Filthy (The Reckless Series #2) - HJ Bellus
Rhett waltzes from the club fucking wasted. I pay our tab and try to keep up with his drunk ass. He’s one shot away from passing out. As drunk as the fucker is, going out alone was amazing. No strip club, Zane or Ava drama, or women calling him up for a booty call. It was just enjoying the night dancing and drinking.
Dancing with Rhett out on the dance floor is intoxicating and makes me feel like a queen.
“You fucking punk.”
I look up to see Rhett advancing on another dark figure and run to him. Blond hair comes into view and then Oliver’s face. He’s smiling and looks more evil than he ever has. He’s witty and picks up on the fact that Rhett is wasted.
Rhett takes a wild swing in the dark and only catches air. Oliver swings back, fully connecting and sending Rhett’s whole body backwards. Oliver doesn’t stop at two swings or even five as he continues nailing Rhett.
My screams are lost on the busy highway next to the bar. I manage to get between the men, but not without taking a fist to my jaw. I kick Oliver hard, landing my foot between his legs. It gives me the few needed moments to push Rhett back to safety. I try to dig for my phone in my purse, but Oliver is standing already and advancing on me.
“You little bitch.” He grabs a handful of my hair and drags me deeper into the parking lot. Rhett tries to keep up but doesn’t do a very good job. “Going to give you a message to take back to your friend, Ava.”
My skirt is ripped from me and the sound of his zipper going down is all I hear. He forces his hand into my panties and I react, fighting for my life. Oliver throws me to the ground, but I don’t stop letting my legs and arms fly in the air. I nail him again in the nuts and throw a handful of dirt in his face.
Oliver stands stunned, wiping at his face. I throw more dirt and continue to kick, hoping to find a window of time to run away.
“Darby,” Rhett’s voice joins us. I glance up to see him staggering and I know it’s not because he’s drunk, but beaten.
I land one last blow to Oliver’s groin before Rhett is standing by my side. Sets of lights glow on Oliver. His face is covered in dirt and he’s wincing in pain from my kicks. Then a long and loud pull of a train horn deafens me. I react without thinking. He will no longer taunt my best friend. The feel of his fingers digging into my center burn and boils up my anger.
I take a step closer and watch an evil grin spread across his face. The palms of my hands plant in his chest and shove him as hard as I can. He yells at me, but the train swallows up all the sounds. His hand catches my wrist, dragging me with him. Rhett’s arms wrap around my waist and pull me back.
There are about five seconds of Oliver standing on the train tracks before his brains implode. Warm blood spatters onto my face and I remain frozen in place. Rhett tucks me into his arms, sober as fuck.
I wake from a dream drenched in sweat and fighting for my next gulp of air, tearing at the sheets.
“Darby, baby I’m here.”
Rhett stares down at me and keeps me cuddled into his arms, but it does nothing to control my state of panic.
“Ssshhh.” He brushes my hair, then hands me some pills and a bottle of water to ease away the guilt of killing a man. “Take these, baby.”
I swallow down the Valium and lie back in his arms. It’s the same fucking nightmare each night since I killed Oliver with my own two hands.
“Go to sleep, baby, your best friend is getting married tomorrow. You’ve got to let this go.”
Rhett’s been by my side since that night, helping me cope. All of his playboy ways have vanished and he only takes care of me.
“Never let me go, Rhett.”
Our relationship is so fucking unhealthy, but seems to be the only thing that feels right. I hear him light up a joint with his free hand and take a couple hits off of it before handing it to me.
He continues to talk about the big wedding tomorrow, and baby Charlie and how gorgeous she’ll look in her dress.