Brother's Keeper I: Declan

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  “Lydia, I could never hurt you. That isn’t at all what I meant.” Relief coursed through him when he saw her relax, even if it was going to be brief because what he said next was sure to shock her. “His men are already in New York. They think they have eyes on you and Trinity – it’s my team who they saw. Tomorrow night there will be an accident, and his men will get there just in time to see the tail end of it. They’ll see the body bags, the car, and then they’ll see the news report. Esteban won’t question it after a confirmation like that.”

  It was odd to sit and hear exactly how your death was going to play out and that it would make the news for all to hear. Not many people get to be witness to such a thing or be involved in planning it. The only thing she was grateful for in that moment was that she wasn’t superstitious – that kind of information, and detail, had to be the type that screwed with karma and came to fruition.

  “What about you? What happens to you, Dec.”

  “I’m your driver and body guard. I go where you go. I’m dying with you guys, Lydee.”

  “So, we all get our freedom?” she questioned. “This is a good thing?”

  “I wouldn’t call it freedom. We still need to stay off the grid and let the world think we are gone. This just buys us time. If we stick to the plan and lay low, it should be pretty smooth sailing until trial.”

  They sat in silence for a moment or two. She needed to process what all of this meant. Learning your life was essentially over and that you get to stand by and watch the world go on without you was a tough idea to digest.

  “Dec?” Her voice lacked confidence and was heavy in pain that he could feel. “All of us die, right – even Trin and Jax?”

  There wasn’t much to say, and she wasn’t asking him to make it hurt any less, so he just nodded.

  “How long do we do this?” she asked.

  “As long as it takes. Until the trial. He’ll know there is a star witness testifying against him once he’s arrested, and he won’t expect it to be his dead wife. Or me, for that matter. We have that on our side – he’ll be looking for old enemies and deals gone wrong, not us. As it is, they aren’t arresting him just yet, and that means no arraignment or trial in the immediate future. They want an iron clad case, no wiggle room for mistrial.”

  “Who is they?” Lydia asked.

  Declan shrugged at her question. Offering no answer meant he didn’t have to inflict any more pain and upset. If she knew who they were, and just how big this thing was, it would crush her. She was living in the middle of something big, something most people only see in movies. It was ugly, and she had no idea just how much so – he wanted to spare her and keep it that way.

  “C’mon, are we talking States Attorney? Big dogs in D.C.?” Her questions stalled when he gave her a raised brow and a side-eye glance. “Oh, my God, that high up? What has he done, Declan?”

  “It would be easier to list what he hasn’t done – it would be a short list, too.” He wanted to tell her why he stayed under for so long, and that it was to make sure Esteban’s bad deeds didn’t get to her, but he didn’t. “Your husband is a very bad man, Lydee. One of the worst, and we need to put him away.”

  “Ex-husband. He’s a widower now.”

  It was all just too much, and she let the emotion finally have its way with her heart. She needed comfort and support, but she settled for Dec’s shoulder and silence instead. The weight of her world crashing down around her, in that moment, was just too much to bear. So she wept, and in a weak moment, he put an arm around her and let her. He felt her pain in her cries and gave in to the embrace, giving her what she needed in that moment because he was the only one who could.

  “WE’RE HERE.” DECLAN said, startling Lydia from her near slumber.

  The large green sign on the side of the highway said, Welcome to Rapid Falls, Minnesota, population…only a handful. Or that’s what she thought it should have said as they drove through the small town.

  “How did we get to Minnesota so fast? And weren’t we headed south?” she asked, completely baffled and turned around.

  “If you drive fast, you get places fast. And we were only going south for a while. We zig zagged our way west, just to be safe.”

  Lydia was a big city kind of girl but found the small-town charming, even under the dimly lit night sky. It had rows of shops, likely mom and pop types, and an old traditional feel from the old brick buildings flanking both sides of what had to be main street. There wasn’t a single person out or car passing by. It was the type of town that rolls up the streets at dark, and nobody comes out until morning. This could get interesting – and boring.

  At the far end of town, where the buildings became fewer, and houses took over every block or so, they turned down a road that Lydia hadn’t even seen. He’d been here before, or he wouldn’t have noticed the dark narrow road, lined with overgrown trees, either. The only light was from the headlights of their vehicle. They passed a single small house before finally passing into a clearing where one little cottage sat, porch light on, waiting.

  As they got closer, more lights became obvious, and Lydia could see the open expansive landscape that it sat on. Upon their approach, still from the road, she could see that a large deck rested behind the house and was surrounded with decorative lighting. The full moon, and more stars than she had ever seen, shone bright in the clear night’s sky, right off what had to be some sort of body of water just beyond the deck. It all had a very enchanting feel, and they hadn’t even stepped outside of the car yet.

  The long drive from the main road ended in a circular drive just at the front of the house. Declan grabbed their two duffle-like bags from the rear of the SUV and made his way to the front door. Lydia followed, taking in what she could in the dark as she walked the front walkway, ending on the large craftsman style porch. An inviting red bench sat in contrast against the creamy yellow cottage, begging her to have a seat. She thought it a great place for morning coffee and a good book. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?

  A key pad, not an actual key and lock, let them in the front door where the delightful craftsman charm carried on throughout. It was small, a far cry from her multi-million-dollar mansion on a sprawling estate, but it felt homey and cozy, and she was tired. She wouldn’t complain, not this night, anyway.

  “Is this your place?” she asked.

  “Not really.” Short and to the point, Declan was a creature of habit.

  “How long are we here? Long term? Short term? I’m new to this whole running from creepy bad guys that happen to be your husband, thing.”

  He sensed the irritation in her tone, and knew it wasn’t directed toward him, but decided to tread carefully anyway. “Just one day at a time.”

  They’d had just enough tears in 48 or so hours to last them a while, but he needed to be clear with her on what to do and what not to do. “We need to blend in here – only go to town for what we need. It’s big enough that people won’t notice the new people, but small enough we’ll see our enemies coming. It’s a nice place to call home for now.”

  She shrugged and tossed an eye roll. “Until we have to move again, right?”

  Declan grabbed two beers from the already stocked fridge, something she found interesting, and motioned for her to follow him to the rear of the house. The kitchen sat near the entry at the front of the house and flowed into the living room – both overlooked the deck and pond through the wall of large picture windows.

  He sat in a brown wicker chair and offered her the one next to him, setting an opened bottle of beer on the table between them. “That’s for you.”

  “Beer? I usually just drink wine…sulfate free of course. Oh, and sometimes champagne.”

  “Well, we have beer. Watered down piss we call it. Hits the spot. Drink up.” He raised his beer in salute before tossing it back and taking a long refreshing pull.

  With her pinky out, she tipped her bottle for a little sip, making a sour face and letting out a dissatisfied grumble before
saying, “So how do we act anonymous. You know, blend in.”

  He grinned when she took another sip, then a large gulp – it was growing on her – or she was a lightweight; either worked for him. “Avoid small talk, don’t get too comfortable with locals, and stay here.”

  She raised her beer, saluting him this time, and took a big long pull herself, but not before she toasted, “Welcome to my new exciting life.”

  Though she seemed compliant and willing to follow the rules, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “You can do this, Lydee.”

  “I’m not sure about that. Not without a lot of these.” She raised her beer again, insinuating beer was to be her salvation through the ordeal, then let out a roaring belch that startled her. “How embarrassing! I’ve never so much as hiccupped out loud, much less burp like that! We’ll definitely need more of these.”

  He chuckled, something he didn’t do often, and said, “Guess you were right about not being a beer drinker.”

  “Who are we fooling? I’m just not cut out for…this.” She held up her beer, but her heavy heart and painful expression was not about the beer at all.

  “I’ll let you in on something. No one is cut out for this. But you…you will figure it out. You’ll do it for Trinity and Jax. You’ll do it; I know you will. You aren’t a quitter; you’re a doer.”

  “A doer? Haven’t heard that before. I suppose you are right though. I don’t really have any alternatives, or even choice in any of this. It was all decided for me the day I married a murderer.”

  Her beer was gone, but he couldn’t imagine her nonchalant statement being beer induced already. It was how she really felt. Regret was setting in, and that had him worried because it usually came with its own rally of emotions that he simply wasn’t cut out to deal with.

  “It isn’t forever. Just keep reminding yourself of that. I will remind you, too. This will be over before you know it.”

  “Only if I keep drinking these beers.” She picked up his half full bottle and tossed it back, finishing it for him, letting out a satisfied sigh when she was done. “Because it already feels like a life sentence.”

  “I won’t take that personal – stealing my beer or the life sentence thing.”

  Smiling for the first time in days, she tilted her head and tossed him a wink. “So what’s the plan, besides sleep? You have got to be exhausted.”

  “We hit the hay and get a good night’s sleep in real beds for starters. Then, we lay low, react when and if we need to,” he finished.

  Taking to her feet, she stretched, then grabbed the two empty beer bottles and headed for the rear door to the house. “I don’t know how you’re even upright. I’m headed to bed. Maybe tomorrow things will seem…easier.”

  “It will, each day. Keep your bag packed and in the trunk of the car in the garage,” he said over his shoulder, halting her in her tracks.

  “Excuse me? Car in the garage? Why is there another car in the garage, and why are we keeping our bags in it instead of the house?”

  He stood, turning to follow her inside. “If we have to leave, it’ll be in a hurry. We never leave in the same car we arrived in. People won’t notice us leaving if we’re not in the car they expect to see us in. Oh…and no time to pack, so we stay packed or go without.”

  After a brief moment, she met his stare and replied with a bob of her head, then went inside for the night.

  Watching her leave, he got lost in thought – about her, who she was, who she was yet to become. She wouldn’t come out the other end of this the same person she was when it started. They needed to grieve their losses and the loss they were about to endure when tomorrow’s events played out, and she was declared dead. That would be her hardest day yet, the hardest to accept and the hardest to get through because she would be grieving her son and sister, too.

  Tomorrow was the kind of day he needed to take special care. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but somehow it sounded right in his head. Hanging out in town wasn’t the best idea and certainly didn’t contribute to laying low, but getting her out may be the right move.

  They may not be able to enjoy all that the town offered, but getting familiar with all that it was and had to offer was appropriate. There was a Friday Farmers Market; she might enjoy that. It wasn’t personal – large crowd, easy to blend in. Then maybe he could gather things for a nice dinner that didn’t include eating animals of any kind.

  He was feeling a bit sensitive, and emotionally aware – not him at all. All he could feel in that moment, when thoughts of vegan cooking and emotions raced through his head, was that he was becoming a giant pussy and he didn’t hate it. He even laughed at himself over that one.

  FRIDAY CAME, AND went. Word of Lydia’s death, and those who were named to be in the vehicle with her, spread quickly – just as they wanted. It was a shock, especially to the upper crust social circles that the Prescott sisters were known to run in. The horrific accident, oh so tragic, was splashed on every gossip tv, internet, and print outlet imaginable. Foundations were established in the Prescott sisters’ names, even one in baby Jax’s name, but really it was just how the elite dealt with life events. They threw money at it, had their five minutes of air time, and went on about their lives.

  Declan knew that Lydia would need time to mourn the loss of her own life – her old life – and come to terms with the new. He didn’t, however, count on her hiding in her room for days while doing so. It just wasn’t like her.

  It worried him – that surprised him too – and he was at a loss. Maybe this was the new her and how she would deal with such a thing. Maybe that was the point – it wasn’t like her because the person she was, the life she knew, was gone.

  On day four, it appeared the mourning was over when Lydia came out of her room, dressed and ready for the day, wanting to hit up the Tuesday evening Farmers Market the town hosted. Same plan different day, small towns and their endless community socials worked to her benefit it seemed.

  Distracted by short shorts that revealed her toned legs and a fitted t-shirt that showed off her perfect curves and ample breasts seemed to be her outfit of choice. Had he realized just how much of her it put on display, he wouldn’t have tossed it in the bag of few clothing options. Her long chocolate brown hair was pulled back, her golden eyes catching his attention.

  “So, it’s a Tuesday evening, pretty warm out. I’m guessing that means it’ll be pretty crowded – easy to blend in. What do you think?” Her tone and demeanor were upbeat and carefree. As if all were right in her world again.

  So upbeat and carefree that Declan almost worried more about that than her hiding out in her room. He figured, like anything, this too would have varying degrees of emotional highs and lows; this was just one of the highs. Going along with it and keeping a close eye on her was all he could do, so he was there when the rise inevitably fell again.

  Testing the waters to see if indeed it was smart to have one of those moments in a very public place, he held up a section of the paper, the one that talked about her. “You haven’t said anything about what happened. Do you want to…read it? The article, that is.”

  With a simple unaffected shrug, she came closer and took the article. “Hmm, well written. Let’s go.”

  She set the article down on the kitchen counter next to Declan and headed out the front door like she was on a mission. That little to no reaction was all Dec needed to know that she was far from fine. In fact, she was anything but.

  Part of staying hidden and safe was to remain anonymous. The other – always be ready for a quick getaway. Driving around the outskirts of town as both surveillance and searching for a getaway spot, Declan finally parked several blocks from the actual market. It took cutting through a few alleyways and a zig zag path to get there, but in a hurry, those annoying extra steps could be the difference between life and death. A way to disappear quickly and unscathed.

  “Why are we parked way over here? There is like nothing around.” An annoyed sassy t
one was her flavor for the moment.

  “That’s the point. Hiding, quick getaways, time to lose anyone in pursuit.” He expected her questions; she was getting used to a whole new way of life.

  “Of course, since the whole world is out to get us. You know, the dead people.” Snarky, she did it well.

  He let it slide. She was entitled to her feelings and that rather large chip on her shoulder. She was figuring this life out and he, would be patient – for now.

  “Money. How do I buy stuff since you took all of my cards away?” More of that snark and little of what sounded like accusing spewed out that time.

  “You’ll have your own money to use – cash only – always. We travel light though. We aren’t settling in, so only buy what you need. I’ll pick up whatever you want today, and we’ll get you set up in the next day or so with cash.”

  Lydia chuckled as she walked ahead. “Awesome, I have to ask permission. Just like a true prisoner. This is going to be so…neat.”

  Grabbing her arm and turning her toward him so she would have to look at him, Dec had taken enough of her emotions for a while. “Look, this isn’t prison. You’re free to go at any time. Just know, if you leave, you are on your own…completely. This is all meant to keep you safe, your son safe, your sister safe. I know it isn’t easy, and it’s a far cry from the life you are used to, but this life won’t get you tossed in prison or worse, killed. Now, feel whatever you need to feel, but remember…I am not the enemy. I’m just the guy trying to keep your spoiled ass alive.”

  Without a word, she turned on her heels, and with her nose in the air, Lydia marched off toward the small-town hustle and bustle. He followed closely, waiting for her to react, but she didn’t. They wandered about, hitting each booth as they went, enjoying all that this small town had to offer.

  There was much to choose from, and she wasn’t shy about asking for everything she wanted. Straight from the oven baked goods to locally grown produce and fresh cut flowers, she filled several reusable bags that were each stamped with the city logo. He wasn’t sure if she was doing this so he would have to fork over cash, often, or because she enjoyed weighing him down with so many bags.