Painful Consequences

Painful Consequences

By

Breanna Hayse

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Breanna Hayse

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Breanna Hayse

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Hayse, Breanna

Painful Consequences

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Razzle Dazzle Design and Bigstock/VSO

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

“You are a spoiled little brat, and there is
no
way you’re living here with me!”

“I am
not
spoiled! I am desperate. Where am I supposed to go if you don’t take me in?” the return shout echoed through the room.

Brett rolled his eyes, pointing to the door. “Try growing up and getting a job. Mom and Dad didn’t do you any favors by giving you everything you ever wanted and never telling you no.”

“Please,”
hot
tears filled the eyes of Brett’s twenty-six-year-old twin sister, Brittany, “let me stay just for a little while. I promise I won’t get in your way. You won’t even know that I’m here.”

“I said no. Go home.” Brett crossed his arms, a determined expression on his rugged face.

“I… I can’t,” Brittany whispered, looking at the floor.

“Why not?”

“Daddy threw me out.”

“What? What the hell did you do this time? How did you get here?” Brett was astounded. For his father to make such a move, she had to really have screwed up badly. As much as the father and daughter fought, he still catered to her every whim and had never denied the girl anything.

“I got high and then was busted shoplifting. He gave me enough money for a cab and one hot meal. I guess he thought I would go to Stephen for help like always,” Brittany admitted quietly, tracing the carpet with her foot.

Brett’s face turned the most unbelievable shade of purple. He was speechless. Brittany stood silently waiting for the explosion. “Get out of here,” he finally growled, opening the door. “I will not have a pothead or a thief living under my roof.”

“But I’m your sister!” Real tears started to pour.

“My sister does not steal, do drugs, or blatantly ignore the rules of society.
My
sister is a nice, polite, well-mannered lady who I used to like.”

“Fine! You’re an asshole just like Dad! Go to hell!” Brittany screamed, slamming his front door as she stormed out.

Brett rubbed his forehead, picking up the phone and dialing his parent’s home. His mother answered. “Hey, Mom. Guess who just showed up at my doorstep wanting a place to stay. Wanna tell me what’s up, without the dramatic prose?”

“Oh my God! Brett! Is she alright?”

“She seems to be okay. What exactly happened? She and Dad fight constantly. How is this any different?”

“She pushed him too far this time,” his mother started to cry. “She was arrested and taken to the police station. In the past, it was your brother who had bailed her out, but Stephen was not in town. So, your father received the call instead. He picked her up, and when he told her that she needed to get a job or leave, she began to throw anything breakable she could find at him.”

“Damn. That’s not like her. Is Dad okay?”

“He’s fine. She has bad aim, despite him being a large target. To make things worse, he found out that this was her third offense. The judge called him personally and read him the riot act about putting her in line. She is now under court orders to go attend meetings. Brett, he even changed the locks!”

“Damn… he must be pissed. Dad does not like to be embarrassed by anybody, no matter the reason.”

“It more than embarrassed him. I really think this crushed him, honey. I have never seen him feel so… so powerless. This is his baby girl, and she failed him. The last time I saw him this hurt was when you…” she paused, changing the subject. “Is she there?”

“Um, no… I tossed her out on her keister. Mom, I’m a cop. I can’t have her stay with me and do drugs. You know that. Especially with my background. I can't risk my career.”

“She needs help. You of all people know what that feels like. She’s your twin sister. The two of you shared everything since the time you were conceived. Don’t let her do this to herself. If not for her, then for me. Please help her,” his mother begged.

Brett felt a twinge of guilt. He was quiet for a few moments, knowing his mother was waiting anxiously for an answer. “Alright, Mom. But she had better follow my rules or she’s out of here. She gets one chance,” Brett said firmly. He suddenly realized how much he sounded like his father and how the man ran his business. Poor Brittany.

“Thank you, son. Thank you so much. I’ll be able to sleep knowing my baby is safe.”

“Just do me a favor and don’t have any contact with her for a while. She needs to know she can’t manipulate you or Dad into getting her own way, okay?”

“Of course. Let me send you money…”

“No, Mom. If I am going to take her on as my responsibility, then I will also have to teach her how to live within my limits. I appreciate the offer, but you know how I feel about handouts.”

“You are as stubborn as your father,” Helena Wallace sighed. “Very well. But promise to call me if you need anything.”

“I promise, Mom. Love you. And don’t worry,” Brett said grimly. “I will get her straightened out one way or another.”

Brett hung up the phone and glanced around the house. Truthfully, he could use some help, and Brittany was a fairly decent cook, having followed their private chef in the kitchen since the day the elderly Italian first allowed her to make a salad. With an exasperated sigh, Brett grabbed his wallet and keys and left to find his wayward twin.

* * *

Brittany Wallace sat dejectedly in a booth and sipped a cup of coffee as she tried to decide her next move. With only twenty dollars left in her pocket, she was terrified. As the pampered only daughter of the wealthy and well-known Carmen H. Wallace, Beverly Hills bank tycoon, she had never been on her own or lacked for anything. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, and her greatest skills were limited to spending her daddy’s money and planning large parties. Disbelief and anger still rankled her that her twin brother actually refused her a place to stay! She could not believe how selfish and mean he had become since venturing out on his own with the silly idea of fending for himself. The idiot even refused their father’s offer of a monthly stipend to supplement the cost of living in the pricey neighborhood that he resided in.

Brittany considered her other option, which was to present herself to their eldest brother, Stephen, and request his assistance. Like their father, Stephen would rarely deny her anything and had learned how to quiet her tantrums with gifts. The only problem with Stephen was that his wife Rina made no secret about her intense dislike for Brittany, stating to all who had ears to hear that the younger woman was a bad influence and a waste of anyone’s time and energy. The nasty shrew also refused to allow her three children to have any prolonged exposure to their spoiled, rude, and willful aunt. Brittany felt disgust as she pondered over how Stephen behaved when it came to confronting and standing up to his bitch wife. The weak-willed man allowed her do anything she wanted as long as she did not interfere with his business, which, of course, meant more money for the gold-digging frump. Brittany felt her throat tighten as she thought of her niece and nephews and how they would grow up to be as judgmental and sour as their mother. It was no wonder Stephen spent the majority of his time working his real estate ventures instead of staying home with his family. She could not imagine living like that!

“Excuse me, miss, but are you alright?” a warm male voice said from above her. Brittany glanced up into the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen. The face they were attached to was just as pleasant, with strong angled features, generous lips, and a small cleft at the base of his chin, his short, well-groomed dark blonde hair begging to have fingers running through it.

“I’m fine, thank you. Just having a bad day,” she lied, not wanting to be bothered. Not even by this handsome stranger wearing a light jacket that indicated he worked for the sheriff’s department.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked, sitting before she responded.

“It doesn't appear that you are giving me a choice. By all means, please feel free to make yourself comfortable,” Brittany sighed, seeing he was already settling in her booth as he signaled for the waitress to bring him some coffee.

“So, why is a pretty little thing like you having a bad day?” he asked, eyeing her carefully as he sipped from his mug, studying the strong, exotic features of the unhappy woman.
“You don't look like you are from around these parts. I mean,” he shifted
in
the booth, “I can't recall seeing any
of the movie stars and celebrities who lived in
this
area
coming
to visit the local diner
.”

Brittany flushed under the scrutiny of his expert eyes, knowing that she looked out of place in her designer jeans, silk blouse, high heels, heavy makeup, and sparkling jewelry that any discerning individual would be able to conclude was genuine. Clearing her throat as she raised her eyebrow, Brittany indicated her discomfort with his interruption of her sulking.

“I am assuming you spend quite a lot of time in this diner to draw that conclusion
,” she returned.

“Good point. I have only been in town for a week and have been coming to this joint daily because I hate to cook,” he grinned,
his
sparkling white smile startling her. He was certainly a handsome specimen! “Does this mean that you are a movie star? Should I get your autograph?”

“No, I am neither a movie star or what one would consider a celebrity. Tell me, do you make coming up on unsuspecting women like a bull in a china shop a habit, Lt. Simms?” she asked haughtily, pointing to the name badge upon his jacket and noting the bars on the collar.

“Sorry, ma'am. Reed Simms, Los Angeles Sheriff's Department,” he chuckled softly, formally introducing himself as he reached out to shake her hand. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, and I apologize for my rudeness. And you?”

“Brittany Wallace. Just visiting and leaving shortly,” she shook his hand and holding back a sigh as her small palm was engulfed in his large, warm grip. A grip that momentarily let her forget her situation.

“Wallace? I thought I saw that name on a community roster for a sergeant in the unit. Any relation?”

“Lucky you. It’s my twin brother, Brett. He lives just down the road,” Brittany interrupted, pulling her hand away abruptly. She looked down to stir her coffee and stare absently into the dark liquid as her anger and disappointment towards her twin returned.

“And he’s letting you have a bad day all alone? What kind of brother is that?”

“A stupid one. Come on, Britt. Let’s go home. We need to talk,” another male voice stated from behind him.

Reed glanced up at the serious expression on Brett’s face. He stood to shake his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, sergeant. I’m Reed Simms. We haven't had a chance to meet yet.”

“So you are the new lieutenant everyone has been talking about! From Bakersfield, right? The captain mentioned that you were going to be living in this area and wanted to run the rehab program. Welcome to the unit,” Brett said pleasantly, shaking the man's hand firmly.

“That captain of yours is something else. He practically dragged me here bodily when he found out that I was interested in helping with local groups. I got the impression that it was a rarity.”

“That is an understatement. Our program is pretty big and has been known to have some very challenging individuals, including celebrities. They like to hide out here, as you can well imagine. We have to bribe most officers to participate, and none of them want to do it in their hometown. You have no idea how relieved I am that you are interested. I’ve been operating this town's group alone for the past year. Looking forward to some help. Love the guys, but damn, I need a break now and then!”

“Well, you got it. What is your assignment?”

“Mainly general patrol. The captain thinks my hands are already full with handling the program and court assignments here. Like I said, these people tend to be a bit stubborn because of the area’s influence. Some need serious hand-holding. You?”