Scarred: A New Adult Romance (The Anderson Brothers Series Book 1) (17 page)

Standing
at the patio doorway, I continue observing as I down my rum ’n Coke.

Someone
suddenly slaps me on the shoulder, and I nearly choke.

“Dude!
You made it!”

I
turn my head and widen my eyes at Chris.
“Shit!”
I hiss and grab his arm and pull him along with me. “Follow. Now.” I knew Chris
and Adrienne were going to be here, but I figured they’d be too caught up with
the party to notice me.

Chris
gives me a curious look, but tails me. I head down to the basement, where
people are pouring drinks from giant steel beer kegs and playing beer pong in
the center of the room. The popcorn ceiling vibrates from the music above.

I
hate letting Denise and William out of my sight, even for a moment, but I can’t
risk being seen—and possibly ratted out—by Adrienne, wherever she is.

I
spot two empty lawn chairs and make a beeline for them. Sitting down, I finish
my drink.

Chris
sits and slides his chair closer to mine. “Dude, you look like you just seen a
ghost. What’s up?”

I
stare toward the beer pong game and lower my voice. “Chris, I need you to do me
a big favor. Keep away from me, William, and Denise. And Adri needs to do the
same.”

He
blinks. “What?”

I
look at him, more serious this time. “I mean it, Chris. This is important. I
don’t want either of you talking to any of us. I need to keep an eye on Denise,
and I can’t get kicked out of here.”

“But
I thought—”

“No.”
I shake my head. “She came with William. I had to sneak in. And if you tell
anyone that, I swear I will kick your ass.”

“Okay,
I promise I won’t tell. But what’s going on with Denise? You need any help?”

“Naw,
I got this. Just keep Adri away from me. She hates my guts right now after the
other night. It would be nothing for her to call me out.”

“Eh,
she was drunk. She gets a little crazy sometimes when she’s drunk, but damn, I
love the hell out of her.” He finishes his drink and sets the red plastic cup
down with several others that litter the floor. “Speaking of which,” he says,
getting up. “I better go make sure she’s behaving.”

I
arch an eyebrow, watching him leave. “Adrienne? Behaving?”

Chris
grins. “Well, you know. She can’t be letting a bunch of drunk frat guys grope
her. Only I do the groping. And man, do I ever!”

I
raise my other eyebrow. “Uh, all right, see you later.”

The
beer pong game ends not long after Chris leaves, and one guy who was playing
lays out on the floor, too piss-drunk to even move. I head back upstairs.
There’s laughing and cheering from the patio. Curious, I wander out the back
door. A crowd has formed around the man of the hour, Andrew, who’s sitting on
his knees at a table covered with shot glasses. My eyes scan the shot glasses
sitting before the pale-skinned, lanky guy—twenty-one.

I
survey the rest of the crowd and spot Denise and William standing together on
the other side of the circle. Thankfully, they both seem focused on what’s
going on and don’t notice me. I remain at the back of the crowd and peer between
people. William stands behind Denise, his chin resting on her shoulder with his
arms wrapped around her, and his hands slowly rub her midsection. Denise brings
a red cup to her lips, and her eyelids flutter as she drinks.

I
frown.
How many has she had already? Or
did he …

A
Xi guy, who looks like he’s already had a few too many, steps up on a plastic
patio chair. A few people in the crowd laugh and try to steady the chair,
though they look equally buzzed.

“Twenty-one
shots! Twenty-one questions for our birthday brother!” The crowd cheers, some
raising their red cups.

“Question
one! Go!” Chair-guy points to a random person in the crowd—a short,
blonde-haired girl wearing a black, strapless dress.

“Have
you ever done a threesome?” she asks, and the crowd responds with hollers.

Andrew
picks up his first shot. “Nope, but the night’s not over yet.” He downs the
shot in a single gulp and slams the empty glass on the table. Cheers and
whistles erupt from the crowd.

“Question
two!” Chair-guy points to another random person.

I
look across the circle to see William whisper something in Denise’s ear, and
she grins, looking back at him. William leads her away from the crowd and they
head back into the house. I watch until I can no longer see them, and then I follow
after them. They snake through the dancers and drunks and head toward a set of
stairs. I wait for them to reach the top of the stairs and disappear around a
corner before I slowly follow. Halfway upstairs, I hear a door slam.

The
hallway is lit up with more Christmas lights and lanterns. The doors to the
three bedrooms are all closed, a couple is making out on the floor next to the
railing, and a girl is sprawled out near one of the doors, drink in hand, her
other hand clutching her side. She’s nodding off. Maybe she saw which room they
went in.

I
wander over to the girl, kneel down, and gently pat the side of her cheek to
rouse her from her drunken stupor. “Hey. Did you just see two people come up
here?”

The
girl looks up at me with half-opened green eyes, her frazzled brown hair
sweeping across her cute face.

“Hey,”
I say again, now that I seem to have her attention.

“Ohh
shiiiit. DJ Kevitron’s here!” Her speech is slurred.

I
cringe.
Do he and I really look that much
alike?
“Uh, yeah, that’s right. Think you can help me, sweetie?”

“Mhmm.”
She downs the last swallow of her amber drink. Her body jerks, and she groans,
her face contorting in pain.

She
hasn’t let go of her side. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

She
grunts. “Just some stupid asshole that don’t know how to treat a lady. Pretty
face, but feet like fucking lead, telling me to ‘get out the fucking way.’ Who
the hell does he think he is? Eh?” She elbows the door behind her and yells,
“That’s right, fuck you, asshole!”

I
blink. Did William kick this girl? That son of a bitch. Now that I know what
room he’s in, I’m gonna fuck his ass up for this.

But first, I need to get rid
of her before making my move.
Things might get violent, and I don’t want innocent bystanders
getting hurt. I grab her arm and lift her up from the floor.

“C’mon,
sweetie. Can you stand? I’ll get you away from that asshole.”

She
stumbles and staggers as she gets to her high-heeled feet.
Damn
, she’s drunk. “I can take care of myself.” She wraps her other
arm around me and hangs on for dear life. “But I don’t mind being rescued by DJ
Kevitron. Ha! My musical prince came for me.”

Keeping
her steady, I pull her away from the door. Her face gets close to mine, the
strong smell of whiskey making me wrinkle my nose.

“Hey,
I gotta pee. Wait for me, ’kay?” she murmurs.

I
wince, her hot, alcohol-tinged breath hitting my ear. “Yeah, sure. Take your
time.” I drag her to the only bathroom up here and turn the light on for her.
Shoving her inside, I shut the door.

Now, Denise.

I
return to the door at the end of the hallway. I try it once and discover it’s
locked, not to my surprise. Pressing my ear to it, I try to make out any sort
of sound, but it’s a little hard with all the party stuff going on below.

I
scowl when I finally make out William’s voice.

“You
don’t know how sexy you look right now, D.”

“Can
we go now? I’m not feeling well,” Denise says.

“We
just got started. It’s time, D.”

I
grit my teeth. The music downstairs ramps up a notch, and it gets even harder
to hear what’s happening on the other side of the door. William says something
about wanting to make the night memorable for her, and then Denise groans. I
catch the words “home” and “headache,” then nothing. But a moment later the
sounds of Denise’s moans filter through.

The
music cuts out, and in the sudden silence, their conversation is horribly
clear.

“No
… Not tonight,” she says.

“Not
tonight, not tomorrow night, not next week, then when?”

“I
don’t know … ”

“Stop
being scared.”

“I’m
not, but … wait!”

My
hand falls away from the doorknob, and I rest my forehead against the door and
close my eyes. That panicked voice, the uncertainty, calling out for help.

That was me.

“No,
William!”

You’re not going to win, you
son of a bitch.

There’s
a scream, but it’s so brief, it most likely went unheard.

By
everyone but me.

I
open my eyes.

I
tried screaming, once, too. But he covered my mouth to muffle my screams,
nearly suffocating me with his massive hand that smelled like ass and alcohol.
I was so scrawny then, and no match for my old man.

“You
need this.”

“No!”

“Shut
the fuck up!”

Downstairs,
the music has started up again, and it pounds in my head. Red is all I see.
Dark crimson that turns me blind with rage. I slam into the door, attempting to
plow through it with my shoulder. The door holds, despite my efforts, though
there’s a small splinter in the wood where my shoulder hit. The couple in the
hallway seem too involved with each other to care about the commotion I’m
causing.

“Keep
it down out there!” William yells.

I
step back and try again, using every ounce of my strength. The door swings
open, splintering at the hinges and lock. High school football has finally paid
off.

I
discover William on the bed, his shirt off, jeans halfway down his ass. He’s
straddling Denise, whose blouse is open, revealing her white lace bra. Her pants
are off, and her arms and legs are pinned by his.

William’s
head snaps in my direction. His eyes widen and he gawks. “What the fuck are you
doing, Dominick?”

Denise
moans, but I don’t sense any sexual feeling in her voice.

William
tightens his hold on her. “I said shut the fuck up!”

My
left eye twitches. I see the way my father hit me. The way he yelled at me. The
way he choked Kevin. That pain. That suffering. That near-death experience. It
all becomes an endless ball of rage packed into my hands, which snatch one of
William’s arms and yank him off the bed. Off Denise. He grunts as he falls to
the floor and hits his head on the wooden dresser.

He
gets up awkwardly, nearly tripping over his pants. He pulls them up. Gritting
his teeth, he grabs a table lamp sitting on one end of the dresser and holds it
up, the cord ripping out of the socket. “Get the fuck out this room, now!”

I
clench my fists. “I will, once I deal with your sorry punk ass.”

He
charges at me with the lamp, and I try to block the incoming blow, but he’s
much too strong. I shut my eyes and turn my head as the lamp shatters against
my right forearm. It stings like all hell and then goes numb. Shit. I hope it’s
not broken. Thankfully, my left side is my fighting side. I see the blur of his
fist coming at me, but I land one right on his nose before he has a chance to
connect.

He
grunts and stumbles backward, his head snapping back. “Oof!” A line of blood
flows from his nose down to his upper lip. He teeters a moment, then comes at
me again like a raging bull. “Son of a bitch!” he spits, cocking his hand back.

I
dodge his incoming punch and meet him force for force with my left elbow across
his face. His head snaps to one side and blood flies out of his mouth.

He
grabs a handful of my shirt and slams me against the wall. The back of my head
hits the drywall hard enough to daze me a moment. I headbutt him, the impact
making my own forehead sting, but it’s just enough to break his hold. As he
stands there holding his head, I shove him backward. I get some feeling back
into my right arm, thank God. Must be the adrenaline.

“You
motherfucking piece of shit!” I say, landing a punch in his solar plexus. I
have a headache like all hell, but I’m so pumped, I ignore it.

He
doubles over, and I knee him in the face. A few teeth fly out when the blow
connects. He tumbles backward, slamming his head to the floor. I straddle him
on my knees and punch him repeatedly across his face. Left. Right. Left. Right.
His head whips back and forth. God, this feels good. It’s invigorating to let
all this shit out now. Those fucking demons—every bit of my anger is being
branded on his body. He’s gonna remember me for a long time. And I won’t
hesitate to kick his ass again. And again. Adrenaline overtakes me, and I
breathe heavily. My fists are covered in his blood.

He’s
out cold, nose broken, two black and blue eyes, and mouth full of blood and
broken teeth. I wipe blood from my hands, get off him, and pull my foot back,
ready to deliver a good hard kick to break some of his ribs, when I hear Denise’s
weak moan.

The
sound of her voice calms me. Lowering my foot, I turn around. She looks back at
me with half-open eyes. She seems to be fighting her own consciousness. I rush
to the bedside and sit her upright. Her head bobs around, and her body seems
lifeless.

My God.

“Denise,
can you hear me?”

She
stares blankly, her pupils dilated.

“I’m
getting you out of here and to some help.” I fix her clothes and pull her out
of bed, wrapping her arm around me to keep her steady.

As
I head for the door, I look back at William’s unconscious body. As much as I
want to finish him off, I decide against it. Killing him will just help him
take the easy way out, like Pops.

We
head downstairs to the front door, where Shane is still standing.

“Leaving
already, Genius?” he asks, looking at both of us oddly.

“Yeah,”
I say, my voice emotionless. “I’m taking Denise home.”