Power

Chapter 13

13

THE TWILIGHT ZONE

Ivory

April 2010

Shan’s spent our entire spring break at my house. We haven’t done much other than sleep in, binge trash reality TV, and lounge around by the pool, catching some rays. Today, though, we had Santo drop us off at the mall on his way to work. Astrid and Marjorie wanted to meet up for a girl’s day, and honestly, I needed a break from my little brother’s tantrums. I love the kid to pieces with his wild curls, chubby cheeks, and pudgy little belly, but man, he’s got some pipes on him. Ma says he’s starting his Terrible Twos early.

I say he’s just spoiled and doesn’t like the word no.

“So…my dad called when you were trying on that cute dress in Forever 21,” Shan states across the small table from me at Giuseppe’s as she swirls her spaghetti.

We parted ways with Astrid and Marjorie a little over two hours ago and decided on a late lunch before heading back to the house.

“And…” I mumble around a mouthful of pizza, rolling my hand for her to continue.

“Apparently, we’re going to Hawaii this summer, and he said you could come with us!” She claps excitedly, hitting me with that radiant, customary Shannel grin.

One I return with equal enthusiasm as I swallow down the doughy, cheesy goodness. “Really!”

My best friend nods a mile per minute. “Yesss! Steven and his girlfriend are coming, too! You think your dad will let you go, though? I know he’s weird about trips and stuff.”

I shrink a little ‘cause she’s right. The last time Shannel’s family invited me on vacation, it was to Martha’s Vineyard, a short five hour drive from New York. My father immediately said no despite the fact he’s met and chatted her parents many times. It took endless hours of begging over a span of days, an ocean of tears, and my mom getting on his case before he finally agreed.

If he was so resistant to Boston, there’s no way he’s going to agree to Hawaii—all the way on the other side of the country.

“Maybe if you ask him, he’ll feel more inclined to agree,” I propose, flashing her an exaggerated smile of epic proportions.

Shan has this persuasive way about her that can make just about anyone agree to anything.

Her blues widen like twin skies, head rocking side to side furiously. “Are you nuts? I love your dad, but he scares the shit out of me. Maybe I can ask your mom? ”

“It’s worth a shot.” I shrug and scoot my chair back, grabbing my cup off the table. “Be right back, I’m gonna grab a refill. You need anything?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

Weaving my way through the mostly emptied tables, I offer a small smile to the older woman at the till and go about pouring a fresh stream of cherry Dr. Pepper into my cup. The machine whirrs to life as a rowdy group bustles through the doors. Their laughter carries closer and closer until suddenly it stops, and I feel several bodies surrounding me.

A peek over my shoulder reveals Jonathan, his little brother Kris, and Theo—better known as Rio’s best friends. Jonathan and Kris look almost identical, only Kris is about three inches shorter. Same dirty blond hair, same blue eyes, where as Theo is more similar to Rio despite the lack of relation. Dark chocolatey brown hair, same soulless eyes as Rio.

All of them intimidating.

“Hey, Belucci,” Jonathan pipes up first, a sick grin slithering across his face. “How’s your spring break been?”

“Good until you showed up,” I bite back, surprising the absolute fuck out of myself.

And them, too, apparently.

Theo’s eyebrows shoot up to his dark hairline while Kris’ blue eyes widen.

Jonathan’s grin spreads into a vengeful megawatt smile. “Grown some balls, have you?” he muses, taking a menacing step toward me.

Instinct tells me to move, but I can’t, caged in between the soda machine and his body. And although he’s not as big as Rio, I’m no less affected. His boys flank him, too, blocking a possible escape route from either side.

“Let’s see how big those balls are when Guerra gets his hands on you.”

That’s the last thing I hear before he effortlessly throws me over his shoulder and starts out the door of the restaurant. Well, almost the last thing. Shannel’s chair scrapes against the worn tiled floors like nails on a chalkboard, her cries of protests filling the emptied space. I squeal to amplify her efforts and slam my fists into Jonathan’s back repeatedly, hoping one of the employees will put a stop to whatever deranged plans these boys have, but their laughter masks the truth and gravity of it all.

When the warm, spring air sticks to my skin, I lift my head in time to catch Theo easily fending Shannel off. She’s threatening him, I can tell by the look on her face and how fast her mouth moves, but whatever he says in return shuts her up real quick.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I’m tossed in the backseat of someone’s car sheer seconds later. Kris falls in beside me, buckling me into the seat, with Theo dropping into the front passenger and Jonathan behind the wheel. Smashing the key into the ignition, he brings the engine to life and reverses with such speed, the tires squeal upon putting it in drive.

“Let me out of this car!” I bellow, kicking at Jonathan’s chair over and over again. “Let me the fuck out!” Kris tries to stop me, but I swat at him without hesitation, desperate to keep his hands off of me.

I’m still traumatized from Halloween. And the day after we came back from winter break where Rio lifted me off my feet with a rough hand around my throat, threatening to dangle me off the top of the bleachers. He got me half way over the railing before I screamed so damn loud, school security showed up and he dropped me onto the cold metal without giving a single shit before bolting.

And don’t get me started on the day they all followed me home from school. I was running so fast, my lungs burned like I’d swallowed a gallon of acid. They outnumbered me easily and with every shortcut I took, one of them would appear at the other end, ready to capture me and drag me into Rio’s hands. I made it home unscathed by a single hair on my head and promptly begged Santo to ask for a later work shift for a month straight before I felt comfortable walking home alone from the bus stop again.

Jonathan growls at my tactics and eyes me through the rearview mirror before flashing Theo a look. That’s all he needs because in the next minute, he’s got his belt free from his pants and snakes his way through the seats, passing Kris the black leather.

“Around her neck,” Theo instructs, rounding my eyes as panic momentarily immobilizes me.

“How tight?” Kris snickers.

“Tight enough. Leave some wiggle room in case the little bitch needs a reminder.”

Kris turns to me then, those blues of his darkening, before he’s moving. Takes him a few tries, but eventually he achieves the desired outcome, and it’s not for my lack of trying to win him out. I feel like I’m suffocating as he passes the end of the belt to Theo, who gives a brutal tug in warning.

“Kick the chair again and watch what fucking happens.”

It’s not long before we’re pulling up in front of an enormous house tucked behind a long, winding driveway. The size of it isn’t what has me gaping out the window, but more the style. Tudor meets Gothic Revival. I would’ve expected more of a Spanish Hacienda vibe from the Guerras, kinda like my house, but it actually suites them quite well.

Dark and ominous, dreary—like everything else about them.

“Did you text him?” Theo questions, to which Jonathan hums.

“He said he’ll be right out.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, Rio’s ambling out the front door of the mini castle as he shoves his head through a black t-shirt and approaches the car. Jonathan lowers the driver window, but before he can so much as utter a greeting, Rio’s steely gaze fuses with my own.

“What. The fuck. Is she doing here?” he grits out, jaw ticcing as our staring contest continues.

“I told you. We brought you a present,” Jonathan laughs. “Figured you might want some alone time with her since you never seem to shut up abo?—”

Rio doesn’t respond, cutting off the remainder of that statement in a flurry of movement. He simply shoves an arm through the open window, pulls up the lock, and rips the door open, yanking Jonathan out by the shirt. Fists firmly clenched around the red fabric, he shoves him up against the side of the car, teeth bared in a snarl. “You think this shit is fucking funny?”

“Actually, yeah,” Jonathan snickers, not at all affected by his best friend’s clear rage.

A rage I don’t understand, not one bit.

Shouldn’t he be happy? They hand delivered me to his door like takeout for him to do whatever he pleases outside the bounds of school, far away from prying eyes and listening ears. Why does he look like…like he wants to kill them?

“I think you’ll feel differently when I knock your fucking teeth out. Touch her again, and you’re gonna need your jaw wired shut,” Rio growls, tossing Jonathan to the side without care.

Next thing I know, he’s pulling me from the backseat like a tornado tearing through Kansas and strips me of the belt, tossing it at Kris with a clear intent of nailing him. Then we’re moving, jetting through the breezeway to the back of the house as Jonathan’s rebuttal carries in the background, something about “fuck you, too” and “how is it only funny when it’s on your terms?”

Rio doesn’t answer, dragging me to what I presume is his car parked in front of the garage—a blacked-out BMW coupe. All the while I’m still very much confused, noting the wild look in his eyes as he reaches into the pocket of his basketball shorts and pulls out his keys.

What is happening?

A click of a button and the car beeps, the locks audibly disengaging. He opens the passenger door and motions for me to get in with a tip of his head.

“What?” I shriek. “I’m not getting in there with y?—”

“Get in the fucking car, Ivory,” he fumes, his fingers tightening around my arm.

I do as I’m told because what else am I supposed to do? I don’t have my phone, it’s back at Giuseppe’s with Shan, and I have no clue how to get home from here. All I can do now is hope whatever triggered him into rescuing me from his friends will be my saving grace and that he’s not about to flip the script on me.

By the time Rio makes it behind the wheel and we reverse out of the driveway, Jonathan and the boys are already gone. He doesn’t speak a word as he speeds down the residential streets of wherever the hell we are, which doesn’t help the unease that’s been nearly drowning me alive since this whole ordeal started. There’s no music to save us from the silence, either, only the low thrum of the air conditioning cooling the cramped space.

“Where are…where are we going?” I ask when I can’t take it anymore, tightening my grip on the door handle as I peer over at him and the way he’s all but choking the wheel out.

Stupid perhaps when he’s going at least sixty down a thirty-five, but I can’t help it. Not after everything he’s put me through just this year alone.

“I’m taking you home,” he carps, rubbing at his jawline, his arm propped up against the window.

Home?

“Do you even know where that is?” I squeak .

He slams on the brakes then, stopping dead in the middle of the street and throwing the car into park. I blink and he’s over the center console, bursting into my personal space. I’m expecting to feel is hands on me somewhere; my throat, the back of my neck, my hair, but it never comes.

“Did they touch you?” It’s a growl, malevolent and unreserved, those penetrating brown eyes stealing my breath.

“I mean, yeah. They threw me in the back of the car, put the belt around my?—”

“No.” That’s the moment he goes for my throat, luring me impossibly closer. “Did they touch you?” The way his eyes roam down my body give clarity on what he’s asking.

He means sexually…

An ill shiver racks down my spine at the thought, and I shake my head, my chest heaving from our proximity. “No.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, to which I nod briskly.

“Yes.”

And then he turns my world on its axis, thrusting me into what must be an alternate universe or The Twilight Zone when he sets his forehead against mine, his breaths equally erratic, if not more so. “I’ll kill them if they did. I swear to God.”

“They didn’t,” I whisper. “Nothing happened.”

What is happening? What the fuck is happening right now?

“Good.” He inhales deeply and releases me, but makes no move to back away. His gaze drops to my mouth, and when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips, I gasp.

My heart slingshots to my throat, strangling me like he was the steering wheel not five minutes ago.

Is he… Is he about to… No, there’s no way.

My startled sound must be what pulls him out of the trance because his stare flicks back up to meet mine, and though it’s darkened and, if I’m not mistaken, heavy-lidded, I don’t find the usual terrorizing glint that so often glares back at me.

“Tell me how to get you home,” he says, softer than I’ve ever heard before.

“Okay…” I swallow deeply. “Can I borrow your phone first, though? I need to call Shannel and let her know I’m okay, and ask her if she’s still at Giuseppe’s. For all I know she called 911, or worse yet…my dad.”