Chapter Twenty-Four – Whiplash
"Did you all have a good night?" Vincent asked a few hours later as he was driving me home. Devyn had decided to stay and help Anthony and Dante close. I only relented and left her there after Dante assured me he'd personally take her home.
"We did," I said, laying my head against the cool window. Blowing out a breath, I finally decided to just rip the band aid off. "We ran into my trainer while we were there."
"Your trainer?" There was so much surprise in his voice that I turned to face him.
"Yeah."
Recognition flared in his eyes as he parked the car outside my apartment building. "Is that where you disappear to?"
"Maybe." The look he gave me would make any sane person drop to their knees and beg for forgiveness. I was so used to it from him, I just rolled my eyes. "Yes."
He let out a little hum of acknowledgement before exiting the car. By the time I had my seatbelt undone and had turned to get out as well, he was opening my door for me. He stopped my exit by easing my knees apart to settle himself between them. My breath caught in my throat as he leaned forward. From where I was sitting in the SUV, we were at eye level. Vincent used that fact to his full advantage. His hands skimmed from my knees, up my thighs, until they were settled on the slice of skin that was open between my shirt and jeans. His thumbs slipped under the fabric of my top to rub taunting circles across my ribs. I had a front row seat as his pupils dilated, the black swallowing green until I felt like I would fall right into them.
"And you were hiding this from me, because?" he murmured, leaning in even further to let his lips whisper across the juncture between my neck and shoulder.
"Because –" Every thought eddied out of my brain when he placed a soft kiss against the curve of my throat and proceeded to immediately rake his teeth over the tender skin. He repeated the process, drawing the most pitiful whimper from me.
"Go on," he urged, his fingers starting to play with the waistband of my jeans.
"Because I was scared," I admitted in a rush, needing to get the truth out before he distracted me any further. My words hit their mark with a sniper's precision. Vincent's entire body locked up. He was pressed so close to me that I felt the minute roll of his shoulders as he pulled back to lock eyes with me.
"Of what?"
"Not of you," I said, stroking my fingertips over his cheekbone. "I mean, yeah partially because of you," I amended at his arched brow. "But mostly, I just felt so helpless that first night. Granted it was like four on one, but I didn't stand a chance if they had decided they wanted to hurt me."
His furrowed brow smoothed out as understanding dawned. He took my face in his hands and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm sorry we made you feel like that, and I'm sorry you felt like you ever had to hide that from me. But I'm not sorry you were dragged into this world, princess." The timbre in his voice dropped as he tilted my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. He was the only thing I could see. The only thing that existed in that moment. "Because it brought us here."
I opened my mouth to reply, my eyes pricking, but he covered my lips with his, and my mind went blank. The only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body as we were drawn together. I twined my arms around his neck at the same time I closed my legs around his waist. Something akin to a growl rumbled in his chest, and my reaction was visceral. I couldn't get close enough to him. His fingers dug into my hips, likely leaving bruises, but I just arched even farther into him. Into that touch that was lighting me up from the inside. If you would have told me I turned incandescent in that moment, I wouldn't have doubted it.
"Let's get inside," I breathed, trying to control myself so I didn't start panting like Dexter when he smelled bacon. Vincent nodded, grabbing my hand to pull me after him. A laugh bubbled out of my mouth as he all but dragged me towards the apartment. We came to a stop in front of my door, and as I dug through my purse for my keys, Vincent pressed his front to my back. He wrung another giggle out of me as he moved my jacket aside and kissed along my bare shoulder. His kisses were featherlight, teasing, as he worked his way up the column of my throat. "If you don't give me a second to breathe, I'm never going to get this door open."
"Sorry."
"Liar."
The rumble of his own laughter vibrated against my back, sending a shockwave right through me. I cursed as I nearly dropped my keys, which only made him laugh harder. I stomped on his instep and was rewarded with a string of profanity that was impressive – even for him. I knew that my little stunt wouldn't go unpunished, but it gave me the time to actually get my door open. As it swung inward, Vincent all but tossed me into the apartment. He barely gave me enough time to disengage the stupid security system before he shoved me back into the door. He was so warm, I felt like I was going to burn alive. And I would have done it willingly as his knee went between my legs.
Dexter let out an indignant huff from the couch but didn't make any move to approach us. In fact, he hopped down and wandered off into the other room, leaving me completely at the mercy of the man in front of me.
Vincent tipped my chin up so that our gazes met, and I was once again left defenseless in this man's hands. How had I ever denied I had any sort of attraction to him? He ran his thumb across my bottom lip, the touch displaying the gentleness I only ever witnessed him extend to me.
"Juliette," he murmured, his mouth brushing against mine as my name fell from his lips with reverence. "I need you to understand something." His eyes darkened, but not with lust. There was a storm brewing inside him, and it sobered me. Within the span of a heartbeat all the lust drained from my body as my spine straightened, waiting.
"What's that?" I asked when it was obvious he needed a little prodding.
"Being with me, it's not safe."
"Oh, do not start –"
"I'm serious," he stated, a firm kind of finality in his voice that silenced any argument I had been ready to make. His eyes softened as he brushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear. "There are people that want to kill me. There are those that have tried. Being with me, being mine, is going to put a target on your back. I'm not going to sit here and tell you not to be with me because of it, I'm far too selfish for that. But I need you to know the risks. If you're serious about this, you need to know what you're agreeing to. I need to know that the risk is worth it to you."
"It is," I said before I could think about it. And I didn't need to. I had already gone through all of this in my own head. It was what had led to my hesitation earlier that afternoon. He seemed skeptical, arching his brow at me. "You, this," I added with vehemence, gesturing between us. "is worth it."
"You're sure?"
"I am," I said, giving him a firm nod as I laid my hand on his chest – right above his pounding heart. It was good to know that I seemed to have the same effect on him as he had on me. "Vincent, you've never hidden anything from me. Hell, I met you in a very dangerous situation. I've had my eyes wide open the entire time. I see you, and I still want you. As much as it should, your world doesn't scare me."
"It definitely should."
"And I know that. But I've lived in it for the majority of my life. Sure, maybe not as far in it as you and the guys are, but I work in the bar you all do business in. I know Dante's past." His eyebrows raised at that, and I really shouldn't have been surprised to find out that he also knew about the life my boss had led before starting the bar. It was the next part of this conversation that was going to be hard for me. "I've never told you about my dad."
This time, his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. "That's quite the subject switch."
"Not really," I said, a strained laugh falling from my lips. God, I needed another drink for this. I slipped past him, missing the steadiness of his presence as I headed into the kitchen.
Vincent followed me, and all thoughts of the heat we had stumbled into the apartment with were long gone. He leaned one shoulder against the wall leading into the kitchen, crossing arms and ankles as his eyes watched me. His attention was like a balm to my quickly fraying nerves. When Jack brought up the Black Lantern earlier, it opened up a well of grief I had had buried for so long. And now, it was coming to a head, and I wasn't sure I was ready for it. But if Vincent was being open with me, I could only offer him the same courtesy.
I had an old bottle of Jack stashed in the corner cabinet, specifically for dire situations, and I couldn't think of a more opportune time to break it out. The amber liquid sloshed as I drug the bottle down from the highest shelf, and I held it up to Vincent in question. He nodded, his eyes still calculating as he tracked my every movement. I could feel the anticipation in him.
I knew that of the two of us, he had been the more forthcoming with information on our pasts. Which was wild to think about. How had I never noticed how much he had shared with me before? How had I never noticed how much he trusted me with? Not just about himself, but the gang too. I knew so much information, I could bring them down in a heartbeat if I said anything to the wrong person. The realization was like a physical weight on my chest, and all of a sudden, I couldn't get in a breath. The air stalled in my throat as I held the whiskey ready to pour.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
And all at once, I was back to that day. Walking into the home I had grown up in.
The smell of chocolate was making my heartrate go haywire before I had even cleared the hallway. I knew it was bad before I set foot in the kitchen. Mom only baked when she got bad news, and she only made her triple-chocolate cake for the worst of it. So, I was bracing myself before her silver-lined eyes met mine. Her eyes were so red and puffy, that their natural sage color was damn near electric in comparison.
"What happened?" I asked, my sixteen-year-old voice coming out so soft.
She didn't even try to sugar-coat it for me. That was what the dessert was for.
"Your dad's dead."
"Hey," Vincent murmured, at my side in an instant. At his touch, I took in a strangled gasp. "You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready for."
"I'm okay," I finally said. I poured both of our drinks and spun around to hand him his. He took it with the care of someone approaching a spooked tiger. There was raw worry in his eyes, and I took a deep breath. "Ask me."
And bless this man for knowing exactly what I was talking about. Knowing that I needed the nudge, or I wasn't going to be able to go through with it.
"What happened to your dad?"
"He was murdered." Vincent's eyes widened the smallest fraction, but he didn't say anything, He just raised the drink to his full lips and took a small sip. He inclined his head, urging me to do the same. I did. The whiskey burned all the way from my tongue to my stomach, but it helped me focus. Helped me continue with something I hadn't examined in almost a decade. I leaned back against the counter, pressing my glass against my forehead before speaking again. "My dad was a cop. A damn good homicide detective. His last case was a string of murders on the North side of the city. A bunch of young girls. late teens to early twenties, had been going missing, and then showing up in pieces that almost couldn't be identified. No one could figure it out, and his partner had been pushing him to drop it. But Dad wouldn't."
Because of course the man couldn't let people keep going missing on his watch. It ate him up. Add in the fact that they weren't much older than I had been at the time, it had hit too close to home for him.
"And like I said, he was a damn good detective. He inevitably found out that it was a whole ring of powerful men who were responsible." A bitter laugh fell from my lips.
"Your father was Franscisco Gracen?" Vincent asked, a touch of awe in his voice even as the look in his eyes spoke to how devasted he was for me. "I remember when that bust happened. It took out some powerful players in Valarian. He was a hero."
My throat was tight. "He went by Frank."
"Juliette," his voice was so gentle as he reached for me. I let him set our glasses on the counter and pull me against him. "The stories I heard said one of the congressmen put out a hit on him."
I nodded, letting the steadiness of his heartbeat lend me strength. "What the papers didn't print was that his partner was part of it. The man that had been in our lives for years, had come to dinner at our house, was privy to everything that had been happening. He was the mole on the force. The one who made sure every bit of evidence for those cases was compromised or destroyed. And he was the one they used to kill Dad."
God, I had never said it out loud. Devyn and Dante had figured it out on their own with the small amount I had shared with them over the years. But I had never been able to do anything about it.
"I think I can guess the answer to this," he started, that touch of the darkness in his voice. "But why didn't you ever come forward?"
"Who was going to believe me? There was no concrete evidence, but I remember overhearing the conversation my parents had before Dad went to meet Peter at the Black Lantern. He told Mom his suspicions, and then he was dead by the end of the night. I don't have any proof, but I don't for a single second believe anyone else pulled the trigger that night. Peter was there, he was guilty, and he was already quite skilled in covering his tracks.
"He came by to offer his condolences after the funeral, and I thought I was going to puke or kill him myself if he let his eyes linger on me any longer. I was no better at covering my expressions then than I am now, and I think he knew that we knew. In a very well veiled threat, he made sure that Mom and I knew that if we ever said anything, we were next. And, as far as I know, he's been on the force ever since."
With the end of my story, that weight that had been pressing down on me lifted. I went slack in Vincent's arms, and he held me tight. He was the only thing keeping me on my feet, and if he realized, he didn't make a comment on it. He stroked his fingers through my hair, and I melted into him further still.
"So, when you said you weren't going to go to the police -"
"I will never trust the VPD with anything else as long as I live." I hissed. "For all I know, the corruption goes all the way to the top. That's not something I could fight. Not at sixteen, and not even now."
There were a few beats of silence, and then Vincent uttered the one sentence I - honestly - should have expected, but that knocked the breath right back out of me all the same.
"I could kill him."
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Well, there ya have it. Why Juliette always got the 'ick' when the police were mentioned.
I think I scared some of you when I said we're coming to the end. And we are - this book will probably only end up being somewhere between 35-40 chapters. However, I'm currently writing Ch.28, so I'm a little ahead of what's posted here! So, we've still got a ways to go.
In the meantime, let me know what y'all think!
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<3Always,
Erin