Page 43 of Wreckin' Amethyst

It turns out, that stiff drink Candy offered, came from her very own bar. Not a mini bar or a counter in a basement, but a freaking biker club which converts into a nightclub after 10pm. Apparently, she lives above with all five of the hunky bikers who escorted us back.

Knocking back a tankard of glittery clear liquid which tastes too much like berries for my own good, I slump into the high-back leather armchair. A bunch of guys with cigars previously occupied them, but Candy had no qualms about kicking them to the bar stools. Her boots are crossed on the low table between us, a Viking goblet in hand.

“Then he said,” I point my tankard in her direction, “I don’t owe you shit, and slammed the door in my face.” Glittery liquid spills onto the high-waisted PVC trousers Candy gave me, rolling across my thighs in pebbled beads. “They stole my dog.” I pout, hoping Charley takes care of Pig in my absence. I’ll return for them both when I’ve got my shit sorted…eventually. Candy nods, absorbing the half-story I gave her. As far as she knows, I’m simply a brokenhearted, jilted lover who’s at war with my boyfriend’s best friend. I was hazy on the details.

“Well, we can find your billionaire, no problem. Ace is our in-house tech genius.” As if summoned by her words, a man who easily rivals Myles in size appears. Huge muscles stacked on top of biceps, on top of shoulders, on top of traps. His white vest does nothing to hide any of his bronzed skin, a compliment to his honey hair and large puppy dog brown eyes which are fixated on Candy’s face.

“Ace babe, can you track down where Myles Hudson has been taken to? We’re playing matchmakers tonight.” Her pink lips stretch wide as he lowers to kiss her, slowly and deeply enough to make me look anywhere else. The moment feels too private for me to gape and yearn at. Across the bar, a pair of identical blonds joke and laugh with each other whilst serving the sea of woman trying to catch their attention. Ace leaves with Candy’s goblet, handing it to a gorgeous male with dreadlocks down the length of his back.

“Now we wait,” Candy stomps her feet on the table. “Feel like having some fun?”

“Always.” Standing, I wobble as the alcohol rushes to my head. Candy slips her arm into mine, pulling me along in the biker boots a size too large. The grunge-styled look is at odds with a flowy blue top, the shoulder straps draped loosely across the tops of my arms. My hair is scrunched from falling asleep with it damp earlier this afternoon, and Candy insisted on my eyeliner. A true biker rockstar appearance to match her charisma.

Leaving the bar, we stride across the parking lot, weaving between all types of vehicles. There’s even a bicycle with a basket taking up a whole space. Candy leads me to a building, encased with metal walls and a sliding garage door which she avoids. We enter through a side door, passing an orange pick-up truck. There’s a scuffle as another joins us, a man in a suit. I’ve had my fill of suits by now, but I have to say his is exquisite. Sharply pressed, not a single spec of lint or a crease in sight.

“Who’s that?” I whisper as Candy releases me. She peers over my shoulder, her smile widening.

“Oh, just ignore him. I do. He’s here to regulate my fun.”

“Ahh - you have a Carter too,” I nod in understanding.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he steps forward on a low growl. I shift to put him in my eyeline, but it’s Candy who skips over to place a soothing hand over his tie.

“Just that you’re a controlling, overprotective, micromanaging ball ache who struggles with the concept of freedom.”

“Fair enough. I look forward to taking you upstairs later and micromanaging each spank I deliver to your ass.” He spanks her now for the fun of it and my eyes widen.

“Oh,” my cheeks flame. “No, my Carter is never,evergoing there with me.” Even just referring to him as my Carter makes me want to gag. “Anyways. What are we doing here?” I change the subject. Candy laughs knowingly, handing me a thickly coiled rope.

“Are you any good with knots?” she asks. I look from her to him and back. I’m not sure what freaky shit she had planned, but as Candy opens a large wooden box on the floor, strangely similar to a coffin, I realize it’s about to get a whole lot weirder. There’s a naked man inside, bound and gagged. I tilt my head curiously, a warning alarm blaring in my mind. I’m supposed to be helping Myles, not…doing whatever this is.

“Um…” I pause. I’ve done my fair share of shady shit, and it might be because of that, I don’t want to be implicated in whatever is happening here. For all I know, this gang will all point the finger at me and there’s only so many times I can disappear or talk my way out of jail. I posed as my own attorney once and announced the woman they’d arrested had skipped the country. Amazing what some prosthetics can do. “You know, maybe I should get back to Ace and help him search.”

“Are you doubting my man’s abilities?” Candy abruptly straightens, her face devoid of all emotion except for the slight downward tilt of her mouth. There’s a crazed emptiness to her chocolate brown eyes. Almost as if she’s looking through me, and that’s when I decide this woman could gut me, leave me at the roadside and not lose a second’s sleep over it. Suddenly, she bursts out laughing, her tightened posture loosening again.

“I’m kidding. Don’t worry about this piece of shit,” she kicks the coffin. “He was my father’s driver, before I knew he was my father. The mob boss, not the driver. Anyways, it’s a long story. Fact is, he drove me off a cliff once.” The man in the coffin screamed from behind a gag, shaking his head. “Trust me, he deserves it. Don’t you, Nigel?” I watch Candy bend low to scrunch up his face, and take the opportunity to look back to the suit now leaning against the truck.

“Do as she says,” he shrugs. “It’s easier that way.” It would seem whether I like it or not, I’m in this situation for the long haul. Tying the rope around his ankles, which feels as heavy as lead now, I pass it through the middle of his shins and create a knot I’m sure won’t unravel. Or at least, I hope won’t. Candy claps her hands in glee, taking the rest of the rope from my hands. Pulling up a step ladder, she makes quick work of hooking it up to a pre-made pully system. The blond twins from the bar appear at the side door, one with a pink baseball bat in hand.

“Oohh goody, a human pinata. I knew you’d choose my idea,” the one holding the bat approaches, his green eyes filled with a crazed glint akin to Candy’s.

“Nah ah. Don’t be rude Jest. Guests first.” Candy jumps down to take the bat and hand it to me. I dare not refuse at this point, not when the men all work together to heave the rope and string their captive upside down from the ceiling. I get an eyeful of his tiny dick and balls flopping downwards, his groin already battered and bruised. Securing him in place, all eyes fall on me. Curious, encouraging, probing.

“Don’t be shy. You get first hit, but we’ll be the ones finishing him off,” Candy winks. I look at the bat, turning it to read the inscription. ‘The Candy Crusher’. Well, I don’t want to appear rude. Rearing the bat back, I swing hard and hit the naked stranger in his gut. A strangled cry is muffled by the gag in his mouth, a tingle of exhilaration seeping through my arms.

Holy shit, that was awesome.I swing again, hit again. His skin inflames with each contact and somewhere along the way, I stop hitting out of enjoyment. The blows delivered via my hands come as a necessity, a visceral need to rid myself of the torment I’ve allowed to settle deep in my soul. I let Myles worm his way in, I let myself care for Sebby, I let Charley go. And then there’s me. I allowed myself to become too attached, too comfortable.

“Okie dokie, I think that’s enough,” Candy pries the bat from my hands. I’m panting, drawn to an abrupt halt. Those watching me are all smiling, seemingly impressed by something I can’t fathom. Taking the other side of the man strung between us, Candy strikes his back. It’s only then I realize the screams have stopped, her captive hanging unconscious. Taking a few steps back, I bump into the pickup and make my way towards the door. A hand flashes out from the suit, his dark eyes holding me prisoner.

“Don’t feel embarrassed,” he urges me. I shrug him off. “There are troubles many of us must carry without the rest of the world knowing. Ones which aren’t easily understood and there’s rarely a remedy. Candy has a knack for finding people similar to herself, otherwise she wouldn’t have brought you here. Should you ever need a safe place to go, you’re always welcome to return.” I swallow thickly, lowering my head. I was wrong. He’s not like Carter at all.

Stumbling out into the night air, I gasp to fill my lungs. To break the constriction they’ve been under. One day too soon, I’m going to start questioning why I can hurt people and not feel guilt. How I can kill without giving it a second thought, and what that means for the people I actually decide I love. Am I even worthy of receiving such emotion?

“Hey!” a voice shouts over the parking lot, Ace waving me over from the porch. I run to him, eager for the information he holds in his hands. Passing me a set of papers, I see a copy of the waiver Carter has signed to commit Myles back to rehab. The cosigner, Charlton Hudson, and the witness – Felicia Steele. I grip the pages hard enough to crumple. In the top corner is an address.

“I need to go,” I breathe, halfway down the steps before Ace stops me.

“Hold up,” he bars my way with his arm. “I’ve already called a cab to take you to the bus station. There’s a timetable and the connections you need printed on the back,” he flips the papers to point out. Nodding my thanks, he doesn’t shift his arm. “Here, take this. And don’t worry about paying it back,” a wad of cash is stuffed into my hand.

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