by Snow, Nicole
“All that crying on the phone last night about how you had to hire an investigator to find the video, so I wouldn’t release it and ruin your career...” I start slowly, turning around and staring her down. “You knew I’d never do that. I was offended you assumed I might, but you never thought I would. You’re not worried about that. You want that fucking video so you can blackmail me with Birdshit and his gossip rag. He won’t run the story without proof, and you don’t have it without a statement from me or video evidence.” I shrug. “But Osprey probably wouldn’t run it with just a statement, anyway. He’s a businessman and a fucked up kind of journalist. He gets clicks on hard proof—however terrible—not hearsay.”
She folds her arms, unmoving.
“All you had to do was give me the stupid memory card...I never would’ve had to resort to a PI. I never expected him to find you buying drugs. I didn’t know your little problem with drinking turned into this. But you know what, I’m not even mad. Like it or not, I’ve always been the only woman who could accept you with all your bad habits, Nicholas. Your little Polly Puritan will flee as soon as she knows who you are. The way you’re handling this is ridiculous.” She circles around so we’re face-to-face again.
I want to hoist her up and throw her into the wall, but restrain myself. Barely.
“Which memory card is it, Nick?” She uncurls her other hand to reveal three old SD cards she must’ve pulled from my drawer. “I know how important your photos are. You always kept them close. I know you and your precious memories, just like I knew exactly where to find them. I bet the nervous little mouse you’re playing house with can’t say the same.”
I clench and unclench my fingers.
“First, never mention her again. Second, you need to get the hell out of here. Now. I’m about to lose my shit, and you don’t want to be here when it happens,” I warn.
She pouts like a demon.
“Or what? You’ll throw your life away with the help? For all I know, you’re snorting this crap with her.” She pauses, dragging her eyes up my frame. “Ohhh, are you going to snap like a wild animal? Will you hurt me? And why does it bother you that I still read you like a book, inside and out? Don’t take it out on me because you’re too much of a chickenshit coward to admit you’re still in love with me.”
“I’m not in love with you. I never was.” The words are so rough they sear my throat.
Hurt shines back in her eyes. “Like hell! You used to say it. Were you lying to me then or are you lying now? It only goes two ways, Nicholas.”
I sigh.
“I was young and stupid. You still had a shred of a soul, and you were my friend. We grew up together. I thought...I thought I was in love with you once, but you became a habit. A terrible one. No different from the fucking bottle, which you were always happy to share. It’s hard to tell what was worse when you were always there to help push me off the cliff.”
Her mouth drops with a gasp.
I’ve finally shocked her into silence.
I don’t even enjoy it.
“Asshole, if you don’t tell me which memory card it is, I’m taking them all!” she hisses.
Fuck. I can only think of one way to end this crap that stops Carmen from popping up with new threats. When I go through with it, I’ll lose Reese. My career will go with her, and so will what’s left of my public reputation.
“Carmen, you asked if I would hurt you?” I say quietly.
“Will you?” She blinks, hesitation on her face.
“What I’m about to do will hurt you—just not like you think. And it’s bound to hurt me a whole lot more.” I’m going to lose the only thing I’ve ever cared about, but there’s no other way to end this, not when I’m backed into a corner.
Sighing, I take out my phone and start slowly snapping pictures of the white powder strewn across the floor, my bedspread, her dress, my shirt. I walk right past her, leaving her bewildered and stumbling after me.
“What are you doing?” she asks, catching her balance against the wall.
I get another picture of Carmen—with blinding flash—her red dress splattered with white doom.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks again, spitting venom.
“Hurting myself. Hurting the woman I love who doesn’t deserve this bull, and probably hurting a lot of good people in the process who looked up to me as their boss. I’m hurting you, hurting everything, and I take no delight in it. And I’d do it a thousand times over if it means ending your games before they can hurt anyone worse.”
She’s quiet for a long minute while I continue hovering around the condo, capturing everything speckled with white dust.
“Why are you taking pictures? You don’t have my permission,” she whines nervously.
I snort at the irony.
“Funny. You don’t have my permission to be in my home pawing through my things either, but here you are.”
“What is this?” she asks again.
I don’t answer until I’m almost done typing out a brief email to Roland Osprey with the images attached.
This is it.
My self-destruct sequence, and it’s meant to bring her down in the process.
The only way to protect Reese and her heart is to expose my train wreck of a life. Carmen doesn’t have the sex video, but even if she did, it won’t matter.
I’m getting everything out in the open while she has no leverage.
If my prayers are answered, and Sutton follows up on that warehouse, Will Frisk’s hours are numbered. He’ll be arrested sooner or later.
I’m also fairly certain Abby will be a free woman after Will’s in custody. Cops aren’t dumb. They’ll figure out he’s the culprit.
That leaves making sure Reese isn’t dragged into my shitshow once the cocaine in my room gets traced back to Frisk. That means protecting her from me.
Roland Osprey, vulture that he is, still refuses to write stories without total confirmation. Maybe he’s not as much of a jackass as I thought.
I feel an eerie sense of relief sending him these naked pictures of my life. In hindsight, I’m not sure why I ever feared the sex tape leaking at all, when this is just as vulnerable, and just as damning.
With the mail finished and the new photos locked and loaded, I hold my phone up for Carmen to see.
She staggers back like she’s been shot in the chest.
“Wh-what? You can’t be serious? Why would you send those pictures to Osprey? You’ll ruin us both!”
“You’re bent on destroying our lives anyhow. This way, I beat you to it, and you won’t have anything to threaten me with anymore, Carmen. I’m doing us a favor,” I grind out.
“I was trying to help, you stupid, stupid man!” she spits, shaking her fists. “And after you hammered my heart to smithereens and put it through a blender.”
“Carmen, you don’t want me. You want the idea of me,” I say slowly.
“The idea of you? What the hell? A guy with rich grandparents who isn’t nearly as successful as his older brother? There has to be more than one chump in the world who fits that profile. Sorry.”
I’m not even fazed by her insult. I just smile.
“In that case, why are you so obsessed you’d break in and throw drugs around just to make me give up a humiliating video? You always thought combining our assets and my business with your Hollywood glamor would make us a powerhouse.”
She gives me a smile I used to mistake for seductive—only now it’s anything but.
Now, it’s almost broken.
Now, it’s more like Medusa’s eyes before you’re turned into stone.
“What do you see in your stupid driver, anyhow? She’s nothing like me. No clout, no talent,” Carmen hisses.
“She’s ten times the woman you’ll ever be. I needed her heart, not her connections, or her money.”
Her face drops, nearly bloodless.
I don’t take any satisfaction from this.
I just want it to end.
/> Pulling the phone back toward me, I glance at the screen, ready to hit send.
“Jesus, you’re serious. Wait, Nick—” She lunges across the room, almost bowling me over.
She teeters with me, an arm slung around one shoulder, determined to throw off my balance.
I’m a big man, but she’s a hellcat fighting for dear life. I miss my step when I try to shove her off me.
The way we’re tilting, she’ll break my fall. But she’s also less than half my size.
I’ll smash her to bits.
With one hand—I don’t dare loosen the grip on my phone—I try to maneuver us so I’m not landing on her. Even after all she’s done, I won’t hurt her physically.
We still wind up in a heap on the marble floor. I’m flat on my back and she’s on top of me, beating my chest with her fists.
“Oh, sweetheart. If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask,” she snarls.
Of course, she’s going for the hand holding the phone.
“Get off of me and get the fuck out of here!” My eyes dart around, desperate to finish this before Reese ever makes it back here.
Carmen slides further up my body, this oily look sliding across her face, and locks her hand around my phone. “I only have one hand on the phone. My other hand is free to tease. The way I see it, this could go a few ways. You’ll either let go of the phone without requesting a favor so you can stay true to your new found lovey-dove, or you’ll decide you’ve had a change of heart and want me to touch you. Just like I used to. Carrot or stick. Such a fun game.”
“You’re a fucking psychopath,” I spit.
“No, but I did play one on Catch the Murderer. It took a lot of research. Savannah loved to play with her prey, and this was one of the games I wrote for her...”
Really? She’s babbling about her character right now?
“You’re acting out a fucking scene with me?” I can’t believe this shit.
“I’d rather not, but since you won’t let go of the phone...I’m running out of options.”
I must’ve been drunker than I ever realized to waste years on and off with this woman.
“I’m not letting go of the phone and you’re never touching me again. Why don’t you just get the fuck off me, and we’ll call it a truce?”
She smiles. “As you wish.”
Bad move, trusting her.
The witch buries her nails in the top of my hand the second I move.
“Fuck!” I grunt.
“Let go.”
I don’t.
She sinks her claws in harder.
“Let. Go.” Her voice is pure poison.
I refuse.
She digs her nails in as hard as she can.
Hot liquid trickles down my hand—blood—but I keep my phone locked in a death grip.
There’s a popping sound in her shoulder as she rips it away from me, and she tumbles back with a whimper.
Thank God she’s off me.
She cups both hands around the slick phone like a prize and jerks her body back. It almost slips.
Damn.
She’s stronger than she looks, but I manage to keep my grasp on it. “You know all of this wrestling with the phone may have already sent the email, right?”
“If I don’t get the phone, you will send it. At least this way I have a chance.”
“I’ve been careful because I didn’t want to hurt you. My patience is gone. Get the fuck up or I’ll yank you off it,” I tell her.
“Whatever.” She tugs on the phone.
With a fierce pull, it slips out of her hands and I throw it across the room, then spring to my feet. Carmen crashes onto the floor behind me.
“That hurt!” she screeches after me.
“You were warned,” I say, sprinting across the room.
She’s back on her feet and running at me again—or trying to with halting, uneven steps. “Nicholas fucking Brandt. Do not send that shit.”
She’s right behind me.
I rush back into my room and jump on my bed.
She tries to follow.
“Too late. Already sent.”
“You did not!”
“Did. Checkmate.”
Her hand goes on her hips as her eyes narrow. “What did it say? I only saw the images.”
I don’t answer. I hit three buttons on my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
She’ll find out soon enough.
“Nick, who are you calling?” she repeats.
I hop off the foot of the bed and walk out my bedroom, putting some badly needed distance between us.
She follows me, but I think I’m far enough away.
She can’t hear who’s on the other line, and soon, it won’t matter.
25
Closing Statements (Reese)
I get out of the car and walk back into Sutton’s office, following my instincts.
I walk up to the receptionist’s desk. “Do you think I could talk to Mr. Sutton again? I promise to be quick.”
She drags her mouse and looks at her computer. “Maybe. I don’t think his next meeting started yet.” She goes to his office and knocks on the door, ducking inside for a moment before she returns. “He’ll see you.”
“Thanks.” I give her as much of a smile as I can manage, but I’m out of smiles today.
Sutton looks up at me from his chair.
“Is Mr. Brandt okay?” He pauses.
Ha. I wish I knew.
“He’s fine.” I think. I hope. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Certainly.”
“When someone talks to their attorney, no one else is around, right?”
“Correct. No one else knows what my client says to me. It’s not their business,” he tells me.
“But when I see Abby, we’re in a room full of people?”
He nods. “That’s normal security protocol. Folks in jail aren’t allowed total privacy with friends and family.”
“It’s just—I think if there were less people around, I could get her to talk.”
“I can go with you. I can’t promise they’ll let us in together. Sometimes they will, and sometimes they won’t. But we can try.”
“I feel bad asking this next question, but...is there any chance we could go today? Like now. Nick’s freaking out about something, and he really wants my sister to talk.”
Sutton smiles. “We all want that. If you think today’s the day, let me get my coat.”
I decide to leave the Maserati parked where it’s more secure.
He calls a cab and has us delivered to the jail in no time. We’re escorted to a private room without any holdups, thankfully. The desk and chairs are metal and bolted to the ground.
“That was easy,” I say.
“Well, this next part is yours. I hope you have more luck with her than I did,” Sutton tells me.
Me too. Millie still has nightmares a few times a week.
Nick is imploding.
Between worrying about the three of them—Abby included—I’m barely holding it together.
Abby comes in a minute or two later with cuffs around her arms and legs.
I swallow harshly. It’s hard to see your own sister chained up like a dog.
She sits down across from us with one question that’s become almost predictable. “Where’s Millie?”
“With Miss Tiffany for now,” I say.
“The nanny?”
I nod.
“I wish you’d brought her.” Abby looks through me. It’s obvious every day locked up wears her down a little more, sucking her life away.
I bite my lip. “Abby, you can see Millie again. You can go back to being her mother...if you think it’s time to tell us what happened. We both know that’s easier if she isn’t here.”
Abby jerks her head away for a minute before turning back to meet my eyes. She squeezes her eyes tight and a tear streams down her cheek. Holding her cuffed hands up, she brings them as close to her face as she can and lea
ns forward to wipe a stray tear.
It’s my turn to look away.
God, this is brutal.
I find her gaze. “What happened? We’ll keep you safe, sis, I promise.”
For a long moment, she hesitates.
Just when I’m losing hope, she looks up, a new energy in her eyes.
“Okay. My biggest mistake was trusting Will when he barged back into our lives. He swore he’d changed though, and...and he is Millie’s dad. He said he wanted us to be a family again. For some stupid reason, I believed him.” She pauses, her voice hitched. “But then he started leaving big boxes around the apartment. He’d drop them for a day or two before they disappeared. They were work stuff—tools, he’d tell me, whenever I asked. We argued about it when I worried it was something Millie could get into.”
Again, she draws a shaky breath, lowering her eyes before she looks at us again.
“He...he finally told me it was weed, and this was his last run. He said he wanted just enough to build up some savings and leave us comfortable until he found a better job. Of course, I said hell no and told him to get the shit out of my house. I’ve been clean for too long. I wasn’t risking going backward, not to mention involving the cops or CPS. I wouldn’t give them any excuse to put Millie in the system—” Her voice rises.
“Shh. I know. It’s okay,” I offer gently.
She sits up straighter and continues. “Well, you can imagine he didn’t like that. He’d never been violent. It took me by surprise. When I told him to get out for good and take his crap with him, he smacked me across the face and gestured like he had a gun. ‘If you don’t want me to store it, you can damn well help me deliver it,’ he told me, and forced me to drive across town. He said it was his biggest haul ever, and I’d fly under the radar better than him. That was the night I got arrested.”
She makes a choking sound, cutting off. I want to reach across the table for her hand so badly, but Sutton shakes his head, reminding me of prison protocol.
Ugh.
“Abby, it’s okay, you didn’t know.”
“I did know, Reese. I knew enough. I just didn’t want to. I let him bully me. Will swore he’d take Millie and sue me for custody. He said he took pictures of drugs hidden in my car, and he’d turn the tables on me with the authorities if I refused to cooperate. I’d lose Millie forever. I was desperate...I wasn’t thinking. So I ran Millie upstairs to Mrs. Gamlin and acted like I had a big job in another town—” She cuts off again, a hot sob ripping through her. Tears flow from her eyes. “God, I fucked up. I’m never getting out of here, am I?”
