Jagged Pill (Broken Lives Book 3) Page 19

  “Where’s my wallet?” I asked, searching through it frantically. “I can’t find it. I need my licence.”

  Clara walked over to me. “Calm down, we’ll find it.”

  “Bazza will be here in forty minutes. I’ve gotta find my wallet. I also need money for the trip back. Shit! I’ve got no money. No, I do, I’ve got that five hundred bucks. Hope Bazza doesn’t want it back since I didn’t do the job.”

  She grabbed me and pulled me into her arms. “I’m sure he’ll let you keep it.”

  “But my wallet.” I pushed her away and dropped to my knees, looking under the bed. Not finding it, I got up and went to the closet, rummaging through it.

  “Calm down, we’ll find it,” she repeated, running her hand up and down my back.

  “My dad—”

  “Will be fine. He’s a strong man. He’ll pull through, but you need to stop panicking. Just breathe in and out, we have plenty time to find your wallet.”

  She wrapped her arms around me again. I gave in and returned the hug, needing the comfort, so scared of losing another parent. Even though my mum had been a caring, hands-on mother, never giving up on me no matter what shit I caused, I hadn’t felt close to her. I’d loved her, but had always loved my dad more. I knew it was unfair to think that. She’d been the good parent, the one who tried her hardest, but my dad... I loved him more than myself. But I’d pushed him away, chose Clara over him. Hurt him because I wanted this woman I was clutching onto.

  “I shouldn’t have taken you away from him,” she said, making me realise I’d spoken out loud. “I’m so sorry for doing this to you. For forcing you to leave Auckland.”

  “You didn’t force me, I chose to leave.” Something I was now regretting. I’d let my dad down, leaving him at the worst possible time. He’d lost his best mate, and what did I do? I took off like a selfish shithead, only caring about what I wanted, not what he was going through.

  Feeling panicked again, I pulled away from Clara and rushed out of the room, spotting my wallet on the floor by the couch. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I snatched it up and ran back into the bedroom.

  Marino sat up, all sleepy-eyed and confused looking. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Goin’ back to Auckland. My dad’s in hospital, could—” I choked on the last word, the look on Marino’s face telling me he knew what I was going to say.

  He jumped out of bed and grabbed his board shorts off the floor, the guy having a never-ending supply. “I’ll take you,” he said, pulling them on.

  “No, your dad’s coming up with your kids. He’s loaning me his car. I can go alone.”

  “No you can’t,” Clara said. “You’re shaking. You’ll have an accident. I’ll take you.”

  I shook my head, not wanting her anywhere near Auckland. “It’s too dangerous for you.”

  “Then I’ll take you,” Marino cut in.

  “No, your kids—”

  “Well, either me or Clara will be taking you, because you’re not going like this.”

  “Me. It’ll be me,” Clara said, yanking the borrowed shirt off, not even caring that she was only wearing knickers in front of Marino. Though, Marino wasn’t looking, more concerned with getting dressed, too.

  He pulled on his shirt, while Clara slipped on the dress that China had left behind, her other clothes dirty. Her tits strained against the fabric, threatening to burst free, Clara much bigger in the chest than China. Though, the rest fitted perfectly, and it looked right on her, her unbrushed blonde hair a wild, sexy mess.

  Marino snatched the keys off the bedside table, throwing them to me. “You don’t have to wait for my dad to get here. Take the Commodore, it’s not as bad as he thinks. It’ll get you to Auckland as long as you don’t push it too hard. Hope your dad’s all right.”

  He walked over and pulled me into a bear hug, reminding me of the ones my uncle gave me. I didn’t know how I hadn’t picked up on it before, but he was so much like my uncle it wasn’t funny. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t escape his DNA.

  He let go of me and gave me a sad smile. “Take care, and don’t go near any Devil’s Crew.”

  “Don’t you worry ’bout them, all but a few are dead, and Craven’s men will be protecting me.”

  “The Russians?”

  “Yeah.” I patted him on the arm, relieved he’d forgiven me for what had happened with China, as well as this whole fucked up situation with the Devil’s Crew. It was another thing he had in common with my uncle. They were usually chill guys, but when they lost their rag they became irrational as fuck. But it never lasted long.

  I turned to Clara. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded and rushed up to Marino. She murmured a thank you and gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. He’d warmed to her in the short time we’d been here. He was a good bloke, just an unforgiving one when it came to China, although it sounded like he was better off without the flake.

  Both Clara and I waved a farewell to him. I didn’t fight her coming with me. It was risky, but I didn’t think I could make it back without her, and with the determined look on her face, there was no way she was going to even let me try.

  Before I knew it, we were on the state highway, heading back home, with Clara behind the wheel. We were doing good time, had passed the halfway mark relatively quick, but it didn’t help that all I could think about was my dad dying before I could get to him. Christ! Just the thought of it was winding me up all over again.

  “Can’t you go any faster?” I said, now regretting not waiting for the better car. Though, I knew that would’ve wasted even more time.

  “Not if you want the car to overheat,” she replied.

  I thudded the back of my head against the seat. We had another two-and-a-half hours of driving left, and worse, she was getting tired. We hadn’t slept much last night. Marino had given us space, going off to a neighbouring bach, so we could fuck and drink up a storm. Well, I did most of the drinking, but Clara was sure as hell on board with the fucking.

  “The car isn’t the problem, you are,” I said. “You’re exhausted. Lemme drive. I have a licence and it’s daytime.”

  “I—”

  “Will lemme drive the goddamn car! If you wanna be my partner, treat me like one!”

  “God, Dante, calm down.”

  “I will not calm down until you pull this motherfuckin’ car over. I’m driving and you’re resting.”

  “But, Dante—”

  “Do it! I need to see my dad and I won’t stop yelling until you pull over.”

  “Okay, okay, just calm the hell down.”

  She pulled over to the kerb and got out, walking around to my side. Countryside stretched out on either side of the road, with long lines of wooden and wire fences sewing together a patchwork of green fields.

  I ran around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel, pulling out onto the highway as soon as Clara had shut her door.

  “Dante! I haven’t got my seatbelt on.” She clicked it on, then looked over at me. “Hey! Put your seatbelt on.”

  “I’ll do it at the next stop.”

  “No, pull over now and do it.”

  “I told you, I’ll do it at the next stop. There’s one around the corner.”

  “No, do it now!”

  “Fine!” I grabbed the seatbelt with one hand and clicked it on. “You happy now?” I snapped, throwing an annoyed glare at her.

  “Ye—” She didn’t finish the word, her scream making my head shoot around. The last thing I saw was a van coming right for us.

  14

  Clara

  I woke up, feeling blood trickling down the side of my face, a strange sense of upside down pulling at me. I blacked out, then jerked awake at yelling, a woman’s voice. But it was a man who was peering in at me. He undid my seatbelt. I yelped as my head hit something tinny. Then hands were on me, dragging me out of the car and across grass, confusing me. We weren’t on the road,
but in a paddock, with sheep huddled over by a fence. My gaze shifted back to the station wagon I’d been in. It was upside down, the wire fence behind it a mangled mess. Twisted metal and wooden posts were torn out, with a van lying on its side close by. A second later, I recognised it. The white van had crossed the yellow line to pass a truck, ploughing straight into us...

  Us!

  My eyes shot back to the Holden that Dante had been driving. He was still strapped into his seat, hanging upside down, either unconscious—or dead.

  Desperate to get to him, I tried to pull free from the man’s grip, but he was too strong. He continued to drag me away from the car, yelling at a woman to look after me. He finally let go and ran for the car.

  The woman screamed at him, “No, it’s going to blow!”

  It was then that I saw it. Smoke was coming from underneath the bonnet, looking like ghostly fingers, clawing its way out of the wreckage. My eyes snapped back to Dante. The man who’d pulled me out was on the driver’s side, frantically trying to undo Dante’s seatbelt.

  “Hurry!” the woman screamed. “Hurry!”

  I pulled away from her and pushed to my feet, running for the car. She shouted at me to stop, but there was no way I was doing that. Flames were now licking at the front of the bonnet, the smell of smoke getting stronger.

  I crawled back into the car and undid the seatbelt that the man couldn’t, the way it had hooked under some torn metal having stopped him from pulling Dante free. As soon as it came off, the man grabbed Dante and yanked him out of the car, yelling at me to run. I could smell petrol now, the strong odour mixing in with the smoke. I scrambled backwards and pushed up as the man dragged Dante away from the car. I went to go to him, but a loud boom exploded, a rush of air, heat, and metal hitting me. I was lifted off my feet and tossed into the air, the ground rushing towards me far too fast.

  ***

  I woke up with a start, finding faces I didn’t know staring down at me. There was a man in a shirt and tie, and a woman dressed as a nurse. I went to sit up, but couldn’t move. I started to panic, yelling out in terror, not understanding why I couldn’t get up.

  A hand landed on my shoulder. “Take it easy. You’ve been strapped down. You were in a car accident.”

  I stopped panicking for a moment, trying to remember, then it all came back to me in a rush.

  Dante. Bleeding. Not moving.

  “Dante!” I started yanking at the straps again, needing to know if he was alive. Needing to know so badly.

  “Is that the name of the boy you were with?” the nurse asked.

  “Yes, yes, Dante Rata. Is he all right?” I let out a sob. “Please tell me he’s all right. Please. He can’t die. He can’t.” I continued babbling, panic taking over, grief, fear, everything all at once. I couldn’t control what I was saying, let alone stop long enough to hear her answer, because I was terrified, absolutely terrified he was dead, and once they confirmed it, I would’ve lost everything. My beautiful boy. My Dante.

  “Tell me!” I started screaming, pulling at the straps again, desperately needing to see him. A prick stung my right arm. Then my screaming stopped.

  Everything stopped.

  ***

  I jerked awake. Bright lights forced me to close my eyes for a second. The word darling was spoken. Someone touched my hand, threading their fingers with mine.

  “Clara,” a voice said. “Clara, it’s me. Dad.”

  I opened my eyes again and looked up at my father, not understanding how he could be here. I was driving home with Dante—

  I jolted, almost as though an electric current had passed through me, what had happened returning. I went to sit up, this time not finding straps holding me down.

  “Dante,” I said, pushing the sheets off me. “I need to see Dante.”

  My father placed his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back down. “Stay put, you need to rest.”

  I smacked his hands off me and swung my legs around, lowing myself to the floor. I hissed, terrible pain stinging my feet, weakness hindering my legs. They gave out, my father catching me before I hit the floor.

  He scooped me up and laid me back on the bed. “You’ve got burns on your feet and arms.”

  Only then did I noticed the bandages on them. But I didn’t care, all I cared about was Dante. He wasn’t next to me. If he was alive he’d be next to me.

  “Dante, where’s Dante?!” I yelled, trying to fight him, but he was too strong. I was too weak. I hurt all over, pain stinging my skin, pulling it tight.

  “Dante!” I screamed.

  “He’s alive, Clara. Please calm down.”

  But I couldn’t calm down, I needed proof, needed to see his face. For him to smile at me. To know he was okay.

  “Dante! Let me see Dante!”

  “Help!” my father yelled. “I need help!”

  A police officer and a male nurse rushed in. My father and the officer held me down while the male nurse injected me with something. I continued to scream Dante’s name.

  “He’s alive, Clara, he’s alive,” my father wept. “Please, please stop this.”

  And I did, unconsciousness once more dragging me under.

  ***

  My eyes fluttered open. My father instantly sat up in his chair. He looked tired, his honey-blonde hair mussed up. He also appeared older than the last time I saw him, or maybe he actually finally looked his age, exhaustion tearing down his unnaturally youthful mask.

  He took hold of my hand. “Dante’s alive, love, so don’t panic. Please don’t panic or they’ll sedate you again.”

  I went to ask where Dante was, but only a painful croak came out, my mouth and throat so dry.

  “You had a nightmare,” my father said. “You screamed yourself hoarse. They had to sedate you. You were hurting yourself, trying to get free. Please,” he brushed my hair off my forehead, “please don’t fight this time.” A tear ran down his cheek. “They’ll keep you strapped down if you keep doing this.”

  “Dante,” I croaked out, just wanting to see him, to hold his hand, not my father’s.

  “He’s alive.”

  I licked my dry lips. “Where?” I asked, barely getting it out.

  “In the Critical Care Unit.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek. “I want to see him.”

  “You can’t, love.”

  “I want to see him,” I persisted.

  “They’ve got him under observation. He can’t be moved.”

  I swallowed. “Why?”

  “He’s been put into a medically induced coma.”

  “Why?”

  “He hit his head on the side window when it flipped. They think it could’ve caused some brain damage.”

  “No!” I started struggling against the straps, needing proof that my father was wrong.

  He stood up and leaned over me, hugging me, stopping me from struggling further. I started sobbing, everything inside of me breaking, crumbling into a weeping mess of fear and pain.

  “He’ll pull through,” my father said. “His family says he’s a strong boy. He’ll pull through.”

  “I want to see him,” I sobbed.

  “You can’t, they won’t allow it.”

  “I need to! Let me see him!” I started screaming. “Let me see Dante!” Panic once more took hold of me, like a giant hand squeezing me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.

  My father covered my mouth. “Shh, I’m serious, they will sedate you.”

  I stopped screaming as a policeman entered the room. His attention went to my father’s hand on my mouth, then to my father. “Step away from the bed,” he barked.

  My father’s eyes went wide. “I wasn’t hurting her. I was trying to stop her from screaming. I don’t want her sedated again.”

  The officer’s hard gaze went to me. “Ma’am, is this true?”

  I nodded, trying to work out why a cop was here, my mind still on Dante, still needing to see him.

  “Dante,” I croaked out. “I need—�
�

  My father cut me off before I could ask to see him. “I just told my daughter that Dante Rata is in the hospital, too. Can someone please let her see him?”

  The officer’s expression hardened further. “She’s not allowed to go near the victim.”

  “The victim?” I croaked out.

  “I know,” my father talked over me. “But you could at least allow a nurse to wheel her in, so she can see that the boy’s okay.”

  “She is not allowed to go near the victim,” the officer repeated.

  “Look, officer,” my father persisted, “you don’t know what she did with him. There may be a perfect explanation for what happened.”

  “Yes. There is. She is under arrest for the kidnap, abuse, and endangerment of a child, including supplying a minor with alcohol. He was over the limit.”

  “What?” I gasped, not believing what I was hearing. Dante hadn’t been drinking that...

  The night before the crash came back, the amount of alcohol he’d drunk obviously having been still in his system.

  “The accident wasn’t their fault,” my father said to the cop. “Witnesses said the other driver crossed the yellow line to pass a truck. Not to mention, you have no proof my daughter kidnapped or abused the boy. He was the one driving.”

  “Over the limit.” The officer’s hard gaze moved to me, then he started to read me my rights.

  15

  Tane

  Someone squeezed my hand. I opened my eyes, seeing one of my sisters staring at me, but it wasn’t Valerie holding my hand. I turned my head, finding Killer on my other side, his big hand clasping mine. His hazel eyes lit up at my attention, happiness filling them.

  “You’re awake!” he squealed like a little girl. I winced, wondering whether it was Pain and not Killer, because his voice had split my eardrums.

  I yanked my hand free. “Where am I?” I croaked out, rubbing my face. It felt frozen, while my mouth was dryer than an eighty-year-old whore’s cunt.

  “Hospital,” he said, smiling so wide I could see his tonsils. He pushed to his feet and grabbed my face, planting a massive kiss on my lips.

  Nope! It was Killer, tongue involved.

  I placed a hand on his forehead and shoved him away. “Da fuck!” I spat, wiping my mouth. “Keep your damn tongue to yourself, faggot.”