by Anne Conley
They sloshed their way out of the van, with Miriam between the two men holding her up. She was breathless, cold, everything hurt, and she was still pissed. Taking a physical inventory, she realized she wasn’t hurt. Just emotionally broken.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she said to Jake. Turning to Quinten, she lashed out at her friend. “You, too! You brought him here!”
Jake had sunk to the bank of the river, putting his head in his hands.
Quinten growled at her. “I really hate to say this, but you need to listen to him. They’re twins. Jake hired us. Joe is the bar owner.” He gritted his teeth together, making his temple twitch. “The cops will be here soon. We’ll say we were on the way to the gun range and hit the guy who wandered into the road. Let’s just get this clusterfuck of a job over with. You two can fix your shit later.”
Miriam looked at Jake, who had taken off his shirt and held it to his nose. “You’re twins?” His head was between his knees and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. But he nodded.
“He raped you?” His voice was tortured, rough and gritty, and he refused to look at her. Seeing him like that, a brief moment of pity took over. If what he said was true, he was a victim of Joe’s machinations as much, if not more, than she was. But with sirens blaring in the background from approaching emergency vehicles, she couldn’t focus on that. Or the sculpted torso covered in goosebumps he revealed as he held his shirt to his bloody nose.
“Tried to.” Shaking her head, she stopped him from saying anything else. “Look, Quinten’s right. We don’t need to talk about this right now.” She didn’t want to, anyway.
Miriam embraced the bone-deep chill of the river as she sank down to rest against a tree on the river bank. She was soaked, as were the others, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Part of her wanted to rejoice that she wasn’t insane—that Jake wasn’t insane—but another part of her was too over-stimulated. There was too much information running around in her brain to process anything right now. She needed to focus on her story for the cops and get home, where she could focus on her normal, daily routine.
Of course, people had seen the wreck, so Miriam followed Quinten’s lead and didn’t talk until the police arrived. He told their story while she was being checked out by the ambulance driver, and when Simon showed up, he took control of the situation, refusing to let them speak to anyone. Since Quinten was driving, he was being questioned, and when a Detective Hollerman got there, she overheard him yelling at Simon.
“Do I even want to know how Austin’s most wanted gang leader ended up dead on the Interstate while your people land in the river with an illegal cache of guns?” He looked harried, to say the least, and ran his hands through his hair, gesticulating wildly at Simon.
Calmly, Simon simply replied, “They were on their way to the gun range with some new toys. That’s all. I have no idea who that man is, and I’m sorry he’s dead. Although, if he is all that criminal, maybe this isn’t a bad thing?”
“Fucking vigilantes,” Hollerman muttered, stalking away. “This is total bullshit.” Pointing at Simon, he continued, “I don’t think you know who you’re up against, Pierce. These people don’t forget.” Motioning toward Miriam, who’d been watching them silently, he said, “Watch her.”
Simon drove them all home, and Jake sat in the front seat while Quinten and Miriam sat in the back. He wanted to be sitting next to her, instead of the big dude, but when the police had released them, this was how they’d ended up.
Jake longed to hold Miriam, make sure she was okay, but he didn’t know how to tell her. Every bone in his body craved her—to be near her, smell her, reassure her. Instead, Quinten was back there, with his hand on her leg, drawing circles with his thumb.
Every circle the muscle-bound man drew on Miriam’s leg ratcheted Jake’s nerves higher. The intimacy of the gesture was front and center in Jake’s head and he wondered if they had a past. Or a present? If she had been undercover at the bar, thought he was Joe this entire time, was what they had even real? Panic lit him on fire, and he stared at his hands in his lap.
When Simon pulled up in front of his truck first at the bar, Jake glanced at Miriam to find her staring at him, her wide, green eyes piercing his soul. It was like she saw right through him, and a white hot ball of need shot through him, landing in his gut like a boulder.
Even after everything she’d been through, she was beautiful.
Jake swallowed and finally spoke. “You’re not going back to work at his bar, are you?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
He wanted to fire the security firm. They’d done what they could do, and he didn’t want them putting her in danger anymore. “I’ll pay for the services. You did your best, but I don’t want this going on any longer. He needs to be arrested. My folks will get over it.”
Simon nodded, his jaw clenched. “We’ll have a file ready for you tomorrow afternoon. You can come pick it up or we’ll messenger it over.”
Without another word, Jake let himself out of the car and walked to his truck, never feeling more alone in his life. They all worked together and were probably friends, maybe more, if he could trust the feeling he got from Quinten’s hand on Miriam’s leg. He was an outsider.
Driving home, he realized he needed to speak with Joe. He wanted to kill him, actually. Bloodlust raced through his veins and Jake realized if he didn’t want to go to jail, he’d back off and let Joe make his mistakes. He’d let the drug gang have him. It was exactly what he deserved.
But the fact that Miriam had thought Jake had done those things to her made him realize Joe had to be stopped. He had to do something or else he would just keep hurting people in his quest for whatever made Joe happy.
At his house, Jake dug around in his freezer for a package of corn and put it on his nose, then pulled out a beer from the fridge and sat on the couch for a little first aid. A weird sense of pride engulfed him, pride for Miriam for standing up to him, even though she thought he was Joe. But the bloody nose proved she wasn’t going to lie down and take anything anymore.
In the silence of his house, Jake’s thoughts were deafening. He hated his brother. He couldn’t think of a single act of retribution too horrific for him. Joe had finally done it.
He had earned Jake’s hatred.
Jake felt it burn inside of him so brightly it eclipsed all else, and he knew he had to do something about it. He couldn’t confront him, for a multitude of reasons. He knew if he saw Joe, he would get physical with him, and he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself. The anger and fear he’d seen in Miriam’s eyes when she saw him in the van—thinking he was Joe—only fueled the hatred inside him, pumping his imagination full of sick scenarios.
He hadn’t been this angry when Joe had fucked Abby, mostly because Abby told him about it, and she’d instigated it with her quest for ‘advice.’ Jake knew she’d probably gone to him for a little comparison shopping and blamed her as much as his brother.
But this time, Joe had gone too far. Way too far. And how many other women had he sexually abused, or molested, or whatever he had done to Miriam? He had no idea if he would ever find out what really happened between them and was certain he didn’t really want to know.
All he knew was he’d thought he’d lost her when the van went off the road today, and the sickening feeling that had twisted his gut in those seconds was excruciatingly telling. He had feelings for Miriam. Real feelings.
And Joe had fucked it up.
Jake sat on his couch for hours, stewing in his loathing for his twin. At some point, he got the bottle of vodka from under his kitchen sink and drank. Then he got his laptop out and looked at pictures of Miriam.
Miriam went into work the next morning at the securities firm after a sleepless night. She didn’t want to stay home and overthink things. She was ready for some normalcy back in her life. After making a batch of cupcakes and lunch for the boys, she juggled the platter and croc
k pot into her car.
Simon was surprised to see her. Grabbing the platter off the top of her arms, he said, “You shouldn’t have come in to work today. We’ve gotten along without you, we could manage another day.”
“Thanks for making me feel special,” she replied dryly and was rewarded with a rare blush from Simon.
“You know I didn’t mean it that way. That smells amazing,” he motioned to the soup after stuffing a cupcake in his mouth.
“Thank you. And I wanted to come in. I need to get back to my routine. It’s been too long.”
Simon nodded, taking another cupcake into his office. “You have been missed.”
Miriam settled into her desk with a satisfied smile to start catching up on emails. Most of them she’d answered from home, but the last few days had been hectic, and she’d put off some stuff. Realizing she had been too hard on her coworkers, Miriam had made the crock pot soup last night as sort of an apology for the influx of hormones she’d been having, in addition to all of her own personal shit. Miriam shouldn’t blame them for her enabling them. She was the one who started out cooking for them. She really shouldn’t get mad because they enjoyed it. This morning, along that same thread, she’d made them a bunch of cupcakes to go with the soup. She was such a sucker.
Miriam spent the morning filing and clearing her desk of the massive amounts of paperwork Simon and Quinten insisted on as the guys filed in one at a time. Why they didn’t computerize most of this, she would never understand, but Simon was old-school. So this was the way it was.
Each one welcomed her back and expressed gratitude for her presence before grabbing handfuls of cupcakes and going to their offices.
After lunch, Simon came out of his office and slapped a file folder on her now-clean desk. “Jake Calahan is coming in for the file this afternoon.” His eyes softened. “You okay with that?”
Nodding, she smiled, “Sure.” It was a fake smile as the butterflies reared up in her stomach. She wasn’t at all sure she could handle Jake right now. Miriam had gotten lost in the routine of the morning, the familiarity of it all, and seeing Jake was going to wreck it.
She had spent all night thinking about him, still not sure of which interactions had actually been with Jake. Separating the two men in her mind had driven her mad. Of course, she’d known he would be here today, and she’d actually worn her fake boobs in case he showed up while she was here.
Because even though she didn’t want to, she thought she liked Jake. And the idea of him seeing her without her boobs made her cringe. What if he reacted the way Vince and his brother had? She couldn’t handle that. Not from Jake.
She saw the irony in her reactions. She’d lopped them off, not caring about society’s norms, but here she was, wearing prosthetic breasts because she was afraid of what a certain man would think if he saw her in just the camisole and sweater she’d intended to wear.
The truth was, Miriam didn’t think she could get past the whole Jake/Joe fiasco without knowing who Jake was, if what they had was genuine. But that scared her, too.
She buried herself in work, trying to not think anymore. And it was successful for a while. Until he actually walked into the office.
His movements were wary as he ambled toward her desk, stopping at the edge of it. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, his lanky movements stiff, muscles tense. Jake had showered recently—his hair was still wet and curling at the tips—but his face was sallow and pale, except the dark rings under his eyes, deepening the shade of blue she dreamed about. His nose was swollen where she’d punched him, but apparently not broken. She was glad for that.
His throat clicked with a dry swallow before he spoke her name. “Miriam.”
Offering him the file folder, she tried to look away but couldn’t. She was captivated. “Simon left this for you to pick up.”
“Can I get an extra copy of it? I’m going to the police station after this.” His eyes took on a fierce gleam. “I’m turning it over to the police.”
“Sure. Um… You can sit, if you want.” She turned on her heel and strode efficiently into the copy room. Miriam tried desperately to get her heartrate under control by taking deep breaths, but it wasn’t working. It still pounded like a jackhammer just knowing he was sitting in one of her chairs. When he left, it would smell like his body wash, his aftershave, Jake.
With clammy palms, she shuffled the papers into a neat stack and grabbed another file folder from the box above her head and returned. He was sitting on the chair she’d told him to, tracking her every movement.
He cleared his throat. “Are you going to press charges against him?”
Nodding, unsure of his reaction, she replied carefully, “Yes. I’m going in this afternoon.”
He relaxed into his chair a bit, and she was relieved to see he wasn’t going to harbor any ill will toward her for reporting his brother. He sighed, “Good.” But he didn’t make a move to leave.
Miriam didn’t know what to say next. Jake looked like he was just getting comfortable, but there was still a tension about him that made her hyper-aware of him. A flash of a memory of him without a shirt, playing basketball with his son hit her, and she nearly sobbed, realizing she wasn’t sure if that was Joe or Jake.
“Look, I want to apologize about everything.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, rasping the palms over the denim.
“No need.” Her voice sounded funny, thick, unnaturally so. “It’s all part of the job.” Forcing cheer into her fake smile was hard. So hard.
“I want to go out with you on a real date,” he blurted out before dropping his eyes to the ground. Before they fell, she’d seen a desperation in the blue orbs.
“I can’t,” she muttered apologetically, digging around in her desk drawer for something. She didn’t care what, she just couldn’t look at him.
“I have to prove to you I’m different. I’m so different from Joe, I’d think he was adopted if it weren’t for the identical twin thing.” Letting loose a nervous chuckle, he sat forward in his chair. “Please.”
“I can’t… date clients. Simon would have a cow.”
A voice from the adjoining office boomed at her, “For fuck’s sake, Mir. Nobody ever listens to that, why should you?”
She felt the blush rising to her face just as Evan and Ryan’s offices echoed with a loud, “Hey!”
Jake chuckled to himself, no longer sounding nervous, and the sound made Miriam hotter. It was a deep, rolling chuckle which served to remind her of the chemistry between them.
“Okay.”
The grin melting his chiseled features brought an accompanying smile to her own.
“Tomorrow?”
“Okay.” She scribbled down her address on a Post-It note and handed it to him. He purposefully brushed his fingers across hers as he took it and the warmth of his touch was electric. A pulse shot up her arm, and Miriam knew she was a goner.
Jake strode out the door, this time his movements were filled with purpose and agility, and after he’d gone, Miriam spun around in her desk chair.
When she faced the back wall of office doors, she saw Quinten there, standing in his doorway, face inscrutable. She froze in her chair, and as she opened her mouth to say something, Quinten simply shook his head as if to tell her not to, and went into his office, slamming the door.
She had some damage control to do. But it would have to wait. Quinten obviously didn’t want to talk to her right now, and she had other things to distract her.
Jake had a spring in his step and a goofy-ass grin on his face as he walked into the police station. She had said yes. She wanted to give them a chance. Joe hadn’t ruined it all. He gripped the folder tighter and vowed Joe wouldn’t ruin this.
After meeting with a detective, who assured Jake he would look into things, he made his way to Joe’s bar. It was time to confront this and put it behind him.
After the bartender at the front did a double-take, Jake was directed to a shit-hole office in the back, where he wal
ked in on his twin finishing up a line of cocaine.
Jake marveled at the cliché raising his head to meet his eyes, nostril pinched shut, deeply inhaling the final sniff, giving Joe his high.
“Joe.” Jake tried to sound menacing, but admittedly, the name came out with a tired sigh. He hoped this would be one of the last conversations he would have with his brother like this.
“Ahhh…” Joe exhaled deeply before sniffing again and wiping his nose. “The prodigal son,” he said in greeting, his voice arrogant, smarmy.
“Hardly. I haven’t taken a long trip or spent my father’s money,” he said pointedly.
“I haven’t been anywhere.” Joe leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers over his belly, the leather squeaking in the silent office.
Not yet. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Why did you, then?”
“To say some things, and then I’m leaving.”
Joe’s smug look was unaffected. He sat there, waiting.
“First off, Miriam’s mine. If you ever touch her again, I will kill you. You had all my high school girlfriends. Fine. You had my wife. Fine. That’s all in the past. But you will not have Miriam.”
The spark in Joe’s eyes told Jake he’d just accepted the challenge, and it roiled Jake’s stomach.
“Second of all, she worked for me. So did Quinten. There’s now a file of papers with the Austin Police Department full of incriminating evidence tying you to Tres Lobos and gun-trafficking, as well as drug use, possibly dealing. So I think it’s safe to say your days here are numbered.”
The light in Joe’s eyes dimmed, and he sat forward in his seat.
“What do you mean? You had me followed?”
“Third of all, your guns never made it to Mexico, and Javier’s dead, so I think said Mafia will be after you soon.” Jake watched with satisfaction as Joe’s face paled.
