by Malone, M.
We have the same deep brown eyes but his hair is lighter than mine, almost blond. It looks darker now, and hangs in dirty clumps all over his head, like it hasn't been washed in a while. When he looks at me, his cheekbones appear even more sunken than last week. He's lost more weight.
"I went to the lawyer’s office earlier. He won’t budge an inch. The bastard is persistent, I’ll give him that.”
He closes his eyes and lets out a weary sigh. “Just sign already. You deserve that money. Maybe you can finally take a break. Do whatever it is normal people do. Go sit your big ass on a beach somewhere."
I laugh because I know he expects me to. It's a bitter, strangled sound. "I wouldn't even know what to do on a beach. I'd probably shoot the first seagull that landed near me."
He laughs again and then his face twists into a mask of pain. “Pills are wearing off.”
I stand. “I’ll get them.”
His apartment is top of the line, granite counters, recessed lighting and cherry wood cabinets. The first thing he did with his money was buy this apartment building. It’ll generate a nice profit for him and he won’t have to worry about money while he's recuperating.
I would feel a lot better about his mental state if he were actually doing something to recuperate. Instead he's been sitting in the midst of all this finery slowly letting his life and his body go down the drain.
His medications are lined up on the counter. The first bottle contains the painkillers his doctor prescribed. It's almost empty so I know he's been taking these. I glance back to where Finn is on the couch. I suspect he’s taking more of them than he’s supposed to. The others are things I can't pronounce.
I shake out the required number of each and carry them along with a glass of water back to the couch. I set it all down on the glass top next to his foot.
"Don't you get tired of this? Babysitting me?"
When I don't answer, he heaves a sigh and leans forward to grab the handful of pills. It pains me to see the strain and effort it costs him to move. He throws the entire handful in his mouth and then downs the glass of water in one big mouthful.
"Babysitting comes with the territory. It's Big Brother 101." The statement makes me think of what the lawyer told me. "Did you know about the others?"
Finn collapses back against the cushions of the couch. "Other what?"
"Our other brothers. According to Stevens, there are five of us total." The names I saw in that file have been swimming around in my head ever since.
Gabriel. Zachary. Lucas.
"I didn't know. Maybe he told me and I just wasn't paying attention. I was pretty out of it." Finn looks vaguely embarrassed.
My mind flashes back to the half-empty bottle of pain pills. He must have been in one of his fogs that day.
“Eventually we’ll have to meet them. I’m sure that’s where dear old Dad is going with this. I'm not sure how I feel about that but it's a lot of money. We could set Mom up for life. Do more than just pay off her house and her medical bills.”
“That’s why I signed. If it can help her, then it’s worth it. Plus, aren't you curious? We have brothers. I wonder what they're like."
It takes effort not to grind my teeth. "Probably just like him. I wonder if they're the reason he was never around. Too busy playing house with his new and improved family, I bet."
"Maybe." Finn shrugs and I can tell the pills are kicking in. His eyes glaze over and the strain on his face smoothes out until he looks blissful.
I get up and cover him with the blanket on the side of the couch. He sleeps out here most of the time. He says the nightmares don't happen as much when he's upright. I’ve never asked what he saw overseas that haunts him so.
A man’s demons should be his own.
"I'll check on you later, bro." He doesn't stir as I let myself out.
By the time I reach the parking deck, the cold has penetrated the outer layers of my leather jacket, icy teeth burrowing into my skin. I welcome the discomfort. It keeps me sharp. Normally I’d go visit my mom and make sure she has everything she needs but in light of recent events, I’m not sure what to do.
Does she know about my brothers? Should I tell her? Things were over between her and my dad ages ago. But that doesn't mean she'll want to hear about kids he had with some other woman.
Or is it other women? Shit. I didn't even think to ask.
Just how many families does the bastard have out there in the world?
The last thing I want is to dump these worries on my mom’s doorstep. She’s had more than her fair share of worry over the years between scraping to survive while we were growing up, to all the years I gave her hell as a teenager with my bad attitude and all the fighting.
If she knew about the things I’ve been doing lately … I push the thought away. I deal with my anger in my own way. My mom has earned the right to a little peace, although fate doesn’t seem inclined to give it to her.
I bury the ugly thoughts as I climb on the back of my Ducati. The last thing I want is to crash my bike. I run my hands over the custom paint job, the black shining even in the darkness. There’s a cherry red stripe down the center that looks like a tongue. It's the only thing I've really spent any money on. I chuckle at the thought.
Finn bought an investment property and I bought a bike.
Who's the responsible one, now?
Chapter Two
Emma
A glance in the mirror on the back of the closet door proves what I already suspect to be true. I look like I’ve been digging around in trash bins for discarded clothes.
People are going to put change into my coffee cup if I go out looking like this.
Fashion has never been my thing but especially when I haven’t done laundry. The only clean clothes appear to be the ones I wear to wait tables at my second job, none of which is appropriate for daylight hours. I toss aside a miniskirt and a glittery top. Something respectable needs to magically appear in in the next five minutes or I’m going to be late.
Rummaging through my closet produces a black skirt that’s only marginally creased and a striped button down shirt I never wear because it’s too tight.
I open the door and collide with my sister, Ivy.
“Morning. Can I borrow something to wear?”
She eyes my striped shirt and then nods her head. “If that’s your alternative, then yes. Hold on.”
I follow her to her room but she holds up a hand. “Wait. I’m not alone. Jon stayed the night.”
It’s a struggle to keep the annoyance off my face. Jon is a lawyer. We met him when he came to the law office where Ivy and I work.
How did I not hear them come in last night? I must have been dead to the world.
Working two jobs has finally caught up with me. But if I’d known that he would be here, I would have gotten up early and left before now. Tired is better than annoyed and disgusted.
I can’t say any of this to Ivy so I just settle for “Okay.”
The door to her room opens and Jon steps into the hall. His dark hair is rumpled and he’s got about three days’ worth of stubble going on. Ivy gazes up at him and if this were a cartoon, there would be little animated stars dancing in her eyes.
“Morning, baby.” She leans up to give him a kiss.
He returns the caress, one hand snaking down to curve around her waist. As he does it, he holds my gaze the entire time.
I contemplate barfing right then and there.
“Never mind. I’ll just wear this. I’ll be late today, remember? I have my financial aid meeting at school.”
Ivy gives an exaggerated sigh. “Calm down. I’ll cover for you. I sincerely doubt Patrick cares who is up front answering phones as long as someone is there to do it.”
We work for Patrick Stevens, an old friend of the family. I work the front desk while she helps him part-time with bookkeeping and other administrative tasks. After our parents died, he was the one who helped us settle the estate. I’m not sure what we would h
ave done without his help.
Actually I do know. We would have lost the house. After the life insurance was paid and all the creditors were tallied, there wasn’t much left.
I don’t agree with her assumption that he won’t care who’s up front but I don’t have time to argue. The financial aid office at the local college only accepts appointments at certain times.
A year ago, I was in school studying biology. I was planning to go to veterinary school after I finished my undergraduate degree. After our parents were killed, I was too unfocused to continue. Tears still threaten when I think about that day. I blow out a breath and push the ugly memories away.
I had to drop out but I’m finally ready to go back. I can’t miss this meeting.
“Great. Thanks. I’ll come straight there when I’m done. I wanted to go check on Mr. Marshall but it can wait.”
She makes a face. “Better you than me. I don’t have the patience to sit around talking about nothing. That’s all old people want to do. I don’t know how you do it.”
“Maybe she’s hoping to be wife number five.” Jon smirks when he sees my confused look. “Hell, you’re not much younger than the last one.”
I have to physically hold myself back from rolling my eyes. He is so sleazy. It’s a mystery to me how that sweet old man deals with Jon’s slick persona. Then again, he must be used to dealing with arrogant spoiled men.
My face heats thinking about Tank Marshall. He is exactly the kind of guy that I’ve always avoided. Tall and muscled and infuriatingly sexy. He’s got that same “I’m the center of the universe” arrogance going on that Jon does.
It’s a shame one of the first men I feel raw physical chemistry with is exactly the kind of guy I need to stay far away from. I’ve seen violence, real violence, before so there is nothing about a bad boy that I find appealing.
Ivy claps her hands. “It’s gross but that would be awesome. Marry the billionaire Em and all our problems are over.”
“Ivy, seriously? It’s not like that between us. He’s a nice old man. We’re friends.”
Not that Ivy would understand the idea of being friends with a man. Sometimes I think my sister only sees two things when she looks at a guy: his dick and his wallet. Friendship is a foreign concept.
She scoffs. “Only you would consider an old geezer your BFF.”
I tuck my shirt into my skirt and hustle into the kitchen. I need coffee and something to eat. I have two pieces of bread in the toaster and the coffee percolating when Jon appears in the doorway to the kitchen. I suppress a groan. I see him at work and now he’s invading my home.
It feels like I can’t escape him sometimes.
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed money for school, Emma? I’m sure we can work something out.”
His eyes roam over my bare legs. It disgusts me that he does this, sometimes right in front of Ivy.
The thing is, he’s not even attracted to me.
My sister is gorgeous. She’s got dark wavy hair and big dramatic brown eyes. I have wispy blond hair and plain gray eyes. She’s all smoldering screen siren while I look like the plain country mouse next to her. He’s not hitting on me because he’s overcome with lust.
He’s doing it because he’s a pig.
I’ve tried to tell Ivy but she doesn’t want to hear it. She thinks he’s just flirtatious and doesn’t mean anything by it.
Love is blind and all that, I guess.
“I’m getting loans. I’ll be fine.”
He leans against the counter and I have to stop so I don’t bump into him. He’s wearing pajama bottoms but no shirt. If I want my coffee, he’s going to make me press up against him to get it.
Not happening.
“Forget it. I’ll get coffee on the way.” I grab my bag and run out of the house. Ivy calls out to me as the door closes but I don’t turn around.
There’s only so much you can do when someone doesn’t want to see the truth.
* * *
I smooth my black skirt over my knees and try not to fidget. Across the desk, Mr. Christopher Higgans holds my academic future in his hands.
I’ve been applying for every grant I can for the following school year so I can finish my bachelor’s degree. Loans are always available but I don’t want to graduate with a huge cloud of debt hanging over me. I’m hoping I’m eligible for some scholarships or something.
“Miss Shaw, I’ve been over your application. There are quite a few loans that we can set up for you. Also you qualify for the Pell Grant.”
I lean forward to review the documents he’s pushed across the desk toward me. The numbers are far lower than what I was hoping for.
“So, this is all I can get?”
“This is a great package. The Pell Grant doesn’t have to be repaid.”
“But the rest of it does? That’s a lot of debt.”
I’ll only be able to take a full semester of classes if I stop working at the law office. My parents left money for me to use for college but I’ve worked so hard not to touch it. But if I go to school full-time, even with the loans, I’ll need to use some of that money to live on. I had considered taking some weekend classes but if I can only do one or two classes a semester, it’ll take me forever to finish.
I really hate the idea of touching my emergency fund. Once it’s gone, I’ll have nothing to fall back on.
“Well, yes. But student loans are deferred. You don’t have to repay them until you’re finished with school. You should be able to start next year with a full semester of classes. And don’t forget that you applied for a few grants that will be awarded soon. The committees will notify you directly if you are selected.”
He’s smiling broadly so I can’t do anything except smile back and shake his hand before I leave.
The campus of Southern Virginia Community College is a nice place for a walk on a clear day. My sweater doesn’t provide much protection from the biting wind but the sun is warm on my face and the breeze is fresh. My parents were so proud that Ivy and I both went to college. My mom finished her degree but my father was a metalworker at the shipyard.
He’d been obsessed with the idea of his daughters getting a college education and I don’t think he took a deep breath until the day I moved into the dorms here.
Due to Ivy’s wild behavior in high school, I think both my parents considered it a minor miracle that neither of their daughters ended up addicted to anything or pregnant before graduation.
Would they have done things differently if they’d known what was coming for them, I wonder?
The thought of that day hits me in the chest and I halt right in the middle of the pavilion. Instantly I’m back in my room, my mom pushing me into the closet and telling me to call for help.
I suck in several deep breaths, feeling lost in the middle of the students who pass me talking excitedly about classes, friends and what they did over the weekend. They pass me by and have no idea that I’m stuck in my personal hell. With the sounds of gunshots ringing in my ears and my mother’s screams outside the door.
My bag falls off my shoulder and lands at my feet. I focus on the rhythm of my breath, the beat of my heart and the ground below me the way I learned in therapy. I breathe in and hold it for a count of three, then let it out. The artificial breathing pattern slows the rate of my heart and the sense of panic recedes a little. Finally I look around, suddenly aware that I’m standing in the middle of the courtyard gasping for breath.
I pick up my backpack and force myself to start walking. I’m just starting to get my life back on track so I can’t allow myself to go back there. Maybe I’m being foolish to think I’m ready to come back but it’s a fallacy I need to get me through each day.
Next year, I’ll be in class all day and doing homework all night. I’ll need to be focused.
That day has already stolen everything from me. If I let it, it’ll steal any hope I have for the future. I can’t allow that to happen. I don’t want to look back on my life and think
of all the things I didn’t do and never had.
That’s why I’m so determined to go back to school. Three semesters and I’ll be done with my undergraduate degree. Then I can apply to veterinary school. Now all I need to do is figure out where to get the money to pay for it.
I tilt my face up into the wind and make a promise. Almost there, Dad.
I’ll get back here and finish what I started. No matter what I have to do.
Chapter Three
Tank
A group of people spill out of the bar across the street, music and the sound of their voices carrying to where I stand in the shadows.
I have something to tell you…
It’s the middle of the night. I should be at home asleep in my bed. You know, like a normal person. But I couldn’t lie in bed staring at the ceiling with my mom’s voice bouncing around my brain any longer.
I should have told you sooner…
Instead, I’m standing in an alcove that’s slightly hidden off the street. It’s easier this way. People tend to get nervous if I just hang out. No one stares outright. But there's always a tell. A glance. A step to the side when we pass so our bodies don't touch. Everyone has a “look” about them and mine apparently says trained killer.
This part of Virginia Beach is a mecca for local college kids looking to blow off steam on the weekends so I rarely have to go looking for trouble.
It usually finds me.
My eyes lock on a girl across the street who is walking barefoot on the concrete. She’s beautiful and dressed to score in a short black minidress that shows off long, tanned legs. It doesn’t take long for one of the guys in front of the bar to break off from his friends and follow her.
He hooks an arm around her neck and she looks up at him in confusion but grins blearily. He smiles back, with an expression like he just hit the lottery. My blood pressure spikes a notch.
