Shattered Poetry (Broken Lives #2) Page 14

  Praying so hard.

  He kissed the top of my head and let go of me, his gaze zeroing in on my face again. “How’s my boy’s girl doin’?” he asked, his grief over Ronnie’s death morphing his harsh features into a graveyard of sorrow.

  “I’m doin’ the best I can,” I replied, hoping my answer was enough. Though, I had a feeling he wanted me to breakdown in front of him, weeping over the loss. And I had cried, still felt incredibly sad. I just hadn’t loved Ronnie like he did. It was why I’d kept breaking up with his son. Ronnie just wouldn’t let go, always persisting until I gave into him ... unlike the last time, because Dante had finally let me into his world, one I wanted to stay in forever.

  Jonah placed a hand on my shoulder and directed me to sit down on one of the dining room chairs. He pulled up a chair for himself. “Like I said at my boy’s funeral, if you want anything you just needa ask. I will always be here for you.”

  I nodded, not sure I wanted to ask anything of him, because you never got things for free from Jonah. You always had to give him something in return. Times a hundred. Ronnie had warned me about him, telling me to never ask for a loan from the Devil’s Crew, since the interest rate for repayments made loan sharks look like small fry in comparison.

  He held out a hand to Reaper, giving some sort of silent order. Shuffling my mum forward, Reaper handed Jonah a small wrapped gift. Without a word, Jonah held it out for me to take.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “A late birthday present. I found out you turned sweet sixteen a few days ago.”

  A flutter of hope went through me that this wasn’t about Dante. I glanced at my mum, the tears spilling down her cheeks telling me I was fooling myself. When I’d given Dante the alibi I hadn’t thought about what Jonah’s reaction would be. All that had concerned me was what Jasper had said: that the Devil’s Crew would place a hit on Dante if I didn’t lie for him. Only a few hours after I’d given my statement did I fully contemplate how Jonah might react to the news. Still, I hadn’t been with Ronnie at the time of his death, the two of us having broken up again.

  Which looked like Jonah didn’t know.

  Jonah indicated to the present. “Go on, open it.”

  I ripped off the wrapping and opened the box, gasping at what was inside. It was a necklace with two hearts, one diamond encrusted, the other holding a ruby. Something I knew well. I’d pointed the necklace out to Ronnie while on a date with him, saying it was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen. But I’d never dreamed I would get it, the necklace costing a couple grand.

  I looked up at Jonah. “How’d you know I wanted this?”

  “Ronnie told me about it. He’d saved up for a while, doing jobs for me to buy it. He only had one payment left on it, so I paid it off for him.”

  My eyes misted up at what Ronnie had done for me. He’d told me so many times that he loved me, showing me too. But I couldn’t return it. I couldn’t control my heart, because if I could, I would’ve stayed with him. He treated me so lovely. Never made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for him. If anything, he made me feel like I was better than him. Unlike Dante, who made me scrape for every bit of attention he gave me.

  But I am good enough for Dante!

  Well, more than anyone else, because he was in a league of his own. He just needed to walk into a room and everyone’s head would turn. He had that something. That extra spark other people didn’t have. And I wanted a piece of it. No, I wanted it all.

  Jonah took the necklace out of my hands and leaned forward, slipping it around my neck. He did the clasp up and wiped a thumb under my eyes. “Not crocodile tears, like I expected. Guess you really did care for my boy.” He placed a finger under my chin and lifted it up, his expression hardening. “Just not enough for my liking.”

  I inhaled sharply, the cold fury radiating off him making it hard to breathe.

  His lips pulled tight. “A li’l birdie told me you’re fuckin’ a filthy Skin, and not just any Skin, the one who the coppers suspected killed my boy.”

  “Dante didn’t do it,” I blurted out. “He has an alibi.”

  “Yes,” Jonah practically hissed. “You.” He clamped two fingers on my chin, making me cry out, his grip painful.

  “Don’t hurt her!” my mum screamed, trying to pull free from Reaper’s arms.

  Reaper removed a knife from his belt and placed it to her throat. “Stay still if you wanna live,” he growled.

  My mum froze, her expression a picture of terror.

  Loosening his grip on my chin, Jonah leaned his face closer, so close I could see the pores on his nose. I went to move my head back, but he grabbed my hair, locking me in place.

  “You were fucking that Skin,” he spat out the last word, “when my boy was bein’ murdered. You let that filthy Rata whore take what belonged to my boy.”

  I started crying, terrified of what he was going to do to me, to my mum. “It wuzn’t cheating. I wuzn’t dating Ronnie at the time,” I said, knowing I couldn’t take back my alibi. He’d go after Dante if I did, not to mention he would make me pay worse for lying.

  “Ronnie didn’t say anything ’bout a breakup.”

  “It happened a few days before his death, but I wuz thinking of dropping Dante and gettin’ back with him,” I lied. “Cos I missed him so much.” My bottom lip quivered, fear making me shake. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t even come close to cutting it, li’l girl.” His grip tightened on my hair, making me cry out again. He loosened his grip a fraction. “If you wanna keep breathing, you’ll find out who killed my son, cos I know a Skin did it, it’s just a matter of which one. Get even tighter with that boy. I heard he’s a drunk. Fill him up with booze and get info outta him like your life depends upon it. Cos it does.”

  He slammed my forehead down on the table, sending pain rocketing through it. My mind went blank for a few seconds, unable to think or do anything other than remembering to breathe again. Then my mum’s screams filled my ears. I blinked rapidly and lifted a hand to my forehead, feeling blood on my temple. Stunned, I looked across at what was happening. Jonah was holding my mum by the throat, shoving her against the fridge. She screamed again, flailing about to get out of his grip, but she was no more than a ragdoll in his meaty hands, barely five foot to Jonah’s towering wall of muscle and fat.

  He smashed his lips against hers, cutting off her scream. My mum’s eyes bulged out in horror. He pulled back a second later. “Your daughter better toe the line, or I won’t be held accountable for what I might do to you, pretty lady.”

  “She will,” my mum cried. “Phe will do whatever you say.”

  “I guarantee she will, and you wanna know why?” His hand crept under her work smock, making my mother cry out again.

  I pushed up from the table, feeling wobbly and disorientated, but needing to do something, anything to stop him assaulting my mum. “Please let her go,” I sobbed.

  His hard eyes went to me. “Find out as much info you can ’bout who could’ve killed my boy. And if you happen to change your mind ’bout your alibi—”

  “I’d be lying if I did.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but either way I wanna know who put five bullets into my boy. And as an insurance policy,” he tightened his grip on my mum, making her cry out yet again, “I’m gonna take this fine piece of arse with me.”

  “My mum—”

  “Will be staying with me at the club until you get the info I want. And when you find out who killed my Ronnie, I’m gonna skin the bastard alive. But if you don’t do as you’re told...” Smiling cruelly, he took the knife from Reaper and ran the tip down my mum’s cheek, causing her to wince. “I’ll skin your mother alive instead and make you watch.” He wiped his thumb over the cut, smearing blood across her cheek. “Understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Also, Reaper and his men will be watching you, making sure you don’t do anything stupid, like talk to the coppers.” He glanced down at my mum. “And i
f you,” he said to her, “fight me, I’ll order Reaper to kill your daughter. Slowly.” He shoved her towards the door, disappearing through it as Reaper walked towards me.

  13

  Clara

  I woke up feeling stiff and sore. I pushed off the couch and stretched, my lower back screaming in protest. Grimacing, I headed for the bedroom, surprised to find Markus gone. I checked in the bathroom, along with the spare room, wondering why he hadn’t woken me. Even though I didn’t have much time to get ready, I still grabbed the phone and called his mobile, concerned he wasn’t up to going to work after a heavy night of drinking.

  He answered with a grunt.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked.

  “I left early to coach, and please speak softly.”

  “I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t get drunk last night.”

  “I’m not in the mood for lectures, Clara.”

  “Regardless, you should’ve called in sick or at least asked me for a lift. You’re not in any state to drive; you could still have alcohol in your system.”

  “I wouldn’t drive drunk,” he snapped, “especially not after what happened to me old man.”

  I went silent for a moment, realising I’d been thoughtless for saying that. His father had been killed by a drunk driver just over a month ago. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” I finally said. “But how’d you get to work?”

  “Bus.”

  “You should’ve woken me up so I could’ve taken you.”

  “You’re caught up with your own stuff. You don’t have time for me.”

  “Why would you say that? Of course I have time for you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  He hung up, leaving me clutching the phone, wondering what on earth had gotten into him. He hadn’t complained about this before, not to mention, he’d only just gotten home two days ago. While yesterday, he’d come home late, not me. Though, it probably was his hangover talking, Markus taking his irritation out on me because I was an easy target.

  Not wanting to brood over it, I took a quick shower and got dressed, grabbing a muesli bar to eat on the way to school—no time for breakfast. I locked up and headed for my yellow Volkswagen as my father’s BMW pulled into his driveway. He got out of his car, his gaze moving my way. Like me, he had the same honey-blond hair and gunmetal eyes, as well as high cheekbones. And now I shared something else with him, something that I’d never thought I would, nor wanted to.

  We had both cheated on our spouse with a student.

  Though, his affair was with an adult one, since he was a professor at a local university. I’d discovered the affair just over five years ago when I’d walked into his office unannounced, finding him getting a blowjob from a stunning-looking man. I hadn’t even known my father liked males. Yet that hadn’t been the issue. The issue was that he’d cheated on my mother, who’d been battling breast cancer at the time.

  His lover got out of the front passenger seat. Sinh was a couple of decades younger than my father, somewhere in his twenties, his age not easy to pinpoint. He brushed his black hair off his face, the colour the same hue as Dante’s, the only similarity between them. Unlike Dante’s masculine beauty, Sinh was feminine-looking; his androgynous features a perfect fusion of east meets west. He was half Vietnamese and half Italian/American—a product of the Vietnamese War.

  My father headed for me, stepping over the lavender hedge separating our properties. He was of average height, five-ten at the most, with a youthful face that defied his forty-five years. If anything, he looked in his thirties, his complexion smooth. It made me wonder whether he’d had work done to look younger for Sinh.

  “I saw Markus earlier,” my father said. “He looked rather dishevelled. He took off before I had a chance to ask what was wrong.”

  “He’s still suffering from his dad’s death,” I replied, my eyes wandering to my father’s partner again. Like my dad, Sinh was dressed in gym gear, the two probably returning from a workout.

  “That’s understandable,” my father said, drawing my attention back to him. “And how are you?”

  “Fine,” I answered, wishing he would stop asking me questions, the guilt over my hypocrisy clawing at my insides. When I’d first found out about him cheating on my mother, I’d raged at him over his affair, calling it disgusting and unethical, not to mention cruel, yet here I was doing the exact same thing. Though, it wasn’t exact, because at least Sinh was an adult, not a boy of fifteen.

  My father nodded, his expression strained. It looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he excused himself. “I’ll let you go. I don’t want to make you late for work.”

  Relieved he’d given me an out, I said bye and unlocked my Volkswagen, feeling a little bad for being so abrupt, since it wasn’t him I was upset with. It was me. Plus, after all these years apart, I’d finally forgiven him over what he’d done, repairing our damaged relationship, which I didn’t want to ruin.

  My father turned back to me, recapturing my attention.

  “What?” I said a bit too harshly without intending to.

  He frowned, his grey eyes probing. “Are you having an affair?”

  My eyes went wide, his comment hitting me like a ton of bricks. “What the hell! Where did that come from?”

  “From what I’ve seen.”

  My heart stuttered. Had he seen Dante leave my house the night I’d tutored him? But he couldn’t have seen anything happen between us, other than a boy leaving my house, leaving a tutorial.

  He continued, “Is that why Markus is so upset? He found out about your affair?”

  I snapped out of my shock. “No! I have no idea what you saw, but I’m not having an affair,” I said, tamping down my panic, hoping like hell he believed me. “And Markus is upset over some problems he’s having at school. A student is sexually harassing him.”

  “That answers one of my questions.”

  “That’s all you’re getting from me, and you have no right to question me after what you did.”

  Guilt flickered across his expression. “This isn’t about me, it’s about you and Dante Rata.”

  If it was possible to feel all the blood drain from my face, it was now. His words were more terrifying than standing in front of the gang member the day prior, his knowing look flooring me.

  “The boy was knocking on your windows, calling out for you,” he said, the hole I’d dug growing deeper by the second.

  “He’s a student I occasionally tutor,” I replied, desperately trying to think of a way out of this, anything to wipe that knowing look off my father’s face. A second later, the full impact of what he’d said hit me. Had Dante come over when Markus was here? Was that why he’d been upset with me?

  “When did he come over?” I asked, praying it hadn’t been the previous morning. I’d left for work before Markus that day, wanting to catch the principal to talk about leaving my job. Or maybe it had been after I’d taken the sleeping pill last night? Had Dante come over, running into Markus while I’d been sleeping? No, he couldn’t have. Markus had come home really late, his drunken spiel to do with his student, not mine.

  “It was the day you picked up Markus from the airport,” my father answered.

  Intense relief flooded me, so intense my knees almost buckled. “Dante obviously got his tutorial time wrong.”

  “I don’t believe he came over for any tutorial. He was drunk. I called a taxi and he left without any further issues.” My father pressed his lips together for a moment, his eyes looking silver under the morning sun. “I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but don’t jeopardise your marriage for this boy.”

  “I said I’m not having an affair,” I snapped, the lie barrelling out of my mouth without thought.

  He sighed, all of a sudden looking his age. “You can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but I know it’s true, and you forget I was in the same position as you are now.”

  “I didn’t forget. I’ll never forget.”


  Sadness washed over his face. “And I’m truly sorry for hurting you, which is all the more reason why you shouldn’t be doing this to Markus.”

  “He doesn’t know about it.”

  My father’s brow quirked. “So, you’re confirming the affair?”

  I didn’t reply.

  He stepped closer to me, placing a hand on my arm. I took a step back, feeling sick over him knowing.

  He exhaled softly. “I know I have no right to tell you what to do, especially after what I did, but at least Sinh’s an adult.” He lowered his voice, concern colouring his expression. “If your affair with this boy gets out, it’ll ruin your teaching career. He may be old enough for consent, but you still hold a position of authority over him.”

  I swallowed, at least relieved he thought Dante was older than he was. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I said, realising there was no reason to lie anymore. I wondered what Dante had told him in his drunken state.

  “Like I didn’t mean for it to happen with Sinh,” my father replied. “But I still lost you for a long time. I may love Sinh, but I will always regret what our affair did to you.”

  I blinked rapidly, doing my best not to cry.

  He continued, “And because of that, I’m telling you to stop whatever you’re doing with this boy before you start filling up with so much regret it eats away at you, like it does to me.”

  A single tear broke free, his words affecting me deeply.

  He reached out, wiping the tear away. “I don’t want you going through what I did. It broke me, Clara. Please. Stop things before it breaks you too.”

  I didn’t reply, too choked up to speak, knowing I was already broken.

  He caressed my cheek. “I will always be here for you regardless. Just...” he paused, “be careful.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, then turned and headed back to his partner, who was looking at him with concern.

  Without waiting a second longer, I jumped into my Volkswagen and left for school, the dam breaking on my emotions.

  14

  Dante

  I hooked my school bag over a shoulder and walked across the road to Jasper’s place, spotting him talking to his auntie. He’d gotten away from the cop that had chased him, Jasper untouchable when it came to driving. He might not be that great at sport, but when it came to car racing, he was a motherfucking legend. He was the number one amateur for his age group in the North Island, and was going to the Nationals in a few weeks, something his dad was constantly bragging about—and taking bets on, backing his son to win.