Chasing Wicked (The Mitchell Brothers - Wicked Series Book 1) Read online

  “You bastard!” Enraged, my churning blood released coiled anger like a viper. Tears stung my eyes as I rushed toward him.

  Of its own accord, my hand slapped him full across his face. I reared back, going for seconds, but before I connected with his reddened cheek, he grabbed my wrist midair. My gaze locked on his, watching his nostrils flare and jaw tick. I wanted to hurt him as badly as he’d hurt me.

  Debris of some sort sailed down the street and a wind gust blew strands of my hair against my tear-stained cheek. A streak of lightning cracked through the sky, chased by a loud rumble of thunder, and the light hanging from a rafter above Stone’s head flickered until it faded into darkness.

  “The power just went. If you want anything out of your car, get it now.” He stomped up the stairs, disappearing around the landing and dragging my piece of luggage behind him.

  Nothing in the car mattered—nothing mattered except being stranded in hell with Stone Mitchell. I shot up the stairs, taking two at a time, ready to stand against the devil himself. My chest burned with hurt, but an uncontrolled fire fueled a rage. In the light of a flickering candle, Stone’s gaze lacked remorse.

  “You have no idea—”

  “Avery, I moved forward. You need to do the same.”

  “Moved forward? I’m glad it was so easy for you!” I hissed.

  He stood, arms folded over his chest, and my heart galloped in my chest as the emotionless smirk on his face intensified my anger.

  “You didn’t give a damn about what you did! My mother swore the last thing she remembered was thanking the Jennings family for all their hard work with the festival, and then the next thing she knew, she woke up in the barn. It nearly killed my father! I’ll never be able to forget how broken he was that Sunday when he stepped down from the pulpit. He loved that church and the congregation. From the front row, I witnessed the shame he felt. When he cried, I wanted to die. Do you hear me? I wanted to die! He couldn’t even finish the sermon! My mother joined him at the altar, confessing her sins…the sin she didn’t remember…asking them…to forgive her.” Tears trickled down my cheeks, dropping onto my shirt. “My happy family shattered because of you! Moving a hundred miles away wasn’t near far enough from the memories.”

  Stone angrily took a step toward me before stopping himself. “What do you want from me? An apology? It won’t change the fact that I fucked your mother!”

  I shook my head. “You’re right! It won’t! Did you even see the pictures? They raced from cell phone to cell phone! Gossip spread in a matter of minutes, ruining all of our lives! Everyone saw the photos of my boyfriend and mother in the barn, spread across the pile of hay. My God, her hand was inside your unzipped pants, head against your bare chest, and she was wearing nothing but a lavender bra and panties! So no, an apology will never be enough!”

  Those vivid images haunted me every day.

  Our feuding eyes held more fierceness than the storm outside, and matching fury consumed the room. I craved to slap him again and again until he felt the relentless pain I lived with.

  “You said you earned a free ticket to hell, but even that’s too good for you,” I spat.

  He ran his hand through his hair, jaw clenched, shaking his head. “I should have stayed, Avery. I should have done a lot of things differently, but I didn’t. I was just a college kid then. I tried to forget. I tried drinking away the memories. Nothing helped—not making quarterback, not the party life. There wasn’t enough whiskey or girls to drown it out, but I’ve paid my penance, in more ways than one. That make you happy? Can you sleep better at night knowing you’re not the only one who lost everything?”

  “I don’t give a damn what you lost! I can’t stand you, and I’ll never forgive you.”

  “But you forgave her.”

  He ended the conversation by turning his back to me, emptying the contents of the stockpot into a colander in the sink. The scent of spices filled the room, along with the looming, deafening silence. My heart slammed into my ribs. Sinking onto the couch, I pulled a decorative pillow to my stomach, hugging it as if somehow it would ease the anguish.Stone had hit a nerve. I’d once told my mother I had forgiven her…but had I?

  “For as long as I can remember, my parents taught me right from wrong. My father preached about accepting people’s shortcomings, their imperfections, and forgiving to be forgiven…but he wasn’t able to teach me how to get over this. I can’t…” A dead spirit filled my voice.

  He glanced over his shoulder, eyes roaming my face. I didn’t want to see the torment in his eyes, but I did. He raked his hand through his hair. “The ferry should be back in service tomorrow, and I’ll be on it. Feel free to stay. I won’t be bothering you.”

  “You think I’m going to vacation in your house? I don’t think so.”

  “Think of it as Gammy’s. After all, she’s the one who had it built. Besides, I have business to tend to at home.” Home? As if reading my mind, he answered before turning his attention back to the food preparation. “Houston.”

  I should have been drenched in relief, but I wasn’t. My mind spun like a hamster on a wheel, round and round in an unmerciful, never-ending, hopeless circle. There seemed to be so much more to say, so much lingering in the air. I wanted to lash out, hurt him, make him fall to his knees…even though I knew he never would. There was something so different about him. He was aloof, hard, cold.

  Flickers from the candle illuminated the muscles in his back, his breathing pushing his shoulders up and down. Cool and collected he stood, still as handsome as ever. My eyes ran along his thick arms; six years had changed his physique. He’d become a man. Corded arms replaced the athletic build of a college football player; it was obvious he spent hours doing disciplined workouts.

  I cursed myself for allowing my thoughts to wander down memory lane, to dwell on how good he once made me feel, damned myself to hell for remembering how ridiculously handsome he had been—and still was.

  Both of our cell phones alarmed, alerting us of an update on the disturbance just off the Gulf Coast. It had increased in strength, not yet a tropical storm, but was being closely monitored by the National Hurricane Center. The bulletin indicated the early summer storm promised dangerous winds, coastal flooding, large hail, and possible water spouts.

  He slid his device across the countertop, crossed his arms, and leaned against the counter. “I haven’t had the chance to close the shutters on the back side of the house.” He pointed over my shoulder. “Sleep in the front bedroom where everything is secured. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything. We’ll be safe, it’s just a small system moving in.”

  “I’m not afraid of bad weather.”

  “You never were.”

  We shared a quick glance, almost like we were having a normal conversation that wasn’t strained. My heart skipped around in my chest as I made myself look at my watch.

  “Are you hungry?” He spooned some well-seasoned boiled shrimp onto a paper plate.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I had some pretzels and a soda on the way here.”

  “Sit down and I’ll make you a plate.” He tipped his head toward one of the barstools.

  Not on your life.

  Yet, I didn’t move. He filled two plates with shrimp, corn, and potatoes and then poured two glasses of tea. To my dismay, he slid onto the stool next to where he expected me to eat.

  The prospective misery of dining in the same room with Stone stood at odds with the growling in my stomach. The aroma tempting my senses won the battle…or maybe it was the tingles left on my skin where his touch still burned.

  “Sit, Avery. It’s just a meal between two people that don’t know each other anymore. Strangers—nothing more, nothing less.”

  Reluctantly, I eased into the chair, pinning my eyes to the plate. One look, one word was all it would take for me to fall apart. Strangers—nothing more, nothing less. We were supposed to be so much more, the couple that lived
happily in the Texas Hill Country with kids, horses, and him coaching at the university. It was supposed to be our happily ever after. Sadness for the one night that changed everything violated me all over again.

  “You still cut the corn off the cob?” He offered a knife, waiting for me to answer.

  Personal—he’d remembered two personal things about me so far. One, how storms never frightened me, and two, how I had sliced the kernels from the cobb while wearing braces and had kept up the habit since getting them off my sophomore year in high school.

  Numb, I nodded, unable to utter a simple yes. My hand brushed against his warm fingers, sending sparks through my veins. It was not only the contact, but his very presence that affected me more than I welcomed. He smelled exactly like I remembered—not cologne, it was the scent of Stone Mitchell, and I couldn’t resist drawing in a breath to capture a tiny fragrance of sin.

  I flushed guiltily, hoping like hell he didn’t sense the effect he had on me. I didn’t want to feel anything for him, but I did. After all the dirty laundry, he still gave me dirty flutters. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and an unstoppable force pulled my gaze toward him, turning my eyes to find him appraising me. He was sinful. Confident. Still beautiful—he always had been.

  Get. A. Damn. Grip. Stone Mitchell is the enemy!

  We ate in silence, the magnitude of the storm outside not even coming close to the violent churning inside me. I finished as much as I could tolerate before sliding away. I felt his eyes burn into my back as I raked the leftovers from my plate into the trash.

  “Thank you for the dinner. It was good,” I said softly.

  Our eyes locked. I didn’t want to see the warmth there, or the hint of a gentle smile touching his lips. My heart pounded against my chest, but for the life of me, I couldn’t look away. For the first time since that awful day, I didn’t want to smash his face. I didn’t want to spew anything awful, and as much as I wanted to hate him, I didn’t. A hard knot formed in my throat, blocking the sobs I knew were inevitable.

  Don’t let him see you cry.

  In a whirl, I spun away and clutched the handle of my suitcase, making my escape to the solitude of aloneness, the place I’d used to cope for years. I never cried to my parents; they had their own shit to deal with. When we moved a hundred miles away, I learned to bare my soul to myself, mostly curled up alone in my bed—except my best friend, Lindsey, never let me stay there. At times, she knew me better than myself.

  In the sanctuary of the dark bedroom, I closed the door behind me and crawled into a wicker rocker perched by the shuttered window. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I cradled my arms around my knees and wept harder than I had in years.

  Chapter 3

  Dovie, Dovie, Dovie…why? How could you do this? How?

  She’d more than crossed the line. She had to have known the gates of hell she’d opened. A few times, I hit her name on the contact list to call, but was too mad—too scared—to actually talk to her. Secrets, buried for so long…and if the cards fell wrong, Dovie would never forgive me.

  Sleep forsake me as I stayed curled up in the rocker for what seemed like hours. I massaged my feet, trying to relieve the numb tingling sensation. At least something in my body was getting sleep. Slowly, I unfolded my legs, standing to stretch my body and roll my neck side to side.

  What I wouldn’t pay to be in the studio back home, in my safe space, in my element. When I’d returned to college, broken and lost, Lindsey, my then dorm roommate had talked me into tagging along to her dance class. She ignored my insistent arguing of having two left feet and zero coordination until she finally badgered a yes out of me. It was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Dancing saved me, bridging the gap between my deep depression and freedom.

  All I needed was a pole, six-inch heels, and sexy workout attire.

  Like a magnet pulling me toward my bag, I unzipped the front compartment and my hands laced around my hot pink earbuds. Tapping the app on my phone, I found my playlists, which were conveniently labeled by emotion. I needed angry, a grueling floor workout, and the space between the foot of the bed and the wall gave me ample room to connect to the music.

  For the next thirty minutes, I freed myself from the world, surrendering to the melody and doing wicked moves. Sweat trickled down the small of my back as I readjusted my ponytail, and eventually I sank down onto the floor and did five minutes’ worth of cool-down stretches.

  Every cell in my body felt alive as I splashed water onto my face in the adjoining bathroom. Other than the sounds of the storm, the house was quiet. I cracked open the door for any sign of Stone, hoping he’d long retired for the night so I could slip into the kitchen for a refreshing glass of cool water.

  Thankfully, the coast was all clear, and I found several bottles lining the top shelf. With a swift twist, I removed the top and gulped it down quickly.

  “What the hell have you been doing?”

  I spun around, finding a shirtless Stone wearing brown shorts riding low on his hips. The rim froze in place on my lips.

  Holy hell.

  I fought hard, but lost the battle as I lowered my eyes to his chest and rock-hard abs. He’d always kept in shape, working out in high school and college to be the star athlete, but now? Good God, he was the cover of a men’s fitness magazine brought to life. My eyes feasted on every beautiful inch of him.

  “Had a workout.” Looks like you know something about workouts.

  “It’s one in the morning.”

  “You can tell time.”

  “Johnny Walker?” He held up a crystal glass with two fingers of amber liquid. Judging from the slur lacing his words, it was far from his first.

  “Not a good idea.” I sank back against the counter.

  He tossed back the glass and emptied the contents, eyes blazing at me over the rim the entire time.

  “What’d you think of the text from Gammy?”

  “What text?” I furrowed my brow. I hadn’t taken the time to check my phone when I started the music.

  “She wants to video chat with the both of us at nine AM sharp.” He sauntered past me, seeming unfazed, cocky, and arrogant. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out another bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount into the glass.

  “I hope you told her what a bad idea all of this was!”

  “I’ll let you tell her.” He held up his glass as if toasting. “I’m starting to enjoy this fucked-up situation.”

  Scowling, I shook my head. “I’m sure you are, just like you enjoyed so many other fucked-up situations.”

  The slam of the crystal against the granite countertop made me flinch. “You’re right, I seem to enjoy fucked-up situations, like making you come apart, screaming my name in that wide-open meadow, and less than twenty-four hours later, keeping it in your family.”

  “You disgust me,” I whispered in shock.

  Thunder cracked the night sky open and something crashed into the outside wall of the house. Unrelenting, I squared my shoulders high and walked toward the bedroom.

  Morning dawned with only small showers hitting the deck outside the window. The power was still out, and if it was anything like the storms in northern Texas and Oklahoma, I expected it could last for days after a violent storm.

  I took a cool shower then dressed in a yellow halter-top summer dress that fell just above my knees. I wasn’t staying in this godforsaken place another minute. The faster I made it home, the better. I wasn’t going to video chat with Dovie, wasn’t going to speak to Stone—I was leaving. I had nothing to say to either of them.

  A tap sounded at the bedroom door as I slipped into a pair of sandals. “Are you ready?”

  “Why, is she already on the line?” It was still thirty minutes before she was supposed to call. I had to get out of there before she did, or I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m leaving. Tell her I’ll catch up with her later.”

  “Open up, Avery.”
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  When I didn’t respond, he barged inside without regard to whether or not I was decent.

  “I shouldn’t have said what I said, but that’s who I am now. I say what I want. I do what I want. I’m a man who doesn’t apologize to anyone for anything—and yet, here I am telling you what I said last night was wrong.”

  Remorse clouded his eyes, but my hardened heart didn’t care if he felt like shit or not. He deserved the full burden of regret and guilt. Stone raked his hands through his hair as he leaned against the door frame.

  Before I retorted with a smartass remark, Stone’s phone rang. “Typical. She’s early. Time to see what she has to say,” he bit out with troubled eyes. “Good morning, Gammy.” He headed out the door with me on his heels. Once Dovie said what she had to say, I was out of there.

  “It is a good morning, kids. According to the Weather Channel, you’re going to be blessed with blue skies by the afternoon.” Her voice dripped sweetness.

  “I’m quite sure you didn’t want us front and center to chat about the weather,” Stone said in a clipped tone.

  “Don’t be contrary, Stoney. Now, place the phone where I can see the both of you.”

  He shifted the device. “Sit next to me, Avery.”

  Gritting my teeth, I slid next to him, leaning in. “Dovie, you had to know—”

  “Listen kids, there wasn’t a chance in hell either of you would have ever agreed to meet at my house. I’d planned to have this talk last night, but the storm came in unexpectedly and I was afraid your phone service would be hit or miss. Thankfully Mother Nature was on my side because Lord knows I needed it to keep your butts in place!”

  “Get to the point, Gams,” he growled.

  She cocked her eyebrow upward. “I have reasonable proof that Stone and Georgina were drugged and placed in the barn. It was a setup.” She held up her hand, stopping our tsunami of questions. I faced her with a gaping mouth and Stone’s vein popped in his neck. “We have closure. I’ve already spoken to Lee and Georgina. It’s over.”

  “What the hell? What proof?” Ice filled his voice.