by Lori Foster
“Hey!” He fetched up against the fence, grabbed his side, and winced. His expression bitter, his mouth slack, he muttered, “Bitch,” with just enough contempt to cut through her.
She needed to collect herself. She needed to be calm and decisive. She had to take control.
All she really wanted to do was cry. Like that would help anything.
Rubbing her forehead, May forced herself to consider her options. For certain, she couldn’t let Tim get behind the wheel of a car. He could barely walk, much less drive. Calling her mother or father was out of the question. If Olympia Price knew about any of this… well, Tim came by his drunkenness legitimately.
Her mother mixed prescription drugs with the booze, and stayed in enough of a fog that she considered everything in the world to be about her. May would end up taking care of her brother and her mom, and she just couldn’t handle it. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened with Jude.
Her father… well, who even knew if Stuart would be home? More likely he was off with a woman. Any woman. He used her mother’s illness as an excuse to duck responsibility—which left it all to fall on her shoulders.
Strangely enough, he expected May to understand his actions. They all expected so much of her. For most of her life she’d done her best not to let them down.
Her stomach roiled. I’m not like them. I’m not like them.
“May? What are you doin’ jus’ standin’ there? Give me my damn keys.”
Decide, May. Now.
She managed a calming breath, then another. The throbbing in her head receded behind numbness. She dredged up the person Tim wanted her to be, and she turned to him with conviction. “No, you can’t have your keys, so don’t keep asking.”
“Then wha—”
“You can walk to the Squirrel. Wait for me there.”
His mouth fell open. His bloodshot eyes went wide. “Hell no. That’s a mile away!”
May didn’t let his panic affect her. “Maybe the fresh air and exercise will sober you up a little.” She hated to unload her brother on the very nice, very local couple who ran the small eatery. She just didn’t know what else to do with him.
From the time they were children, Tim understood when May meant business. He gave up without much fight. “I’ll need some money.”
Of course he did. Tim went through money like water through a sieve. “What’d you spend your money on tonight?”
“Not what you’re thinking. I only had a few drinks.”
“Right.”
“Hey, I don’t have a movie star chasing me, okay? I have to work for my money.”
The conversation quickly deteriorated. But then, she knew better than to argue with a drunk. When inebriated, the most logical person in the world had no sense of reason or decorum. The longer Tim hung around, the more likely he’d be to embarrass her.
Her purse was inside, presenting another dilemma. “I’ll call ahead and tell them to put it on my tab.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Tim shoved away from the fence, swayed on his feet, and stumbled. “But you’re not much of a sister, just sending me off.”
Fresh fury rushed through her veins. “And you’re not much of a brother!”
He looked wounded, making her immediately regret her words. She despised the man he’d become, but she couldn’t entirely blame him. Where Tim was concerned, their parents had always found saying “yes” easier than saying “no,” even when “no” should have been the answer.
Even when “no” would have showed more caring.
He was the all-important male heir, their pride and joy, the one to inherit the car lot—and yet, he was one more child they didn’t have time for, because children detracted from their own selfish pursuits and bit into the funds they wanted to spend on themselves. Somehow, they’d raised Tim in their image, with such a sense of entitlement he’d never learned to stand on his own. In too many ways, she pitied him.
She would never want anyone to pity her.
“I’m sorry, Tim. You’ve caught me at a bad time. Just go to the Squirrel, eat something, hang out. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
A charming smile came and went. “I’m sorry, too.” He started to give her a hug, but May moved out of reach. She loved her brother, but she loathed having a drunk hang on her. The smell alone turned her stomach. “Be careful now.”
“I’m ordering a steak,” he warned with a grin. Then he meandered off, his gait unsteady, his safety unsure—and May selfishly wondered if Jude might still be inside.
She glanced at the back door to the gallery, seeing the soft glow of lights, able to hear the quiet buzz of the crowd. Soon, they’d all leave. They only came to see Jude, anyway. Not a single one of them had a real appreciation for art.
Looking back at Tim, she made herself watch until he disappeared out of sight along the wet streets.
He’d be okay, she assured herself. He had to be.
Her heart picking up speed, she rushed back into the gallery. Common sense told her that Jude only bided his time with her. She didn’t fall at his feet, and that made her unique. If he truly wanted her, he wouldn’t want her for long.
Not that she expected more from him. Or from any man. She’d long ago resigned herself to a life alone. She’d made her choices, and she wouldn’t wish them on anyone else. Maybe some day things would change… and she felt guilty for even thinking that way.
The never-ending conflict wore on her.
When she got inside, she found the back room quiet and empty. Her silly anticipation sank beneath the weight of responsibility. She’d scheduled the show to last another hour. She owed it to the artists and the patrons to put on a good face, so she straightened her shoulders, smoothed her rain-frizzled hair, and wiped her glasses clean before positioning them on her nose. Wearing a dignified smile, she stepped into the main gallery.
No one noticed her. Few people ever did.
Except for Jude.
She didn’t need to search the room to know he’d left. She felt it, down deep inside herself. Just as she felt it when he got near.
When he hadn’t walked through the doors at the opening of the event, she’d been desolate. Greeting guests had occupied her time, but not her mind.
Then she’d felt his approach, and her heart had soared. So melodramatic. So fanciful.
So… fun.
His silly flirting sent an irrepressible joy into her soul. He made her blush and stammer. He made her feel naked. He shared her love of art.
He wanted her to believe in his interest.
But May wasn’t a dummy. She prided herself on being smart enough to know what would and wouldn’t be good for her.
Jude Jamison, all six feet two inches of him, was at the top of the “not good” list. Any interest he showed had to be out of boredom. Or because she posed a challenge.
As Hollywood’s sexiest hunk, Jude starred in one blockbuster movie after another. Before the awful scandal and the drawn out trial, his smile had graced everything from posters and calendars to billboards and commercials. Every week he’d had a different starlet on his arm, each one more beautiful than the other.
Even now, Hollywood wouldn’t let him go. According to the magazines and newspapers, the offers kept coming. Directors still wanted him, maybe even more now that his notoriety had grown.
But Jude stayed out of the limelight as much as he could. He isolated himself on his property—except for the rare appearance at her showings.
The man did like his art.
If only he liked her as much.
Sighing, she walked to her desk and put in the call to the Squirrel. With Jude gone, the rest of the night would drag.
Damn it, she missed him already.
———
There were times when Tim hated his sister. As if a freakin’ fairy had sprinkled magic dust on her, things always went her way.
May got a job as an assistant to a realtor—and loved it.
Tim inherited the car lot—
and hated it.
She took a financial risk and opened the gallery—and a rich bastard like Jamison moved to the area and kept her afloat.
He bet at the boats—and lost every fucking time.
If May wanted the sun to shine, she could probably make it happen. Life blessed her while it cursed him, and it made it damn hard to like her sometimes.
Because she didn’t face his problems, she’d never understand. His mother’s constant blathering, wanting him to dote on her, wanting his undivided attention. His father’s endless demands, first about the car lot, and then about being a man in general. Of course he drank. He had to, or his life wouldn’t be bearable.
May knew what the docs said about him drinking. It was a sickness. A disease. A source of relief. But did she care?
Hell no.
Making him walk to the Squirrel. Unfeeling bitch. He should’ve just taken his keys back. Not like she could stop him. But… shit. Somehow she always did. May didn’t start things she couldn’t finish, so if she said no, she meant it.
He huffed, then cursed as a passing car hit a puddle, soaking his legs.
Muddy water drenched him, his head hurt, and he needed another drink. Bad. His throat closed up, and he had to swallow hard when he started feeling sorry for himself. Or sorrier. Whatever.
More headlights flashed over him, and he stepped to the side to avoid another splash. Christ, he hated the Squirrel with their greasy food and pasted on smiles. He hated—
Squealing tires made him jump, then a rough hand grabbed at him, and he fell. His knees barely met the roadway before a fist clenched in his collar and yanked him awkwardly inside a car. His arm scraped along the edge of the door. His heel cracked the curb, knocking his shoe loose. Panic exploded, but he didn’t have time to react. He choked on an automatic shout of fear.
Rock-hard knuckles cracked against his jaw. His head snapped back, pain exploded behind his eyes, down his neck and back. “What the fuck?”
Frantic, he tried to look around, but another blow landed, then another. Shielding his head the best he could, he cowered into a tight ball. But the strikes kept coming, harder and faster. Caught in the floor of the rear seat between two men, he screamed, struggled, but it did him no good. He couldn’t maneuver, couldn’t dodge the assault. Never in his life had he felt so helpless.
Time dragged by; his babbling pleas faded to broken groans of agony—and finally, before he could black out, the punishment stopped.
Pain receded beneath an awful numbness, a pervasive fear that refused to allow him the luxury of a faint. He sensed that the car had stopped, which meant there were three men, two in back with him and one driving. Would they kill him now? Dump his body somewhere?
He strained one eye open, trying to see past the blurry fog. Darkness sank in, from outside the car, from inside his head. His lips were fat, his tongue swollen, his throat raw from screaming.
From the right of him, foul breath assaulted his face. “You still with us, Tim?”
This couldn’t be happening. Words tried to crawl up his throat, but he couldn’t get them out.
“He’s not listening.” That cold, uncaring voice snapped from his left.
“I’ll wake him up.”
No… He tried to move away, but he didn’t get far. His teeth nearly shook loose with the force of the slap to his jaw.
A fist caught his collar, choking him. “Do we have your attention, now?”
“Yeah…” He struggled to clear his head.
“Good. Now listen up, because the choice is yours.”
The fist hauled him upward, aggravating his injuries, keeping him half suspended over the floor. He couldn’t see a thing. Just endless blackness. And maybe, just maybe, the glitter of malicious eyes in the dark interior of the car.
“You owe our boss some money.”
Dear God. This was about his debt? Someone would do this to him over money? Held in the steely grip of fear, Tim muttered, “No.”
“Yeah, you do, Tim. Fifty thousand one hundred dollars, to be exact.” The voice gentled. “That’s hardly birdfeed.”
His ribs protested at every breath. “I… I’ll pay it back…”
“Relax, man. You’ve already paid back part of it.” A soft chuckle. “This bearing takes care of the C-note.”
A lousy hundred dollars’ worth. How bad would they beat him for fifty grand?
“You’re wondering about the rest? That’s easy.” Gleeful eagerness built. “To even the score, we’d have to kill you.”
“Nooo.”
Knuckles cracked, accompanied by an anxious laugh, and Tim almost threw up.
Survival instincts kicked in. Clawing, he struggled to get away from the ominous voices. Where he’d go, he had no idea. It was dark, he was badly hurt. And he had no idea where they were…
A slug on his ear and a fist around his throat stifled his movements. He tried, but he couldn’t suck even a thread of air past the constriction around his windpipe.
All humor gone, the voice snarled, “Sit still, you miserable fuck, or we’ll take you apart right now.”
His heart beat so hard and loud, Tim wasn’t sure he could hear over it.
“Now, the choice is yours. You can either repay the money tonight.”
He didn’t want to die. A sob seeped out around the tight fist. He barely managed to shake his head. He didn’t have it. The most he could cough up would be a few grand. Even May wouldn’t have that much in her savings. Maybe his parents… but he doubted it. They’d spent his inheritance quick as they could, damn them. But maybe if he mentioned them, he could buy some time.
The fist loosened, cupped his nape. “Or you can take one of your other two choices.”
Hope emerged; he had choices?
“One, you can either die to prove a point.”
“Nooo, pleassse…”
“Or you can do the boss a favor. Just a small favor, Tim, no big deal. But it’ll square up your debt. How does that sound?”
Unable to move, Tim gulped air, silently praying, afraid to hope again, but more afraid of being murdered. He nodded his head.
“I thought that might interest you. Here, now, why are you still crouched in the floor? Have a seat with us so I can give you all the details.”
Because he had no other option, Tim forced his aching body up to the seat and gingerly settled between the beefy bulldogs. Fresh blood trickled down the side of his face, sticky and warm. A piercing pain sliced deep into his side, probably from cracked ribs. He tasted his own fear.
And if May hadn’t pushed him away, none of this would have happened.
Clasping his hands together to keep them from shaking, he whispered thickly, “Wha’ d’ I haf to do?”
———
Furious, exhausted, and damn it, so worried she felt ill, May paced the floor. Hours ago she’d showered, changed into her gown. She’d tried the phone a dozen times, left that many messages. She’d checked with all his friends, their parents, every bar in the area.
She knew Tim had probably just gone off somewhere to continue drinking, but… what if he hadn’t? He didn’t have his car. It was still in the parking lot of her gallery. By his own admission, he’d been without money. Would he go off to drink when he knew she’d be coming for him?
Of course he would, she told herself. He was a drunk. And irresponsible. And he never truly thought of anyone but himself.
But what if he hadn’t?
Tears burned her eyes. Damn him! Where—
The loud thump against her door nearly sent her out of her skin. For two seconds, she held a hand to her heart and just stared at the door, afraid to move, afraid to hope. Midnight had come and gone hours ago. No one ever visited her except her friend Ashley, but Ashley would have called first.
In a squeak, she asked, “Who is it?”
“May?”
Hearing her brother’s weak, slurred voice unglued her feet from the floor. Every previous second of worry merged into a blinding fury tha
t carried her across the room to jerk the door wide.
To her shock, a body fell inside, hitting the floor in a broken heap. The battered face was almost unrecognizable. Mud and blood caked his hair, smeared over his face, and his clothes were tattered. Oddly enough, she noticed that he’d lost a shoe.
“Tim?” she whispered on a breath of sound.
He just… laid there. Not moving. Barely breathing.
“Oh. My. God.” She dropped to her knees beside him. “Tim!”
“G’me… inside,” he rasped through grotesquely swollen lips. “Hurry.”
“Tim?” From a whisper to high and shrill, she couldn’t control her voice. Tim sounded scared to death, which reflected exactly how she felt. “What’s happened to you? Were you in a wreck?”
Had he stolen a car? Taken one from the sale lot? Why hadn’t she thought of that? Of course, he had access to a car, lots of cars. He sold cars, for crying out loud.
Putting a hand to her mouth, May prayed for the right answer. “Tim, listen to me. Was anyone else hurt?”
“No.”
Awful panic ran through her. “Are you sure? If you left the scene of an accident—”
“No. “He gasped, then moaned out a sob. “No… no asident.”
May bit her lip. If he hadn’t been in a car wreck, then what? He looked demolished.
Get a grip, May. Don’t fall apart. She nodded to herself, took a deep breath. “Just hold still.”
Afraid of hurting him more, her hands hovered over his body. Blood stained his shirt, his slacks, left a track along his ear and his jaw…
“May.” One bloodshot eye opened. “Hel’ me. Hurry.”
Tears burned her eyes, and she shook her head helplessly. “I’m not a doctor. I’ll have to call an ambulance.” She started to stand, and his hand clamped onto her ankle.
“They…” He swallowed audibly. “They migh’ come back.”
Her eyes widened. “They who? Someone did this to you?”
“Yeah. Gotta get… inside. Lock the… door.”
The cold chill of terror scraped down her spine. She surged to her feet and peered out the doorway. The hall outside her apartment was empty and dim. There were no strangers, no unfamiliar shadows. May listened but could hear nothing over the broken wheezing of her brother’s breath.
