by Lane Hart
“Welcome home, Brede,” the woman says, squeezing him to her. She’s just as old as the man, with short white hair and skin so thin it looks transparent. “We’ve missed you.”
“I’m sorry I was an ungrateful asshole,” he tells her softly. “And I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
“We’ve told you before that you don’t need to apologize for the wrecking ball that came through your life. You were just a boy, Brede.”
“Thank you, for everything. I should’ve told you that sooner,” he replies.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, son. Now are you gonna introduce us?” she asks, looking at me and Blair over Brede’s shoulder.
“Wow. Seeing you two together…it was so wrong what they did to you,” she says, her eyes watering as Brede gets to his feet.
“Aden changed his name. That’s why I couldn’t find him,” he tells her. “He was trying to help our dad. Can you believe he’s innocent? He was set up by Blair’s father for the death of her mother. Blair, this is Paula. Paula, meet my girlfriend, Blair.”
Wow, aren’t they moving fast? My brother, who seemed incapable of being with one woman for more than an hour, is apparently ready to commit to Blair, the girl he was supposed to kill and instead ended up saving.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Blair says when she walks across the room and bends down to hug Paula.
“I’m so glad Brede found a sweet girl like you. He may look tough on the outside, but he’s soft on the inside,” she tells her, making Blair smile.
“If it wasn’t for him, I would be dead,” Blair admits, reaching for Brede’s hand.
I wonder if Brede’s parents know about how he earns a living, going around killing people. I seriously doubt it. Part of me wants to tell them, to out him and drive a wedge between them. But that’s not fair, especially when no good would come of my jealousy. I wouldn’t feel any better at his loss. I’ll still be drowning in misery, and then Brede would be hurting too.
“Well, have a seat, and let’s catch up,” Paula tells Brede, tugging the throw blanket covering her up higher.
“Are you sure you feel like company?” Brede asks.
“Of course! Jim, get the kids something to drink,” she orders.
“No, thanks, I’m fine,” Brede and I assure her simultaneously. The two of us look at each other and grin because we used to say the same thing at the exact same time several times a day when we were kids, but it’s the first time it’s happened since we’ve found each other again. Chuckling, Jim ignores us and heads to the back of the house anyway.
Brede leads Blair over to the sofa and sits down, still holding her hand, so I take the empty seat next to her.
“Blair, you look awfully young. Are you still going to school?” Paula asks, and I can practically feel the warmth of Blair’s embarrassment radiating from her cheeks.
“She’s been locked away in a mental hospital by her father for ten years,” Brede explains bluntly, causing Paula’s eyes to widen in surprise.
“That’s terrible!” she exclaims. “You poor thing.”
“How exactly did you escape?” I can’t help but ask her.
“Well, um, there was this tiny window in my room that had been sealed shut,” Blair starts to explain, brushing her hair shyly behind her ear. “I had been refusing food and chipping away at it for what felt like years. But when I got the postcard from my dad saying he was remarrying, I stopped eating everything and worked all day and night. Every second I had, I used the bottom of a plastic fork to peel off the layers of paint. Eventually, I got it opened, waited until the middle of the night and then jumped out from the second story, feet first. After that, the chain-link fence around the property was a piece of cake to get over.”
“Jesus,” Brede mutters. “No wonder you’re so thin and eat like you’re starving,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her lower belly.
There’s a sudden shift in the air, like a heaviness weighing us down, and I realize that something’s up with my twin and Blair. Feeling like an outsider, I jump to my feet.
“Let me see if I can help Jim with the drinks,” I say, just because the room is so suffocating that I can’t take another second. I wander around the small house until I find the kitchen. “Need any help?” I ask him.
“Ah, sure Bre…I mean, Aden,” he says after he does a double take and turns around to face me. “God, you two look so much alike. And I’m not sure if he told you, but I promise you, Aden, Paula and I did everything under the sun that we could to try and adopt you too. When they told us we couldn’t because of our income…well, Paula got a job working at the grocery store down the street, and I picked up as much overtime as I could get at the factory, but they said it still wasn’t enough.”
“Um, thank you,” I say, rubbing a palm over the back of my heated neck, his words almost clogging up my throat. “I wish it had worked, but that means a lot that you tried.”
“Was your family good to you?” he asks.
“No,” I reply stiffly. “They weren’t, and now they’re in prison.”
“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry, Aden. We hoped for the best. They wouldn’t tell us where you went even after we begged them to just let the two of you talk on the phone or write letters. They refused. But if we had known how to find you…well, let’s just say that we wouldn’t have gone the legal route.”
“I appreciate that, and it’s good to know someone thought about me. Those four years I was there…I didn’t think anyone gave a shit about me.”
“We did. We do,” he says. “Anything you need, you let us know.”
“So was Brede as bad as the kid from Problem Child?” I ask him to lighten the mood. Stepping up to the counter, I hold each of the glasses steady when he starts to pour tea from a pitcher into them.
“Oh, Brede was worse,” he answers with a chuckle. “The first few months he kept trying to run away. I don’t know which was harder on me and Paula, knowing that he didn’t want to stay with us, or the fact that we always found him sitting in the lobby of the train station, dejected because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“I tried to run too,” I admit. “But I couldn’t ever get past the guards that patrolled the gate.”
“That's a shame,” he says. “You can’t erase the past, but now you can try and make the best of your future.”
“Right,” I agree instead of telling him the truth – that my future seems so bleak I’m not sure if I ever want to see it.
Chapter Ten
Brede
Damn, it’s good to be home.
Even though I haven’t lived here in four years, and only visited once during that time, I love how everything seems to be the same down to the furniture and carpet, probably everything in the house unless something broke. Paula and Jim don’t have the money to splurge on anything but the basics. Even so, they always kept me fed and clothed and bought me presents I knew they couldn’t afford at Christmas and birthdays.
At least now my conscience feels a little lighter, finally telling Paula what I should’ve said years ago, thanking her for putting up with me when I was a handful, like when I wouldn’t come home for days or got suspended from school. Sure, they grounded me, but they also instantly forgave my stupidity and wouldn’t mention it again. Paula would make me a batch of peanut butter cookies, my favorite, and bring them to me with a glass of milk while I was confined to my room. I knew it was her way of saying you messed up and have to pay the consequences, but I still love you.
I hate seeing the usually energetic woman looking so frail. She and Jim tried for fifteen years to have children before adopting, so they were older than most parents of teenagers. Now, in her early seventies, she still has plenty of good years ahead of her, if she can get a new kidney soon and start recovering. Of course, I considered using the money from Blair’s father to try and bribe someone to move her up the transplant list. It may or may not have worked, but I would’ve tried. I’m not gonna take back the money I
gave them for living expenses to do the same thing, so I guess we’ll have to wait just like everyone else.
My mind stops wandering when Aden comes back into the room with Jim, carrying a glass of tea for each of us. With the stress of the past few days I could definitely use something harder, but the thing about my foster parents is that they don’t drink. Ever. Or smoke. Neither of them has any vices that I know of, but they’ve never been the type to look down on people who do. They’re the two most decent people I’ve ever met. And right now, they’re probably in danger because of me.
“Maybe you two should come stay with us at the hotel for a few days,” I blurt out, causing the small talk to instantly cease.
“Paula’s not up for any sort of outings,” Jim replies right away, leaving unless it’s the hospital, unsaid. “She has to be hooked up to her dialysis machine three days a week, and that lasts for three or so hours each time.”
Shit. I forgot about that.
“Is the machine portable?” I ask.
“We’re fine here,” Paula says with a wave of the hand. “I’m sure you’re just overreacting.”
“You know I wouldn’t be here unless I was seriously worried,” I tell them.
“What exactly is going on?” Jim asks.
I blow out a breath as I try to figure out exactly how much to tell them.
“Blair’s father is after her,” Aden speaks up and says for me. “He apparently couldn’t touch her when she was locked up, but now that she’s out he wants to stop her from saying he’s the person who killed her mother and that he set up our dad.”
“Wow,” Paula murmurs. “So you two are gonna keep her safe, right?”
“Hell yeah,” I reply, leaving out the part about how I ended up meeting her in the first place.
Jim’s quick, though, and he knows that big pile of money I sent them had to come from somewhere. His forehead is creased as he tries to work through it all.
“Maybe I should stay here tonight,” I offer.
“No way,” Paula responds immediately. “You wouldn’t be comfortable in that old bunk bed, and I know Blair and Aden wouldn’t want to sleep in the bunks or the sofa either. You’re all welcome to, of course, but none of you will be very comfortable. And you look tired, Brede. Why don’t you go get some rest?”
“Are you sure?” I ask, looking to Jim. He’s got a gun, so at least they won’t be completely helpless without me here. But I just feel like they’re my responsibility since I brought this problem down on them.
“Yes,” he says with a nod. “And you can all come back over tomorrow and visit some more. Don’t worry about us.”
“Okay,” I reluctantly agree. “But call me if anything comes up or if you need…”
“Stop worrying,” Paula says. “Go get some rest, and we’ll see you in the morning?”
Nodding, I give her and Jim a hug goodbye, as does Blair. Then we get into the van, a different one we traded for after we got into town and I successfully figured out how to hotwire.
Our hotel room is a suite with two separate bedrooms. I decided on the layout because while I want to be near my brother, I also want privacy with Blair. She and I go straight into one of the rooms, and Aden tells us goodnight before he slips into his and closes the door.
God, I’m so exhausted I could fall face first into bed and sleep for days. Instead, I undress down to my boxer briefs and climb underneath the covers next to Blair, who’s already completely undressed. She’s hell on my restraint and doesn’t know what’s good for her.
Leaning over, she presses her lips to mine while her hand starts maneuvering underneath the waistband of my cotton boxers.
“Baby, you’re killing me,” I tell her. “You’ve had a helluva week, and we’ve hurt you. Let’s just sleep tonight.”
“You’re tired?” she asks, her midnight eyes wide in surprise.
“Well, yeah. I’m not sure when the last time I slept all night was. Before I met you, that’s for sure. And not much then. I was either worried about Paula or haunted by the usual nightmares.”
“You have nightmares too?” she asks.
“Uh-huh,” I admit with a sigh.
“Different ones, or the same one on repeat like mine?”
“Different. The men I killed deserved it, but what keeps me up at night is thinking of their families, their sons, daughters. The brothers, sisters, wives, and mothers who loved them despite the evil shit they did and still miss them every day.”
“But by killing them, you saved some lives too, right?” she asks.
“Well, yeah, hopefully.”
“So instead of the dead men’s families, maybe you should try to think of all the people, like me, who are still alive and wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t killed the evil ones.”
Huh. She makes a valid point. And, God, I still can’t get used to hearing the calming, sweet words come out of her angelic lips. She’s had a tragic past, losing everything, and now she’s trying to overcome the shit life she didn’t deserve.
“You might be on to something,” I tell her, kissing her forehead and pulling her closer to me. In fact, despite my exhaustion, my cock is starting to perk up at the feeling of her soft, naked curves against my skin. But then a cell phone rings and interrupts the moment, reminding me of the phone I took off of Roger’s body.
Easing my arm from around Blair, I get up to dig through my pile of clothing and pull out his phone. The screen shows an incoming call from “Nadia.”
I don’t answer as I climb back into bed and wait for it to go to voicemail. This is what I need to be working on, going through Roger’s text messages and voicemails, trying to figure out when and where we can find the DA when he gets back into town so I can take the fucker out.
Blair peeks over my shoulder to look down at the screen of the phone in my hands. “Who the fuck is Nadia?” she asks, the swear word sounding hilarious coming from a girl who looks so sweet and innocent.
“No clue, baby. This isn’t my phone. It’s Roger’s,” I explain, barely able to conceal my grin at her jealous outburst.
“Oh,” she mutters. “You think…you think Roger’s been talking to my father?”
“Maybe. Probably. Roger was the one who contacted me about you.”
The phone dings, indicating a new voicemail. I quickly pull it up, thankful there’s no passcode on his phone, and hit the speaker icon to play the message so both of us can hear. A woman’s voice comes over loud and annoyed.
“Where the hell are you? I’ve been calling for hours. Is she dead yet or not? How hard can it be to kill one freaking girl? Call me back!”
“Shit. Who the fuck do you think this bitch is?” I ask Blair, like she would know after being locked up for ten years.
“No idea, but she apparently wants me dead. Should you send her a message? You know, pretending to be Roger to try and get more info out of her?”
“Good idea,” I say, switching over to the text messages. “Looks like they’ve been texting,” I say as I show her the phone’s log.
There’s nothing really specific from the most recent ones where this Nadia woman keeps asking where Roger is, and before that telling him, “Time’s running out”, and Roger replying back to her saying not to worry, that he’s taking care of it. Further up in the log, they’re talking about me, that I accepted the deal, to transfer the money, that I’m on my way into town, those sorts of things. Instead of telling her I was fucking around with Blair, Roger just says that I’ve “had trouble finding her.”
“They’re definitely talking about me, right?” Blair asks.
“Oh yeah,” I tell her, certain they are. What confuses me the most is a message from days ago where this Nadia tells Roger, “As soon as she’s taken care of, tell me so I can end him.”
“Who is him?” I ask aloud, pointing out the message to Blair.
Scrolling up further, we see them discussing how to get to Blair. “There’s nothing to be done while she’s in there, and they refused t
o release her on her birthday. We need to figure out a way to get her out.” And then Nadia says, “Maybe telling her that her dear old dad is moving on, getting remarried will encourage her to make her own exit.”
“Is it just me, or does it sound like she’s the one who hired you?” Blair asks. “She doesn’t say anything about my father.”
“I think you might be right. And I get the feeling that she might be intending to take care of your dad for us,” I reply, before scrolling down to the end and typing out a message. “We need to make her think you’re dead and see what happens,” I explain to Blair.
“Okay, yeah. Let’s see if she’ll buy it through text.”
I type out what I guess was Roger’s plan. “Sorry, been a busy night. Had to take care of her myself, but it’s done. Made it look like she had a car wreck.”
“Look okay?” I ask Blair. With her nod, I hit send; and then we wait.
It doesn’t take long for the three dots to appear at the bottom of the screen, showing that this woman is already typing a response. It was definitely not one I was expecting.
“Thanks for saving us three-quarters of a mil. I’m gonna get the other quarter back in blood if necessary. Dalton has the address in KY and has agreed to take care of it for half.”
“Fuck!” I shout, throwing the phone down before I read the last few words. I frantically grab my clothes from the floor and start pulling them on. “Aden!” I yell as soon as I’m dressed.
“Brede, wait,” Blair calls out, trailing after me into the living room as I check to make sure the safety on the gun is off. Shit. I wish I had those three bullets I wasted back in Lexington shooting out the police cruiser tires.
“What’s up?” Aden asks when he appears in the doorway of his room.
