Escape: A Stepbrother Romance Novella

by Brother, Stephanie

  “Where’s Tom?” he barks.

  “He’s gone.”

  “For good?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m laying low for a bit.”

  “You’ve got the money?” I snort in exasperation. With Adam it’s all about the money.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

  “Good. You stay wherever you are. I’ll talk to Leon and set something up for tomorrow. And I’ll get Connor to start digging around about tonight. I have a feeling the sons of bitches are the same that have been giving us trouble, and if they are we’ll make them sorry they ever tried anything with us.”

  “Okay.”

  “We need to take a closer look at the crew,” he says as an afterthought. “Maybe Tom’s not the only traitorous cunt in the group.”

  “Who the fuck knows,” I say, finally feeling relaxed enough that I can sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Tomorrow,” Adam says, and that’s his way of saying goodbye.

  “Tomorrow.”

  I lay down on the bed, the soft comforter cool against my bare skin. The ceiling is a maze of cracks and stains. It’s a fucking horrible hotel but right now it feels as safe as anywhere.

  I could have died tonight. It’s like a flash of clarity through the fog.

  I could have died and what would I have done in my life that was anything worth remembering? Sammie has a little box of my achievements in her closet. Nothing else I’ve done since then is worth shit.

  Sammie.

  I think about what it would have been like for her to see my picture in the newspapers, another statistic of the criminal underground. Would she have cried? I know she would. She’d probably be the only person in the whole world that would mourn the loss of me. And what does that say about my life, that I could have spent so many years and gathered so little that’s important or meaningful?

  I know I shouldn’t contact her again but there’s a burning desperation inside me, a crystal clear realization that I can’t go on like this anymore. Her card is tucked deep inside my wallet, and I pull it out, holding my phone above me so I can dial her number. It’s late. She might be sleeping. Her phone might be turned off.

  The tone sounds against my ear, one ring, and two. On the third she picks up.

  “Hello,” she says, sounding sleepy and a little dazed.

  “Sammie.” I can hear the moment she realizes it’s me in the way her breath hitches.

  “Bran?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “I didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again.”

  “I didn’t think I was going to call.”

  “But you did.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Are you okay?” she asks, worry changing her voice.

  “Yeah,” I lie. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Oh.”

  “Were you sleeping?” I ask, getting a mental picture of her tucked up in her big white bed, blonde hair spread over the crisp white pillows, wearing a soft pink satin nightdress. Everything sweet and warm and as far from my reality as I can imagine.

  “Yeah but it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you called.”

  “Sammie…” I start, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know why the fuck I called except that I wanted to hear her voice and feel the connection again that tugs at the empty hole in my chest and makes it feel less like a big black cave.

  “Yeah, baby,” she says softly and my throat burns like I might cry. Fuck. I haven’t cried since I was thirteen and some eighteen year old kids kicked the shit out of me at school.

  “What do you dream about?” I ask. We used to talk about our dreams. The real ones and our hopes for the future. She knew all my secrets and I think I knew hers.

  “Last night I dreamed about you,” she says quietly. “It’s been a long time since you came to me in my sleep.”

  “And what did I do?” I ask, resting my empty hand against my stomach.

  “I kept seeing you across the street, and I’d try and cross but there was a constant stream of traffic, and you wouldn’t look at me. You kept walking and I was shouting and waving but you kept walking.” She sounds genuinely disturbed by the dream and I am too. I don’t want her to feel like I don’t care about her.

  “Sammie…I…”

  “It’s okay, Brandon. I know it was just a dream.”

  “Did you wake up sad?”

  “Yeah, but not because of the dream.”

  “Ah, honey. I don’t want to make you sad.”

  “Bran…I just…I need…” Sammie trails off and I’m impatient to know what she’s thinking and feeling.

  “What do you need?” I ask, the hairs prickling on my forearms. I blame it on the room’s cool air but in my heart I know what I’m hoping she’s gonna say.

  “I need you…” She says it so softly I press the phone tight to my ear.

  “Oh, baby,” I say. How easy would it be to say I need her too? Four words that feel so right in my heart but wrong to my head.

  “Do you regret it?” she asks. “Do you regret what happened?”

  I think about last night and the way I’d lost control, that driving pulsing need I’d felt in my fingertips, lips and cock.

  “We shouldn’t have…” I say. “It was all the feelings, we were confused.”

  “I don’t feel confused,” she says, and I blink, shocked. “I can’t stop thinking about you and the way it felt to be with you like that.”

  “Oh god,” I say as my cock twitches in my jeans. I don’t know what I’m doing.

  It’s wrong. I know this. But it feels anything but.

  “I wanted…” She trails off as I cup my erection, squeezing gently as everything comes to life, feeling like I need to cover up the evidence of how much my body wants her from the empty room, and from myself.

  “What did you want?”

  “I wanted you to stay…”

  I sigh loudly and hear her shuffling around in the background. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say, in a voice as quiet as hers. I could have died tonight and thinking about never seeing her again seems even more terrible than it had before.

  “Bran…I’m here for you…whatever you need.”

  “I don’t know what I need,” I say but I don’t know if that’s true. I know I need to get away. I know I want Sammie in my life. I know I want to live differently. I want to escape, but how can I when I know I’ve lived a life that’s put me beyond the point of return? I just have no idea how to get free without fucking everything up in the process.

  “You know…you just have to figure it out.”

  “Sammie…”

  “Yeah, Bran.”

  “Tell me a secret.” It’s a game we used to play. I never felt worried about sharing with her because she never judged. Sammie made it alright for me to just be myself.

  “Mmmm…” She shuffles around again and her breathing gets louder, as though she’s turned onto her side and pressed the phone closer. “It’s been a long time. I have lots of secrets now.”

  “Tell me one. Help me forget what’s going on right now.”

  “Well, how about this? After you left I used to sleep with a photo of you on my pillow.”

  I exhale loudly. I didn’t take a picture of Sammie with me. I knew it would have made things harder for me but for years I would think of her just before I feel asleep.

  “Why did you stop?”

  “Who says I did?” She laughs softly, keeping her voice low and mellow. “I guess I stopped when I realized that you wouldn’t look like the picture anymore. When the boys in my school that were your age started to look like men I couldn’t imagine you accurately anymore.”

  “And now you can.”

  “Now I can.” She sighs. “Bran, we’re not gonna end up strangers again are we?”

  “I don’t want that, Sammie, but I just don’t know…”

  “When we were together it was like…I felt more in those few sec
onds than I ever have with anyone before.”

  I groan, remembering the frantic feelings that had surged inside me and the terrible stillness I forced onto myself. The hand that’s on my cock squeezes again. “I know.”

  “Tell me a secret, Bran,” she says, seeming to understand my discomfort.

  I have too many to count and so many I could never share with my upstanding stepsister. “I…” I falter, wanting to tell her something so she understands how much she means to me because I might not get another chance. “I never loved anyone the way I love you,” I say, and then, “I’ve got to go, Sammie, okay?”

  “Don’t,” she whispers.

  “I have to…” I hang up before either of us can say anything else. I hold my phone against my chest and imagine her settling back down into her bed, hoping that she’ll get back to sleep and not lie awake thinking too much. After a few minutes I get up and take a shower, putting my boxers back on after and flopping into bed myself.

  Some days are just too fucked up to fathom. It wasn’t my day to die but it’s closer than I’ve ever come before. I remember a quote from a book I read as a kid…Alice in Wonderland, I think it was. Alice asks the rabbit ‘how long is forever,’ and he replies, ‘sometimes just a second.’ Tonight, that could have been my reality and now time seems more precious than it ever did before. I need to find a way to make whatever time I have left count but I won’t put Sammie at risk, no matter how much I might want her.

  Chapter 9

  Samantha

  I hardly slept after Brandon cut our call short. When I did my dreams were surreal and they left me feeling strange the next day. I was up and out of my apartment quickly, wanting to get to the office so I could arrange more surveillance on Brandon. There was something very wrong about last night. He sounded bad. He’d been too in need of company or comfort when only hours earlier he’d been so determined that we weren’t going to be in contact. I wonder what happened to him to make him break his conviction. What changed his mind?

  Maybe it was just a one-time thing.

  I hope it wasn’t with a fierceness that makes me tremble.

  John, the P.I., is busy with another case but he has a friend called Dirk who takes the job. I arrange three days surveillance with a review at 7pm each day so we can decide what to do next. If they can identify Brandon’s known associates I might be able to cross check their records for criminal convictions and get an idea of what’s really going on. I feel better too, knowing someone will have eyes on Brandon. It’s like a layer of protection and makes me feel less helpless about his situation.

  I have a full workload but by lunchtime I’m feeling lightheaded and in need of a break. I take the elevator down to my favorite deli and sit at the counter sipping an iced tea while I wait for them to prepare my sandwich. The TV is on in the corner and something about an earthquake overseas comes on. I’m straining to see the details when a man takes a seat on my right.

  “Terrible isn’t it,” he says, reaching across to get the packets of sugar that are in front of me.

  I look over at him. He’s in his forties, dressed a little casual for this part of town, but he smiles widely with friendly eyes that crinkle at the side.

  “Yeah, where is that?” I ask.

  “Nepal,” he says. “Those poor countries always seem to suffer the worst luck.”

  “Yeah,” I say and reach to stir my drink absentmindedly with the straw. I go back to watching the TV, seeing the estimated casualties and sighing at the terrible loss. The man at my side orders an espresso and sips it carefully.

  Adriano, the owner of the deli, hands me my sandwich and I take a bite. It’s delicious and I eat it slowly, still feeling light headed from rushing about. The man at my side keeps talking, telling me about the places he’s visited in Southeast Asia and how beautiful they are. It’s interesting because I’ve never been to that part of the world and would love to travel more.

  When I’m getting to the end of my sandwich I start to feel strange. It’s weird because I really love the taste of mozzarella and tomato with a basil dressing but the last few bits seem off, almost metallic. I place it down on my plate and take a big drink of iced tea, trying to wash my mouth clean. I glance back at the TV but I can’t seem to focus on the screen and I’m suddenly really hot.

  I don’t feel good. I must say it out loud because the man next to me puts his arm around my shoulder protectively and says I must need some fresh air. He offers to help me back to my office. I feel an arm putting pressure on my back. Then I’m on my feet and walking toward the door. The air outside is muggy. I feel like I’m underwater. The man has his arm tightly around me now.

  “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” he says. That sounds good because I don’t know where I am…I can’t seem to figure out how to take care of myself.

  A car horn hoots but it sounds muffled.

  My feet feel like they’re dragging.

  The traffic next to us blurs.

  Chapter 10

  Brandon

  I leave the hotel wearing my dirty clothes from the day before and go straight to Adam’s place. It’s early and he’s still in his night shorts with bed hair and a sleep-creased cheek. I’m surprised he hasn’t got a woman with him. His appetites don’t seem to wane with age.

  “You’re early,” he says holding the door open and looking over my shoulder to check there are no unwanted followers outside. His gun is in his hand just in case.

  “I need to borrow some clothes,” I say.

  Adam looks me over. “You haven’t been home yet?”

  “Nah, I stayed at Red’s last night.”

  “That place is a shithole,” he grunts.

  I nod.

  His house isn’t anything impressive. He likes to stay low-key which is, I suppose, how he’s managed to evade police interest for so long. His off-shore accounts must be pretty healthy because he’s still riding his old Harley and I don’t see him splashing the cash around, other than on pretty clothes for whatever woman he has hanging around.

  Adam goes into his bedroom which is at the back of the house and I walk into the kitchen, noting how clean and tidy it is. For a lifetime bachelor, Adam knows how to look after himself. I take a carton of juice from the fridge and poor myself a glass. He has some protein bars in the cupboard and I take two, wolfing them down. Adam returns with a black t-shirt and some clean boxers and socks. It all feels very domesticated, and I get a flash of our first few days together, and his basic attempts to care for me as a twelve year old.

  I go to the bathroom and change, chucking my dirty clothes into his washing basket. He pays Jared’s mom to come in once a week to sort out the big jobs.

  When I get back to the kitchen Adam’s sipping from a mug of coffee, leaning against the counter.

  “Tell me exactly what happened,” he says, so I do. Every little detail I can remember. He says nothing and when I’m done, he nods.

  “It was definitely those fuckers from the north,” he says. “They’re operating up there but they obviously think it’s time to expand. Fuckers think they can come in and piss all over me,” he growls.

  “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  “We need to do the deal with Leon today. He’s spooked so I’ve arranged a different point for exchange.” I nod. “And then we’re gonna take these sons of bitches down a peg or two.”

  “I should fucking hope so. When’s the drop?” I ask.

  “Connor has the details. Go and pick him up, then drive around a bit. Go get a coffee or something. The drop is in four hours.”

  “Okay,” I say. It’s the same bullshit, just a different day, except it doesn’t feel that way. I don’t feel so flippant about letting time slip through my fingers. I’ve got to find a way out of this, before my future ends up nothing but a second.

  Chapter 11

  Samantha

  I can’t move but my shoulder is hurting. I can’t open my eyes. I feel a soft comforter under my bare legs. I will
my fingers to move but they feel disconnected from my body.

  I can hear voices but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

  My breathing sounds so loud in my head and my stomach is sick. I feel my body heave and taste bitter bile.

  My mouth is wiped roughly by some kind of cloth. It doesn’t smell good.

  Everything goes dark.

  Chapter 12

  Brandon

  Connor is in a foul mood. He’s not usually the most talkative of people but today he’s practically vibrating with anger.

  “I can’t fucking believe it,” he says about Tom when I pick him up.

  “I know,” I say, not really feeling the same. There are a lot of snakes in this game. In a way, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before now. I look across at Connor wondering what I don’t know about him. Has he been talking to our rivals, working out a better deal for himself?

  Am I in danger again?

  Stupid thought because I’m always in danger. I’m Adam Ford’s son. It’s why I carry the fucking gun.

  We do as Adam asked. Driving out of town, then taking another road in on a loop, listening to an old rock radio station to fill the tense silence. We find a coffee shop we’ve never been into before and I order a black coffee while Connor orders a mocha-whippy-chocolate something or other that makes me want to laugh. He still has devil-furious eyes so I don’t bother. It’s not really the time for jesting, whatever his choice of beverage.

  When it’s time, Connor directs me to where Leon will be waiting. The exchange is tenser than usual which isn’t surprising. No one likes standing around on the street holding illegal substances or large sums of cash. I get that. It’s only our years of mutually agreeable business dealings that has kept this meeting in play.

  We get back in the car and I drop Connor off to where he’s left his ride. We head in opposite directions, him to sort out the distribution channels, me to Jackson’s so I can report back to Adam.

  When I arrive I know something is off immediately. Adam is more pensive than usual and when I tell him about the drop he seems distracted. In the end, I ask him what the fuck is wrong with him.