Sidekick Returns (28 page)

I cocked my head. ‘Whatever do you mean?'

The corner of his mouth shot up in a half-smile. ‘The finger?' he said, looking down at my hand still at his chest. ‘The biting your lip?' He moved closer still. ‘I liked that one, by the way. Keep it. But, Bremy St. James, I do believe you are trying to seduce information out of me.'

I held his gaze for a moment longer before I cracked. ‘Dammit!' I flung my hand away and hopped up and down angrily before kicking the sofa. ‘Why can I never do the femme fatale thing? I mean, I already kind of decided I didn't want to be that kind of super— I mean, never mind. But I'd still like to be able to do it. You know what I mean?'

‘You lost me about halfway through,' he said with a playful sidelong look. ‘But don't be so hard on yourself. I never said it wouldn't work. But a man has to have a little self-respect. I just need
you
to know that
I
know what you're doing. Now continue,' he said, closing his eyes with a very pleasure-filled look on his face.

I just looked at him.

He rolled his hand in a carry on gesture.

‘Forget it. I told you that's not going to be my MO anyway.' I sank into the couch by Betty the lamp, before scooting over a bit. Headless naked lamp ladies made me uncomfortable. ‘Not that I even know what my MO is.'

‘Don't be sad, Brems,' Ricky said, kneeling in front of me. ‘If you wanted information, all you had to do was ask.'

I raised an eyebrow.

‘Come with me,' he said, standing up and offering me a hand. ‘I want to show you something.'

‘Alright,' I muttered. ‘But if that something is in your pants, I'm not going to be impressed.'

Chapter 40

‘Um … wow.'

‘I know.'

I stared at the enormous blown-up photo plastered to the wall over Ricky's king plus, plus, plus sized bed. ‘Well?' he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and rocking on his feet.

I squinted. ‘It's me.'

‘It is.'

‘A giant me … in a bikini.'

‘Yes.'

‘Above your bed.'

‘Indeed.'

And here I was, once again faced with yet another Bremy, from all the Bremy St. James-es past. I recognised the shot. It was from my modelling days. Two days in total. That's all it took for me to realise that modelling was actually hard work—and for me to remember that I was really rich. But it was a nice shot. I was lying on my stomach in a gold bikini with my head thrown back in laughter. Ricky had changed the photo to sepia, giving it a sort of timeless quality. I was definitely channelling Ms Brinkley that day. I backhanded Ricky on the stomach—a stomach that I couldn't help but notice was covered with ridges. ‘What the hell is the matter with you?'

‘You don't like it?'

‘No! It's creepy. And weird,' I answered, wrinkling my nose. ‘What are you going to do next? Watch me sleep?'

‘It's a symbol.'

‘Of what? Your stalker tendencies?'

‘Success.'

I spun to look at him.

‘You, Bremy St. James, have always represented everything I've ever wanted to be.'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, dropping my chin and looking up at him from under my brows. ‘What now?'

‘You have no idea how remarkable you are, do you?' He shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘It was never your physical attributes that had me so …' He sucked air in through his teeth. ‘Tied up in knots. It was your attitude.'

‘You like spoiled rich girls?'

He shook his head. ‘No. That's not you. It was the way you looked at life … like it was some juicy, ripe peach that you wanted to sink your teeth into.' He leaned towards me and brushed one finger down from my lips to my chin then to my throat. I gulped.

‘That sounds messy.' I couldn't deny Ricky's words were having an effect on me. Lately, it felt like everyone I knew, and some people I didn't, were taking my inventory, and I had been trying to convince them all that I was a good person, or at least not a bad one, and then here was Ricky—Ricky with his weird bedroom shrine—who seemed to think I was awesome just the way I was … or used to be. His finger traced a path further down to the dip at my throat, then lower, almost … almost to the little pager-type device hidden in my boobs!

I slapped his hand away.

‘Anyway, that's the way I wanted to look at the world,' he said, spreading his arms wide. ‘And now I am.'

‘Oh Ricky.' I shook my head. ‘You've got the fever. But I promise you, there is more to life than Cristal baths and the backseat of a Maybach.' In fact, Cristal baths could be quite painful if you had any nicks from shaving.

‘I know,' he said, once again coming in close. ‘There's Bremy St. James on the beach.'

I gulped again, and mumbled, ‘I don't know what it is … but right now you sound a lot like Dracula.' A Dracula that I found kind of hot. I stepped away from him, hitting the back of my legs on the mattress.
And
then I was sitting on the bed.
Oh my.
Ricky took that as an invitation to sit beside me.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, but the heat from his body rolled down my side, doing unspeakable things to my unspeakable places.

‘I just realised something,' Ricky whispered in my ear.

‘Wh—' I started to say, but my voice cracked. ‘What's that?'

‘These past couple of weeks have been crazy. I've gotten into every club that used to keep me out. I've spent more money than I knew existed. I've scared the crap out of every one of those blue blood snobs who used to treat me like garbage.'

I slowly looked up to meet his gaze.

‘But you know what?' he said, thickly. ‘All I really wanted was this.'

‘Oh boy,' I whispered, as Ricky's mouth moved towards mine. His lips gently brushed my own, before pressing in for more, and as I leaned back against the bed and felt Ricky's weight settle on top of me, my thoughts devolved into a mushy string of intangible phrases like,
Hmm, good. Warm. That's different. Oh yes.
But somewhere deeper, there was a sense of something bigger, weightier going on. Ricky wanted me—really, really wanted me—every last bit of me.

Yup, Ricky thought Bremy St. James was A-okay. It was just so unlike …

Pierce. Pierce who was always questioning my choices. Pierce who was always trying to break up with me. Pierce who had something going on with my sister … something that he had kept hidden from me.

Waves of chills ran over my body as my lips moved with Ricky's. No, I wasn't feeling guilty about this. Not one bit. And yet …

‘Bremy?' Ricky suddenly whispered, in the place where time had no meaning.

‘Yes, Count? I mean, Ricky?'

‘You're vibrating.'

Chapter 41

‘Yes, vibrating … and thrumming too,' I purred. ‘Definitely thrum—' Suddenly I shot up from the bed and grabbed my chest. Shoot! That wasn't me vibrating! It was the pager! This was terrible! Where had the time gone? I rammed one hand down my front, rummaging around for the little device. Bart was giving me the warning to get out! My time was up! Thoughts raced through my head. I scanned the room for hidden cameras, but being hidden, that was useless. Maybe my father wouldn't care that I was talking to Ricky … who was I kidding? He would totally care. He'd know I was up to something, and then he might make a move on me now instead of drawing out whatever game this was we were playing. Dammit! He'd never make the mistake of underestimating me again! Who knew what he'd do to me this time! He could kill me, or … worse! He'd imprison me and force into the sweats Ryder had been wearing! I needed to get out and fast. But I still hadn't gotten anything useful out of Ricky. I jumped to my feet and yanked at the white fur-like throw at the bottom of the bed.

‘What are y—'

‘Get off!' I shouted. Ricky rolled to one side with wide eyes as I yanked the throw out from under his butt and threw it over my head.

‘Br—'

‘Brenda!' I shouted, before dropping my voice to whisper, ‘My name is Brenda.'

Ricky stared wide-eyed at me.

‘And keep your voice down,' I hissed from the small gap I had created with the sides of the blanket, clutched to my face. Who knew how sensitive the equipment was that my father was using these days. My eyes darted about the room again. This wasn't safe. I lunged for Ricky and slammed him back on top of the bed, throwing the blanket over our heads.

‘Well, don't just lie there!' I shout-whispered. ‘Make it look like we're making out!'

‘We were just making out,' he replied uncertainly.

‘And now, we're going to make it
look
like we're making out.'

‘Can't we just make out?' Ricky asked, eyes darting around at the blanket. ‘Maybe with more oxygen.'

‘No!' I snapped. ‘Now, move your hands around!'

One of Ricky's hands landed awkwardly on my butt with a smack.

‘Around!' Fingers moved up and down my back.

‘Good. Now, we need to make this quick.'

‘Okay.'

I began with, ‘You're an idiot.' Ricky moved his lips to talk again, but I cut him off. ‘My father is never going to let you keep this money. He will, in fact, probably kill you once he's through with you. You're only here because he knows that I cared about y— Never mind, he's trying to throw me off balance. So you need to help me stop him.'

‘I don't know what you're talk—'

‘Save it! I know he paid you to become Big Shot.' My brain was trying to get the information out super fast. ‘He wanted you to start a crime wave in the city … a crime wave for Jenny to stop.'

‘I—'

‘Shush,' I said, tapping a finger to his lips. ‘But what's his endgame? And why hasn't he killed Ryder?' At least, I was assuming he hadn't killed Ryder. ‘Ricky, what does my father have planned for you next?'

‘I don't know if—'

I felt my eyes go wild. ‘Did you not hear the idiot part? What does he have planned for you next?'

‘I … I don't know. Plans are supposed to be delivered to me, here, any minute now.'

‘Dammit!' I jumped to my feet, blanket still covering my head. I then spun and ran for the door.

‘Bre—Brenda, wait!'

‘Ricky you have to trust me,' I shouted backing away. ‘You need to be careful.'

‘Talk to me,' he said, quickly closing the distance between us. ‘Tell me what's going—'

‘I really have to go.' I hurried back, taking one last look at his unstyled hair and unbuttoned shirt. ‘But … where are you going tonight?'

‘The Kobra Klub.'

I smiled. ‘Of course you are. I'll meet you there.' I jumped into the elevator waiting at the penthouse floor. ‘We'll talk more. But until then … please, be careful. You can't trust my father.'

‘Bre—'

The doors slid shut. I peeked up at the camera mounted behind a discreet dark bubble on the wall. The elevator counted down the floors.
Fifteen
.
Fourteen
. Maybe Bart was able to keep the system down. He could be a bit of a drama queen. Maybe I was still in the warning stage.
Yeah maybe
. I couldn't shake the feeling, though, that when the elevator doors opened again, men with St. James Industries logos would be waiting with a straightjacket to take me away.
Ten. Nine.
Then I'd be done for. Ryder too. And then the city wouldn't be far behind. Gah! Stupid hormones!
Four. Three.
But on the bright side, while that was all very bad news, who knew I'd become so important?

Two. One.

Ping!

I closed my eyes tight and cringed as the doors slid open. I cracked one eye to take in the view my blanket gap provided. Nothing. Nothing but lobby.

Relief washed over me.

Now, I just needed to make it to those big glass doors across the lobby. I glanced to my right. Nothing there to stop me. Then to my left. Nothing—but the doorman leaning on the concierge desk looking at me very sceptically.

I skidded to a stop. ‘Um … I'm just—'

He cut me off with a dismissive wave. ‘Sweetheart, you just need to walk the shame, not talk it.'

I huffed a breath and resumed walking. ‘Don't forget live with it,' I muttered, trying to ignore the tickle on my neck where Ricky's lips had been. ‘You gotta live with it too.'

I pushed my way through the glass doors, and made it two steps onto the sidewalk before I saw the car. I threw the blanket off my head. Normally, a car wouldn't stop me in my tracks—not even a silver Aston Martin convertible. But the person in the white catsuit leaning against it …

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out without looking and swiped
Answer
.

‘Is that who I think it is?' Bart yelled.

‘Yup.' It was all I could say. My chest … my chest was filling up with too much … dammit.

‘Bremy!' my phone shouted. ‘Listen to me. Do not get into that car. Do you hear me? Do not g—'

I swiped the screen and looked up at the mirror image in front of me.

‘Need a ride?'

‘Sure, Sis.' I took a step forward feeling like I was falling into the looking glass. ‘Why not?'

Chapter 42

Minutes later, I found myself speeding down the city streets with my twin sister. She was weaving through traffic like a race car driver. A year ago, the idea of this would have been … our greatest dream come true. Now … I didn't even know what to think.

Thick, thick tension hung between us—vodka Jell-O shot thick, but less fun. There were so many things I wanted to say to her. And maybe that was why I was so quiet. I couldn't get just one of them out. I shot a look over at Jenny, her eyes focused on the road. She was so beautiful. More beautiful than I ever was … or would be.