“No, you didn’t. Go get your drink.”
“Whatever you say, Grayson.”
“Go.” I jut my chin out toward the direction she needs to walk in.
With a sweet, crooked smirk, she turns on her heel and struts away, putting more sway in her hips than she did before.
I close my eyes and hurry inside my room, and I lock this damn door for good measure.
She’s fucking trouble.
I’ve always loved a little trouble.
Chapter Twelve
FINLEY
The next morning, I have my bag packed with clean clothes and about three-thousand dollars left over stuffed inside. I took all of Trevor’s money, but my mom didn’t know I knew where her secret stash of cash was. Should I have taken all of it? No.
But you know what? I’ll call it paying me back for all the abuse I’ve had to endure over the years, and she’s far from being paid in full.
I glance around the room they let me stay in for the night, and I don’t want to leave. Grayson is the obvious reason for me to stay, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in a place that feels like a home. This place is a home. The people who live here make it that way, and I don’t know how long it will be until I feel that again.
The air conditioning works, the house is clean, and the bed is so soft I felt like I slept on feather. It’s by far the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had. There are so many reasons why I want to beg to stay here, but I can’t. I take one last look around the room while my hand pauses on the light switch to turn it off.
Forest green walls surround me, mimicking the vivacity of the forest the Cliff House is nestled in. The bedframe is a beautiful hand carved sleigh bed made of mahogany. The details are fairytale-like, with woodland creatures designed in every groove of the wood. The carpet is soft, a beautiful golden beige to offset the darkness of the walls. There’s a low hanging brass chandelier, with teardrop bulbs, reminding me of rain.
It’s obvious the men here are very wealthy, but how? What do they do to afford such luxury because I want tips. The last thing I want to do is live like my mom in a rundown house that doesn’t have electricity half the time. I’m so afraid I’m going to turn into trash or go down the road my mom went down, become a sex worker and marry a guy who doesn’t really give a damn about me.
I won’t wish for a room or a life like this because wishing is for foolish little girls. Letting out a heavy breath, I open the door and turn off the light. Grayson is right, I need to leave. Craving him, craving this life, is bad for my health. I have enough cash to pick a place and get settled. I could get a cheap apartment and find a job. Not here in California, it’s too expensive, but I can figure it out.
I always do.
I might be taking my time because who in their right mind would want to leave a place like this? I’m practically dragging my feet so I’m in the house a second longer. The closer I get to the main part of the house, knots form in my stomach as I wonder if I need to say goodbye? Would anyone even care enough? Probably not. I’m just the girl who lied to get her way into Grayson’s life. They will be happier when I’m gone.
I hate that I lied. I shouldn’t have, and that’s something I’ll regret forever. Alicia was right. I should have waited until my eighteenth birthday, and none of this mess would’ve happened. Karma, I suppose, and I can’t even say it’s a bitch because I was a bitch first.
Raised voices get my attention, and when I come to the entrance of the living room, the officer who helped me yesterday is here, and he looks pissed.
“I’m here to arrest that girl for murder. She played me like a damn fool yesterday, Grayson. Hell, what if she is here to do the same to you?”
“She isn’t. You don’t know the full story, Howard. She didn’t kill those men for the hell of it. They were trying to rape her! She defended herself, like every woman should.”
“Oh? Is that what happened to you, Grayson? Did the woman defend herself, and you’re pulling the pity me card?”
Before I can think of what to say, Grayson launches a fist through the air, punching Officer Howard in the jaw. “Fuck you for throwing that in my face. You know damn good and well I didn’t do that!”
In the next instance, Jaxon levels a gun to Officer Howard’s head and tsks, “If I were you, I’d stop right now. You might be the law, but in this house? You can disappear, and no one will ever find you. You can either be amongst friends or you can get the fuck out.”
Officer Howard licks the blood off his lips. A few pieces of his slicked back hair came undone and hang in his face. He reaches for his gun, but Owen is behind him, snatching the gun from the holster on Officer Howard’s hip.
“Don’t even think about it,” Owen warns, placing the gun against the back of Officer Howard’s head.
“You guys are threatening a police officer, and you assaulted one. I could have you all arrested. You need to really think about this.”
“No,” a man I haven’t seen before struts into the room as if funky music is playing in the background. He reminds me of John Travolta in Grease. Slicked back hair, bad boy energy, and a great sense of style. He is wearing a loose fitted shirt tucked into black trousers with a black leather belt. “I think you need to wake up and smell the fucking death, my man. Don’t ya? Now, listen.” He takes out a cigar and places it between his lips, then lights it. He puffs a few times, his cheeks expanding and hollowing with every inhale. He blows out a cloud of smoke and keeps the cigar in his mouth. He smiles. “Ah, come on. We’re all friends here, aren’t we? No need for all this drama. We can sort this out.” He strolls up to Officer Howard and straightens the collar of the man’s uniform. “I like you, ya know? You’re the ‘grab a guy by the balls and twist them off type’. I like that about you. You’re a good cop.” He takes another drag of the cigar and then grabs Officer Howard’s chin and shoves him against the wall until the back of his skull creates a nasty thud.
I hold a hand over my mouth and watch the scene unfold. Are these guys mafia or something? Is that why they have so much money and are so damn scary?