Night Fury: Second Act (Night Fury 2) - Page 5/24

Something is very wrong here.

He steps closer to me, jaw set. “We were friends for a long time, weren’t we? We cared about each other. You were everything to me, you know that?” His chest heaves and his hands form into tight fists. “But then something happened, see?” He leans down, eyes searching my face. He runs a finger gently down the side of my cheek. “Friends don’t f**k a guy they barely know minutes after a good friend confesses their love for them.”

My gut coils. A burning flush rises up from my neck, heating my cheeks. I whisper, “What?”

Clark smiles a cruel smile I have never seen him wear. Ever. And it terrifies me. “Oh, yeah. I know, Cat.”

Shame turns my body cold. I mouth, “How?”

Finger on my cheek, he leans closer into me and runs his nose up the side of my face.

I feel like caged animal. Trapped. Backed into a corner. Uncomfortable.

His breath warms my face. His lips touch the shell of my ear and what he says next makes me die a little inside.

His breathing heavies as he softly mews, “Marco. Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh, Marco. Fuck me harder.”

He imitates me so perfectly, including the soft hitches in breath, that I know he’s telling the truth.

He heard me.

My stomach recoils violently.

Oh, God. What have I done?

My eyes fill with tears. I choke out, “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

Pulling away an inch, he looks into my eyes. “I know.” He pauses. “But I did.”

A tear trails my cheek. My lips quiver. I’m so ashamed of myself. I feel dirty. Without knowing it, I’ve hurt one of my best friends. I feel like an ass**le. Like scum. I shrug softly. I open my mouth to explain, but nothing comes out. Instead, I whisper, “I’m so sorry, Clark. You weren’t ever meant to know.”

He nods, his face sympathetic. He then leans closer and sighs, “I know. I know I wasn’t.” He leans a little closer and says, “You know what would’ve helped?” I look up at him as my tears fall freely. His face contorts, his lips curl, and my body jolts as he punches the wall by the side of my head. Leaning closer, a hair’s breadth away from me, he roars in my face, “Not f**king the guy I work with in the room next door to mine!”

I’m so stunned by this uncharacteristic outburst, I forget that I can take him down in a second flat. That I could kill him in two. I watch him unblinkingly through wide eyes and wonder if this is entirely my fault.

He leans back a little, face red, trying to steady his breathing. His hand comes up to my face and he brushes back a stray lock of my hair. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” His cold eyes meet mine. “The entire time you were with him, I was with her. And every time you called his name, I f**ked her harder.”

Ouch.

“You should’ve heard her moaning my name.” He smirks viciously. “Oh, but you wouldn’t have, would you? God knows you were singing loud enough for the man upstairs to hear you himself.” His face turns serious. “Tell me, Cat? Do you think God knows just how much of a f**king whore you are?

My hand darts out before I can stop myself. I slap him so hard his face jerks to the side.

Face twisted, his hand surges to my neck, gripping tightly.

This is a blatant insult. In my teenage years, I told Clark about my being uncomfortable with people touching my neck. He’s doing this on purpose. He’s trying to force a reaction.

He pushes me back into the wall hard enough to show me how angry he is, but not enough to actually hurt me. The threat has me reeling though. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “I f**ked her but I was thinking of you.” My eyes close. My body shakes in silent sobs. He adds, “If I’d known how much you’d wanted it, how freely you were giving it away, I’d have never asked. I’d have just taken it from you.”

A stabbing pain violently rips into my chest, right through my heart, over and over again. I’m too hurt to react. I can only feel.

He pushes lightly at my neck for a moment before letting go, turning and walking away. He stops at the end of the hall, turns and calls out, “You know, it’s such a nice day today. It seems like the perfect day to soak up some sun or even,” he shrugs carelessly, “do some gardening.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand.

Clark walks away whistling as if what just occurred, had never actually happened at all.

My feet carry me away. I wipe away stray tears. As I reach the door leading outside, I hesitate. Taking a breath, I open the door, walk out and make my way towards the church. I pause mid-step.

No.

My garden.

No.

It’s ruined. Every last thing has been pulled up. Vegetables and herbs lay strewn around the dirt patch that was once a bountiful wonder.

Before I have a second to register what has happened, I hear muffled arguing coming from the kitchen. The back door bursts open and Bob strides out looking murderous. Frankie follows closely behind. “Bob, stop! You don’t even know what it was about!”

He comes toward me at a pace so quick, I back up.

When he reaches me, his chest heaves. He places his fingertips at my collarbone and asks gently, “Are you okay?”

My brows narrow in confusion. “Um. Yes. Why?” The answer hits me as quick as the question was asked, and my stomach dips.

Surveillance.

Bob and Frankie must’ve seen the whole scene with Clark.

Bob’s face turns hard, his body turns rigid and his jaw steels. “Good. Excuse me.”

He walks out to the barn. I turn to Frankie and watch as her face pales.

Oh, f**k.

Snapping out of my lapse in consciousness, I quickly start after him. “Bob, wait!”

Frankie follows me, calling out to Bob, “Don’t do anything you’ll regret!”

The door by the barn closes, and as I reach it, I struggle to key in my code. “C’mon!” Finally, the door clicks and whirs and we’re in. I growl as I approach the second security door. As soon as it opens, I hear commotion.

“Bob, what the f**k?” This comes from Clark.

Squealing and screeching of tables and chairs being knocked around sounds loudly. Frankie and I reach the rails of the top floor and look down in time to catch the first blow, both watching wide-eyed.

Bob sneers, rears his arm back and throws his fist into Clark’s stomach. “You f**ked up, boy.” He travels two steps to where Clark wheezes, his face a mask of shock. Bob lifts his leg and brings down his heel onto Clark’s knee. Clark howls out in agony.