Rule of Thirds (A Mirror Novel Book 1) Page 17

  “Ward—”

  “No.”

  “She wants a suicide mission. She wants to go out in a blaze of glory—and she wants to take me with her.”

  “Not happening.”

  But Jacoby didn’t see another way. “You’ve had how many agents on her through how many years? There are serials from twenty years ago that were never caught.”

  “Only because they’re dead,” Ward interrupted.

  “You don’t think she’s going to be looking for a trap?”

  “Of course. She’s setting her own. We have to be better. I mean, Christ, she knows everything about us, but we know everything about her—the same things, dammit.” Ward began to pace. “We need to get to Bren.”

  “I agree. But Ward…let’s give him a day.”

  “Jacoby—”

  “Please. Jesus Christ. I know we have to do this, but Bren is running to keep us safe. I get it.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Give him a day to think he did the right thing. She won’t hurt him if he does what he’s supposed to do. Give him that much,” Jacoby pleaded and he saw Ward relent.

  “Tomorrow,” Ward began.

  “Tomorrow,” Jacoby echoed as Ward guided him back inside the house and alarmed them inside. “We’ll make sure Bren comes back. Or we’ll stay with him. We’ll make sure she knows it.” Because somehow, she knew every fucking thing. But tonight, Jacoby pushed her out of his mind, because tonight was about him and Ward.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Ward began, but Jacoby shoved him hard, both palms against his chest. Ward hadn’t expected it and he stumbled back slightly, his expression hardening.

  “Shut up and get into bed,” Jacoby told him. “Or else I’ll fuck you right here.”

  Ward’s brows raised and his expression went placid. Heated. He lifted his chin, gave Jacoby a small smirk…and then dove for him, taking both men to the floor.

  *

  Jacoby wanted to worship Ward, and Ward allowed it. Mainly because he was worried about Jacoby—and because Jacoby fed him whiskey, kissing him with mouthfuls of the liquid, sharing it, letting some of the liquid run down their chins and chests. Jacoby straddled Ward, letting him lick the excess off Jacoby, sucking his nipples and Jacoby clutched Ward’s shoulders.

  Then he set out to kiss every single goddamned inch of Ward’s body, laving and sucking the scars, leaving red ownership marks, the way Ward did to him. He left some teeth marks too, as Ward hissed and arched his back.

  “Going to fuck you so hard…so good,” he promised Ward. “Get on your knees.”

  Ward’s eyes were glassy—whiskey and lust shining in them, and trust too. Jacoby trusted the man more than he’d ever trusted anyone, but in this moment, he knew that he was going to cross a line they might never come back from. And Ward had no idea it would happen.

  He didn’t need to, Jacoby told himself firmly as Ward complied with his orders, staring at Jacoby from over his shoulder. “Don’t worry—gonna take good care of you.”

  “Always do,” Ward groaned as Jacoby’s finger entered him.

  “Come on, baby—fuck my fingers,” Jacoby urged after he’d added two more, and Ward did, pushing back hard enough so Jacoby’s fingertips hit his prostate.

  As much as Jacoby wanted to watch Ward’s face, he couldn’t. He settled instead for mounting him from behind, biting his shoulders and the back of his neck as he plowed into Ward and took him, fast and hard, just the way Ward always liked it.

  *

  Jacoby was gone. Ward muttered curses under his breath as he walked around, grabbing his clothes, wondering why he’d had the amount of whiskey he had.

  Or, more specifically, why that’d left him with the equivalent of a massive hangover. He hadn’t been drunk—far from it, so this feeling like shit didn’t make sense.

  He’d gotten as far as his jeans and a T-shirt when he felt the sting—the goddamned familiar sting on the back of his neck. His hand automatically went to the spot as his mind went frantic, telling his body to grab for his gun, fight, run…anything.

  Strong arms caught him as his legs went out.

  “Good job, Brother. Put him in the attic for me—it’ll be like old home week.”

  Ward stared into Jessica’s eyes. Her stance was casual, but she held a gun pointed at a spot above Ward’s head.

  “Still don’t trust me, Jess?” Jacoby asked as he dragged Ward out of the bedroom and up the stairs.

  “We have a ways to go before that bond is back, Brother,” she assured him. “But this? Now this is a great start.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “He’s good, isn’t he?” Jessica was saying, like they were having a lunch between friends, catching up on old times. “He played you like a fiddle, and you fell for it. I thought for sure you’d see through it. He told you the entire plan—what he let you think was the plan. Go see Bren and I’ll come out to play. So simple, really. And somehow, you let him talk you into waiting. All for a lay. Granted, he’s good at that too. Made a lot of money at it.”

  Ward winced internally at her words. His mouth was dry, his body ached and he was still partially paralyzed from the drug Jacoby—Jacoby—had injected him with.

  But he couldn’t think about that now, had to concentrate on the monster in front of him. One wrong move, one misstep and it was all over. Because Ward knew secrets. Terrible, horrific secrets that would melt other men, turn them to stone or make them insane. And the woman standing in front of him knew that. Knew far too much.

  From the age of five, he remembered his grandmother pointing at him and calling him a sin eater. She’d had dementia, and his mother would tell him “don’t listen” but he’d looked up the term anyway. His grandmother had known he could see real evil, and not what most people thought of as evil, because she could.

  He used to use this attic as his refuge, his safe space. Now, for the second time in his life, he was being held captive up here.

  “Stay with me honey.” Jessica tapped his cheek lightly, running her nails along his throat and smiling. “Still so handsome.”

  “And you’re still a bitch.”

  She grinned, enjoying the sparring. “So how does this work exactly, Ward? I confess to you and you can eat my sins?”

  “You don’t have a conscience,” Ward pointed out.

  “I don’t think that matters—that’s not part of your deal.” The way she concentrated on him was unnerving. “That doesn’t mean I can’t hand it over to you, force you to carry it.”

  The story of his life. He looked her in the eye. “I dare you.”

  I dare you the way I dared you before.

  She was recreating his earlier capture, but this time, she’d added a captive audience. Jacoby and Bren were tied and drugged…and listening.

  Bren.

  “Oh, you didn’t know Bren was here?” she asked. “Jacoby went and brought him here this morning while you were sleeping. You were my prizes. He called and promised me that you’d all be here. Although I’m not sure he expected me to drug him, but I have trust issues. Looks like you should’ve had them too. Anyway, let’s get back to the good stuff—I don’t have much time.” She leaned forward conversationally. Conspiratorially. “You know, I wanted to kill from the time I could walk.” Her eyes glowed with the memory, and Ward turned the revulsion inside him off and instead let himself accept the information for what it was. “How do you do it, Ward? Why haven’t you gone insane yet?”

  Ward shrugged. “Evil’s always existed. It’s nothing new, Jessica. You didn’t invent it and you won’t be the last born with it embedded within you. Ultimately, you won’t even be the most interesting one.”

  She didn’t like that at all, narrowed her eyes. “You sound like a walking textbook.”

  “Actually, just the opposite. Textbook is you telling me you were born to it—that you wet the bed, killed puppies, set fires. What’s not textbook is how you rape men to feel powerful. You don’t fit the typic
al female serial killer.”

  “I guess your books are wrong. Maybe it’s time for a rewrite.”

  “Is that where he comes in?” Ward jerked his head in Bren’s direction.

  Jessica ignored that. “Did you tell him, Ward? About your grandmother and the pet name she used to call you?” She turned to Jacoby. “He’s a sin eater—isn’t that great? All we have to do is sin and he’ll take on our burdens.”

  Jessica had made Jacoby inject himself with a narcotic before she tied him. She’d given them just enough to be too floaty to fight, too uncoordinated to get loose, but she wanted them conscious enough to have a discussion. Now, Jacoby stared at him with a half-stoned, almost bored expression. “Is that what the rich do? Pay other rich people to eat their sins?”

  “He never told you?” She smiled at Jacoby and Ward’s heart started to pound.

  “Like I’d give a shit?”

  “Brother, you’ve been away from the game for too long—at least pretend to care. That used to be one of your best tricks,” Jessica said.

  Because it wasn’t a trick…because he has a conscience, Ward screamed inside his own head.

  The throb of evil was palpable, falling over the room like a pall—oppressive and hard to breathe through.

  Valley of Evil. The only way to get through it was to keep walking.

  “What, did he have a shitty childhood too?” Jacoby tossed out. “Abuse? Alcohol?”

  He’d hit many nails on the head. Ward had been so busy keeping secrets that he hadn’t realized how many he’d been giving away. Jacoby wasn’t just guessing: children of drunks shared a hell of a lot of traits.

  “His family was so fucked up,” Jessica told Jacoby conspiratorially. “Makes ours look like a walk in the park.”

  Jacoby snorted. “Right—I can really see him hooking.”

  “His family’s cursed. His grandmother told him all about it—it’s been passed down and he’s literally the last one. End of the line. The sin eater for his family,” Jessica said, like they were telling ghost stories around a campfire.

  And Ward wished they were but these ghosts haunted him, strangled him…

  “Tell them, Ward. Tell them, or I’ll have to kill my half-brother.” She put the tip of the blade coolly at Bren’s carotid and Bren jerked by reflex.

  “Stop,” Ward barked. His voice sounded hoarse, tired, and he hated it had to come out like this. “Why don’t you tell the goddamned story if you like it so much?”

  She smiled. “It hurts you so much more when you have to tell it.”

  “Bitch,” he muttered.

  “I’ll start for you,” she told him, her voice soothing. “His entire family? Crazy. And poor Ward had to watch his daddy take out all that crazy on his mommy. Isn’t that right, Ward, honey? But Grandma warned you it would happen.”

  Ward gritted his teeth. As much as he hated talking about his family, he hated Jessica talking about them more. He’d always been able to put enough distance between him and his parents, his aunts and uncles, in order to pretend he wasn’t actually from their lineage.

  It made things easier to lie to himself.

  That night, his father had been drunk. That in and of itself hadn’t been unusual—at seven, Ward had only seen his father inebriated. But the crazy in his eyes? That was the most intense Ward had seen it when his father had slammed into his room holding the biggest kitchen knife.

  Ward shrank back but his bed was against the wall. Nowhere to run. His father grabbed him, dragged him down the hall by the neck of his pajamas, until he ended up in his parents’ bedroom.

  His mother lay there, on the floor, in a pool of blood. She was dying, but still alive. Reaching out to him, her throat cut…blood spilling out of her mouth instead of words…

  “See this, son? This is why you can’t trust outsiders,” his father told him as he continued to stab his mother, long after the last breath had left her body, still hanging onto Ward’s collar so he couldn’t get away.

  He needn’t have worried—Ward wouldn’t have run, couldn’t have looked away, no matter how badly he’d wanted to.

  He was a sin eater. This was what his grandmother meant. He took it in, the terror racking his young body. He didn’t bother to try to hide the sobs that came from him. Everything his mother felt was a part of him now…every bit of horror inside of his father was now a part of Ward, and never more so than when he let go of his son and stabbed himself in the neck.

  There was so much blood. Screaming. He was frozen. After that, there were drunken fights between uncles and his stepbrother and stepsister. And then his stepbrother was dead months later. His stepsister ran to get away from the family…and came home in a body bag.

  Ward absorbed it all. And now, he was the last one standing…

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for the guy? Because he’s got more money than God,” Jacoby said, and he couldn’t sound more bored.

  “I’d expect you’d be in his will by now,” Jessica said.

  “Not like I didn’t try—he’s a tough bastard.”

  “But you have a ring,” she said slyly. “Community property and all. If he dies…”

  “Too much trouble, Jess. He’s in the FBI, or did you forget that? We’d never see a goddamned dime. Steal his ATM card and rape the account before we leave the country—that’s the best thing to do.”

  At the use of the word rape, Jessica’s expression didn’t change. The word didn’t register. Had Jacoby done that purposely? Ward imagined so, as it was never part of Jacoby’s slang vernacular.

  Was it a code word? Was he trying to show Ward something important about Jessica? Was this part of her MO, or something more?

  No effect. She didn’t catch on the word or react. For someone who’d built her whole vengeful mythology on the fact that she’d been brutally raped…Ward would’ve expected more.

  Granted, a psychopath wouldn’t have emotions, but still, her eyes were terrifying. “What are you trying—FBI psychology, Brother? The rape made me angry. Maybe I overplayed how hurt I was, but make no mistake, it gave me my life’s work.”

  Jacoby glanced lazily toward Bren, then back at Jessica before slurring, “Why’d you use that little minion?”

  “Once I found out who he was, I couldn’t resist. It was too good.” She paused. “Plus, William found out first, and that’s why he targeted Bren to start with. If Bren hadn’t been an author, he’d have found another way to use him to get my attention. He was the carrot on the stick—like I was going to be led around by the nose.”

  “You always managed to collect people who wanted you all to themselves. Didn’t get you couldn’t be tamed.” Jacoby gave a half-smile and Jessica smirked.

  “This is all fascinating…but what…the fuck?” Bren finally managed. He blinked a few times, concentrating hard on what he wanted to say before he could get the actual words out. When he did, he spit them out rapid-fire. “What the fuck was I born into?” And then he half collapsed back, exhausted by the effort.

  Jessica and Jacoby laughed before Jessica said, “You want me to show you more? I thought for sure I’d given you enough.”

  Bren’s cheeks darkened—the anger and shame combined written on his face. Ward hoped Bren would bite his tongue, shut his mouth and cut his losses.

  But since he was related to Jacoby… “God, fuck yourself, you ridiculous cunt,” Bren hissed, yanking at his bonds, veins popping in his neck.

  Jessica smiled, practically undulated her way over to him…and pulled out another syringe. “I’ve got enough to go around, boys.”

  Ward refused to meet Jacoby’s eyes—the charade was breaking his heart, but no more so than it was breaking Jacoby.

  Chapter Thirty

  Ward watched Jacoby morph back into the hardened rent-boy-slash-grifter he’d been eight years ago, and he was convincing enough to make everything inside Ward ache. For many reasons, the least of which was the pain all of this must’ve caused Jacoby, both then and now.

&nb
sp; “I knew what you expected from Bren, but what the fuck do you want him for?” Jacoby stared at the woman who caused the worst in all three men’s lives.

  “It’s so good to have you back with me, Brother.” She’d drugged them so badly Ward was having trouble keeping his eyes opened and focused on the nightmare unfolding in front of him.

  Jacoby wasn’t—he hadn’t gotten another injection. Instead, he was able to prop himself on his elbows and sound too damned sincere when he looked at his sister and said, “You look good, babe.”

  “Same.” She tilted her head. “You kept the scars.”

  “My tie to you. I still can’t cut it,” Jacoby admitted.

  “Convenient that you chose now to try it.”

  Jacoby jerked his head in Bren’s direction contemptuously, his voice holding a hard edge Ward hadn’t ever heard before. “You’re trying to make me jealous with him? Come on, Jess—this guy’s nothing. Weak. Playing with him must’ve been a fucking bore.”

  His accent was back, full-force, as was the grifter personality that seemed so much more natural than a put-on would. Ward went cold.

  “That’s all it took to get you tired of following directions?” Jessica asked.

  “I hold a grudge. Can’t blame me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re coming back?”

  “Yes,” Jacoby said simply.

  “Jacoby, don’t you dare—” Ward started to warn.

  “He won’t listen to you,” Jessica said casually. “He never wanted to. All this time, he’s wanted to be back with me.”

  “And here you are,” Ward said grimly.

  “Here we are,” she corrected. “Jacoby, you’ll have to do something for me, to prove you’re really ready to be back with me.”

  “Wasn’t it enough that I haven’t hunted you?”

  “Let me think about that.” Jessica paused. “Um, no. Definitely not enough.”

  “Christ, I brought you both of these assholes. And what do you really think’s going to happen? That I’ll come with you and we’ll go back to what we did with Mom?”