Red (A Brett MacLean Duet)

by J. M. Walker

  Stefan had called again, stating there was an emergency, so I had to make an appearance.

  Ian rubbed the back of his neck before pushing his hand through his dark hair dusted with silver. “You should follow me.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked, following behind him as he made his way down the hall toward the stockroom.

  “I have no idea what the hell happened. I was the last one to leave last night and I made sure everything was locked up tight. I double and triple checked the security system, making sure everything was good to go.”

  My heart stuttered at his words.

  Once we reached the room holding bottles of liquor, beer and other drink mixes, I knew before he even opened the door what happened.

  “Fuck me.” I blew out a slow breath, my gaze landing on the mess in front of me.

  “The police are on their way but it’s a busy night for them so who knows when they’ll get here.”

  “Are you sure you set the security system last night when you left?”

  “Of course.”

  I didn’t even know where to begin. Broken bottles littered the floor. Boxes upon boxes were torn and ripped apart. The room smelled like a brewery. Thousands of dollars wafted into my nose.

  “Did you check the security cameras?” I asked Ian, leaving the room and heading to my office.

  “I did.” He paused. “Brett, someone broke in at around ten this morning.”

  He wouldn’t have noticed the destruction of the room either since the club didn’t open until four.

  “Did we get them on tape?”

  “Not their face.”

  Of course not. Sitting at my desk, I turned on the computer. Once it was loaded up, I opened our security program and checked the videos that recorded every second of the day. “We’ll have to take inventory and see if anything was stolen.”

  “Besides the stockroom, nothing else was damaged and nothing else was broken into either.”

  Rubbing my jaw, I sat back in the leather chair and pondered why the hell someone would want to trash the liquor room but not take anything with them. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  Ian shrugged. “A woman did stop by to see you this evening, but Stefan said you were busy.”

  “It’s Wednesday. It’s my night off. All of you know that.” I made it very clear that I didn’t want to be disturbed. It was one day out of the week and these people couldn’t even give me that much.

  “I am sorry to take you away from your wife and kids.”

  “Evvie understands.” But it didn’t make it right.

  “How’s she doing with her own club?” Ian sat in the chair across from my desk.

  “Good.” Having her club, Evvie’s , was distracting and took her away from her role as a wife and mother, but allowed her to be free as a business woman. It made her happy and that was all I cared about. I was an asshole and wished she would just stay home but I understood that she needed out of the house now that the kids were older. But it still didn’t sit well with me when men hit on her. She was beautiful. I couldn’t blame them. Didn’t mean I had to like it though.

  A soft knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

  Ian rose to his feet and opened the door, revealing a police officer.

  “Are you Brett MacLean?” the cop asked, his chocolate brown eyes piercing through me like he could see right into my soul.

  “I am.” I stood from the chair and greeted him, indicating for him to sit on one of the leather couches in the middle of my office.

  “I’m Officer Kellan Blayne.” He held his hand out, his jaw ticking beneath the tanned skin of his cheeks. He glanced at Ian.

  “This is Ian West.” I pointed at him. “The manager of my club.”

  “Fine.” Officer Blayne looked back at me. “Have you had any issues with staff or customers lately?”

  “No,” I answered. “If there is an issue with my staff, it’s dealt with in an appropriate matter and they’re usually good about it.”

  “No retaliations or anything?” the officer asked, jotting notes in his notepad.

  “Not that I can recall. Ian?” I asked him, needing some sort of reassurance that this was just a prank gone wrong or that it wasn’t a hint of something more serious.

  “Nothing has been out of the ordinary,” he shrugged. “We get the odd drunk every now and again but our staff is trained to handle them.”

  The officer nodded, tapping his pen against his chin. “I need to see the security footage but this looks to me like someone has a vendetta against you, Mr. MacLean.”

  “Brett,” I corrected. “I haven’t had an issue with anyone.” Not in several years anyway. There were some exes who didn’t like that I had settled down but that had nothing to do with this. Or at least I hoped it didn’t.

  “Show me the footage,” the officer said, his voice firm.

  I did, and it only proved what I already knew. They had nothing. Someone trashed my stockroom and it only made me wonder if they would be back.

  ***

  (Evvie)

  I hadn’t seen Brett since earlier that day, but I felt him. Everywhere. Inside of me. All through me. He was embedded on my skin like the very first time we had slept together. We had been married for quite a while and our sex life only became more pronounced as time went on.

  When he left abruptly, much to his dismay, during our movie night, he smacked a hard kiss on my lips and promised to make it up to me when he got home. But now I was sitting on the couch and it was after midnight. The kids were in bed and I had a glass of wine in hand. And I was alone.

  Suddenly the phone rang, startling me from my thoughts.

  “Hello?” I answered, placing my glass on the table in front of me.

  Heavy breathing came through the other end of the receiver but no response.

  “Is someone there?” I frowned. It was 2018. Did people still do crank calls?

  When still no reply came, I hung up but, as soon as I placed the cordless back on the table, my cell vibrated.

  Unknown: Miss me?

  Me: Who is this?

  My stomach twisted when the unknown person didn’t respond.

  Grabbing my glass, I headed to the kitchen and finished the rest of the wine in one gulp. The bitter taste burned down my throat.

  The text, for whatever reason, bothered me. I was curious and wanted to know who it was but I also didn’t want to know at the same time.

  “Evvie?” Brett came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Are you okay?”

  “I didn’t even hear you come in,” I said, turning in his arms. Gripping his jacket, I leaned my forehead against his chest and inhaled. Spice and leather wafted into my nose, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

  “My beautiful wife,” he husked, pinching my chin, and tilting my head back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, searching my face.

  “Just a wrong number and someone messing with me.” I shrugged. “No big deal.”

  “What did they want?” he asked, frowning.

  “The text just asked if I missed them and the phone call had heavy breathing.” He released me and headed to the living room. “Brett, where are you going? It just came up as an unknown number.”

  He checked my phone. “I don’t like this.”

  “Hey.” I sat on the couch beside him. “It’s not a big deal,” I said gently, placing a hand on his arm.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I would agree with you under normal circumstances, but someone trashed the stockroom this morning.”

  “What?” I gasped. “Is everyone okay?”

  “Yeah. Thankfully.”

  “How much stock was lost?”

  “Thousands of dollars’ worth.” He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about the money. We have the best security system there is. I have no fucking idea how someone could get in.”

  “Did you call the police?” I asked, cupping his nape, and running my fingers through his hair.
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  His big body relaxed beneath my touch. “I did.” He turned to me and placed a soft peck on my mouth. “I don’t want you worrying about it though. I’ll deal with it.”

  I nodded, knowing the conversation was finished.

  We sat in silence, enjoying each other’s company, but Brett was stressed. He would never outright tell me but something was bothering him. I wasn’t sure why but I had a bad feeling. Call it paranoia, but whatever it was, it was big and it would either make or break us.

  Brett

  IT WAS TIME for me to show my wife the true error of my ways.

  I wanted her. Every single thing about her. She was the light in my darkness. The beginning to my end. The very reason for my existence.

  There was a BDSM Club a couple of hours’ drive from our house. I wanted to take Evvie there for a weekend away but first, I had work to do. With the stockroom getting trashed, as well as having to deal with the police and lawyer after lawyer, I was ready to lose myself in her.

  “Boss, this place is old,” Stefan told me.

  It wasn’t new information. It was the same shit, different day situation with my club.

  “I know you refuse but selling—”

  “I’m not selling it.” I shoved to my feet, heading over to the minibar at the other side of my office.

  “But—”

  “I said, I’m not selling it.” I knew the building was eating money. I may as well have been burning the bills I sunk into this place, but I couldn’t see it go to someone else.

  “Brett.” Stefan followed me and took over making drinks. He poured himself a tumbler of the rum I had flown in from Jamaica. He took a shot and then another.

  “Alright.” I grabbed the bottle from him. “You’re throwing back a five-grand bottle of rum like you’re at a frat party.”

  “You paid five grand for this?” His eyes widened.

  “Yes.” I poured myself a two-finger shot over some ice cubes and headed back to my desk. “I only buy the best.”

  Stefan looked between the bottle and me. “No wonder this place is going to shit,” he muttered.

  “How about you say that again but to my face this time?” I raised my hand when he went to speak. “Listen. I respect you, but you only have a job here because I owed your daddy a favor. Bottom line is, I’m not selling this place. And I especially won’t sell it without discussing it with my wife first. So, if you’re done here, don’t let the door kick you in the ass on the way out.” I took a sip of the rum, the smooth liquid burning its way down my throat.

  “Fine.” Stefan made his way to the door and stopped. He tugged at his suit jacket, the end barely covering the large gut protruding from his middle. The guy needed to stop eating all of those burgers.

  “Why don’t you grab some dinner. It’s on the house.” I sat back in my chair. “But have something healthy. I don’t need your wife on my ass.”

  Stefan left my office, mumbling to himself about how much of a dick I was. Again, same shit, different day.

  Letting out a hard sigh, I wiggled the mouse. The screen came to life, showing a picture of Evvie and our kids in the background.

  After everything we had been through, I still didn’t know how I ended up with the perfect family.

  A soft knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” I barked to whoever was on the other side of it.

  The door opened slightly. “Boss, you have a visitor,” my bouncer, Charlie Stole, said, peeking his head into the room.

  “I’m busy,” I told the large man.

  “She’s adamant about meeting with you.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. It wasn’t like I was working on anything anyway.

  An older woman, probably in her late sixties, appeared at the doorway. “Thank you,” she told Charlie and made her way into my office. “Brett.” Her eyes found mine, her hands ringing together in front of her. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of.”

  “You’ve been trying to reach me? I don’t mean to be abrupt, but who exactly are you?” I asked, rising from my desk.

  “May I sit?”

  “Of course.” I was an asshole, but I knew when to be polite. Something struck me as familiar about this woman. For whatever reason I felt like I had seen her before.

  “This is hard for me.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small piece of paper. “I’m Roxane Morgan. Claire Morgan’s mother.”

  My back bristled. Well that got my fucking attention. Claire was someone I hadn’t heard from in years. After trying to ruin my relationship with my wife, she finally got the hint and left us alone. Or so I thought.

  “Claire hasn’t been doing well. Not that you’re concerned or anything.” The woman’s dark gaze snapped to mine.

  I made my way around the desk and sat across from her on the other couch. “How do you know I’m not concerned?”

  The woman laughed. “Claire may be a psychotic bitch but I am her mother. She told me things about you. Things I probably shouldn’t even know. After everything ended with you two, she fell into herself. She drank heavily. Did drugs. Completely went off the deep end.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” If it was anyone else, I would have cared but when it came to Claire, I didn’t give a shit if she was six feet beneath the very ground I walked on.

  “She was pregnant.”

  “She lost the baby.” That was also the reason Evvie and I had broken up in the first place. Unwanted memories surfaced to the forefront of my mind. It wasn’t something I wanted to think about, knowing I almost lost the woman I loved at the hands of that bitch.

  “She did. The first time.”

  I sat up straighter, not sure I heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

  The woman handed me a photo and I swore my life flashed before my eyes.

  A young girl, probably no more than my daughter’s age, stared up at me. Dark hair. Light eyes. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. She was beautiful. The more I looked at her, the more I felt like I was looking at a female version…of me. Miracle was all Evvie but this girl could have been my twin.

  My world fell around me. Thoughts of that night so many years ago, hit me full force. After leaving Evvie’s apartment, after treating her like a fucking whore, I went home and got shit-faced.

  Claire ended up in my bed. That night was fuzzy. I didn’t think I fucked her, but I woke up to her naked beside me. Although there had been no remnants of us having sex, it didn’t mean I knew for sure if we did or not. The picture in my hand was proof. Holy fucking fuck.

  “I guess you recognize her,” Roxane said softly. “Listen, I understand this is hard. I never would have come to you if Claire wasn’t adamant that you’re the father.”

  “How would she know? If she’s not doing well like you say she is, why would you believe her?”

  “I didn’t until seeing you for myself. That little girl is yours.”

  I swallowed hard, shaking my head. For the first time in my life, I had no words. None at fucking all. I had no idea what to say. What to do.

  My first thought was Evvie. Our children. She would sure as shit leave me after hearing about this. “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice rough.

  “Besides ruining your life?” Roxane let out a hard sigh. “Listen, I’m not here to cause trouble for you or anything. Your life. Your family. I’m sorry.”

  “Then how the hell did you find me? Did Claire tell you where I worked? Where is she? Let me talk to her.” I was thankful the woman didn’t come to my house. I wouldn’t want to have to slam a door in her face.

  “Claire is very sick. She finally agreed to get some help but the state has deemed her currently unfit to be a mother.”

  “So, you’re taking care of her,” I added, my voice strained.

  “I was.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, gripping the photo of the girl in my hand.

  “I’m an old woman, Brett. Pretty soon I won’t be able to take care of myself.”

  “Wha
t do you mean?” I repeated, feeling like a damn parrot.

  Roxane’s jaw clenched. “I’ll be the first to admit that my daughter is deranged, but one good thing about her is that she loves her daughter and will do anything to protect her and make her happy. She asked me to contact you to see…”

  “To see what?” My gaze snapped from the picture in my hands to the woman sitting across from me. “To see how miserable you could make me? To see if you could end my fucking life? To see if you could destroy me?” As each question left my mouth, my voice rose.

  “No.” Roxane shook her head. “Please. You have to understand. I didn’t want any of this. I asked her if she was sure after she told me you have a family. I’m not a home-wrecker.”

  “Well you’re sure as shit one now aren’t you?” I yelled, crumpling the photo in my hand. “What the fuck do you want from me? Is it money? Is that what you want?”

  “No, that’s not it. All Claire wants is for her daughter, your daughter, to have a good home.”

  “You want me to take her in after all of this time?” I laughed. “What the fuck for? And why the hell are you only contacting me now?”

  “Claire never told me who the father was. I had no way of knowing.”

  “Why would she tell you now then?”

  “She had a moment of clarity I guess you could call it.” Roxane shrugged. “You see, Claire has these episodes. The medications she’s on turn her into a zombie. Sometimes she goes for months without speaking or even moving and everything has to be done for her.”

  I had no idea she was that bad. There were signs in the beginning that her mental health was a little off but I never knew how much.

  “I have a family,” I whispered.

  “You also have a daughter that needs you.”

  “Yeah. You’re right about that.” My kids were going to hate me.

  “I mean you have another daughter,” Roxane corrected, her brows narrowing. “You need to man up, Brett.”

  “Excuse me?” I laughed that time. “Man up? I’ve built my life and you come in and destroy it.” Bile rose to my throat. “You need to leave.” And I needed to head home and deal with this.