Tortured Sinner by Tessa James
Claire - 31
There are a million things on my mind right now, but the only one I can focus on is revenge.
For Johnny, for Billy, for all of the girls Griffin ever laid a hand on. For me. For anyone and everyone who has ever been mistreated in this cruel, cruel world.
How can people be so brutal and heartless? The Griffins and Jareds and Franklins…hell, even the Beths that plague this planet. What gives someone the right to abuse and neglect others the way they do?
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Johnny stands there, a hesitant look in his eyes.
“I just can’t believe I let this happen, you know?” I’ve been a fool for how I’ve let people walk all over me my entire life. I thought I was doing the right thing, being passive and not causing any issues when someone wronged me. But what I’ve really been doing is silencing my voice and giving them approval to continue their sick and twisted game.
The more I allow shit to happen, the more they believe they can get away with it. The cycle will never stop unless someone puts their foot down and calls them out for what they’ve done or are doing. And maybe those types of people will never change, but the one thing I do have control over is disallowing them from doing it to me again. I will no longer be the victim, and I’ll be damned if I let it happen to anyone else.
“Claire, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Johnny takes a cautious step forward, like he’s afraid I might explode if he makes any sudden moves.
“What time is it?”
Johnny pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Almost ten.” He slides it back in place. “But listen, you can’t answer a question with a question. Not with this. I need you to understand.” He finally closes the gap between us. “You’ve done nothing to warrant the things that have happened to you.”
I study his serious expression—the hard lines and stern jaw.
His injuries are healing, but they will leave a lasting mark of what he went through. Scars from his journey to save an innocent. It’s interesting to think about the external marks that show our trauma, when in reality, the damage done inside is much deeper than a faded line on someone’s brow.
He’s stronger than I ever could be, and I admire his ability to selflessly protect and fight for those unable. He’s a noble man, one of the many reasons I…
My heart skips a beat, and my cheeks turn up into a faint smile.
There is a vast darkness consuming my soul, but Johnny is my compass, always guiding me home.
“What is it?” he asks with equal parts confusion and curiosity.
“Nothing.” No way I’m going to be the one to spit it out first, especially this soon. We aren’t even an official couple yet. And after he totally avoided having sex with me, I’m not certain he feels the same.
He runs his hand along my cheek and meets my gaze. “Claire, I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I’m worried about you.”
I weave my arms under his and tightly squeeze his bare torso. I breathe in his scent and bask in the comfort he easily brings me. “You’re right,” I say into his chest. “I don’t want to hear it.” I pause and add, “I’m fine. Just processing.”
“You know I’m here though, that you can talk to me?” His eyes bore into me with the lingering statement that is more like a question.
And despite us only being in each other’s lives for a little over a month, I’ve grown more connected to him than I have any other human. It’s terrifying and somehow incredibly exhilarating.
I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss the side of his face. “I’m going to be late for work.”
Johnny sighs and his energy completely shifts. He wraps himself around me and picks me off the floor, dragging us both back to the bed.
I giggle and squirm and end up landing on top of him when he plops us onto the mattress.
He quickly grabs the comforter and throws it over us, cocooning us in. “Let’s just stay here all day.”
Moments like this, all of my doubts disappear about the way Johnny feels about me. It’s as though his emotions pour out of him and into me, a direct lifeline of adoration. It’s in the glimmer of his eyes when they look at me. The gentleness of his fingers upon grazing my skin. The care he puts into each kiss he plants on my lips. The change in dynamic when we’re together. He goes from hardened bad boy to such a gentle sweetheart. He’d go to any length to protect me but would never hurt a hair on my head.
And for him, I’d do the same.
I run my finger along his forehead and swoop the unruly strand of dark hair out of his face. I trace the curve of his brow and the shape of his jaw. I study him so intently, desperate to memorize every single detail. I smile at the freckle I had tried to wipe away that night I had found him in that alley, beaten and left behind.
His beauty stirs something inside of me I’ve never felt before. A rampant lust and longing I haven’t experienced with anyone else. I attribute the intensity to the powerful connection we have. The safety I feel with him allows me to let down walls I didn’t realize I had, deepening that bond.
“Claire,” his voice is barely a whisper. He reaches up and grazes my cheek, settling his fingers along the side of my face, cupping it gently.
Butterflies swarm my stomach at the way my name slides off his tongue.
“I…” His serious gaze consumes me.
His phone buzzes on my nightstand and he rolls his eyes at the intrusion, dropping his hand at the same time. It goes off once more, solidifying the ruined moment between us.
* * *
Johnny walks me to my shift at the diner, making sure I’m safe inside before he goes on his way.
I hate that he has to go, but I understand why he’s doing it. He’s too far in to back out now. I just hope whatever his plan is, that it works, because I can’t stomach the idea of something terrible happening to him—or worse, losing him. Finding him in that alley was heartbreaking, and that was prior to our relationship developing the way it has now. I can only imagine how painful it would be for something like that to happen again.
Every single time he’s called out, I’m a nervous wreck. Even when we were in that back and forth of not talking to each other, and he would disappear for hours on end, I’d be a ball of anxiety waiting for him to return safely.
Right now is no exception either.
Bram notices it, too. “You okay, kid?”
I approach the counter after delivering a stack of pancakes to the lone patron in the corner booth. “Yeah.” I glance at the clock.
Johnny has been gone for four hours, and my shift ends in about forty-five minutes.
I grab a rag and walk to a newly emptied table to clean it off. My thoughts are interrupted when I overhear someone’s name.
“Yeah, Jared and Toby do it every Sunday.”
I covertly follow the sound to spot a guy about my age talking on his cell phone. He brings his cup of coffee to his lips and takes a drink.
I drop my gaze and go back to wiping the table, listening attentively.
“Over on Sullivan. They pretty much got everyone from the building to go. Claim it’s their hangover cure. Whatever. Steve was salty when I told him I wasn’t coming.” He pauses while the other person talks. “Probably another hour, but I’m not going.” He slides a French fry off his plate and tosses it into his mouth. “Lifting weights is what they do, I’m more of a drown myself in greasy food type of guy.”
And from the look of him, that statement rings true.
I check the time once more and glance at the door. Still no sign of Johnny. I could text him, but I don’t want to distract him if he’s in the middle of his delivery. I’d rather not add any more risk to his already dangerous situation.
I replay the one side of the conversation I just heard.
Sullivan. It’s probably the gym in the community center that students at our school get free access to. Which is a hefty walk from their house. And if they’re going to be there for another sixty minutes, I could easily pop over and rummage through that room Johnny and I had seen those sneakers in.
I’d be in and out in a flash, and if anyone catches me, I could easily say I left my purse behind at the party. Totally believable story.
I'd love to have the luxury of waiting, talking this over with Johnny, and coming up with a plan together, but considering the next time this guy mentioned they would be gone for sure is next Sunday, I can’t exactly afford to waste this perfect opportunity.
Johnny isn’t here, and I have no idea when he’ll be back. He’ll be pissed, but this is my chance to show him I’m not the weak girl he thinks I am. I can see it in the way he looks at me, like I’m going to break.
And maybe I am. But this is my time to prove those doubts wrong to both of us.
* * *
Iconvince Bram to let me go early, which is most likely going to be the easiest part of this plan. Bram can totally run the diner alone, with his eyes closed. Having me there is probably more for me than it is for him. I'm grateful for the job, and the opportunity to learn humility from such a good man.
I check my phone one last time and shove it into my back pocket. I still haven’t heard from Johnny, but I have to hope that everything is okay. He’s warned me numerous times about how long some of his errands can take, and yet it still doesn’t make the wait any less unbearable.
Tugging the sleeves of my thin sweatshirt down around my wrist, I head out the front door of the diner and make my way toward my destination. I breathe in the warm fall air and squint at the brightness of the sun. I need to invest in a decent pair of shades and actually keep them on me if I’m going to continue living in a place that’s always beaming.
I keep my arms tight around my chest and avoid eye contact with people on the walk to the building. Not that it's a difficult task, considering most of the pedestrians are so consumed by the device in their hands that they don’t even notice me.
As I approach the house, I slow my pace to scope it out. Red solo cups litter the front lawn, but other than that, it’s quiet. Honestly, it looks much different in the daylight. More…normal. If I hadn’t already been here before, it would probably just blend in with all the other homes on the street.
I decide to waste no more time, considering the clock is ticking on when the hangover gym session will be finished. Considering my interaction with Jared last night, I’d rather avoid coming face-to-face with him again.
I bolt up the steps, careful to glance over my shoulder and confirm I’m alone. I walk in like I own the place, considering it’s much easier to blend in when you act confident. My heart pounds wildly in my chest with each foot I put in front of the other.
The house is dead ass quiet. It’s also a mess, although I’m not at all surprised. It’s the home of a bunch of careless college party boys. The empty bottles of booze and discarded pizza boxes are clearly a staple of their décor.
I go down the hallway where June had greeted me and Johnny, and turn to head up the stairs. Not a single person appears and stops me, leading me to think I might actually pull this off.
Quietly, I stroll along the row of bedrooms and go toward the one I came here for. I pause before it, listening carefully for any sign of life. The door is cracked open, those shoes still in the same spot they were. I place my fingers gently on the white wood and push it further.
The comforter hangs off the side of the unkempt bed and clothes are strewn haphazardly around the room. I take the space in for just a moment, confirming no one is occupying it. I cautiously step in, letting the heaviness of the room settle over me. My gut tells me I’m in the right place; I only hope I find what I’m looking for in time.
I try to calm myself down and come up with where I would hide something if I was stupid enough to do what this guy did. Johnny might be in the same business, but he’s never admitted to brutally beating someone up and stealing from them. And given Johnny’s back story, he at least has a reasonable explanation for why he’s even involved with this kind of work. Anyone who signs up for this shit for the money is out of their mind.
I rush to the bed, dropping to my knees and shoving my arm between the mattress and the bed frame. I slide it around, coming up empty-handed. Letting out a sigh, I catch sight of the tall dresser. Immediately, I pull the top drawer back, cringing when I find this guy's underwear. I hold my breath and dig my fingers through the assortment. Something cold and hard startles me.
Without laying my eyes on it, I know exactly what I’ve stumbled upon.
I grip the deadly thing and pull it out anyway.
A gun. A small one. Compact.
I let the weight of it settle in my hand and do something completely insane—I tuck it into the back of my waistband. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with it, but I can’t stand the idea of leaving it behind in this room. If this person was willing to beat Johnny up, what else would they do? I won’t allow the possibility of something worse to float around in the universe.
I shut the drawer and continue my search, the gun pressed against my skin, a reminder of the vicious and dark world I keep dipping my toes into.
Johnny warned me. He tried to keep his distance to protect me, but who’s going to be the one to save him? Why should he have to go through all this on his own? Maybe we’re more alike than we think—willing to dive headfirst into the fire to save someone we care about.
I rummage through the rest of the clothes, shutting the bottom drawer and sighing at my lack of finding anything else.
A person clears their throat behind me, and I freeze, praying like hell that I could make myself invisible. I guess I’m going to finally meet the person this room belongs to.
Only, when I slowly turn to see their face, it’s Jared leaning in the doorway.
That same evil grin from last night.
“And what do we have here?” His large body easily blocks the entire exit.
There was one person I needed to avoid when I came here—anyone else I could have easily have said I left something behind, but that story won’t work on him. Jared knows too much, and if he’s part of Franklin’s organization, he’s probably aware Johnny is not around to defend me.
Jared steps forward, his hand casually closing the door as he enters the room. “A little privacy, if you know what I mean.”
I had hoped that last night Jared had too much to drink, and that's why he came at me the way he did. Aggressively, possessively, and in such a disgusting manner. But now, he's stone-cold sober and still approaching me with his greedy eyes, like I am his for the taking.
With the shutting of the door, the space of the room seems to shrink, confining me in and sealing my fate along with it.
“Aw, don’t act so scared.” Jared comes toward me, and my mind flashes back to the events that transpired during our first meeting. “I promise, you might even like it. I mean, you kind of owe me after what you did.”
Kicking him in the balls for forcing himself on me? How does that even make sense?
But, despite every fiber in my being screaming at me to run, I allow him to advance, because that’s the only thing I can do. He’s shut off the only viable exit, considering the owner of the room put their dresser in front of the window, blocking it from being accessible.
What a fire hazard.
Jared glides over and trails his finger along my covered arm. “You should really take that off.” He pinches my sweatshirt and licks at his bottom lip.
My stomach turns at his words and the implications behind them.
His hot breath settles on my face, drawing away the attention from that familiar foot smell. Jared grabs my shoulders firmly. “What do you think?” His question is clearly rhetorical, since he’s already made his decision of what’s going to go down in this room.
Little does he know, so have I.
I slide my right hand back, gripping that cold, hard thing tucked into my waistband and without another thought, I yank it out. I grasp it with both hands and shove it against his belly. “Actually, I had something else in mind.”
Jared’s eyes go wide and immediately he removes himself from me.
This time, it’s me that advances on him, pushing him further away, until he can’t go anywhere else.
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” I demand.
“Watch it with that thing,” Jared spits out.
“Where’s the package?” I ask him.
Jared narrows his gaze. “What are you talking about?” He keeps his arms outstretched and to the side, facing me.
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Where is it?”
He glances down and then back up at me, his resolve fading. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” Jared smirks like he’s somehow got the upper hand despite the gun I’m aiming at him.
Without taking my eyes off of him, I slide my thumb down to switch the safety off. “You tell me.” I shove the thing further into him, only this time, I aim for his groin. “Now, do I need to ask again, or should I shoot your fucking dick off?”
One of the perks of being raised by a gun-toting dad is learning how to use one at an early age. It wasn’t something we did often, but enough for me to learn the basics and get comfortable with handling one. I’ve never been more thankful for those awkward daddy-daughter days at the gun range.
Sheer panic replaces the snide expression on his face. “Okay, okay, yeah. It’s over there.” He points behind me.
I don't dare break my concentration and give him an opportunity to disarm me. "You think you're clever? Tell me exactly where it is."
“The, uh, the closet. Behind his jackets.” He practically spits out the words.
“You fucking move and I shoot you, do you hear me?” I keep the gun pointed at him but take a step back. I use my peripheral to glance out the location and slowly make my way in that direction.
He raggedly nods like he’s afraid I might actually do it. There’s something about the way he fears me for a change that is so incredibly empowering.
I take my left hand off the grip and feel around inside the space. I fumble through the T-shirts until I find the thicker, heavier stuff I'm searching for. I reach farther and graze my hand along the wall. I start to doubt whether Jared was telling the truth or not.
My heart seems to jump out of my chest when my fingers skim a section of tape. I trace the outline and rip the thing off the wall. With the weapon still pointed at Jared, I bring the package out into the open.
Yellow, just like Johnny had told me, the same exact size his hands had motioned toward. Except there’s one thing he didn’t mention. The dark splotches of his dried blood that were left behind.
I glance down at the gun in my hand, and then at Jared with an anger coursing through me that is all-consuming.
“Was it you?” I ask him through my clenched teeth.
“What?” He feigns confusion.
“Were you involved with the attack?” I extend the package. “To steal this?”
Jared places both hands up in the air and shakes his head. “No, I swear. I had nothing to do with it.”
But why should I believe him? After what he might have done to me, who’s to say what he’s capable of. He could very well be lying right now to save his ass.
He seems to sense that I don’t trust what he’s telling me. “I didn’t. It was Steve and Boston. They got the order; I only knew about it.”
The memory of Johnny, lying there helpless on the ground, bleeding out and practically unconscious, assaults me heavily. I barely knew him but even then, the idea of someone hurting him like that was an impossible pill to swallow. He could have died. All because of some fucking order.
Why should I allow a person like Jared to continue to exist in this world? Even if he’s telling the truth, he’s still guilty by association. And Johnny aside, he’s a threat to any woman he sets his sights on. He doesn’t deserve to exist.
A chill spirals up my spine, reminding me that Griffin is still out there. Another menace to this world. I knew he was a monster, but when that officer showed me the numerous reports filed against Griffin, it solidified how terrible of a person he is. And the thing that concerns me the most is he’s still capable of ruining more lives.
If Griffin wakes up and tells the authorities his story of what happened that night, Johnny could be in trouble. Sure, Griffin has a checkered past, but he’d be telling the truth, and if he’s able to prove it, Johnny and I would be screwed.
But for now, I need to focus on the more time-sensitive problem in front of me. The two-hundred-plus-pound man nearly shitting his pants at the sight of a five-foot-something girl pointing a loaded gun at him.
The biggest mystery of all: Do I pull the trigger?