Payton
Had to take care of something. Be back soon.
I read the short note again and wonder what a handwriting analyst would think of Kane’s chicken scratch. They’d probably decide he’s a serial killer, and for all I know, they’d be right.
That’s not the whole story, though. I know that too. And that’s what has me smiling as I remember last night. Just the memory is enough to curl my toes. I burrow a little deeper under the blankets with a happy sigh. My body feels loose, relaxed all over.
Like I had a good workout, come to think of it. I did, didn’t I? The best sort of workout I can imagine. I’m glad they’re the only men I’ve ever been with, that in a way, my body is theirs. It brings me a sense of satisfaction nothing else ever has, except maybe dancing.
I miss dancing so much. I wonder if I mentioned it to Cash or Kane, whether they’d help me find someplace new to dance. I don’t know how much longer I can go without it. They said Madison had a dance studio at her house, but I don’t want to intrude on her space.
The idea gets me out of bed, and within minutes, I’m dressed and beginning my usual stretching routine. The least I can do is stay supple for when I start practicing again. Even now, after only a few days of neglecting my routine, my muscles are tighter than I like. So even hours of sex aren’t enough to keep me conditioned.
Once I’ve cooled off, I take a quick shower and dress again, this time in my regular clothes. The apartment is still empty, and I have to wonder what was important enough to keep them away for this long. What would happen to me if anything happened to them?
No. I won’t let myself think about it. I can’t go that route, even if I’m used to life going to hell. I’m used to the bad things, the worst-case scenario. I have to get out of the habit of expecting the worst, and I might as well start now.
I wonder why they live together. Then again, they do a lot of things together, don’t they? My pulse picks up speed even at the slightest thought of what they did to me. What they do to me.
What do I know? I’ve never had a twin. I don’t understand what it means to be that closely linked to somebody. They say twins have a sixth sense about each other, like they can tell when the other is in trouble or sick or wounded even when they’re hundreds of miles apart. I make a mental note to ask them when they come back whether they’ve ever had an experience like that.
There’s so much I want to know about them. They fascinate me, the way their personalities seem to swing back and forth. That angry, dangerous side. The sweet, thoughtful, almost kind side they show me. The way they take their time with me, too, like the only thing that matters in the world is making me feel good. How lucky am I?
Breakfast is small, light. I don’t normally eat much, though I doubt either of the twins would believe that after some of the meals we’ve shared. They always seem to catch me either when I’m starved half to death or after they put me to work the night before. Either way, I usually have a pretty strong appetite when we eat together.
Today I settle on a slice of toast with a scrambled egg on top. I make sure to clean up after myself—it seems they like things a certain way. I wonder if they have a cleaning service come in to keep the place neat. It’s not easy to imagine either of them ever holding a dust rag or mop. The idea makes me laugh. I’d expect to see them with weapons, not cleaning supplies.
There’s nothing for me to do but indulge my curiosity, if only for a little bit. Just until they get home. I only want to be closer to them, that’s all. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to understand them. Which is why I go to Cash’s room and open the top drawer to his dresser in hopes of finding… what? I’m not sure.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
My heart stops for one brief, breathless moment as I spin in place and find Myles glaring at me. Myles, who already hates me. Myles, who must’ve crept into the house when I was too busy going through Cash’s socks to notice.
Myles, who looks like he’d gladly kill me and never give it a second thought.
His eyes are stormy as he takes one slow, menacing step toward me, then another. “Answer me, you lying bitch. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Hang on a second—”
“No lies!” It comes out like a gunshot, cracking through the air, making me jump. I might even have yelped a little, but it’s all a blur. I can hardly hear anything over the rushing of blood in my ears and the furious pounding of my heart.
“I’m not lying!” It sounds like a sob, and I guess it is. “I swear! I was—”
“Looking for information on my brothers! My family!” He slams the drawer shut hard enough to shove the dresser against the wall. The few bottles on top fall over, rolling across the floor. One of them breaks, and the smell of cologne threatens to choke me.
“I wasn’t! I don’t care about your family. I wanted to know more about them, is all.” I’m babbling, the words coming out so fast I doubt he can make sense of them. Not that I think he cares much about what I’m saying, though, since his expression hasn’t shifted a bit from when he first found me.
His head swings back and forth slowly. Menacingly. “I knew there was something wrong with you. Something off. I tried to tell them, and they didn’t want to hear it, and now here we are. My brothers are thinking with their dicks, but you can’t wrap me around your finger like that.”
“No, no!” I hit the bed finally and almost fall back across it but manage to steady myself, sliding along its length until I’m at the foot. There’s got to be something around here I could use to defend myself, right? My mind reaches, desperate, my memories of the apartment coming back in one flash after another until they overlap and stop making sense. I’m too frantic to think straight.
“You’re coming with me,” he snarls, crossing the room in a few long strides. I don’t have time to get around him before his arm shoots out and his steely fingers close around my wrist. I yelp in pain when he squeezes hard enough to grind my bones together.
“Please, don’t!” He yanks hard and drags me along with him. My feet slip on the cologne that spilled on the floor, and I go down hard, crying out again when my tailbone hits the unforgiving wood.
He pulls me to my feet, takes me by my shirt with his free hand, and hauls me up close to his face. His breath is hot and sour, and I struggle to get away from it, but it’s no use.
“You got under their skin already. They are attached, so I’m gonna have to do what’s best for them. What’s best for our family.”
The next thing I know, pain explodes across my awareness, and darkness follows right behind.