Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included!

by Stephanie St. Klaire

  “Wait, my phone,” Ivy said.

  Dace turned, brows furrowed. “What phone?”

  “I need my phone, thought maybe you had my things from the hospital?”

  “There wasn’t a phone,” he lied.

  “Oh.” A look of concern briefly crossed her expression. “I must have lost it somewhere.”

  “Must have. There wasn’t a phone. The clothes you were wearing were ruined, and your purse is in an evidence bag somewhere with Portland PD.” He lied again. “Were you staying at a hotel? Maybe have some clothes somewhere that I can have a team go get for you?”

  “No,” she said, searching for words. “I, uh…I didn’t bring anything with me. No hotel.”

  “Odd. You just came in from wherever with the clothes on your back?”

  “Yes. What’s so odd about that?” Her defensiveness was rearing its ugly head again.

  “Nothing. Guess this was just a day trip for you then. Most people pack a suitcase at the very least when traveling or moving somewhere. How did you get here? I don’t think you mentioned that. Do you have a car we should go pick up for you?” he asked, knowing there wasn’t a car.

  “Oh. No. No car. I, uh, had a rental, turned it in.”

  Dace just nodded. There wasn’t a rental. There wasn’t anything, and that was the problem. How the hell did she get all the way to Portland undetected? Liam had her name, possible aliases, parents’ names, and anything else he could think of flagged and facial recognition was linked to the CCTV networks within a twenty-mile radius of Portland and every airport security system. If she was around, Liam would have found her before she even hit town.

  Ivy didn’t say a word. She didn’t agree or argue. She just sat there, her expression void of any emotion. She was subtly stonewalling. Dace knew there was more to this story, hell, they all did. Why would she come to town – from who knows where – just for the day? What would the point of that be unless she was nearby to begin with, and if she were nearby, Dace would have found her.

  No, there was more to this, a hell of a lot more. Ivy was knee deep in her own personal hell, and Dace could see it. She was running. She didn’t have any clothes or toiletries because she didn’t take the time to grab them. She ran. If only Dace knew why, he could help her. Ivy knew she could trust him. She had to. He’d never given her a reason not to. The fact she wrote his name on her arm proved that.

  “Ma will be by tomorrow with some clothes and whatever else she thinks you’ll need while you’re here.”

  “Your ma?” Ivy couldn’t help but smile. “It’ll be nice to see her again. I-I missed her.”

  “She missed you too. She sat with you in the hospital. I’m sure she already gave you an earful while you were…sleeping.”

  “I wish I’d been awake for that. I’ll enjoy her retelling me all the things. I’m sure that’s the plan.” She chuckled.

  It was hard for Dace not to return a half grin. He was pleased to hear the sound of her laughter. “Be careful what you wish for. And the phone – I already put one in your nightstand drawer. It’s not traceable to the outside world and programmed with my brothers numbers and Ma’s.”

  “I can’t call anyone else?”

  “Who do you need to call?”

  She paused, gaze fixed on Dace as if she was warring with herself over what to say and not say. “No one. I don’t have anyone to call. I was just curious.”

  “Okay then.” Dace made it to the doorway, disappointed it wasn’t the breakthrough moment he’d hoped.

  “Wait…” Ivy called out.

  When Dace turned to look at her over his shoulder, she said, “Thank you.”

  He nodded and left the room, closing the door most of the way behind him. Dace knew she wanted to say more. He’d known that since his first encounter with her. Tossing around the idea she was hiding something and protecting someone was becoming a case of beating a dead horse. There were no if’s, and’s, or but’s about it. She was, and it was killing her to keep a secret so big, so violent, that little landed anywhere between life and death.

  It saddened Dace to watch her go through the pain she was in both physically and emotionally. Despite pushing him away and attempting to condition him with a sharp tone and abrasiveness meant to hurt him, he couldn’t help but want to save her from whatever plagued her that much more. He still cared for her – deeply – hell, he’d spent years trying to find her.

  Ivy came to him for help, there was no doubt in Dace’s mind. She was on her way to him when she was found and beaten. He would make those men – whoever they were – pay for what they did to her body, but he was also going to make them pay for the fear they instilled in her. Oh, they would pay.

  Dace was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door. The building was a fortress, which meant nobody got in who wasn’t supposed to be there, so he answered without hesitation, regretting it the moment he saw who was on the other side.

  “Hey,” Cally said, looking around Dace. “The guys said you’d be here. Did you…move apartments?”

  “Me? No.” Dace didn’t usually trip over his words, but there was a first time for everything. “We, uh, have a new case, and the client is under our protection. It’s my turn to…protect, I guess.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, that makes sense then. I, uh, hadn’t heard from you and started to worry,” Cally admitted. “I saw your ma today. She said you’d been tied up but wanted to talk, so…’

  “Ma said that, huh?” Dace rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner and grinned. “Ma needs to keep her nose in her own business.”

  “Aw, she means well. We do need to talk, though, Dace. I mean, something has been off and…”

  A loud cry came from Ivy’s bedroom followed by a crash.

  Dace quickly turned to look over his shoulder before returning his attention to Cally. “Look, this really isn’t a good time…”

  “Your case…the client – it’s a woman?”

  “Yeah, it’s – I mean she’s a woman. I really need to go check on…her. Can we catch up in the next few days? Have that talk you wanted?”

  “Days.” Cally repeated, disappointment lacing her words. “Right. You just give me a call when you have time.”

  Cally turned to walk away, but Dace grabbed her arm to stop her. “Cally, wait…”

  She shrugged off his grip and offered a sympathetic look. “It’s okay. You really need to go check on her.”

  And she left.

  Dace internally scolded himself as he made his way to Ivy’s room, disappointed by his own actions. Cally didn’t deserve this. She was a great girl, and he was ruining her, and it made him feel like a real son of a bitch, a feeling he’d been getting used to. Regardless of what would or wouldn’t happen between him and Ivy, he knew Cally deserved to be let off the hook in a gentle way, and he’d do just that as soon as he knew how to do it.

  “Oh, Jesus.” Dace rushed to Ivy who was propped on her knees on the floor over a pile of her own vomit. “What’s going on, darlin’?”

  She began to cry.

  “I didn’t feel well.” She sniffled. “I was trying to get to the bathroom, but my legs just…and I…”

  Ivy broke down into a tearful sob, and Dace pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay, honey. I’m here. I can clean that up.”

  “No,” she said. “You shouldn’t have to clean up after me. It isn’t fair or right to ask that of you.”

  Dace wasn’t sure if they were still talking about the vomit on the floor or something else.

  “Let me help you.” He scooped her up in his arms and took her to the bathroom where he set her carefully on the counter next to the sink and brushed a few loose stands of brunette behind her ears.

  He ran a washcloth under the water, wringing the excess, before gently dabbing her still battered face in a seemingly weak moment as the pain that consumed her spilled over. He dabbed under her eyes, soaking up the stream of emotion and washing it away, tear after tear. But they continued to flow.


  Dace shook his head and gave up on the rag, tossing it to the nearby hamper. She needed to cry. She needed this cry. So he let her.

  The gown she was wearing was soiled from falling and getting ill, so he pulled it over her head without a single protest from Ivy. She continued to cry. She was nearly bare underneath, wearing only panties, but he respectfully kept his eyes fixed on hers. She deserved that, despite the craving her scent jostled. In quick motion, Dace pulled the T-shirt he was wearing over his head and right over hers to lend her privacy.

  Her small body swam in his ten sizes too big shirt, and he liked how she looked in it. It was his shirt, and she was in it.

  He brushed away the tears once more and watched as she calmed, taking in the sight of him. Ivy lifted her hand and brushed her fingers across his chest, tracing the tattoo that was new to her. Her touch roamed as her eyes did, following a trail of discovering who Dace was now.

  Dace hadn’t had the amount of ink when she knew him that he did now. She didn’t seem shocked by it, more like it comforted her somehow. Dace stilled and let her hand travel, wander, and discover – neither of them looked or felt the same as they once did, so he gave her the time she seemed to need.

  Each of those tattoos, and there were many, represented something important to him. Some were about family, some represented what he’d done in his past, and some what he does now…but most were about her. About their past, about his love and devotion for her, about his search for her.

  The corners of her mouth drew up in a slight smile. Perhaps she recognized herself and their history in the art he wore. Maybe she didn’t and just appreciated its beauty. Either way, something about it seemed to make her happy when most people seemed intimidated or put off by it.

  Ivy dropped her head to Dace’s chest and began to cry again. The deep guttural sobs were nearly his undoing and left him in a type of panic he didn’t recognize. He wanted to help her, protect her from whatever was twisting the knife in her heart, but he didn’t know how. For the first time, his brains and brawn weren’t enough, his rippling muscles and Herculean strength couldn’t defeat an enemy he didn’t even know – the one that lived inside her. The one that was weighing so heavily on her. The one that seemed to be fired by an outside source he was still trying to identify.

  “Please,” he said. “Ivy, let me help you.”

  She shook her head against his chest, the emotion still pouring from her soul.

  “Ivy. I know you came here for my help. You came here because you needed me, or maybe you needed all of us. Please…let me fix this.”

  “You can’t,” she whispered. “You can’t fix it.”

  “What? What can’t I fix?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Not now. I can’t…there’s nothing to tell. There’s nothing for you to fix now.”

  She continued to shake her head, and a final sob escaped her as she dropped her chin to her chest in what looked like shame or defeat.

  Dace closed his eyes tight, willing the anger welling to stay put because he didn’t have a name or a face to put with it. Until he did, he’d protect her. In any way he could until she let him in and let him help.

  He scanned the bruised and swollen pieces of her – from her head to the cast on her arm, to the blue and purple marbled blemishes that peeked from below the hem of her shirt at the top of her thighs and danced in a pattern to the tip of her toes. If the visible pain on her outside was even a fraction of what scarring was left inside, then he had his work cut out for him.

  In a solid swoop, he had her cradled in his arms and resting against his body as he moved her back to her bed where he sat and held her until she cried herself to sleep. Sliding her from his embrace to the bed, he carefully slid out from under her and pulled up the covers so she could continue to rest. It was a fitful sleep, and she hiccupped a whimper or sigh here and there. He imagined she was still warring, even in her sleep, with whatever secret led to her battered state and emotional break.

  “What did you see? What are you hiding?” With a gentle kiss to the top of her head, he whispered, “They can’t hurt you. Not anymore. This will be over soon.”

  9

  “This phone is so encrypted, I haven’t been able to get much off it,” Liam said as the men gathered in the lair.

  “Like this message will self-destruct type encryption?” Wylie snickered.

  Liam nodded but kept his eyes trained on the computer screen in front of him as he did what he always did, making music while his hands danced over a keyboard. “Something like that. We aren’t supposed to see whatever is on here. Nobody is.”

  “That doesn’t sound like the phone of someone who has been held captive,” Luke said.

  “Nope,” Liam replied. “Definitely not. I would expect a cheap little burner phone. This…this is some sophisticated shit, but I’m having fun taking it apart.”

  “You really get off on this shit, don’t you?” Wylie asked.

  “A little bit.” Liam winked at his brother and got back to the task at hand. “This isn’t your typical security upgrade. This is next level, boys.”

  “What kind of next level?” Dace asked as he walked in the room.

  “The kind regular people don’t have. There’s an extra layer here – like faux tracking, if you will?”

  “English, please?”

  “I peeled back the first layer of security, and it looks like a basic phone. I don’t see any incoming or outgoing calls or messages, a few random yoga apps, music app, and then a background pic that may be an unintentional clue. Let me put it up on the big screen.”

  The men turned their attention to the wall of screens their brother used as a playground. Dace shuddered at the image that appeared. Ivy and an unknown man were kissing the forehead of a small child she was holding. All eyes turned to Dace.

  “She has a family,” Dace deadpanned.

  “That might not be her,” Wylie defended. “We can’t see all of her face and…”

  “It’s her. She has the tattoo on her ring finger,” he said.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe they’re friends. The kid’s his and…”

  Dace cut off his brother once again. “The kid’s his and hers? Let’s not do this. Not again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Do this whole soften the blow and spare my feelings bullshit,” Dace chided. “She’s been gone for years. She’s a beautiful, smart woman. Why wouldn’t she find someone? Hell, I wasn’t alone the entire time, so why assume she was? They look…happy. I’m glad she was happy.”

  There was deafening silence. What could any of them reply to that? Dace wasn’t wrong, and probably more right than even he believed. What were the odds she held a candle for him for so many years and never moved on, never loved, never made love? Dace was a realist. It stung, sure, but he didn’t begrudge her or the asshole in the picture.

  “Cute kid,” Dace said, breaking the awkward moment. “I know you’re already running analysis on the pic, Liam, so what do we know?”

  “Well, glad you asked. We know they are outside, and I’m not botanist but I’m guessing those trees and bushes are native so we can narrow down the location of the picture. The system is running now. I also know there isn’t enough of his face to get a clear identity, so I have my software updating and comparing key features we can see to all the databases to see if we get a hit.”

  “You think you’ll get something?”

  “I don’t see why not. We might get a couple of hits, because technology is only as good as you program it to be and I’m a fucking genius but not God. So, we’ll compare the location analysis and images we get hits on, and see if we can narrow it down from there. Fingers crossed, we get lucky, and it’s a single hit on both things.”

  Dace had one arm crossed as he stroked his chin with the other hand. “What about the kid?”

  “Seriously?” Dace laughed. When his brother’s expression said he was really fuckin
g serious, he answered the question. “It’s the back of a kid’s head, Dace. There isn’t anything to run. His clothes are basic, store bought, nothing that indicates where he is or has been. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing.”

  “It’s got to be his kid, right? They have the same hair, color, cut—”

  “Don’t do this, Dace. Don’t go there,” Declan intervened. Declan may have said to leave his feelings out of it, but he could see his brother was hurting and all that would amount to is a distraction. “Eye on the prize, Dacey. We know she wasn’t alone. Liam will figure out who the guy is and where they were, but don’t jump to conclusions. You need to keep your head straight and in the game.”

  Dace let the hand his chin was resting on fall out in front of him in question. “I mean, look at this guy. He’s got a couple of Glocks strapped to his waist with a couple and shoulder harness with fire power under both arms. Who the hell is he? G.I. Joe?”

  Declan cleared his throat, earning Dace’s attention, and scanned the room with eyebrows cocked and shit-eating smirk. “I don’t know, brother. How many you packin’?”

  Dace looked down at his belt and lifted each arm subtly as if taking inventory. “The shirt. Do you see how tight it is? What’s he trying to prove? That he’s a gym goon? And the all black…is she supposed to be intimidated by the tall, dark, and mysterious? Ivy’s not even into that.”

  Wylie plopped in a nearby chair and rested his head in his hands. “Will someone get this asshole a mirror?”

  Dace looked down. “Yeah, I have a few guns, and black is just…easy. We do serious shit for a living, so we have to look like this.”

  “Sounds like maybe you answered your own question, Brother,” Declan said. “Maybe he does serious shit too, but for who?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s not her type. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Tattoos, head-to-toe black, guns for days…not her type at all, Dacey boy.” Wylie laughed.

  “Fuck you.”

  Wylie shrugged and dropped his jaw in surprise. “What’d I say? Just merely pointing out the facts as I see them.”