Broken: The MISTAKEN Series Complete Second Season (20 page)

B
ad things happen
when I stand up for myself
.

I couldn’t deny it. Bad things really
did
happen every time I tried to stand up for myself. I thought back through all the times I had tried to take control of my life. It hadn’t really been
that
long ago when I’d graduated from high school—when I’d had every music school in the country begging me to attend. And how could I forget what happened when I’d chosen—when
I
had chosen where I wanted to go. When I’d announced to my parents that I was going to Philadelphia to go to the Curtis Institute of Music and they told me that my music career was over. That I was going to Georgetown and they had someone they wanted me to meet.

I shook my head and pressed my back against the wall of the elevator, staring across at Brandon. His blue eyes were fixed on the floor and he hadn’t lifted his gaze once to look at me. He hadn’t even said a word since I had demanded to join him on whatever “business” this was. Something he obviously saw as dangerous, at least for him. I still couldn’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be as dangerous for him if I was there, too. That maybe whomever it was that he was afraid of—not that he would admit to being afraid—wouldn’t hurt either of us if I was there with him. It was probably immature and childish, but I was so tired of being told how
dangerous
everything was. How nothing was safe. I just wanted some sense of normalcy, some sense of safety … and staying in that hotel room alone didn’t seem like either of those things.

I thought again about my parents deciding that my arranged marriage to Daniel was more important than my music career. Growing up, I had never been able to see myself doing anything other than playing the piano. It had been the only thing that had brought me any amount of joy, any amount of happiness. When I protested their decision, I found my offers from both Curtis
and
Julliard rescinded. When I’d complained to my parents that I wanted to be able to make my own decisions in life, I found them all taken away from me. It was the downside of having a powerful father, I guess. I’d stood up for myself that time and the rug was pulled out from under me faster than I could even believe. At the time, I thought that having them take that away from me after eighteen years of it being the
only
thing was the worst possible thing that could ever happen to me in my life.

I thought their idea of an arranged marriage was going to be horrible, but meeting Daniel wasn’t as awful as I had expected. It wasn’t as great as going to music school would have been, but it wasn’t terrible. He had been kind, at least when we’d first met. His parents had pushed him to marry me just as much as my parents had pushed me to marry him. Things with Daniel hadn’t really been bad until I’d tried to do what
I
wanted. At least, that was what I still told myself. I had let myself live with the guilt of what I thought he had chosen to do for a long time—thinking he had killed himself because I wanted to leave him to return to the piano. I had been so sure that everything that happened with him was my fault—that it had been hard to let go. It had been hard to let anyone into my life while I lived with that guilt. And then when I found out that it was all fake—that the guilt I had forced myself to live with was completely unfounded…

The elevator doors finally opened and we walked out to Brandon’s car. He didn’t ask me to drive this time, even though I knew he didn’t have his wallet with him. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe nothing mattered anymore. My body felt heavy and there was just something so hopeless about this moment. I was almost sure Brandon could feel it, too.

He opened the passenger door for me and I got in, buckling my seatbelt. He got behind the wheel and started to drive.

I looked out the window into the darkness, watching the lights as we passed by. That time I had stood up for myself with Daniel still made me feel a huge pang of guilt. Even though his death hadn’t been real, even though he hadn’t really gone out and killed himself—I still felt a little guilty about it. It still made my stomach hurt and it still almost brought tears to my eyes. It had all been fake, but there was a part of me that felt awful about wanting to stand up for myself that time—about wanting to tell him what
I
needed to do to be happy. And to think that today—today, I had chosen to stand up to my mother. I knew nothing good was going to come from it. Nothing good had
ever
come from me doing what was best for
me.

“How much cash do you have?”

His words jolted me out of my daze and I turned to him, my brows knitting together. “About a hundred dollars. Why?”

He shook his head, staring at the road. “Not on you. Total. At home, wherever. How much cash?”

I restated the same words, my voice flat. “About a hundred dollars.” There was something about the way he was asking that made my stomach hurt again—not the pang of guilt this time, but something else. “Why?”

“You need to start stashing cash away. Don’t make it obvious. Just whenever you have the opportunity, put it away in a bag in your closet. Keep it where you can grab it if you need it. Put some clothes in there, too.”

My heart felt like it was going to beat right through my chest. My brow furrowed even more deeply. “Why?”

He continued to stare straight ahead, still refusing to make any eye contact with me. “Nothing too big. Not a suitcase, just a bag. A gym bag would be good.”

I wiped my clammy hands on my skirt and turned back to the window. “You’re scaring me, Brandon.”

“You should be scared. This is serious, Jen. You need to listen to what I’m telling you because I’m probably not going to be around to tell you again before you need this information. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I turned back to him and he finally met my gaze. “You’re leaving.”

He shook his head and looked back out the window. “Not leaving. I just may not be … available for a while.”

“What does that mean?” My heart was racing so fast that my chest was beginning to hurt.
Why am I letting him do this to me? Again?
“Just tell me what’s going on. Please? I swear to God, Brandon, I can handle it. Just tell me.” I turned back to face him. My lips began to tremble.

He shook his head. “Cash. Clothes. Makeup—and whatever else you need. Hair stuff.” He set his jaw and glanced over at me before turning his gaze back to the road. “How do you feel about Montana?”

I frowned, tilting my head to the side. I clenched my hands together in my lap to try to get the shaking to stop. “What about it?” The hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. What the hell had he gotten himself into that we would need to go to Montana?

“I have a place there. It’s quiet. A little…” He turned his gaze to mine for only a moment. “…rustic.”

I smiled despite the fear that was still pulsing through me, a small laugh escaping my lips. “Rustic and I don’t get along very well, Brandon. I’ve been wearing the same underwear for the last two days, and that’s about as rustic as I can tolerate.”

I thought I saw a smile flash across his face, but it was replaced quickly with a tightening of his jaw. “You’ll tolerate it fine. It’ll be temporary until I can figure something out. If we even have to go.”

If we even have to go?
Why is he telling me all this if there is a chance we won’t have to go? “Can you just tell me? Tell me what the hell is going on? I think I have a right to know…”

He shook his head again. “I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ll take care of it and we’ll figure it out together. We’ll figure it out.” He reached over and took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. His eyes softened and I could see he was trying to comfort me. “We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“Okay…” I wasn’t sure what else there was to say about it at that point. My heart was beating far too quickly and it still felt like I might cry at any second. He had me scared to death—
I have to live in Montana?
But what other choice did I have? I wasn’t sure who my friends were anymore. I had no idea who to trust. The only thing I knew for sure was that my father’s guy, Cade, hadn’t been there when I really did need him and that Brandon was. Brandon had been there when Daniel had tried to do whatever the hell it was that he had tried to do to me and Cade wasn’t. Brandon had put me first that time and Cade put me … I didn’t know where Cade put me.

He squeezed my hand again as we pulled into a parking lot. “Cash, clothes and whatever you can’t live without. Pack the bag as soon as you get home and start stashing that money as soon as you can. Okay?”

I shrugged, holding back the tears that were stinging at my eyes, and looked at the sign in the parking lot. There was something familiar about this place, and I was almost sure I had been here before.

My stomach sank to my toes when I remembered why I knew this restaurant. This was a favorite meeting spot for politicians in Sacramento—there was a private room in the back where I was sure many dodgy deals had been made over the years. Too many shady dealings with questionable characters who couldn’t be seen in public with people who had some kind of clout. People like Brandon would come to a place like this to meet only one type of person.

Someone like my father.

S
he wasn’t spineless anymore
. If she really ever had been—I still wasn’t sure. She wasn’t going to like this meeting. She was going to find out things that I didn’t want her to know about me. It had been a long time coming, and I wasn’t sure if
I
was ready. After what she had done at that convention, I was pretty convinced that
she
was ready. If she could stand up to Marian Hennessey—she was definitely ready. She had probably been ready for a long time to hear everything she would hear that night.

And she wasn’t spineless. I wanted to kick myself for ever having believed that.

E
ight Years
Earlier

W
e climbed
the stairs to the balcony of the concert hall. I wished like hell I could afford better seats, but my business was only just beginning to turn a profit, thanks in large part to my sister, Krystal. She had connections I could only dream of—the fact that she worked for Senator Davis made her that much more valuable to me.

I stopped in front of the row where our seats were and let my grandmother enter first. The seats might have been in the nose-bleed section, but at least they were in the center. I felt a little bad for making her climb all those stairs—she was spry for someone celebrating her seventy-fifth birthday, but I knew her joints bothered her a lot more than she was willing to admit.

We sat down and I felt like I was going to have to squint to be able to see anything on the stage. I turned to my grandmother. “I guess this is why they make opera glasses.”

She smiled and patted my hand. “You won’t care about seeing anything once the music starts.” She gave my hand a squeeze. “And this is the best birthday gift you’ve ever given me, Brandon. You’ve become such a thoughtful young man.”

Thoughtful
. I didn’t see it as thoughtful at all, and I didn’t think I’d be doing anything but sleeping once the music started. She had been dropping hints for months, basically telling me that going to the San Francisco Symphony would be the best birthday gift ever. I still didn’t understand why she’d moved to San Francisco in the first place. She was on a fixed income, and I could think of at least a thousand places where it was cheaper to live than here. And there was just something about this city that made my skin crawl. To say I hated it here would have been an understatement of the worst kind.

“It’s too bad your aunt couldn’t be here. She loves the symphony, too.”

I rolled my eyes and hoped that my grandmother wasn’t really losing it. The last thing I needed was to have to come here and take care of her if she was starting to suffer from dementia. Not that this talk was new—she’d been talking about my mythical aunt for years. It was just that no one else had ever seen this woman that my grandmother referred to as my “aunt.” There were no photos of her, no mention of her anywhere but in my grandmother’s stories…

I had to go and be the good grandson tonight. I had to go and buy her these damned tickets … and now I’m going to be stuck taking care of my demented grandmother.

My grandmother’s tapping on her program broke me away from the thoughts of how little I wanted to be here tonight. And not just in the concert hall, but in San Francisco at all. “Did you know about this when you bought the tickets?”

I turned to look at what she was pointing at on the program, shaking my head. “Know about what?”

She pointed a finger at a picture of a young woman, tapping on the program again. “About this.”

I shook my head again. I looked down at the program balanced on her leg and wished that I had picked up one of my own when I saw the photo. Just looking at the photo sent a jolt through me like I’d never felt before. It was almost like I was awake for the first time in my life. Like everything before that moment had been part of a bad dream.
Can a photo really do that to a person?

My grandmother leaned back in her seat. “Do you remember what I’ve always told you? About the best way to bring down a man who seems like he can’t be toppled?”

I narrowed my gaze, staring again at the photo of the young woman. It was like her blue eyes were piercing me, and I felt that jolt of
something
course through me again. “Through his daughter.” We’d had this discussion too many times before—the best way to seek vengeance for my father’s death would be through the daughters of the men who were responsible. I guess it was a lucky thing that both Senator Davis and Congressman Edwards had daughters, not that I had really been listening to my grandmother’s ranting all those years. I had my own plans for revenge, and it certainly didn’t involve using women to get it.

“You
were
listening.” She smiled and tapped on the photo again. “Do you know who this is?”

I shook my head, tilting it again to try to read the small print. “National Concerto Competition winner, Jenna Davis.” I read it again, sure I was misreading it. “Jenna Davis,” I repeated, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. My heart felt like I had just started sprinting, it was racing so quickly.
This
was the woman who was the heir to the Hennessey fortune? Hell, to the Davis
and
the Hennessey fortunes? The only heir?

She nodded and tapped the program again. “
This
woman.
She
is how you’ll bring down Senator Davis.”

That was the moment the room darkened for the performance. The curtains opened and the symphony surrounded a piano that was center stage. A young woman—not just a young woman, for Christ’s sake, it was
Jenna Davis
—took the stage, standing next to the piano and taking a bow. She was wearing a floor-length blue gown, and I could have sworn I could feel her looking right at me. I didn’t just see her blue eyes blazing for me—I could
feel
them burning into me. It didn’t matter who her father was. Or who her mother was. Or who her grandfather had been. It only mattered that she saw
me
. I knew she did—I could feel it in my damned bones. It sounded like such a cliché—
feel it in my bones
. But at that moment, I knew
exactly
what that phrase meant, because
she
was all I could feel.

When the applause stopped, she took a seat behind the piano and began to play. My grandmother was right, I didn’t need to see anything when the music started, because I could feel it. The hairs on my arms stood on end when she started to play and it was like her music took on a life of its own. I didn’t even know what it was she was playing, but it was so beautiful that I could almost see it. I could almost
see
the music. I could feel
her
and I could see her music. I didn’t know what this was—this
whatever
. I just knew I hadn’t felt anything like it before and that I wanted to feel it for the rest of my life.

I was in a trance. I don’t even know how much time passed—it might have been an hour or it might have been a year—but when the music stopped and she stood up from the piano, I knew she was the one. I
knew
it. I could kneel at her feet for the rest of my life if she would play the piano for me. I didn’t even care that she was the daughter of Senator Davis—that I could use her to bring him down. That my grandmother obviously
wanted
me to use her to bring him down. All I could think about was how that music made me feel and how I didn’t think I would ever be able to get enough.

It was intermission and I stood up, making some excuse about needing to use the restroom, but really, I had to go find her. I had to meet her. I had to see if I felt the same thing up close as I did when I saw her picture or when I heard her play. I had to know.

I wound my way through the crowd, catching snippets of conversation. “Amazing. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Incredible.” She was all those things, and probably more. But she wasn’t in the lobby and she wasn’t anywhere where I could find her. I frowned, scanning the large lobby one more time.

She wasn’t there. I stopped for a moment, resting against the wall across from the backstage door and waiting to see if she would come out. A group of men stood next to me, and like everyone else in the concert hall, the only topic of conversation was the senator’s daughter.

“Can you believe she’s only going to be a junior this year?”

A junior? A junior in college? There’s no way that woman is in high school. Not the way that music made me feel…

“I heard she’s going to Julliard.”

“No, she’ll go to Curtis. Julliard would be a waste with talent like that.”

“I can’t even imagine what I could have accomplished with her talent at only—what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Can you imagine how incredible she’ll be in ten years?”

I felt myself sinking into the wall. Seventeen. She
is
just a girl. Still a child—still underage. After what Daniel had just pulled, there was no way I was going to get myself involved with a girl who was underage. No way.

A year. It’s only a year. And then she’ll be mine…