Sweet Venom (Crazy in Love #1) Page 9

  “I can protect myself,” she argues.

  “Again … didn’t say you couldn’t,” I tell her, setting the record straight. “But Kelvin had the upper-hand. I’m not out to undermine people, Princess. I’ve seen what people are capable of, but sometimes I like to be a real fucking gentleman.”

  “Well, seems chivalry hasn’t died,” she quips with a quick eye roll.

  “My father raises killers,” I start, ignoring the comment.

  “Which is you,” she states with an emotionless stare.

  I smirk at her but don’t comment. “But I’m my own person enough to know more what’s right and wrong. It might not be normal, but it’s normal for me.

  “Yet you kill people,” she states, dryly.

  I shrug. “I like the power.”

  “So … you kill for the power drive?” she asks with an unconvinced tone.

  “Sometimes it’s a knee jerk thing … others it’s a slip of the knife … most of the time it’s my orders,” I tell her, with a shrug again. “Anyway,” I start, “I was wonderin’ something.”

  “What’s that?” she asks, tilting her head at me.

  “I was just wondering if you’ve ever thought of contactin’ your family,” I query, trailing off as I attempt to gauge her reaction.

  She gives me the smallest yet saddest smiles possible. “Every single day.”

  “Why don’t you?” I ask, curious over the fact.

  “I used to … at the beginning that is, but they all put the phone down.” The saddest of looks graces her brown eyes, drowning in the despair that life has thrust upon her. “They used to hear it was me and that was it. I never got any further.”

  “That’s got to hurt,” I comment, unable to comprehend that sort of treatment.

  “It did, but I told myself to cut myself off from the hurt.”

  “I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” I admit, showing her the same compassion I do my sister.

  “Don’t be,” she admonishes, waving the thought away. “I learned a long time ago to not allow myself to feel.”

  “That’s a lie,” I admonish.

  She laughs, it’s now thick with tears I can tell. She’s spent so long being strong I think she forgets to be completely weak. She’s spent so much of her time hiding her true self that she’s finally wound up in a place with people who aren’t hellbent on money and kingdoms like the men before me that she doesn’t know how to react.

  “It can only get better,” I say, reacting to the minor facts I’m aware of. I don’t know her entire story, haven’t dug that far into it, but I know enough to know she’s suffered a great deal for such an unnecessary cause. “Look,” I start with solemn tone. “I can’t promise you anythin’ in life, Ashley,” I admit to her, solemnly. “I can’t promise to be a good man or a loyal one, or committed. I can’t.”

  “I’m not expecting it,” she replies, sitting up to grab my hand. “I expect nothing.”

  “I know,” I reply, cutting her off. “I don’t know much in life, but I know how to be loyal to those who are loyal to me. That’s how we work here. It’s how I learned that skill. I can’t promise you much more than my loyalty and the promise that this deal … it ends with me.”

  “Unless someone has a say in that,” she mumbles, unable to meet my eyes.

  She’s so ready for life to repeat itself that she’s unable to believe me when I say this ends without death.

  “It ends with death, right?” I ask, and she nods. “I plan to live as long as humanly possible, and I don’t plan on lettin’ anyone die on my watch. But for that to work you have to be committed.”

  “How?” she asks, biting her plump lip between her teeth.

  “When I said you had to make sure you can hold your own, I meant it. I can’t worry about you when I have enough of my own tracks to cover. You have to live life like you’re not a part of somethin’, but remember you are a part of this family we have here.” I take a moment, waiting to see if she realizes the potency of it all. “We look after one another, but we know that we look after ourselves first … I have no time to worry you’re going to drag me down. Likewise, my men only have time to cover my back and theirs, not yours as well. They’re paid to be my protection and be a part of the elite. You’re additional. You’re not in their job description.”

  “I won’t let you down,” she says, and I notice the flare of fear now corrupt her orbs. “I’m good at doing what you need me to do … I’ve had years of training.”

  I laugh, a little shocked at how easy she is to believe. Life made Ashley into a warrior, sculpted her into a strong human who can bare a lot of internal scars. And while I trust her ability to keep up, I’m not sure she’s fully aware of the physical scars my life can give her.

  “Tess has promised to help you settle in … for however long you’re here.”

  “Sir!” Harrison bellows through the loft.

  “Out here!” I yell back, not bothering to move.

  I listen to him to move through the loft, his steps quick and heavy on the vanished flooring. He comes in, looking worrisome as he stops in the doorway.

  “This just arrived,” he says, coming toward me with a brown manila envelope. “No sender on it. It’s just paperwork.”

  “Where was it?” I ask, getting up to cross the space between us.

  “Sittin’ outside the elevator,” he tells me, handing the envelope over. “They pushed the buzzer for the loft, but there was no one there when we got down there.”

  “Surveillance?” I question, taking notice of the weight of its contents.

  “Cameras were sprayed,” he says, looking at me gravely. “We’re workin’ on findin’ out more, but we had no idea who was there.”

  “Thank you, Harrison,” I say.

  I don’t worry about that information for now. I know my team will sort it. So, instead, I focus on the information I hold. I tear the envelope apart, yanking its contents free. I gaze closely at it, seeing the covering letter addressed to me.

  Lawson Leo Matthews.

  You are now the sole owner of the first female born to the Billy Allan Johnson and Benjamin Samuel Johnson.

  Handle with care.

  It may cost you your life.

  “It’s it, isn’t it?” Ashley’s voice breaks the quiet. “It’s arrived.”

  I’m dumbfounded, but I don’t hesitate. “Let’s go and discuss this in private,” I say, narrowing my attention firmly on Ashley. “Just the two of us.”

  “Boss,” Harrison cautions.

  “I’ll handle this,” I say, cutting him off. I look to Ashley, nodding my head toward my office. “My office now.”

  She listens, standing alert almost immediately and waits for me to lead the way. She doesn’t say a word as I start to walk, the paperwork by my side, my body stiffened with the pit of dread balling up inside me. Nothing that comes without a sender is ever a good delivery, and I have waited all evening for this.

  “Sit,” I tell her.

  I keep my back to her as I toss away the covering letter, disregarding the information addressed to me. I can sense her move behind me, feel her eyes firmly on me as I remain standing in one place. I turn, drawing the paperwork up to read. I see beyond the papers as she goes and settles into the end seat of the couch, pressing herself into the corner. Her hands wring together with nervous energy, and she watches me as I start to pace. Every time I get close to her, I notice how she recoils a little, worried as she watches me read further into the file.

  I read how this debt remained unpaid until Ashley was born and it came alive, building to the point of her eighteenth birthday when she was no longer a part of her family. There’s missing information, no details about how it came to be, why it wasn’t resolved sooner, why it took over a hundred years for Ashley to be the debt collector’s paradise.

  But the one detail that remains is the fact that while Ashley lives, she is the belonging of any man that comes from the original owner – any descendant of C
harles Borelli, a wealthy entrepreneur back in the 1900s. After, she is any mans who kills the last known owner.

  “Fuck,” I say, finalizing the contract.

  When I get to the bottom, I see the legally binding contract. Signed by a judge dating back to the early twentieth century.

  There’s nowhere to sign, no need for my signature. I was awarded Ashley Johnson the moment I ended Bryce Rainey’s life – just as the debt foretold. It’s written here, complete with every master, state they lived, and date of death. This is eternal, and there’s no get out clause – except for one of our deaths.

  And any man who so kills the last master shall forever be in possession of the female descendant of Billy and Benjamin Johnson until death divides them.

  “This is fucked up,” I admit, looking at her with a fine frenzy building inside. “This is a lifetime imprisonment for somethin’ so unbelievably stupid!”

  “I didn’t lie to you,” she’s quick to argue, defensiveness catches in her throat. “This is just how my life is meant to go.”

  “But mine isn’t!” I yell at her, pacing again, harder this time “This is fuckin’ bullshit!” I swear, going to my desk to throw the papers down along with my hands as my anger makes it impossible for me to focus. “Do you know how ridiculous this sounds?” I ask, spinning around, holding the paperwork up in the air. “You’re some ancient bargainin’ chip from a debt that dates almost one-hundred-and-twenty years ago?!”

  She accepts how my rage is growing, looks resigned in seeing it, and I guess she’s had to deal with many men and their reaction to receiving such documentation.

  “This is fuckin’ stupid,” I say, marching toward her to throw the papers down onto the table beside the couch. “And just my fuckin’ luck I get to fall into the path of it all.” I shake my head and look at Ashley with such a heated look. “Where are your family really? Better yet, why aren’t your family searchin’ for you? It makes no sense!”

  She rubs her hands together nervously, and I know we’ve barely even broached the subject, but I cannot fathom how her family could let this happen.

  I know we had discussed the immediate points in the issue, but now having the paperwork, now seeing it in black and white makes it all the more real. This isn’t a joke anymore; this isn’t going to disappear.

  She’s now mine – unwittingly and contractually bound.

  Guaranteed with the pull of a trigger.

  “Because they know what will happen if they intervene. I have no family.” She bites her lip, trying to remind herself to be strong. “Look, I know it’s not practical, but look at it from my point of view,” she admits, standing up. “I was living a pretty amazing life until my eighteenth birthday. Now I’m stuck being with strangers. Stuck paying a price I didn’t even create.”

  I can tell she’s had to put this argument across, fight her way through this moment as if she’s made to do so on repeat for the rest of her life. I can’t hide my anger, can’t hide the fact that I don’t need someone like Ashley to worry about.

  “It’s an age-old debt, some fucker would have forgotten about it,” I remark, a fresh roughness to my voice as I try to quell my frustration. “I can’t even begin to imagine why anyone let this carry on!”

  “It’s not that easy,” she refutes, rubbing her hands together again.

  “Oh, it is,” I utter. “Families don’t do this to their own!” I bellow, throwing my arms out in disarray. “Families fight for one another. They don’t fuckin’ abandon their own like yours have! Somethin’ like this should’ve been buried along with the bastards who wrote and signed the fuckin’ thing!” I throw my arms out again. “Better yet, one of the fuckers who got you before me should’ve called the shots and stopped it!”

  If I’m angry over this, I cannot imagine what Ashley feels, but I don’t care enough to find out. I just want this to end. I want to go back and know everything about Bryce Rainey, force my father to dig.

  “You think this is fun and games for me?” she asks, disbelievingly. “The difference between you and the rest of them is that you didn’t welcome me quite so warmly. You actually want to get rid of me.”

  “Because I don’t have time for problems like you!” I admit to her, not holding back from yelling the words out. I see them affect her, wound her and I’m happy about it. “My life doesn’t allow me to have time to introduce you to my life! I work for myself and I work for my father. I have no time to drag you into any of it! Fuck, half of it I can’t.”

  “Is that the half where you blew off half of Bryce’s face?” she asks me, raising a brow. “Because I think I’m well versed in that half of your life.”

  She’s seen enough for one evening to know what it is I do with my life. I shouldn’t be surprised that she knows the rest of the story considering she knows men I’ve worked with, killed, and protected.

  “You think this is a laughin’ matter?” I ask, my jaw clenching as I feel she’s mocking me. “I could solve this issue really quickly.”

  I reach behind me, the pressure of the gun against my skin suddenly abundantly clear to me. I wrap my fingers around the handle of the gun, pulling it free of my waistband. I watch Ashley from where I stand; her eyes are slowly widening as she realizes what it is I’m doing. I bring the revolver around, pull the chamber free before reloading it.

  “I didn’t ask for you,” I tell her, a bitterness hitting my voice the poison hits every one of my taste buds. “You said death could end this, well I’m all about death,” I deadpan, putting my arm out, the barrel of the gun pointed right at Ashley. “Just never my own.”

  While fear starts to consume her, I steady my aim.

  “You can’t fucking kill me!” she yells, paralyzed into her seat. “I didn’t ask for this! Just like you didn’t!” I can hear the hysteria raise the pitch of her voice. She’s slowly starting to hyperventilate over the fact she’s now sitting at the end of the barrel of a gun. “Please, I know this isn’t an ideal life, but I have to have some shot of getting free of it!”

  She’s right, she does, but I am not the one to present her with a get out clause. I’m not a man of mercy. It’s not in me to be forgiving and to care for a woman enough to save her.

  “Please, Lawson. You can do what some of the others did, you can toss me aside and forget about me,” she tries to bargain, the desperate tone becoming shrill. “That’s how this usually works. You can do the same. It’s fine. You can forget I even exist, but please, put the gun away.” She’s pleading heavily, trying to suppress sobs. “I can live in the shadows.”

  “That’s not how it works,” I defy her comment. “Not now my father knows about you.”

  “It can!” she argues, trying to hold a steady voice. “It’ll work. It can work. I know it can!” I see a tear escape her left eye, running a track over the contour of her face. “Please, just put the gun down, Lawson!”

  I know she’s seeing the man I keep locked down, the beast that scares men to death. I know she’s well aware of what I’m capable of and I’m glad for it. I don’t like beggars, much less crying women. It’s these sorts of things that push me closer to the edge, forcing me to balance on the ledge to hell.

  I know I can see it – the frightened girl on the end of the gun. I see her begging for her life, but like so many men before her, I don’t listen. Instead, I steady the gun.

  Nothing ever stops me once the heat of adrenaline runs in my veins. I live for this, for the fierce pounding of my heart, the hypersensitivity to the life around me as I play God. I love the sound death causes - the real fear of an imminent death, the desperation for a full life.

  “I told you I was immortal,” I breathe, taking a slow, calculated step forward. “I know you’re not.”

  My finger wraps around the trigger, wanting nothing more than to pull it now, pull it while she’s mid begging me to spare her life, but I prolong her agony, toy with her unraveling mentality in the face of death with every step I take closer to her.

  �
�Please,” Ashley begs, trying in vain to stop me inching closer. “Don’t do this!”

  I don’t stop. I’m itching for the barrel of my gun to make contact with her forehead, indent into her porcelain skin as I push the bullet from its chamber with one gentle pull of my finger.

  “Lawson!” Tess screams running into the room.

  No sooner than my name broke the air is she grabbing me, forcing me away from Ashley. She fights me from my trance, forcing me to stop my vicious intent. And slowly, I collapse to my knees, sunken in shame at what I almost attempted to do. As the adrenaline starts to burn out, leaving my body exhausted from consumption I’m aware that Tess saw me at my worst and I sink further.

  “Lawson,” she whispers, my name a sweet lullaby on her lips. “Look at me, Lawson. Please. Please, look at me.” Her small, soft hands come to frame my face. “Lawson, come back to me.”

  I snap back, the world a whirlwind around me as I take in the room. I look up at my sister, her eyes so wide and worrisome and I instantly regret what I’ve caused.

  “Give me the gun,” she orders me softly, her hands leaving my face to frame my hand and the revolver. “Give it to me,” she pushes her command, and slowly she unwraps my fingers. “You don’t need this.”

  “I didn’t sign up for this,” I utter, completely disconnected from the world around me.

  “I know,” Tess empathizes, her eyes so soft as they watch me. “But nor did she.”

  And that’s the brutal truth – Ashley didn’t sign up for this just as much as I didn’t. We’re both caught in this trap, locked tight in it by death and betrayal. We’re both locked together by circumstance, thrust together in the cold light of death.

  I look up finally, straight at Ashley as she sits in the chair I almost killed her in. Her lips are trembling, but she’s able to keep the tears at bay, holding them tightly even against her own will.

  “Ashley,” I start.

  “I’m sorry,” she admits, her voice small and fearful. “There’s no get out clause. It’s death in, death out … I wish there was another way. I do. I really do.”