by Wasp, A. E.
Ridge’s nostrils flared, and his jaw set. “Right. So what did happen to the money?” His voice was low, dangerous.
I swallowed. “I gave it to her. I wouldn’t lie about that, Ridge. The maternal unit called me a while back. Said the cops had come to the trailer, asking her about a theft at the Denver Art Museum the night before we disappeared.” I ran a hand over my mouth. “And she was gonna tell them all about how you’d come back that night and took off in a rush, how you’d supported us by pocketing shit since you were ten, how you earned the money for my tuition by stealing. She said if I gave her the money, she’d stay quiet.”
“Such a bitch,” he breathed.
I nodded, spreading my hands out on the table. “She is, and I’m so sorry, Ridge. I don’t know why she does this shit.”
“The drugs and the booze might be a clue.”
“Yeah, but with her I honestly don’t know which came first, the bitchiness or the addiction.” I folded my hands on the tabletop and looked down at them. “And I didn’t want you to find out that she was… you know…”
“A bitch?” he repeated. He let out a deep breath, then a half-chuckle. “It’s no secret.”
“A big enough bitch to rat you out to the cops if I didn’t pay you off,” I corrected. “That was kind of a surprise to me, not gonna lie.”
Ridge sighed. “Well. Wouldn’t matter if she did.”
I frowned. “It kinda would. It might not be proof, but maybe they’d start looking and…”
He shook his head. “Nah. It’s all BS, Brekkie. I’ve never stolen anything from the Denver Museum of Art.” He tilted his head to the side. “Except maybe some food from the gift shop that time we went on the field trip, remember?”
“What? But that night, you did come home in a hurry. You did insist that we had to take off right away. And it was a big score.”
“It was,” he confirmed. “But it wasn’t at the museum.” He paused. “I stopped talking about my jobs with you because I didn’t want you to ever have to lie for me, Breck. I don’t want this stuff to touch you. I still don’t.”
My face flamed, and my stomach tumbled. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “Oh my God, I’m such a fucking idiot.”
Ridge shook his head. “You’re not.”
“Uh, I beg to differ. Jesus fucking Christ!” I stood up and cradled my skull in my hands as I paced the breakfast area, because otherwise I was afraid my head might actually pop off. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so angry. And it was a good thing my mother was nowhere near me right now, because I would happily call the police and tell them about every illegal thing she had done in the past twenty years, even if it took all night and all day tomorrow.
And it would.
“Calm your shit, Brekkie,” Ridge said mildly. Then the man actually pulled his plate closer to him, then calmly folded his tortilla and took a big bite.
I stared at him like he was a pod person.
“I think it’s kinda sweet,” he said around a mouth full of food. “You running interference like that.”
“Sweet? Except for the part where I gave her money for nothing!” I reminded him. “Thousands of dollars we will never see again!”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Yeah. ‘Cept for that part.” He took another bite of food. “But it’s not about the money.” He stopped himself. “Okay, I mean, it is, because that’s a fuck ton of money. But I have an AmEx Centurion card now.” He grinned up at me as he chewed. “You wanna go back to school, I think Charlie can set up a scholarship for you from beyond the beyond.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I sat back down in the chair, my legs weak. A week ago, I’d had zero options and no prospects. Now suddenly the future stretched out in front of me, full of actual possibilities. It was a little overwhelming, honestly.
“I’m not sure if I do,” I told him. “I might be done with college for now.” I might wanna see where Steele wanted to end up and work out something with him.
Ridge smirked knowingly. “Yeah, I figured that might be the case.”
“It was more than fifty thousand,” I told him bitterly. Somehow this seemed relevant, like I needed to make a full confession of my idiocy in order to move on. “That’s why there were multiple withdrawals, and why there was still no money in the account, even though I’d been working for Cisco for months. She kept coming back, bleeding me dry.” I winced. “Christ, you must’ve thought I was the worst hooker in all the land, to still have no money to show for it.”
Ridge nudged my plate closer to me, a reminder to eat.
I didn’t need the reminder. Now that things with Ridge seemed to be calmer, my hunger had returned with dizzying force, and I grabbed my fork to dig in.
“Imma be honest,” Ridge said, brushing a hand over his curls as he watched me eat. “I might be cool with hooking from a moralistic, no-judgment perspective. But, uh, I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about how successful you were at it.”
I snorted around a mouthful of rice. “Fair.”
“And,” he said softly, “it’s also not a career choice I’m gonna be thrilled about you making again. It’s your choice. Fine. But it’s fucking unsafe, Breck. And, be honest: you didn’t do it because you were feeling sex-positive and thought it would be fun. You did it for the reason most people do it. You were desperate. You needed money. And once you got in, you couldn’t get out.”
I nodded slowly, taking a bite of tortilla. He wasn’t wrong. “I didn’t want you to have to fix things for me.”
“Breck,” he said, so seriously that I looked up from my plate to meet his eyes. “Have you ever considered that I took care of you because I wanted to, not because I thought you couldn’t do it? Bro, making sure you’re okay sometimes feels like the only decent thing I’ve ever done in my life.” He shot me a rueful grin. “And I guess I didn’t even do such a good job with that in the end, huh? Since you didn’t feel like you could call and ask me for an assist when shit went bad?”
Well, damn. I had literally never thought of it that way. I’d felt like a leech, a freeloader. But it turned out Ridge’s point of view had been completely different.
“Maybe from now on we can take care of each other,” I suggested. Then I wrinkled my nose. “Okay, gross. That was way too sincere, even for me.”
Ridge snorted. “No shit.” He glanced over my shoulder again and smiled. “Besides, I’m thinking I’m gonna have some competition for that.” He lifted his chin toward the doorway, and I turned to find Steele leaning back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, watching us. He must’ve stopped by his room on the way down, because he was wearing a tight black T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that hung precariously from his hips.
I licked my lips. God, he was hot.
“Not competition,” Steele disagreed mildly. “Help, though.” He walked over to stand next to my chair and nodded at the food on my plate. “You gonna share?”
I grinned. “Maybe. With the proper incentive.”
He bent over, pressing his leg against my side, and licked at my lips. “Mmm. Tasty.”
Yes, he was.
When Steele stood up again, I looked over at Ridge to gauge his reaction, but he merely rolled his eyes.
“If you’re sitting down, grab the key lime pie from the fridge first,” he told Steele, and I smothered a smile, accepting this as the only sign of approval we were likely to get from my brother. I was okay with that.
Steele grabbed the pie, along with a big bowl of salad and a six-pack of beer. I pulled out a chair for him and stood up to get him a plate.
“So, did you guys work out the rest of the plan for Harlan’s party while we were, uh, busy?” Steele cleared his throat as he took his seat.
“Busy scrumping like bunnies, you mean.” Leo walked into the kitchen and yawned. He wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and his jaw was covered with a thick layer of scruff. I’d never seen him look so mussed and human before.
“Hey,” S
teele warned, but Leo snorted.
“Get over yourself, Alvarez,” he said, strolling across the kitchen to collect a plate from the cabinet for himself before plunking himself down in the seat next to Ridge. “Literally no one cares. Pass the rice, Breck?”
I handed it over wordlessly.
“We didn’t finish planning,” Leo continued, piling rice on his plate. “You’re supposed to be point man, for one thing. And we couldn’t finalize anything before we knew whether Breck and Danny would be involved.” He glanced from me to Steele. “Did you two work it out? Can we move ahead as planned?”
Steele nodded. “Yes, we can move ahead. With modifications. Breck wants to be there, so he’s coming. And Danny too, if he wants to.”
“He wants to.” Danny slunk into the kitchen, looking half-asleep. He scratched at his bare stomach above his boxer shorts. “Hey, are there any more of the sweet pancake things left?” he asked Leo. “I think Florida makes me peckish.”
“The molletes? How should I know? Check the fridge,” Leo demanded, his voice still gruff with sleep. “Do I look like the dessert czar?”
“You look like the asshole who ate four at dinner,” Danny returned without much heat. He opened the fridge and peered inside, like he was hoping the food would jump out at him. “Whatever’s left are mine.”
“Uh, how do you figure that, Junior?” Leo glanced up from the veggies he was heaping on his plate. “You find them, you bring them here and we’ll divide them.”
“Oh, so you are the dessert czar.” Danny rolled his eyes and grinned in challenge. “Fuck that. I’ll fight you for them.”
I shared a look with Ridge, and we both snickered. Leo outweighed Danny by a solid forty pounds, even before you accounted for the extra food he was shoving in his mouth.
“I’ll put twenty on Leo,” Ridge said. “Sorry, Danny.”
Danny squawked in protest.
“Nah,” Steele said. “Smart money’s on Danny. Kid’s scrappy. And besides Leo will be too full.”
Danny gave him a grin and a chin-lift from across the kitchen.
“It’ll be a full-on Dessert Death Match,” Ridge said in his best announcer voice. “There can only be one winner…”
“Hey! No one is fighting over food in my kitchen! If we’re out of something, I’ll make more.” Josie walked through a side door near the patio doors that I hadn’t noticed before, since it was designed to blend in with the cabinetry. She smacked Danny lightly on the shoulder, shooing him out of her way so that she could access the fridge.
“What are we looking for?”
“Molletes?” Danny begged, batting his eyelashes.
Josie grabbed a big glass dish and held it up triumphantly. “Aha. Fortunately, I plan for every contingency.” She put the dish on the counter. “You want these heated up, sweetie?” she asked.
“Yes!” Leo bellowed from the table, and Ridge elbowed him. “What?” Leo asked around a mouthful of food. “They’re fucking good.”
Josie laughed. “I’ve got plenty for everyone.”
Danny came to the table and pulled out the chair between me and Ridge. Steele pulled my chair closer to his and draped an arm over my shoulder as I tucked into a second serving of steak. It really was fucking good.
“Here you go, boys!” Josie said a few minutes later, setting a huge platter of sauce-drenched pancakes in the center of the table. The cinnamon-sweet smell of them assaulted my nose. “You want to try some, Breck?”
I nodded and glanced up at her, then froze as I noticed her outfit for the first time. She was dressed in full-on vintage workout gear, from her high-topped pink sneakers and legwarmers to her leotard and braided purple sweatband. It was like the ghost of 1980s Jane Fonda had materialized in front of me.
“Josie, will you marry me?” I asked her.
She grinned down at me. “Well, I would, sweetie, but I always said that if I got married again, I’d make sure I was the prettiest one in the relationship.” She winked. Then she looked around the table at the crew of us stuffing our faces and smiled with satisfaction. “You’re all up early today!”
“I’m still looking for a late-night snack.” Wes came wandering into the kitchen, wearing the same clothes and the same surly expression he’d worn yesterday afternoon. He looked at Josie and frowned. “Was there a Jazzercise memo I missed?”
Josie ignored this. “You take a seat over there, and I’ll get you some coffee.”
Wes looked at Danny, who studiously avoided looking back. “Nah,” Wes said. “Really, I’d rather just have some chips and an energy drink. Gotta fuel the late-night work, you know?”
“Energy drink. Too much of that shit’ll make your dick fall off,” Josie informed him. “I read it on the Internet.” She smiled guilelessly, but something about her expression told me that no matter how good these cons were at their jobs, Josie was the smartest one in the room. “Sit down,” she repeated. “I’ll get you an espresso strong enough, you won’t close your eyes until next week. But in return, you’re going to eat a plate of food along with it. And maybe I’ll forget you insulted me with your energy drink comment.”
Wes looked like he was going to argue, but finally held his hands up in surrender and took a seat as far away from Danny as possible, like he was determined to avoid confrontation.
Unfortunately, Danny didn’t get the memo.
“Playing all those high-fantasy games with your pimple-faced gamer buddies must be exhausting, huh? Help me, PussyDestroyerXXX!” he said, all high-pitched and mocking. “The troll has nearly breached my castle! My portcullis can’t handle the onslaught without your magic!” He gave Wes a challenging look. “Such a workout.”
Wes raised one eyebrow and regarded Danny steadily. “First of all,” he said, totally deadpan, “how did you get my username? Only my very closest friends call me PussyDestroyer.”
I burst into laughter, and so did everyone else. Even Danny snorted, almost unwillingly, and shook his head.
“And second, while I truly appreciate your concern for my, uh… portcullis? My castle hasn’t been breached in years, Danny, so I’m not worried.” He smiled smoothly. “And you can take that any way you want to.”
Ridge made a hooting noise.
“Oh my God, are you two still doing this mating dance?” Carson demanded. He strolled into the kitchen wearing a big burgundy quilted bathrobe, grabbed a piece of meat with his fingers, and slumped in the chair next to Wes. “You wankers need to fuck and get it over with.”
Wes narrowed his eyes at Carson. “Uh, buddy? You got a little somethin’…” He brushed his fingers over his own chest and then motioned toward Carson’s.
Carson looked down at the V-shaped gap at the top of his robe where a blue, rune-like symbol that hadn’t been there earlier was now visible. Carson grabbed both edges of the robe and held them closed with one hand. His nails were painted black.
“Sorry,” he said airily, reaching for another piece of steak. “I was on a conference call.”
Ridge and I exchanged a look across the table, and I saw Leo mouth the words, “Conference call?” at Wes, who shrugged.
I wondered who the hell he’d been pretending to be. It seemed like a pretty kick-ass line of work, getting to take a mental vacation and become someone else for a little while. Though, leaning against the warmth of Steele’s arm, Carson’s life seemed less appealing now than it would have last week.
Leo cleared his throat. “So, now that we’re all here.” He looked at each of us in turn. “We might as well finalize what we’re doing at Harlan’s party?”
Steele pinched my arm lightly, and when I turned in his arm to gaze up at him, he gave me an encouraging nod.
“Uh, about that,” I began. “Danny and I have a ring to return.”
“A ring?” Wes repeated, looking from me to Danny and back again. “Explain.”
And so I did, hesitantly at first, telling them what Danny had done to Harlan, and then what the two of us had planned.
<
br /> Once I was done, I leaned back against Steele, braced for everyone’s anger. But none came.
“So you pretty much have to show up Saturday night.” Leo nodded. “We can work with this.”
“Do you have the ring?” Wes asked Danny. “With you in Florida, I mean?”
Danny nodded. “Upstairs.”
“I might be able to do something with it then, depending on the design. Hide a tracker inside it, maybe. Keep tabs on the asshole,” he mused, like he was talking to himself as much as to any of us. “Can you get it for me?”
“Sure.” Danny frowned at Wes. “But isn’t this the part where you remind me how stupid I was for taking the thing in the first place? And how disloyal it was for us to email the senator behind your back?” He seemed braced for the worst.
Wes shrugged. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not gonna say shit. How were you supposed to be loyal to people you barely know? Fuck, I don’t trust people I’ve known for years, let alone these fools.” He waved a hand to indicate everyone at the table.
Carson nodded in agreement.
Ridge snorted. “Aw, Wessy, I’ll make you love me eventually.” He stacked his hands below his chin and blinked at Wes adoringly.
“Right. Try it,” Wes suggested. “That’ll guarantee I’ll never trust you.”
Ridge threw a tortilla at him.
“Wes is right,” Leo said. He’d finally finished eating and was cradling his chin in his hands while he rubbed his index finger back and forth over his bottom lip, deep in thought. “Doesn’t matter that you didn’t trust us before. You’re trusting us now. And I think we have everything we need to make this work.”
The comfortable camaraderie around the table morphed into something electric. We all straightened in our chairs, and Ridge began stacking the dishes. It wasn’t an eating area anymore, but a planning area; not a kitchen, but a war room.
