by K A Sands
Lord knew Chrissie needed exactly what Taylor said. She was still coming to terms with the secret we’d kept from her for too many years, the bombshell her bastard father had unceremoniously dumped on her a year ago. The fact she had an older brother she’d never known still hadn’t sank in and understandably she was pissed. At him, at me.
I hadn’t ever interfered. There was no way I could push myself on her. Figured if she wanted answers, she’d come when she was ready. I didn’t have all that many to give her, but what I did have, she would get. If she wanted family, she’d get that too, regardless of her torrid history with Shaun, my nephew’s boyfriend.
Yet Chrissie had never called. Until now.
Taylor wrapped a sleeping Emily in her cot duvet, and we were out of the house in five minutes, then pulling into Lucca’s driveway a few houses down not much later. While Taylor kissed me on the cheek before getting out of the truck, Lucca and Shaun both clambered inside in a hurry, Lucca giving me a questioning look to which I replied with a shrug, having nothing to give him.
On the drive to Brighton, I used the hands free to try the number again. This time it connected, and my relief was instant, until I heard the voice of my head chef answering. My knuckles tightened around the steering wheel and I gritted my teeth. If I wasn’t confused before, well... My head hurt now.
“Ryder? It’s Warren.”
“What the fuck, man?” I seethed, anger erupting. “What are you doing there? Where’s Chrissie? What’s going on?” Questions barrelled from my mouth quick fire.
“Are you on the way?”
“Yes. I got Lucca and Shaun with me. What are we walking in to?”
A long sigh filled the cab of the truck. “A fucking mess.”
“I swear to God, Warren. If you’ve hurt her, I’m gonna rip you limb from limb.”
“Hey!” His protest was loud at my threat, giving me some comfort Warren was not the problem. “It’s not me, okay. It’s Charlie.”
“Her dad?”
“Yeah. Fuck...” He said the words quietly, almost a whisper and I knew that something had gone awfully wrong. We were walking into a crime scene, a crime scene created by Chrissie’s hand. Warren being there became insignificant and my anger ebbed marginally. At least she wasn’t on her own.
“Where’s Chrissie?” I asked.
“I’ve got her.”
I heard a muffled sob in the background, and I looked around at Lucca who was rubbing his thumb across his lip, clearly thinking the same as me. “She likely to run?”
“No.”
“Keep the phone near. We’ll be half an hour, tops. Don’t let anyone in, don’t touch anything.”
“Yeah. I got that, Ryder.”
I liked Warren, he was a smart guy who worked hard for me. He’d wound up with a slut for a wife that had left him questioning his self-worth and his manhood. But just because I liked him didn’t mean I was keen on the fact he was shacking up with my sister, something we could get into another time. Whatever was greeting us was the priority. “Tell her I’m on my way.”
“Hurry.”
The call dropped, and I tapped the paddle at the back of the steering wheel, silencing my end.
“Fuck...” Shaun cursed from behind. “She’s fucking killed him, hasn’t she?”
No one answered, it seemed we were all on the same page with the same conclusion. After a minute or two it occurred to me that Shaun going to Chrissie’s flat might not be such a great idea after all. Their history was painful and ugly, seeing him might cause her more distress.
“Hey, man.” I flicked a look at him in the rear-view mirror. “You wanna bail? I can drop you and get Ayden to pick you up.”
“Fuck, no.” He shook his head vigorously. “She knows me, as bad as our past is, I’m familiar. She might need that.”
At least one of us was talking sense, I couldn’t get my head into gear to form half a coherent thought. Lucca still hadn’t said anything. He never held his tongue in front of Shaun, so he was stewing on something he’d yet to put voice to. It would come when he’d straightened it out.
Thirty-five minutes later, I parked my noisy truck in an alleyway a few streets down then called Chrissie’s mobile again to let Warren know we were just coming in. When we arrived, he opened the door, his choice of attire in greeting us irritated me and I growled as I shoved the door open, eyeing his t shirt and boxers.
“You couldn’t get fucking dressed?” I pushed him up against the nearest wall, Lucca grabbing me from behind and hauling me away.
“Shit, sorry...” He apologised with sincerity but the reminder of why he was in my sister’s house in the first place sank in and I swallowed my anger yet again.
“Where’s Chrissie?” Shaun asked from behind me.
Warren, with his head hung low, pointed down the hall. “Bedroom.”
Shaun marched away, disappearing through the door Warren had pointed to, shutting it softly behind him.
“Kitchen.” Warren tipped his head to the left, refusing to hold eye contact with me. I’d never been in Chrissie’s flat before but saw only one open door up the hallway. A trail of smeared handprints and blood along the wall had me gulping thickly. “It’s not good, Ryder.”
Lucca was already standing, peering into the room, his eyes sinking shut as I made my way to him. “Shit!”
Craning my neck around the door frame, I mumbled the same sentiment when I saw Charlie, the father I shared with Chrissie, sitting in a dark pool of his own blood, his shirt stained a crimson red. Scanning the room, I caught sight of the weapon under the table and squeezed my eyes shut.
The pain I felt was all for her, none of it spared for the piece of shit on the floor. He deserved nothing from me, not even remorse in his death.
Chrissie was a young woman, a street wise woman, who’d made stupid choices and probably seen a thing or two in her life. But this - this was something else and I wasn’t sure Chrissie had it in her to be strong like I needed her to be.
I knew exactly what we had to do, protecting her was the priority, but I also had to protect my own and I needed her to put on that armour she loved to wear and protect me too. There was no way I was feeding her to the wolves. Even if she did hate me, I wouldn’t leave her to rot in jail over a man who’d used her as a pawn for most of her life.
“We need a plan.” Lucca turned to face me.
“Fuck, yeah we do.”
“Go see Chrissie. Let her know you’re here.”
“Shaun’s in there.”
“Ryder...”
Sometimes he scolded me like I was a teenage kid and not the forty-something I was. I loved him for it most times, but now it just pissed me off because he was right, as per usual. I hadn’t wanted our relationship to start this way. Hell, any other way would have been preferable.
Lucca nudged my arm and encouraged me to move, there was no delaying the inevitable. She’d called me, and I hoped she was still receptive enough to be warmer with me than she had previously, hoped she hadn’t closed herself off again.
“Don’t let Warren leave. I know it’s his day for his kid, but not until we’re done here. Make that clear.”
Moving along the hall and pushing open the door Shaun had gone through not five minutes earlier, I didn’t immediately enter, watching Shaun picking up the rest of Warren’s clothes from the floor and grabbing his phone and wallet from the bedside table. The scene looked cosy, the rumpled sheets on the bed drawing my eye. Warren had been sleeping here. Gritting my teeth, I shoved the thought away.
Really, it wasn’t any of my business. Both were adults, I had no say in who Chrissie slept with. Warren was the issue for me, he had to have known she was my sister and that felt like a betrayal. Not one I liked at all.
Scanning around the room, my eyes latched onto one of the most woeful sights I’d ever seen. In the far corner, Chrissie was hunched against the wall, knees up, hands clasped around her shins, staring at Shaun through bloodshot eyes. Blood coated and
smeared across the lower half of her face, her nose quite possibly broken. The cream sweater she wore was drenched red down the front and her entwined fingers were stained with dried blood. Hers or Charlie’s? I didn’t want to hazard a guess, most likely both. The gash on her forehead had stopped bleeding but the poor woman resembled something from a horror movie, and I couldn’t hold on to my emotions any longer.
Entering the room, I made a beeline for her. When she registered my presence, eyes exactly like mine, exactly like Charlie’s, pierced me and held me in place. Crouching down on the floor in front of her, I waited until Shaun left the room, closing the door with a soft snick behind him before I said anything.
“Chrissie.” Her name was all I could manage.
“You’re my brother?” Her quiet words were broken and sad.
“I am.”
She moved cautiously toward me, unfolding her body. When I sat my arse on the floor and hopefully opened my arms in invitation, she climbed on into my lap and wrapped trembling arms around my waist. She held on for dear life. Like I was the life jacket she needed to cling to, so she wouldn’t drown. I held her back in much the same way, adamant I’d help keep her afloat.
It was never meant to be this way. Never like this. But the selfish bastard I was, I took it. Turning her battered face into my chest, she heaved out an almighty sigh - then let go.
Violent sobs vibrated through both our bodies as I sat there on the floor cradling my bloodied sister to me, crying right along with her. Our father slumped dead in the kitchen was bigger than a manslaughter charge. She knew it, I knew it. The consequences of what she’d done were mighty and far reaching. As despised as Charlie was, he was also revered fearfully, making the situation far more dangerous for Chrissie.
There was no way I was going to do what he did and hang her out to dry. I’d show her something she should have always known, always felt, something she’d never had before, and hope it was enough to pull her through the almighty mess this scenario would undeniably leave. I would put to bed all the wrongs our father had served upon her. Upon us.
Chrissie, my sister, would see the beauty of a family that loved and protected one another. What it meant to be someone’s home. It was not before time, she deserved everything we could give her.
Chrissie
My sore fingers slackened from where they clutched hold of Ryder’s t shirt. His arms around me felt so good. Warren’s hugs came in the midst of passion, they didn’t count, because the end game was to get off, he took what he wanted much the same as I did when we were together. The only person who’d hugged me and wanted nothing in return in such a long time, had been Claire, my club manager and possibly only friend.
And now Ryder. My brother.
The door creaked, and I opened my sore eyes as much as I could, the pain in my nose starting to overtake all else. I’d forgotten my head had been smashed against the table twice. Now, it was screaming at me the more my nose throbbed, the more my adrenalin waned, I didn’t think it was broken, probably looked and felt worse than it was, but a broken nose was the least of my worries.
A low growl emanated through Ryder’s chest when Warren’s feet came into sight on the floor beside him. Ryder and I were sitting wrapped around one another, his open arms offering comfort had been too good to refuse. I’d climbed right on in without a second thought and made myself at home. I wasn’t going to pretend his gesture hadn’t meant the world to me, because it did.
I couldn’t look up at Warren, couldn’t even bring myself to utter the words thank you as he placed a bowl of hot water and a first aid kit on the floor. No words were exchanged between anyone and Warren left the room as silently as he’d entered.
Having stopped crying, I reckoned Ryder was due an explanation, an answer to why his father lay in a pool of blood in my flat. Shifting my hips, I half climbed from him as I untangled my arms.
“Just sit in front of me,” he said quietly, opening the little green medical bag.
Facing him fully, I shuffled backwards while he caught my calves and placed them over his thighs. It was intimate, in a familial kind of way, the contact keeping me sedate enough to allow him to help clean me up. My hands were still shaking too much to attempt it myself.
“Tip your head up a little.”
I did as he asked, closing my eyes, my head not liking the motion. Ryder fumbled around in the kit and I heard splashes of water before I felt a soft, warm cotton pad swipe across my chin, his big hand at the back of my neck to hold me steady. I couldn’t help the flinch when he did it a second time and brushed across my mouth where a cut stung like a bitch. He did this a few times, my eyes smarting at the pain when he couldn’t be as gentle as he was trying to be. The clotted blood from my nose was thick and half dried, difficult to wipe away without effort.
“Charlie did this?”
“Smashed my head on the table,” I mumbled through a suck of breath as he moved the pad again. Warm fingers traced around my neck and across my throat, another growl rumbling from him.
“This too?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna tell me what happened?”
Ryder was on my side. No matter what had happened in the past, he was here now. Showing he cared. Showing I mattered. At least to him.
I sat and told him every single sordid detail of the twenty minutes I’d spent with Charlie that morning while Ryder patched me up as best he could. Once I was done, I dared to look at him, expecting revulsion and condemnation for taking a man’s life. His father’s life. Except there wasn’t any, and I was glad. I couldn’t have coped with seeing that kind of reaction, it would have tipped me right back over the edge.
“You’re not anyone’s pawn, Chrissie. No one’s debt. You hear me?”
Oh, I was well aware of that. I’d been Charlie’s for years; had thought I was out from under him finally. Silly Chrissie should have known better. I nodded, my throat thick with emotion. My hand reached out of its own accord and I placed my palm against his cheek as I apologised, tears starting up again, even if I was unsure what I was crying for.
“There’s no need, sweetheart. You had to be ready.” He cocked his head, leaning into my hand. “Maybe you are now?” he asked with uncertainty.
“Maybe.” The smile on my face was small and hurt, but he deserved something genuine.
“Taylor says I’ve to bring you home.”
See, I knew all these people that surrounded Ryder from Claire’s ramblings, and from seeing the men come into the club but I hadn’t ever realised that perhaps they’d be in my corner. Claire had always waxed lyrical about how they were. She was a little bit of an honorary member of their family, keeping in touch with Shaun because of the connection she had with his brother who had been murdered years ago. Jealousy always mingled with irritation when I heard any of their names, always pushing it to the back of my head, waiting for when the time was right. Perhaps it wasn’t right now, but what was done was done.
I wasn’t one for imposing. I had a mess to clear up, a business to run, a head to ruin more than it already was. Most of all though, I didn’t know if I could be in their company and not fall apart. Of all the things I’d done in my life - having hurt Ayden Rinaldi, Ryder’s nephew, to get at Shaun, had been by far the worst and it wasn’t something I was going to give myself leniency over. Besides, I wasn’t quite ready. Ryder was enough for now. One step at a time.
“Not today.”
Accepting my refusal without grumble, he handed me a wet wipe and tipped his head toward my hands. “Use the wipes, then we’ll scrub in the bathroom. Could probably use a shower. I’m gonna need those clothes.”
Thrust back into the awful reality of the situation, I shuddered. “What am I doing? I killed someone, I need to call the police.”
Ryder shook his head. “Shaun and Lucca are here with me. Let’s get you cleaned up properly first. By the time you’ve done that, we should have a plan in place. Decide what to do. This can’t be a matter for the police, Chri
ssie.”
“All right.” I had no will to argue, the fierce need to scrub myself raw the only thing on my mind now that he’d mentioned it.
“Can you stand?”
Disentangling from one another a second time, I carefully stood up on legs that saw fit to make me sway, somehow, I managed. “Yeah.” Ryder reached out and steadied me as I wobbled to the side, almost falling into the wall.
“You need help in the shower?”
Chuckling, I assured him I’d be okay, if I just had a minute to right myself. I didn’t need my big brother seeing me in my birthday suit on our first official meeting, the reason for his presence in my flat in the first place was bad enough.
“Leave the door open an inch. Just in case.”
Ryder walked me from my bedroom, his arm linked through mine, standing on my left side and blocking my view down the hallway. I couldn’t see what was going on, took little interest. Inside the bathroom, he quietly closed the door behind him and let go of my arm. Searching around in the cabinets, he fished out two older looking towels then pulled back the shower curtain and turned the tap around so the water would warm up before I got in.
“Everything off. I’ll drop clean clothes and a black bag through the door. It all goes in. Towels, clothes, shower curtain, flannels - anything you use.”
He was cleaning up. I understood perfectly, giving him an unsure nod. Presenting my back to him, I started stripping off, throwing my soiled clothes to the floor while Ryder slipped from the room.
Once naked, I stepped into the shower pulling the curtain around, and stood under the water. It wasn’t hot enough, not to rid me of the filth etched onto my hands. I dialled up the temperature, grabbed the loofah and shower gel then scrubbed away at my hands until I’d scraped them raw.
Standing under the stream, I let the cascade pelt over my head and shut my eyes. If I opened them, I’d see evidence of my crime circling the drain, just like my life, and it would have opened the floodgates. The water would run from red to pink to clear eventually but I’d still be stained.
I made a resolve to not cry again, there was no breaking down and sinking to the floor as much as I wanted to. No, that would keep for the lonely nights of my future where no one would see me slashed wide open. My prospective demise could wait a little longer. I had to sort out the almighty mess I’d made first.
