Fury (New Adult Romance) - #1.5 Fierce Series (2 page)

“What’s this?” I say, pointing at the car.

“New. Get in.”

“How the hell did you pay for this?” I say as he grabs my collar.

“Doesn’t matter. Just get in.” He shoves me inside and closes the
door behind me, frantically checking the neighborhood.

I sit back and watch him hurry to the driver’s seat, his behavior
seeming erratic, almost volatile. As he slams the door shut behind him, he
wipes away the blood running down his nose. He grabs a few cubes of ice from a
cup standing in the cup holder and holds them against his scruffy, bruised
chin.

“What the fuck happened to you?” I say, frowning.

“The same thing that you just did to that other kid, obviously.”

I snort, blowing off steam. “Yeah, well he deserved it.”

“Hunter!” he says, turning his head. “You can’t keep doing this!”

“If they don’t stop talking trash about me, I will keep doing that!”

He sighs. “How can you expect to live like this? Huh? Do you want it
to be like this forever? Punching people whenever you see fit? Without any
friends?”

I purse my lips and fold my arms. “Like I care.”

“
I
care. I don’t want this for you.” He hisses from the cold
touch of the ice cubes against the cut on his lip.

“I don’t want this either. Just like you don’t want to look like
that.” I stare him down, knowing that he knows full well what I mean.

He throws the ice cubes back into the cup and runs his fingers
through his blond hair. Then he starts the engine and drives off.

“Why are you so banged up anyway?” I say.

He rummages through a bag and takes out a pack of cigarettes. “Like
I said: doesn’t matter.”

I want to snatch away the lighter in his hand, but he keeps it out
of reach.

“Just one. I need this,” he says.

Annoyed, my eyes drift to the bag, which he throws to the back seat.
In it are tiny bags of white powder.

My eyes widen. “What the fuck …” I turn my head immediately.
“Drugs?”

He blows out a puff and coughs on the fumes. “Just don’t look at
it.”

“What the hell is that shit doing in here? What have you been doing?
You pick me up all battered up, buy a new car out of nowhere, and you’re
carrying a bag of drugs? You’re dealing now?”

“Yes, goddammit!” He smashes the lighter into the dashboard. “You
know we need the money.”

“So that’s how you got the car …” My brows inch toward each other
more and more.

“It’s on loan.” Jessie leans his elbows on the steering wheel. Then
he suddenly slams it. “A fucking threat to make me stay.”

“What?”

“They trashed my old car and gave me this one.”

My jaw drops hearing that.

“It’s their way to keep tabs on me. To force me to work for them.”

“Why did you take it then?” I say.

He slams the wheel again. “Dammit! Do you think I had a choice? Of
course not!”

I put on my seatbelt. “What about your job at―”

“Forget about that.”

“Wait, what? You can’t just shove that aside and do this instead!
This is fucking dangerous.”

“I know! But this is the only way. This is what I’m going to do from
now on, and it’ll bring in enough cash for us to survive. It’ll be okay, I
promise. I’ll make it work. Somehow.”

“But what about our ‘normal’ future?” I make quotation marks with my
fingers. “You know, the one we promised to each other.”

“Just stop, okay. I know what I said, you don’t need to remind me …”
He sighs. “What’s done is done.”

“But―”

“Look at me!” He frowns, tears welling up in his eyes, but they
won’t run. “They don’t want someone like me. When do they ever want anyone like
us?”

I open my mouth, but close it again. There’s nothing I can say. He’s
right. He doesn’t mean the bruises or blood left on his body. He means us. Who
we are. Nobody would want a guy with an explosive amount of energy and lack of
concentration, nor would they want a guy that forgets everything he’s been
taught.

Regular jobs are not for us.

But why does he choose this instead? Dealing drugs? Fighting people?
Is that what our life is going to be like now?

That is hell.

“I’m sorry, but this is the only thing I can do to make it work,”
Jessie says, starting the engine.

“I know.”

“Let’s just go home. Fix you up.” He tilts his head, looking at the
bruises and swelling on my hand.

“It’ll heal,” I say. “You on the other hand …”

My brother throws me a half smile, and I can’t help but finish my
sentence to cheer him up a little.

“You look like you got brought back from the dead.”

My brother snorts, and we both burst out into laughter as we turn
around the corner.

Chapter
1

Life and Leaves

Present

Shadows. That’s all I see when I open my eyes, waking up to the
sound of silverware being thrown around. My neighbors are yelling at each other
again, as usual. It doesn’t take much for their screams to reach our house.

Sun shines through the tiny window to my left, illuminating half of
my bed. Dust particles float through the room and make me sneeze. Temporarily
closing my eyes doesn’t help shut out the darkness looming all around me.

Nothing can.

My head hurts. I’m not sure whether it’s because I slept for about
an hour in total, or because of those fucking people in their house merely ten
feet away from ours.

Seriously, why can’t they fight at a more reasonable time? It’s
getting fucking annoying listening to all that yammering back and forth, not to
mention the times they even bring the cops into it.

I’d rather keep the cops far, far away from here.

And my brother, for that matter.

When they come he can’t be here. Not ever. If they find out what he
does for a living, they’d …

Fuck no, I don’t want to think about it.

Not even once am I going to let these neighbors get in between my
brother and me. They can do whatever the fuck they want, but I’m sick and tired
of them calling the cops on each other.

There’s only one thing I care about and that is keeping my brother
out of trouble.

I honestly don’t give a shit about their relationship. I’d rather
see them fuck off and move so I won’t be bothered by them anymore. I’m not the
most caring type. I don’t care about other people’s problems, and I really
don’t want to get involved in them. And with that I mean I don’t want to hear
it.

Groaning, I shift my legs and let them hang out of bed, while my
head rests on the sheets. I blink and sigh when they start screaming again,
taking away the last shot I had at a little sleep. This is getting ridiculous.

I throw the musty blanket off me and step out of the creaky bed. I
stretch and rub my eyes, walking toward the window. Leaning on the window sill,
I scream, “Shut up already!” and slam the window shut.

I almost trip over my own clothes, scattered across the room.
Sinking to the floor, I grab a bundle of dirty clothes and make my way through
the hallway, littered with junk my brother left behind. I go into the bathroom
and lean back so I can open the washing machine. It only partially opens,
because the door bumps into the wall behind me. I wish there was another way to
do this, but sadly there’s not enough room anywhere else in the house. This
thing is just too big, and space is not a luxury we can afford.

My fingers drift across the note stuck to the machine as I read the
words out loud: “Use Tide Vivid White detergent for white clothes. Put it in a
capsule and place it inside.”

Right. I always forget what to put where and what type of detergent
I should choose. Always happy with my notes. They make me remember what I keep
forgetting.

I try not to think about that fact. Makes it easier to live with.

I turn on the washing machine and let it do its work while I turn on
the shower. Having problems with a washing machine is normal to me. Just like
many other things in life. I know it sounds ridiculous, but simple tasks can
sometimes be very difficult for me to do. I don’t always know how to do them.
There are some things I can’t remember, even when I did them only five minutes
ago. Other things stay with me like they’re permanent marks in my brain.

And other times, I can’t remember something even though I’ve tried a
gazillion times. It just won’t stick.

I don’t know why this had to happen to me, but it did, and that’s
all there is to it.

All I know is that it’s not my fault, and that I can’t do anything
about it. Both make me pissed.

I shrug the water off me and turn off the shower again, grabbing a
towel along the way.

For a moment I stop drying my hair. My mind goes blank for a second,
and it feels like there’s something missing, or something out of place.
Something that I’m supposed to remember.

I hate this feeling.

Frowning, I throw the towel into the bin and walk outside. I snatch
the last clean boxer briefs from my bed and hurry to get my clothes on. My eyes
scan the room, looking for more notes, but there are none out of the ordinary.
However, I’m sure I’m missing something.

I step into the living room, which is only a few feet from my
bedroom. This house only has one floor. I know it’s not much, but it’s all we
have. I’m just happy we can still afford a home.

It smells like fermented cheese in here, and for some reason my
instincts tell me to inspect the couch. My brother’s always hungry late at
night, if he comes home that is. He always eats cheesy chips while he’s half
asleep on the couch.

I look around, but he’s not here, and I don’t find any crumbs tucked
into the couch bedding. The usual stain from his boots is missing from the
carpet, and I don’t see his jacket lying on the table.

Where the hell is he?

Sighing, I rub my index finger across my forehead. Dammit. He didn’t
come home last night. Again.

Shit. How can anyone work for so many hours? It’s gotta wear you
out. They’re using him like a workhorse. Not to mention the fact that it’s
completely fucked up and dangerous.

I wanna drag him back home, but I know I can’t. What he’s doing
right now, dealing, it’s vital. We need the money, and this is the only way to
get it easily. We won’t survive without it. I won’t survive without
him.

But I don’t want this to continue much longer. I don’t remember how
long it’s been, but it’s been way too long, that I do know. Things should’ve
been better by now, but sadly they aren’t, and I’m confronted with it every
freaking day of my life.

Sometimes I wish I could find a job so I could help with our
struggles, but Jessie insists I go to college instead. He says he knows
firsthand nobody will hire guys like us. No way.

Not like this.

The only way is to earn a degree and hope for a better chance. I
know for a fact he would be so much better suited for this, but he insists I’m
the one who has to go there. Just the thought of having to sit in those benches
and listen to those boring lectures for hours makes me cringe.

However, I’m not going to disappoint my brother. He wants me to do
this, and I’m doing this for him. For us.

I walk into the kitchen and make myself some breakfast with whatever
dry bread we have left. Then I discover a note I haven’t seen before hanging
from the cupboard. It’s not my writing. I grab the note and read it.

‘Job. Back in 2 days. Will check up on u in college later. Jaret’s
picking u up. Gl. Jessie.’

I wonder how long this note has been here, because I don’t remember
reading it.

Must’ve forgotten.

A tiny smile forms on my face. I’m glad Jessie hangs these notes for
me everywhere, or else I’d forget pretty much everything.

Crumpling it up in my hand, I take a bite from my sandwich and hear
a car honking. Shit, Jessie was really serious. He got Jaret to pick me up?

Rolling my eyes, I grab my backpack and fill it up to the brim with
the second-hand books I got and hurry out the door. Glad I already brought most
of my stuff to campus yesterday.

Jaret’s convertible Mazda rolls down the street, knocking over a
trashcan standing near the side of the road. He rolls down his window. “Hey,
dude!”

“Hey,” I say, closing the door to my house. I make my way across the
trash-littered stone path and try not to look at the overgrown patches of grass
that look more like a swamp than a garden.

“Where’s the enthusiasm, man?” Jaret says, patting the side of his
car. “C’mon! We’re going to freaking college!”