The Arrangement Anthology 2(144)

If Avery can convince Mother or Black to support her, she’ll beat me to the draw, and secure her place at the head of Campone’s organization. That power struggle will fizzle and die; no one in their right mind would challenge Avery with those benefactors. Mother and Black are two of the scariest women of all time. When I read the bible story about the Garden of Eden and the snake is first mentioned, these ladies come to mind. Both have loved me, yet neither would hesitate to spill my blood if doing so meant getting something they want.

I look down at the empty envelopes and then dump the trinkets into my hand one more time, wondering why Avery let these treasures escape. I think of her cross necklace, how she lost it and how long it took me to find it again. It pains me that she tossed these away.

She’s changing, and not for the better. I have to stop her.

Avery thinks she can prevent me from taking this path, but she’s just made me more determined. I know she still has the documents and I plan to take them back. Until then, just the illusion that I have them in my possession will turn all the attention toward me. I know they saw me rip the can from her hands last night.

The only loose end is Avery, if someone tries to hurt her, they’ll hurt me. She’s a piece of me, as important as my hand and more precious than my soul.

If she’s with Scott, they can’t get near her—not with his security entourage. The thought sickens me, but it’s where she belongs. I can’t give her what she wants—the pretty little house, the white picket fence, and the baby—he can.

“You chose this shit, Ferro.” I mutter to myself and walk across my old room to look out the window. It’s morning. The sunrise looks like spilled paint cutting across the darkness.

She’s out there somewhere, waiting. I need to find her before they do.

Clutching the windowsill, and leaning toward the glass, I say to myself, “This ends today.” I’ll do what I have to—how could I do anything else? I’ll defend my family, even if I die doing it. Pete doesn’t deserve this shit; he deserves a good, long and happy life with Sidney, away from all this drama. As for Jon, God knows he’s just clueless. He’s barely been on his own and is so wrapped up in some girl he can’t think straight. Now that Bryan is dead and took the blame for me, Jon is too distraught to be of any help.

Not that any of them could help me right now, anyway.

I’m on my own.





Chapter 14

~AVERY~





A knock on the motel room door wakes me from dreamless sleep. I roll over, ignoring it, but just as I close my eyes, the soft knocking comes again.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

My heart jumps and I sit up slowly, and wait, panic flooding through me. I slip out of bed, still in my clothes, and pad silently to the door. I’ve just leaned forward to look through the peephole, when the knob begins to rattle. I jump back, terrified. Glancing around, I try to find a weapon, but there isn’t anything that’s not glued down. I grab the only thing that I’ve got—a pencil.

There’s a click and the door swings open. Rain is barreling down in buckets, pouring over the man standing in my doorway. It’s too dark to make out his face. He steps into the room and looks up.

“Sean.”

He’s breathing hard, his clothes soaked and clinging to his skin, highlighting each well-defined muscle. “I need those papers. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You nearly got me killed.” His anger surges as he slams the door and rushes toward me.

I yelp and stumble backward, falling onto the bed. The springs squeak beneath my weight, as I try to crabwalk away, but Sean grabs my ankles and pulls me forward. He leans down and gets in my face. “I’m going to ask you one more time, Miss Smith. Where are your mother’s documents?”

“I don’t have them.” Heart beating hard, I stay still beneath him. Sean’s hands work their way up my legs, patting, feeling for the paper, but it’s not there. He manhandles my body, searching, but there aren’t any papers stuffed into my clothes.

“Avery,” he huffs in my face and presses me back into the bed, crawling on top of me as he does so, “so help me, God, you’ve pushed me too far.” Maybe my fear brought this out in him, or maybe it was his own anger, either way, as he leans into me I can feel how much he wants me. Water beads off his hair and drips onto my neck. His eyes follow the drops as they slide across my curves and disappear between my breasts.

“Same here.” My voice trembles, and I try to push him away, but he presses me further into the bed with his body.

Our lips are so close that I can feel his breath, and the way he’s pressing into me makes me shiver. It’s as if he knows what I’m thinking, how much I want to be with him, how much I wish we could just start over and put everything behind us.