STEPBROTHERS (3 Book Stepbrother Romance Collection) (37 page)

“
W
hat’s wrong
?” Her face had drained of all its colour, making the hue of her green eyes pop even more than it normally did. Her legs tensed beneath me, her body rigid, and I counted to five before she let out the breath she seemed to be holding. “What is it, Beatr— Thea, tell me.”

Her lips moved, and she muttered a few inaudible words.

“What?” I was getting worried now. I knew the most perfect moment of my life, with her in my arms, the feeling of being needed, would be too good to be true.

“Donte…”

“I told you, you don’t have to worry about—”

“He’s dead. You killed him.”

Three little words. How could three little words change a man’s so life so much in an instant? It was almost incomprehensible.

I ran through in my head the events of the evening before. I’d done some damage, there was no doubt about that, but… he was dead?

I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. You have to be. He was alive when I left him, bruised and busted up to shit but breathing.”

I scooped her off my lap. I needed to move, to think this through. This couldn’t be happening. I was a murderer?

There had been so many times when I’d wished for that fact to be true, so fucking many times. I’d envisaged myself squeezing the life out of the man who had destroyed my whole family. Alice was gone, and it was because of him… I could’ve stopped him if I’d been stronger, more capable, less selfish. I regretted not doing it for so many years, and yet now here I was… I’d gotten what I wanted, my wish had come true—just not the right wish, or the right man.

“I saw him,” she said as she came up behind me, her hand upon my arm trying to comfort me. “He wasn’t breathing, and then you came back… and here we are.”

“You saw him where?” I turned to her, a glimmer of hope waited for me to grasp it, a tiny, almost imperceptible speck just out of reach,.

The front door slammed, and a figure appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Oh, hello! Sorry to interrupt,” Travis smirked, his eyebrows wiggling up and down at me. He looked a little worse for wear, probably high on a self-medicated concoction of his pain pills and several shots of whisky.

Travis moved closer to Thea, his unbroken arm outstretched in greeting. “Hey, there. I’m Travis. I’m sure he’s told you all about me already.”

“Er, hi,” she replied, glanced at me for a second before briefly taking his hand.

“This one is a looker, Vin,” Travis said, babbling as if she wasn’t even in the room.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, but the question fell upon deaf ears.

Letting out a groan, and holding back the urge to break his other arm, I said, “Not a good time, mate.” And motioned for him to leave.

“What’s your name, love?” Travis said, and with no intention of leaving or oblivious to the tense air that clouded the room, he took up residence at the small dining table in the centre of the kitchen.

“Her name doesn’t matter,” I spat angrily.

Thea put a calming palm onto my forearm and stepped in front of me before my irritation got the better of me. “It’s ok,” she said, her head tilted to regard me, then she turned back to Travis. “It’s Thea.”

Travis frowned, his face twisting and contorting as if he was having trouble digesting this piece of information.

“Unusual name,” he said, nodding to himself.

“It’s short for—”

“Seriously, this isn’t a good time, Travis,” I interrupted. He needed to leave, and I needed answers. I couldn’t deal with his drunken bullshit on top of everything else. I was already furious at him for bailing on me for the majority of the weekend after he promised he was going to turn it all around and pull his weight. “Just fuck off somewhere, will you?”

Travis raised his flattened palm off the table, the other still wrapped in a cast, and held it in front of his chest.

“Jeeze, fine. Whatever, man,” he replied in a hurt tone of voice, but the exterior of his face, the crooked smile and suddenly very sober eyes, told a different story.

Travis stood up, but before leaving, he opened the fridge door and contemplated for a moment before grabbing a beer. He left the kitchen with a final, almost challenging look.

I leaned over the sink, my back to Thea, hands gripping the edge of the counter, feeling as if at any moment I would tear it from the wall. Even with Travis now gone, the heavy silence of the room was maddening. The ancient fridge clicked and whirred to life as the compressor kicked on; the rapid noise sounded like a countdown, a timer attached to a ticking bomb, ready at any moment to explode.

“Vincent? Talk to me.”

Words weren’t going to help me in this situation. Fuck, I couldn’t think. The walls of the house were closing in, and the kitchen had shrunk around me.

My head rattled side to side, in denial, in frustration.

My blood would be all over him, minute traces of me left all over his skin. As soon as the police found him and they did whatever tests they did, then I’d be the dead man.

She came up behind me, her delicate hands touching the side of my waist. Every fibre in my body longed for her to slide her arms around my front and hold me, to tell me it was going to be OK. But fuck, I was no pussy. I would handle it—the only way I knew I could.

My heart strained then cracked, a gapping unrepairable hole at it’s centre as I thought about what I must do.

I turned and pushed her hands away.

She frowned at me, a subtle line creasing her otherwise perfect face.

With a thumb I smoothed at the line, like an eraser trying to rub it out. I didn’t want to see her worried, or upset; I’d rather remember her in the perfect moment we’d had earlier—the look of pure bliss and happiness swimming in her eyes as I laid claim upon her lips.

“I gotta go,” I said abruptly, unable to take it anymore. The thickness in my throat had gotten so bad I thought I was going to choke.

Without another glance I stepped out of the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

I didn’t reply; I needed to keep walking. If I turned back and saw the look I knew she was giving me, I’d end up in her arms, dragging her up to my bedroom. Oh, god. Why did everything have to end up turning to shit in my life?
You only have yourself to blame.

“Vincent! What the fuck?” She was following me, hot on my heels, but I was already by my truck, staring at anything but her. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

I got in and locked the doors and shoved the vehicle into reverse and far away from her as possible.

An instinctive glance into the rear-view mirror, and I saw her, the glow of the red rear lights illuminating her face, tears on her cheeks, hands in the air, gesturing in astonishment at being left abruptly behind without an explanation.

She would be better off without me, better that I cut the tie now. I didn’t want her to get dragged into the mess I’d created.

A
lone in the gym
, the smell of old sweat and worn rubber that would normally reassure me became instead a frustration. I walked to the office and fished for the key on my keyring to unlock the battered metal cabinet. Inside was the safe that held what I needed.

My knees creaked as I knelt down to enter my code. Hours of punishment and gruelling workouts had taken their toll on my joints, but there wasn’t time to think about that now.

I had to retrieve what I came for, grab as much money as I could and leave. I couldn’t end up in jail—that was not a fucking option.

The safe beeped angrily after I entered in the last digit and pressed OK. Had I entered the code wrong? Unlikely—the combination wasn’t one I was likely to forget in a hurry.

The date was ingrained, seared even, into my mind. The day everything changed, when I found my eight year-old sister, Alice, lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs, my father looking down from the top, not a hint of regret in his steely, cold eyes.

I’d been only seventeen, but I knew it was my fault, and the blame had lain heavy on my soul ever since.

I should’ve protected her… should’ve been there.

Shaking my head I cleared the memories away, scattering them like leaves; they’d pile up again eventually, they always did. Plaguing me, trying to drown me.

I tapped the numbers again; 140203. The panel beeped its denial again, and a red light flashed.

What the fuck.

There was only one other person who knew the safe was here. But even if Travis knew the code… he wouldn’t steal from me, would he?

“Jesus Christ, Travis,” I said to the empty room. But it didn’t matter much anyway. The gun would’ve just been some extra insurance, and I could get more money anywhere.

Travis, the fuckwit, would be left to deal with the gym in my absence, and that stung, but what else could I do? I’d be a wanted man in no time, and he was the only one who would look after it for me.

Rising to my feet I glanced around the small office, then walked out to the main section of the gym. This place that I’d built up from nothing had become a part of me. It represented an opportunity to turn everything around, and I’d been so close—winding down the illegal side of the business, trying to go legit, trying to be a better man.

Fuck it. What had been the point?

The punch bag called to me, and with a hand I patted it, the cracked, dry leather beneath my fingers almost ready to peel off. It would have to be repaired again soon, more tape to cover up the scars.

With an almighty sudden roar, thinking about everything that I’d worked for and everything I’d almost had, I buried my bare fist, already bruised and sore from the night before, into the bag.

And once I started, I couldn’t stop.

Over and over, swing after swing, I launched myself at the swaying target. Punishing my body for the sins of the mind, the actions I’d taken that led me to this very moment.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, hot tears streaked down my cheeks, so that you could not distinguish between the two.

“ARGH!” I cried, the guttural sound echoing around the hollowed-out warehouse. The cuts on my hands ripped open, and droplets of blood joined the damp patches of sweat and tears beneath my feet.

I didn’t feel the pain, didn’t register the smears of crimson that stained and coated the punch bag. All I could think about was losing her. I hadn’t even had her, yet she’d been everything—the light at the end of the tunnel, the goal I didn’t realise I’d been working towards, and now she was lost to me.

Maybe it was for the best? I’d never been good in relationships. Never had one last more than a few weeks, never saw the point in them. They all ended up turning into shit, breaking and hurting the person about whom you should’ve cared the most.

Even my mother didn’t want anything to do with me. Happy in her new life, with no doubt a new family, forgetting about her long-lost daughter and disowning the son who’d failed them both.

Worthless and a piece of shit, I contemplated just handing myself over the police, confessing to everything. It couldn’t get much worse, could it? Maybe I’d find some peace in it? Atone for my sins? After all, it wouldn’t make much difference to the life I was living now, battling everyday with the guilt; I needed to be punished. It’s what I deserved.

A final swing into the bag, and the impact split open the contents, sand poured onto the mat below. I followed it and fell with a thud, head in hands, tearing at my hair. Grasping at straws.

T
he fucker
just left me there. At his house. Alone with a stranger. I watched as the backlights of his truck disappeared into the early morning darkness.

I felt like a spinning top, turning out of control and not knowing which way I was going to fall. Countless decisions, directions, spun in my mind, but not one of them I could think would do any good.

His face had been set, adamant; he’d made up his mind.

Why had I been so stupid to tell him? He obviously hadn’t known, hadn’t intended to kill Donte. The look on his ruined face had said it all. Much like my own life, I could tell he had burdens, a monkey on his back that wouldn’t let him go, and I’d just been the one to break him—the final straw in his long and shitty life that was the undoing of him.

I wiped my face. Crying about it wouldn’t do any good. He was in this situation because of me, because I’d been too stupid to stand up to Donte, to tell him no, that I wouldn’t be blackmailed. Too proud and simultaneously ashamed of the lifestyle that I led that would break my father’s heart.

I slipped back into the house, automatically going towards the kitchen, the only light in the house leading me to it. The kitchen was cold now, and I shivered as I tried to figure out my next move. Pulling out my phone, I dialled the number Vincent had given me, hoping he’d answer. It went to voicemail, and I smacked the kitchen table in frustration.

How could I make this right?

“Awww, did he break up with you?” Travis stood in the doorway. I hadn’t heard him approach, and his presence, whilst I was alone in Vincent’s house, was unnerving. “Probably for the best. My cousin is a bit of a ladies man—would’ve broken your heart eventually. Better off that it happened now, don’t you think?”

I ignored his harsh words. “I need to find him. Where would he go?”

Travis shrugged. “Dunno. Don’t worry about him. I can be your consolation prize; you can stay here with me.” He winked at me, getting closer, the stink of his day-old aftershave curdling my stomach.

“Not gonna happen,” I replied flatly. Did he really think I’d just jump into bed with him five minutes after Vincent had left? Then again… it was what I did, after all, for a price, but he didn’t know that. “I’m serious, I need to find him. He’s in a lot of trouble, and I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

Travis’ eyebrows rose, his eyes widened by the pull of the muscles. And in doing so I could see the familiarity, the family resemblance. His face was more scrunched-up, different colour eyes, but he and Vincent bore the same rough edges and bone structure. But whereas Vincent looked comfortable in his skin, Travis didn’t seem able to pull off the tough guy look.

“What’s he done now?”

My eyes darted to the side, considering. Was it right to trust this person I’ d just met? But Vincent trusted him, right? He was, as far as I could tell, the closest friend he had, and he was his family. He could help.

“Well, there was this guy. And he kinda hurt me… the details don’t matter,” I said quickly, skimming over the particulars.

“Let me guess, Vincent in his gleaming shining armour came to the rescue?”

“Yeah, but it’s all my fault,” I added quickly.

“You’re an idiot if you think that. Vincent does what he wants because he chooses to. And nothing stops him once he’s made up his mind. I should fucking know…”

He took a beat and pulled out the chair beside me. “So what did he do? Break his nose? His leg, his arm?” he said he raised his cast into view.

I shook my head slowly, biting the tip of my tongue to stop the emotion that was trying to suffocate me.

“He killed him.”

Travis sat back in his chair, his eyes suddenly going wide. “Well, I’ve always known he was capable of it.”

“It doesn’t surprise you?” I asked, shocked. “He killed someone… we’re not just talking about some petty revenge here. He took a man’s life, and okay that man was a steaming pile of shit, and really I dreamed of ending it myself, but the reality is a lot different than just thinking about it.”

He shrugged, which infuriated me.

“We need to find him,” I said again, my voice squeaking desperately.

“Why? What’s he gonna do? He’s probably just licking his wounds.”

“You didn’t see him, and I know I’ve only known him for a short while, but it seemed very final.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “It’s probably best if he stays low anyway… gets out of the city for a bit, especially if he’s going to be wanted by the pigs.”

“But don’t you see? It’s my fault. I could explain it, say it was all because of me.” But even as I said it, I knew it was the wrong move. Going after Vincent, dragging him back and confessing to the police what he’d done and my part in it would most likely end up worse. The justice system was never really that just, even though my father liked to preach a different tune.

Travis glanced at his watch. It was nearing 5am, and shafts of lights started to creep through the bent blinds at the window.

“Want me to drop you somewhere? No point you staying here. He won’t come back, and you’ve already made it pretty clear you don’t fancy bunking in with me.” His finger brushed along my arm, and I snatched it back off the table.

“I’ll call a taxi.”

“Suit yourself. You know where I am if you change your mind,” he said with a leer. “’Cause, like I said, if he’s made up his mind to leave, then he won’t be back. It’s not like anything is tying him to this place…”

I
couldn’t sleep even
though my eyes were shut, and I was beneath my covers, back home in my apartment. I was determined not to give him up. The kiss that had changed everything—I wanted more of it. I’d never felt a connection like that in my life. Like we belonged in each other’s arms, like we knew what the other was thinking.

And who cared if he was my stepbrother? It wasn’t as if we’d grown up together or even had the same blood. And what was one more secret that I kept from my father? Of course, he wouldn’t approve. He made it very clear when Lacy joined our family, the unknown hurt he’d done to Vincent’s mother and that Vincent’s name would never be mentioned in our house. He’d never be invited around for the holidays or for birthdays. The diswoned black sheep of the family, a criminal of sorts, wouldn’t blacken our own lives. It was bad enough for my father, a judge in a high position to have a criminal tie via marriage, but if he’d accepted Vincent into his home… well that was another thing that could ruin his career. And as I knew, his career was everything to him.

I bolted upright, rigid in my position, scared the idea that had just occurred to me would flitter away, and I would lose it. But my mind grabbed it with both hands and hung on.

Something Travis had said echoed around my skull. Vincent had no ties… nothing to lose.

Well, I had nothing to lose, either. There was nothing here for me, apart from a potentially disapproving father and a job that I’d lost my taste for. I could easily shed it by the wayside, join Vincent, and we could go anywhere. Start again. Together.

I just had to find him first and convince him.

Falling back into the cushions on the bed, I played it all over in my mind. It could work—it had to.

He was like an addiction, and I wasn’t a quitter.

There had to be a way to persuade him to leave everything behind and run away with me. I wouldn’t care where we’d go, just as long we were together.

With a plan made, I eventually drifted off to sleep, optimistic that we could turn things around.

Later I awoke with a start, thankful I hadn’t slept the day away. It was time to put the plan in motion and go find Vincent.

I vaguely remembered where his gym was, and after a few wrong turns I pulled up. It looked deserted; the shutters were down and the parking lot was empty. But that didn’t mean anything… If the police were going to be looking for him, he wouldn’t be so stupid to drive his truck and leave it where it could be found, pointing them directly to his location.

I just had to hope he was inside. I had one other lead I could take, but I really didn’t want to go down that route unless I had to.

I inspected the shutters, but attempting to pull them up had little effect. They were locked down. And the door was firmly bolted, too. The building was nothing than a big warehouse, really. There had to be another door, one around the back?

I walked down the side of the building, over cracked, discarded glass and through drifts of crisp packets that clung to the wall like barnacles on a ship, pinned there by the wind.

Turning the corner, I found the second entrance I was looking for. A fire exit, but it too was shut. I tried to pull it open, but when it wouldn’t budge I kicked it in frustration and sank onto a boulder off to one side, debating my next move.

So much for plan A, I thought.

E
ach week
I turned up for our family dinner. This time I was a few days early, and my father would definitely know there was something amiss, but I had no other choice. The only other person I could talk to about Vincent, and who might know his whereabouts, was his mom. Lacy looked like a woman who was able to keep a secret or two; perhaps they had kept in contact all this time.

I rang the doorbell and waited on the step, dreading the conversation I was about to have.

The door swung open, and a skinny figure stood with surprise on her face. “Thea, what are you doing here? We’re not expecting you tonight, are we?”

“No, just thought I’d drop by.”

“Well, your father isn’t in. He won’t be back from work for another hour or so.”

“That’s OK. I actually wanted to speak to you.”

That piqued her interest, her waxed eyebrows rising high on her Botoxed face. “Really? Sounds ominous. You’d better come in then.”

The door opened wider, and she stepped to the side to let me pass. I followed her through the immaculate house, passing the console table and stealing a quick glance at the little boy in the silver photo frame tucked away, hidden behind other frames but still visible.

“Fancy a cup of tea?” she asked, already pulling two cups from a cupboard.

“Sure,” I replied, though at that point I would rather have had a shot of something to calm my nerves. I had no idea what type of reaction I was going to get from her. It could swing wildly from one possibility to the next, and god forbid she reacted badly and told my father. Then I would be in the shit, but I tried to remind myself of the end-goal. Tried to tell myself it didn’t matter what they thought; we’d be leaving them behind anyway, if I had my way.

The kettle boiled, and she plopped two tea-bags into the cups and poured the water over them. As she prepared the tea, I sat at the sparkling island, flecks of shining stones glittered up at me from within the surface’s top.

The tea arrived, but I didn’t reach for it.

“So, what’s this all about?” Lacy asked as she brought the steaming cup to her lips and took a small sip. She peered over the rim, waiting, expectant. She had no clue, and I felt bad that I was about to dredge up bad memories she, or least my father had tried to bury.

“I don’t know how to say this any other way…”

“Thea, it’s OK. I know we haven’t been close, but I’d like to think you can come to me if you’re in trouble.”

“I’m not in trouble. Not really.”

“Oh?” Her mouth formed a small worried O.

Fuck, I just had to bite the bullet and say it.

“It’s about Vincent.”

The smile slipped off her face in an instant, reminding me of Dali’s sagging, melting clocks. Her wrinkles, those that she tried so desperately to hide and cover, dramatically reappeared. She’d transformed, aging to look ten years older, or maybe what I was seeing now was how she was supposed to look for her age.

Her lips tightened into a thin, straight line, and she placed the cup onto the counter. She barely opened her mouth, her teeth unmoving as she said, “I don’t know anyone called Vincent.”

“Lacy,” I said, pleading with her not to go down this false route. She and I both knew she was lying, trying to fend off all memory of him by denying he even existed.

“I think you’d better leave…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Lacy. This is serious.” She pushed her chair away from the island and turned her back on me, but I had to make her listen. “He’s in a lot of trouble, and I have to find him.”

“Ha! Well there’s a surprise,” she spat and whirled around. But the moment the words were out of her spiteful mouth she realised she’d made a mistake. She could no longer deny his existence now. And I couldn’t let up.

“Lacy, listen to me. Your son is in some serious shit.” The use of the swear word, banned from my father’s house, made her focus on me. “If you have any feelings left for him, I really need you to think where he might go if he’s in trouble.”

She shook her head. “How on earth did you get messed up with the likes of him? Your father and I have both told you to steer clear, and then you come in here, break our rules and expect me to help you? Help him?” She was shouting now, her face turned a deep shade of red that her thick concealer had no chance of hiding. “After what he did? You want me to help him after he ruined my entire life? Took away the only joy I had… It was all his fault, you know?”

“What was?” I asked cautiously, hoping that by keeping her talking she’d eventually see it my way. “You and Daddy never told me anything. Just that I could never contact my step-brother. Why, Lacy?”

She sighed heavily and looked up to the ceiling, her eyes watery. After a moment, I felt the urge to fill the silence but bit my tongue, knowing if I was going to get her to make any sense I had to keep my mouth shut.

Lacy took her seat again, and I mirrored her, waiting.

“It was a long time ago,” she said, trying to explain. “Oh, god.” She stifled a small cry. Sucking in a breath, her eyes cleared; she’d made up her mind to tell me.

“I was married to the worst kind of man before your father. I thought it was the worst time of my life; I was wrong, of course. That was to come later.”

I nodded encouragingly, showing my understanding.