Carnage by Sarah Bailey

Nine

Francis

I didn’t like what was happening with the rest of them. They all seemed so content to let their darker sides out without a second thought for how it would affect everything between us. It was something I’d always battled with. I wouldn’t deny it felt fucking good when I allowed myself the freedom to be who I was inside. To do exactly as I pleased without morality or a conscience weighing me down.

Why couldn’t I let it go like West had always done?

Why did I have to fight with myself over the things I craved?

Time for thinking about that shit was over. No matter how much I disapproved of what they wanted to do with her, I wouldn’t let them down. Prescott, West, Drake and I were in this together. We always had been. At one point, she was a part of the equation. And now? Fuck knew what she was to us. It’d been ten years. Ten fucking years of waiting for the opportune moment. And now it was here.

I had to deal with it. Do what I was supposed to. And be who I was.

They call you a fucking horseman, act like it.

I clenched my fists as I walked into the kitchen, knowing I had to sort my shit out and get with the fucking program. My feet came to a standstill the moment I saw a woman standing by the counter tapping her purple nails on it whilst the coffee machine whirled.

Her light brown hair was pulled up in a tight ballerina bun on top of her head, with little wisps framing her face. When my eyes drifted lower and fell on her behind, perfectly encased in her tight black pencil skirt, I swallowed hard as my mouth watered. She had black heels on with little purple bows on the back of them. Her legs were bare and made me wonder what she was wearing underneath her skirt.

I’d tried not to look at her like that. As someone desirable. As someone I’d want to tie down with chains, listening to them rattle whilst she screamed and fought against their hold. As someone I’d torture with pleasure and pain because I fucking well could. As someone who was ours to do what we wanted with.

She was that. She belonged with us… no… she belonged to us.

Fuck. This. Shit.

“Good morning, Miss Carver,” I said, my voice calm and collected, not remotely betraying my inner thoughts about all the depraved things I would subject her to. What we would all subject her to because it was who we were.

Scarlett turned her head and smiled at me.

“Good morning.”

My conscience fled. I didn’t give a shit where it went, either. Her smile made me want to let my inner deviant play with fire. Play with her. Just like we’d agreed to. To push her until she snapped. Then we’d really learn what went on inside that head of hers. Force those secrets between all of us out in the open. One day, but not yet… not until we were ready.

I stepped closer until I was almost brushing against her. Her head tipped up, her hazel-green eyes widening slightly.

“Drake is rather picky about how he takes his coffee.”

“He is? Annika didn’t tell me.”

My lips curved up. Annika wouldn’t have. She was used to Drake’s ways. Plus, he wasn’t too strict with her. Scarlett would learn that whilst Drake had infinite patience, he also liked to get his own way at all times. He didn’t concede. And now he’d decided to mess with her, I was sure he’d use every little mistake to his advantage.

“Well, perhaps I should teach you exactly how he likes it.”

Before she could say anything else, I stepped behind her and reached up to the cupboard, pressing myself against her back as I tugged out a mug. She sucked in a breath. It didn’t stop me from leaning over her and setting it down as I laid my other hand against the counter.

“This is his.”

Scarlett looked down at my arms, where I’d effectively caged her in before her eyes fell on the mug. Prescott thought it would be funny to get us all mugs related to what he called our namesakes. Drake’s mug was black with a white horse running and below it, the text read: You cannot outrun Death.

“And if you don’t want him to give you one of his disapproving stares, you need to select this option.” I pointed at the buttons on the machine. “No milk. His coffee is like the man himself… dark with a bitter aftertaste.”

She turned her head to me, her lips parting and her tongue darting out for the briefest of moments.

“Is that so?” she murmured.

“Oh yes. You better not keep him waiting, Miss Carver, he’s not known for being lenient if you’re tardy with his coffee first thing.”

“And what about you, Mr Beaufort? Are you as picky as him?”

It was almost like an invitation to press closer, but I didn’t. I stayed where I was, inches away from her body. No, I wanted to tease her, taunt her, make her come to me. And then I’d take everything I wanted, needed, pleased.

“Perhaps, perhaps not… you’ll just have to find that out for yourself.”

I pulled back and stepped away, noting the way she exhaled sharply. I smiled to myself, rubbing my thumb over my bottom lip. The Scarlett I’d once known never backed down from a challenge. I wondered how much of that girl remained all these years later. After she’d lost everything.

“You too chicken?” I teased, as Scarlett stared up at the dilapidated building in front of us.

Her head turned towards me, and she glared.

“Hell no, you’re the one who doesn’t want to go inside with the rest of them.”

I shrugged and walked up to the open front door where Drake, West and Prescott had disappeared into a couple of minutes ago.

“No, I was being nice and staying outside with you, but if you’re going to be a scaredy-cat, then maybe I should leave you to it.”

Scarlett barged past me and walked into the building, turning her head back as her eyes glinted with mischief.

“Now who’s the scaredy-cat, Frankie?”

“Well, thank you for the lesson,” Scarlett said, as she pulled the mug from the coffee machine and replaced it with Drake’s. “I appreciate it.”

I shrugged and grabbed my own mug from the cupboard. The white one with two black horses rearing in opposite directions and the words It’s Feast or Famine underneath it. Even though I didn’t find Prescott’s mugs amusing, it didn’t stop me from using mine.

“You’re welcome.”

She fiddled with the coffee machine before she turned around and leant back against the counter. Her blouse was dark purple and clung to her breasts, which you could see the tops of because she hadn’t buttoned it up the whole way. Perhaps a little inappropriate for a work environment, but I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t going to tell her not to wear something less… provocative. Hell, I could quite happily stare at her tits all day, but then it’d make me want things I couldn’t yet have. And fill my head with dark thoughts of what we were going to do to her.

“Should I make tea or coffee for everyone whilst I’m here?”

“Well, if you want to get your head bitten off by venturing into West’s office without an invitation, then by all means.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“An invitation?”

“Yes. He doesn’t like anyone invading his space unless it’s strictly necessary, but if you really want to know, he takes his coffee spiked with whisky.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened, and she tapped her hand against her thigh.

“I don’t know whether or not to take that seriously.”

I knew for a fact West kept the bottom drawer of his desk stocked with alcohol. He likely spiked his own damn coffee. A sober West was a bitch to deal with. I never told him off for drinking at work as long as he kept his drug use outside of hours. That’s if he was even at work today. He’d not reappeared from his room after he went to smoke a joint last night and I’d stormed off to work out my frustrations on the running machine in our home gym.

“I never joke about West.”

“Maybe I won’t disturb him.”

I grinned.

“Probably wise not to.”

The coffee machine stopped whirling. Scarlett turned, picking up Drake’s mug. She eyed me for another moment before making her way towards the door. My eyes fell on her swaying hips. My hand tightened around my mug as the urge to stop her from leaving overtook my self-control.

“I’m sure Prescott won’t mind you making him tea… it’s milk and two sugars for future reference.”

She paused in the doorway.

“And you?”

“You’ll work it out… eventually.”

Scarlett turned her head and bit her lip. Soon, I’d have that lip between my own teeth, biting down so hard, I’d draw blood. The thought made my body thrum with anticipation of listening to her cry of pain.

“Well, I’ll just have to surprise you then.”

She walked away, leaving me alone with the distinct impression she knew I was flirting with her. I shook my head and turned to the coffee machine, pressing down on the button for a cappuccino.

I couldn’t help looking forward to the thrill chasing her down and making her ours completely would bring.