Step Brother: Off Limits (8 page)

Tina was his mother, though, and I knew better than to accuse her of stealing from my father or sheltering money illegally without more proof. I decided I’d figure out what was really going on, and then I’d make the call to Reed. I just hoped Stanford would help me. He seemed so close to both my dad and Tina that I wasn’t sure I could really trust him.

I rushed around the kitchen and got things prepped for an omelet—ham, spinach, cheese, and mushrooms were chopped and in bowls by the time I heard Stanford at the door.

“So what’s going on?” he asked as he watched me pouring the eggs into the skillet.

“I have some questions, and I’m hoping you’ll answer them honestly. You need to know that I have my dad’s best interests at heart, here, so even if things don’t make sense, you have to trust me.”

“Okay…” he said, drawing the word out.

“Are Dad and Tina having any problems?”

“Do you mean like marital problems?”

“Marital, financial, anything.”

Stanford studied me for a minute without speaking. “I don’t know how much I should say, Tatum. I really like and respect your father, and I believe with all my heart that he’s the right man to lead this city. I don’t want to say anything that could jeopardize that.”

“But what if he was doing something wrong, something illegal?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think he would.”

“He did before.”

“I know. And the heartache it caused you is why I don’t think he’d do it again. Tatum, he knows how hard he made your teenage years. He’s a proud man, and he’s not going to talk about it much, but he feels terrible for what he put you through.”

“He’s said he’s sorry. Talk is cheap.”

“But that’s just it. It’s not just talk. I don’t think there’s any way in the world he’d do something illegal. Not even to win the election. He really has changed, whether you see it or not.”

I was suspicious. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Can I trust you? I mean really trust you with a secret you can’t tell?”

“Of course.”

“I overheard Tina telling him she had a surefire way to guarantee a win.”

“That sounds like trouble.”

“Yeah. She’d found a guy who could fix the election outcome … for a price, of course. Donald told her he didn’t want anything to do with paying off the company that maintains the voting booth equipment. Apparently there’s a sliding scale for a win. The mayor’s race is worth a hundred thousand dollars.”

“You overheard all this?”

“I did. Donald said no.”

“A hundred thousand dollars, huh?”

“That’s what she said.”

“I assume you don’t just write a personal check for something like that. Did she say how it was supposed to go down?”

“I didn’t hear that part. Donald stopped her, and I didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping. I walked into the room and it was business as usual.” He took a bite of his omelet. “Delicious. But it’s time for you to spill it, girl. I’ve told you a secret. You have to tell me what you know.”

I took a deep breath and pulled the folder out of my briefcase. The way Stanford had talked about my dad made me believe I could trust him. “This arrived at my office today. I don’t know who sent it, but it has to either be an attorney or someone who handled my dad’s finances, maybe an accountant? Anyway, who sent it doesn’t matter as much as what’s in it.” I handed him the folder and sat down on the barstool to let him draw his own conclusions.

He read the documents carefully, more carefully than I had, studying them for several minutes before he looked up at me. “There’s more than a hundred thousand dollars for the payoff in this account,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And it’s only in Tina’s name.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “I think she’s stolen it from him. I don’t think he knows about it, at least not yet.”

“Technically, she didn’t steal a thing. Her name’s on the account, which means she can legally withdraw the money.” I pointed to both their names on the investment account. “I’ve never been very informed about his finances. Do you know how soon he’ll notice the missing money?”

Stanford shook his head. “Not really. I think he reviews his investments with one of the people at the equity group twice a year, but I don’t know when they’re slated to meet.”

“So it could be tomorrow, or it could be six months from now.”

“I have a general idea of what’s on his calendar from week to week. If I had to guess I’d say it’s at least a month out. I don’t recall seeing that meeting scheduled in the next thirty days.”

“Shit. So if he’s not going to see it, she could get even more.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“What are we going to do?” I stood up and started to pace between the kitchen and living room. “I’m afraid if I accuse her of this, she’ll lie to Dad, and he’ll believe her.”

Stanford watched me pace. “I think you’re half right. She’ll lie for sure, but your dad wouldn’t take her word against yours, not if you had proof.”

“I guess I could just show him the statements.”

“You could. But what if she convinces him the money’s for something else?”

“Like what? It’s almost two hundred thousand dollars.”

“I don’t know. A sailboat? A trip around the world?” He stood up and crossed the room to where I stood in front of the window. “Tatum, I know you don’t like Tina, but I’m not sure you understand how far she’ll go to keep her gravy train. Do you realize she spent eight thousand dollars on spa treatments last month?”

“What? How do you even do that? Does Dad know?”

“I don’t know if he knows or even cares, but I overheard her talking to a friend on the phone. It was like she was gloating.”

“Good God, remind me to never try to have a private conversation with you in the building.”

Stanford laughed. “I don’t trust her. I haven’t from the moment I met her, and I don’t want to see her screw things up for Donald. He’s been really good to me, and I feel responsible for protecting him, as strange as that sounds.”

I couldn’t believe it, but Stanford Boyle actually sounded kind of sweet. “So you think she’s stealing it?”

“She’s got to be stealing at least some of it. Maybe some to pay off the voting booth guy and some to squirrel away for a rainy day.”

“So we have to find out the truth.” I wasn’t sure how to go about that.

“Or,” Stanford said, a wicked grin appearing on his face, “we could set her up to do something so awful that Donald would kick her out. Divorce her.”

“Oh my God, that’s evil,” I said. “I love it.”

Stanford and I were so deep in the middle of plotting how to orchestrate Tina’s demise that I didn’t even hear the front door open.

“Hey, babe.”

Garrett’s voice scared the hell out of me, and after I peeled myself off the ceiling, I introduced him to Stanford.

“Um, nice to meet you,” Stanford said, conspicuously avoiding eye contact with Garrett.

“Good Lord, honey, you need a shower.”

“It’s just good clean sweat, Tatum. You’d remember how good it feels if you hadn’t been avoiding me and your bootcamp classes.” Garrett smiled at Stanford, as if he was including him in a private joke.

“Whatever.” I waved him off. “I’ve missed one class, asshole.”

“That’s how it starts,” Garrett warned, before turning his attention to Stanford. “So how do you and Tatum know one another?”

Stanford stuttered his reply. “I … um … I work for Tatum’s father.” He looked at his phone. “I need to get back to work. Talk to you later?” he asked, looking for all the world like a caged animal desperate to escape.

“Absolutely. We have lots of work to do.”

“Yeah,” he said, darting out the door without another word.

I looked over at Garrett, dumbfounded. “I have no idea what got into him.”

Garrett laughed. “He’s clearly overwhelmed by his attraction to me.”

I punched him in the arm. “Get outta here.”

Garrett stopped laughing. “I’m serious, Tatum. Don’t tell me he’s not out.”

“Stanford’s not gay, Garrett. For God’s sake, he’s hit on me more times than I can count.”

“Girl, how many times do I have to prove to you that your gaydar is shit? That boy is gay. Whether he knows it or not, he’s gay.”

“No way, man. He’s all buttoned up. And he’s a Republican, for crying out loud.”

“Maybe in a log cabin,” Garrett said as he left the kitchen and headed down the hall. “Definitely gay.”

I shook my head as I heard the water turn on in Garrett’s bathroom. Could he be right about Stanford?

I rolled over and picked up my phone to check the time. The light from the screen hurt my eyes in the darkened hotel room, and I was surprised to see how late it was.

“Shit.” My mouth tasted like I’d made bad decisions the night before, and I fumbled around the nightstand hoping to find a bottle of water. No luck. I picked up the phone instead. “Coffee, water, and aspirin,” I said to the woman who answered the room service extension. She’d answered in French, of course, since we were in Paris, but I assumed she spoke English.

I hung up and lay back, eyes closed, trying to sort out the tangle of thoughts in my head. My dreams had been flashes of ink, porn stars, music, and Tatum.

Tatum.

The last time I’d talked to her, she’d seemed preoccupied. I looked at the necklace I’d bought her nearly every single day, and even though I knew I should have called her more frequently, I really was working hard. I wanted to get back to her, and with all the sex swirling around me, I needed her. I was jerking off more frequently than a fourteen-year-old, but I knew I needed a woman, and Tatum was the one I wanted. I’d kept my promise to her, but it hadn’t been easy. Nearly every woman working on the tour would have fucked me, my father, my friends, and probably Tatum, too, if I’d agreed. I’d kept my promise, but it hadn’t been easy.

God. The night before had been the hardest. Our first night in Paris had kicked off with a party for a bunch of celebrity VIPs, and the club we’d taken over had been full of skin, vodka, cocaine, and music that made me want to fuck someone up against a wall.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, sitting up slowly while I evaluated the intensity of my headache. Deciding it was manageable, I stood up and stretched. I started toward the window, intending to let a little light into the room, when a woman’s voice startled me.

“What a view.”

I turned around to face the bed and realized I hadn’t been alone. In the dim light, a woman lay on her side, sheets covering her body, and she looked at me with clear approval in her gaze. I was naked, and her voice, soft and sultry, combined with the fact that I could see the curves of what looked to be amazing tits, gave me the beginnings of a very obvious hard-on.

“Come back to bed,” the woman said. “Let me wake you up properly.”

I couldn’t quite place her accent, but she was definitely European. I also had no idea what her name was or how she’d come to be in my bed. I thought briefly about Tatum, honestly unsure about what had happened the night before, and I was about to tell the woman—regardless of how beautiful she was—that she needed to leave, when she slid the covers to her waist and stunned me speechless.

“You fell asleep last night before we could get to know one another properly.” She watched me staring at her.

She had a body straight out of a pornographic fantasy. She uncovered enormous, full tits—clearly implants, but good ones. Her pink nipples were erect, and she looked at me, her lips parted by her tongue as she fondled the silver hoops that pierced both nipples. I could see a portion of a tattoo on her ribcage, the graceful arcs of vines and flowers disappearing under the covers, and I tried to tell myself that it was purely professional curiosity that led me back to the bed.

The woman arched her back and thrust her tits in the air as she tugged at her piercings. I was hard as a rock, and I reached down to move the sheets aside. I wanted to see all of her, and I couldn’t think about anything but my hard cock and the perfect fantasy body in front of me. I threw the sheets aside and discovered she was completely naked, her bronzed skin completely free of tan lines, and completely, entirely waxed bare. She spread her knees apart, and I could see her pussy, a silver bar just below her clit. She was wet, and she was hot.

“Do you want me?” she asked, sliding her hand down between her legs.

I couldn’t say a word as I watched her slide a finger inside herself, pull it out, and raise it to my lips.

“Taste me,” she said.

I let her put her finger inside my mouth, and my cock throbbed as I tasted her—sweet, salty, musky—everything good about sex.

I put a hand on my cock and stroked it as I watched her return her hand to her pussy. She shoved two fingers inside herself as she flicked the silver bar that rubbed up against her clit. She moaned and twisted the piercing in her nipple slightly, her skin starting to redden with the intensity of her touch.

I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to eat her. I wanted to lose myself in her body—clearly on display for my benefit and pleasure—I wanted to bury my cock in her pussy, in her ass. I wanted to come in her and on her, and I wanted to go back to sleep and wake up and do it again.

But I’d made a promise.

I wasn’t going to fuck her, but I was sure as hell gonna come all over those tits. I reached down, leaving one hand working up and down the length of my cock. I squeezed her nipple, slipping a finger through the hoop and tugging gently.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers. Fuck yourself and come for me.”

I watched her spread her legs even wider, and I could tell she was enjoying herself. She slid her fingers in and out of her pussy, glistening juice visible on her fingers, and she flicked and rubbed the piercing between her legs.

She looked up at me. “Fuck me.” She reached for my cock with her hand, all slick from her juices. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck my mouth, fuck my pussy. I want you to fuck my ass,” she said, rolling over and getting up on her hands and knees to show me what I was missing.

God, it was gorgeous. Her bare pussy was wide open, shining with slick wetness and begging me to put my cock inside it. Even her ass was perfect, the tight hole just waiting for me to push my cock inside, force her open, and fuck her hard. I knew she could take it. I knew she wanted it.