Pandemonium (MC Sinners Next Generation #1)

  Lucas flinches, and his face tightens. He leans down, bringing his face so close to mine. “If that’s the kind of man you think I am, kid, then you’re very fucking wrong. I found a girl on the streets two weeks ago, broken and scared. I see that same girl now—nothing has changed. I care about that.”

  “It’s not your duty to care about that. You did your job,” I say, my voice but a breath.

  “My job is whatever I make it.”

  “Then make it to go away from me,” I say, looking away because I can’t meet his eyes.

  “I’m seein’ if you’re okay. It’s not a fucking crime, Ava.”

  “I’m okay,” I lie. “Now I have to get home.”

  I step past him and climb into my car. Before I can shut the door, his hand lashes out and stops it. “Don’t drown, kid.”

  I jerk the door, and he lets it go. “Too late. I already have.”

  With that, I slam it and leave.

  CHAPTER 12

  NOW - AVA

  One week later

  I place my shot down on the bar and demand another. It’s my fifth night in a row at this place, the one place my dad’s club doesn’t frequent. Nobody knows I come here. Nobody knows I’m sinking further and further with every shot I take. They know I’m still struggling. They hug me when I’m having a bad day and they watch over me. They’re not stupid but they’re not clued in, either. I’m hiding my problem well because it’s the only way I can keep things simple, to take away some of my father’s guilt.

  These days, I have a routine. It took a few weeks after seeing Lucas again to find it, but I did. I go out, I drink until I pass out, as this helps ease the nightmares and the horrifying sounds of her screaming, then I wake in the middle of the day. I put on my happy face and makeup. My work hours changed, now I work from lunchtime until six p.m. and then I do it all again. It works perfectly for me now, because they let me have the mornings to sleep away the horror I’ve created the night before.

  And I’m succeeding.

  “You’re here again,” the bartender, Scott, says, as he pours me a whiskey shot.

  “I don’t think it’s your business how often I’m here,” I mutter, shooting the burning liquid down. The liquid that’s become my only way of coping.

  “No, but I don’t have to serve you. I’m startin’ to wonder why a pretty, sweet young thing like you is in here every night, drinking until she can’t walk.”

  “That would also not be your business.”

  He frowns, but keeps pouring. I’m one of the only customers tonight, aside from three old men at the other end of the bar. If he turns me down, he loses the shots I’m knocking back, and we both know he needs me to buy them as much as I want to buy them.

  “How do you even afford this?”

  “I have a job,” I grumble.

  “I doubt that. You’d be hungover until midday at least.”

  “I work half-days.”

  He snorts and goes to serve the other men. I sit and drink until the warmth floods my body and the heaviness on my chest leaves. It feels good. So good. A fight breaks out at the end of the bar between the three men, and I decide that’s my cue to leave. I slap a few notes down on the bar and slide off my seat, walking out into the cold, clear night.

  I stroll towards the next lot of buildings that lead down an alley to my house. Stopping for a second to feel the fresh breeze against my face, I lean against a cold brick wall as I take it all in. I’m swaying on my feet, and it feels incredible. I’m laughing to myself when a couple rounds the corner and starts towards the restaurants over the other side of the road. I don’t pay much attention to them until the man says, “Ava?”

  I flinch.

  My eyes swing in their direction, and I see Lucas with a pretty blond woman. God, I forgot how utterly breathtaking he is.

  “Detective,” I slur, saluting him.

  His eyes narrow, and he removes his arm from the blonde, stepping away from her. She studies me, her lips pursed. She’s looking at me with disgust. Yeah, well, join the club, lady.

  “You’re drunk.”

  It’s not a question.

  “I’m not hurting anyone,” I point out with a giggle. “So you can’t arrest me.”

  Lucas stops in front of me, his big arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a black button-up shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows, the top two buttons undone, exposing a beautiful, hard, bronze chest. His hair is slightly neater than usual, and he’s shaved, but his face is still rugged and dangerous. He’s got on black jeans and heavy black boots, making him look more like he belongs in my dad’s club than in a police station. His jaw, his beautiful jaw, is curved and tense as he looks down at me.

  “You’re beautiful.” I giggle, looking at him. “You’re also broken, just like me. All fucked up on the inside.”

  His eyes flash. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Don’t need you to take me home, Officer,” I say, waving an arm. “I can get there all on my own. I do it every night.”

  He makes a pained sound deep in his throat, and in a low voice, he says, “You do this every night?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sunk. You promised me you wouldn’t sink.”

  I lean in close to him, and god, he smells good. Like mint and beer and Lucas. “I lied,” I whisper.

  “This is dangerous, you standing out here alone.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen? I’m sure I’ve already experienced it.”

  “Ava,” he warns, his eyes flashing. “You need to stop.”

  I wave a hand again.

  “Luke, are we going?” the blonde asks.

  “Luke,” I mimic, laughing. “It doesn’t suit you.”

  Lucas glares at me, and something painful flashes across his face. I shut up.

  “I’m sorry, Sheila, but I need to get Ava home.”

  Sheila. Her name is Sheila. I snort and start laughing again. Lucas grabs my arm and squeezes lightly, in warning no doubt.

  “But we have a date?”

  I don’t think they have a date; I think he’s just being nice before he gives her the nasty.

  “I’ll reschedule,” he mutters. “Sorry.”

  “But . . . you’re going to blow us off for her? Who is she, anyway?”

  “Don’t question me,” Lucas says, his voice as smooth as ice, holding the same cool sting. “I’ll call you a cab.”

  “Don’t bother,” she snaps, storming over the road and into a restaurant.

  “Sheila isn’t getting lucky tonight.” I laugh.

  Lucas flinches and turns back to me, his eyes flooded with something I can’t read. “Walk.”

  He takes hold of my arm and pulls me around the corner and to a massive black truck that is so damned big, I have to jump three times before I can get in when he opens the door. He buckles my belt with a grunt and walks around, sliding in the driver’s seat.

  “Detective drives a big truck.”

  “Be quiet, Ava.”

  “I will not.”

  He sighs.

  “What the fuck possessed you to come out here on your own to get drunk?”

  “I told you, I do it every night. Makes me feel better.”

  “And nobody has noticed?”

  My chest clenches at that. I think they’re suspicious, but most of them have their own lives and on the occasion they have caught me drinking I just blow it off to being young and having fun. They all do it so it seems normal to them. It hurts that they haven’t assumed it’s more than that. Really hurts.

  “No,” I mutter.

  His eyes flash. “It isn’t a way of coping, Ava. It’s just a mask.”

  “A mask I wear daily. A mask that works,” I point out.

  His fingers tighten around the wheel. “Until it doesn’t.”

  “What would you know?” I snap, staring out the window.

  “More than you think, kid.”

  “Don’t call me kid. I’m not that much younger than yo
u.”

  “Nearly seven years is that much . . .”

  I blink. “You’re thirty?”

  He nods.

  “So?”

  He blinks. “So?” he repeats, clearly startled by my lack of concern.

  “Yeah, so? I’m not a child, Lucas. Please don’t treat me like one.”

  “You have years to learn what I know.”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ve learned life’s lessons the hard way.”

  He flinches. “You need to get help, Ava.”

  “I don’t want help, Lucas.”

  “So you’re going to drown yourself until you can’t function?”

  I go quiet, and after a moment, I whisper, “I can’t function if I don’t drown myself. How do you suppose I turn it the other way?”

  He goes quiet.

  There really isn’t anything else to say.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “How’s the job going, princess?” Muff asks two days later as I walk through the compound.

  “It’s going,” I mutter, keeping my head down as I head towards the room where I know Skye is.

  “You okay?”

  I stop and look up. I want to say no, I’m not okay, but nothing comes out. I do what I always do. I smile and I don’t mean it, but Muff’s grin gets bigger and he accepts it. Like they all do. “I’m fine, Muff. Sorry. I’m just distracted.”

  “No worries.”

  I wave and rush off. I reach the room and stop with my hand on the handle. I take a breath, preparing myself for the fake Ava act. Today, it’s hard. Today is pushing all my limits. That would be because last night I learned that the alcohol isn’t numbing it anymore—that I have to drink more and more to get to the place I need, and it’s not working like it was. Not to mention I’m spending a good deal of my wage on buying the stuff. Soon I won’t be able to afford my rent and then I’ll have a lot to explain to my family.

  That scared me. It ripped open my wounds and reminded me that they’re still there, and they’re still raw.

  I’m still broken.

  If I’m not absolutely smashed, then I can see her face every single time I go to sleep. Every time I close my eyes I hear her screaming, begging, telling me that she wanted to go home. I should have tried to get us out; I should have told him to take me; I should have done something other than what I did.

  “Hey,” Skye says when I step into the bar area, where she’s sitting with my sister, Addi.

  “Hey Sis.” Addi grins.

  “Hey,” I say, but it sounds broken and defeated.

  “You okay?” Addi asks, standing.

  “I’m good. I’m okay,” I lie. “I just had a really long night; I’m exhausted.”

  I slide onto the stool. I’m not working this afternoon, which means I don’t have that distraction. It’s already nearing lunchtime and I’m freaking out, feeling restless, feeling lost. A small, pathetic part of me is trying not to go to the bar and drink, but I know if I don’t find another option, that’s exactly where I’ll end up.

  “You’ve been working a lot lately. Is everything okay?” Skye asks.

  “Sure, just some big projects. Where are all the guys?”

  “Meeting. Must be some shit going down,” Addi mutters.

  “Anything interesting?” I say, acting uninterested when really I desperately want her to tell me what she knows.

  She laughs. “Sis, you know I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to.”

  Dammit.

  I shrug, acting like I don’t care. “True. What are you guys up to tonight?”

  “Just a quiet movie,” Skye says. “You want to join?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” I smile. “I’m going to get an early one.”

  “We have to catch up soon. It’s been ages.”

  “We will.”

  “Mercy has been desperate for a girls’ night.”

  Addi stands. “I’ll let you two discuss girls’ nights, which by the way, I’d totally die for. I’m going to find my husband.”

  “Yo, precious, Cade’s lookin’ for you,” Spike says, coming into the room.

  “See,” Addi says. “Duty calls.”

  Skye and I laugh as she disappears with Spike, her arm curled through his, chatting his ear off.

  “I should get going too,” I say to Skye. “Just wanted to say hi.”

  “We need to catch up soon!”

  “Skye.”

  We both turn to see Danny standing at the door with Max by his side. His eyes flick to me and lighten. “Shit, Ant, didn’t know you were here.”

  “I was just leaving.”

  “Right. I wanna talk to you before you do,” he says, then turns to Skye. “You ready to go?”

  “Go where?” I prod, staring as Skye’s cheeks flush and she nods.

  “Takin’ her for a ride. She needs a new jacket.”

  I grin. Danny glares. Skye blushes.

  “Sounds fun.” I smile. “Hey Max!”

  “Hey Ava. What’s crackin’?”

  “Not much. You going for the ride, too?”

  Max grins. “And cramp their style? Nah.”

  I laugh. Danny shoots Max a glare. “Need a word, Ant. Skye, go wait for me.”

  Danny steps forward and takes my arm. “You’re so bossy,” I mutter, as he leads me into the hall.

  “You haven’t returned my calls,” he says, as soon as we’re out of earshot.

  My face falls. For a second, just a second, I forgot my pain and smiled with my friends. With one sentence, he’s taken me right back.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say.

  “Too busy to answer your best friend?”

  “Jesus, Danny, I’ve been working.”

  “And in the mornings?”

  “Sleeping!”

  “All day?”

  “Danny!” I snap. “Enough. I’m not doing this now.”

  He glares at me. “But we will do it, Ant. I’m coming by tomorrow when you’re finished work. You be home, or I’ll find you.”

  I open my mouth to argue but he leaves.

  My shoulders slump, and the tightness in my chest increases until I’m struggling to breathe through it.

  I need to get out of here.

  ~*~*~*~

  I shoot back one shot and then another. I’m six shots down and not even close to being numb. Desperation runs rampant in my body and no matter how much I drink, the pain isn’t going away. I rub my hand over my face and order another one. It has to go away soon—it has to. If it doesn’t then I won’t be able to cope, and I need to cope.

  “Please, I have a family.”

  I flinch and down another shot. The thoughts are coming in harder and harder with each passing day. Every second I refuse to cope makes it that much worse. I don’t want to see it; I don’t want to keep seeing her face, hearing her voice pleading, and knowing that I’m the reason she isn’t here. I had one single second of weakness that led me to losing every piece of myself.

  “Hey there.”

  I flinch and look up to see a good-looking young man standing next to me, smiling down.

  “Oh, hey,” I mutter.

  “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in here all alone?”

  I shrug, ignoring him.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “It’s a free bar,” I mutter. “Do what you want.”

  He sits, seemingly unperturbed by my poor attitude. He waves a hand and orders a drink, then turns to me. “Do you live around here?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Do I look like I want a friend?”

  He grins. “You look like you need something.”

  I do. I need this alcohol to start working. I swallow down another shot, ignoring him.

  “Let me buy you a drink . . .?” he trails off, clearly waiting for a name.

  “Fifi,” I mutter.

  He snorts. I glare.

  “Sorry,” he says. “Hey Fifi, my name is Tony.”

  “Great.”

  I stare at my phone that?
??s vibrating on the counter. Dad. Checking in. As always, if I don’t call him every few hours he freaks out. I lift it up and punch out a quick text that I’m going to bed, and I’ll see him tomorrow. I assure him the alarm system is on and everything is fine. It’ll keep him happy. Tony orders another drink, and I fumble about in my purse, looking for more cash. Surely I haven’t gone through this much already.

  “Here, it’s on me,” Tony says, sliding a shot towards me.

  I take it, not looking at him, and shooting it back.

  “Would you like another?”

  I shrug.

  He gets me another.

  Hey, if he’s paying, so be it.

  Two hours later and I’m finally smashed, more than I’ve ever been. I have tried and tried to get this drunk in the last few days with little success. I don’t feel like I’ve had much—in fact, I’m sure I’m only up around eight or nine—but it seems so much more. My entire body is light. I’m laughing, dancing, talking to random people and feeling like there isn’t a smidge of the troubles of the world laying on my shoulders.

  “Listen, you should come outside with me. I have more alcohol in my car,” Tony says, wrapping his arms around my hips as we dance.

  I snort. “No thanks. I’m not stupid.”

  He puts his hands up in an innocent gesture. “Seriously, I’m not lying.”

  “Dream on, buster.”

  “Come on,” he says, pulling me, his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

  I laugh, careless. “No.”

  “It won’t take long, at least we can hear each other talk properly out there. Come on.”

  “She said no.”

  I spin around. Tony’s hand drops at the cool whip of the voice behind us. I raise my eyes and stumble back to see Lucas standing in our space, his arms crossed, and his big body on full alert.

  “Sorry man,” Tony says. “I was just dancing with her.”

  Lucas steps forward, takes my chin, and tilts my head back, studying my face. Boy, he’s pretty. So freaking pretty.

  “Hey Detective.” I giggle.

  “Enough, Ava,” he murmurs, studying my face.

  He lets me go, turning to Tony. “What did you give her?”

  Tony puts his hands up again. “Nothing, I swear.”