“A box? Where?”
“Just inside the door.”
He quickly moved around me to the partially opened door. Slowly, he nudged it open and flipped on the light. There, sitting in the middle of the room, was a brown cardboard box.
I clung to Brett. “Did you put that there?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No.” He took a few steps closer. I shuffled along with him, my clinging grasp on him like iron. “Sweet thing,” he said softly, “why don’t you head downstairs.”
Looking at the box, I was too terrified to move.
With his toe, he nudged it. Whatever was in there was solid and heavy, hardly moving with his prodding. Nothing seeped out. There were no blood stains, thankfully.
Brett reached into this pocket and brought out his keys. “Turn away,” he said.
That, I obeyed. While I wanted to be next to Brett, I didn’t want to see what was in the box.
The sound of a key puncturing the tape filled my ears as if a volume knob was stuck on high. When there was no sound for a moment, I turned slightly.
“Is it?” I asked.
“No, it’s safe.”
I turned to find a box filled with old odds and ends. Memorabilia?
“Is this your stuff?” I asked.
“Used to be,” he muttered, sifting through the contents. With a curse, he straightened and stalked down the stairs. I quickly followed, wondering at his sudden change.
He stopped in front of Emily, glaring down at her. “Did you put a box in the middle of my old room?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. Her shrewd eyes were not as hesitant as they licked up Brett and settled on me. “I thought you might want some of your old things back,” she said to him.
“Why didn’t you give them to me, why put them on the bedroom floor where Mars could trip?”
“I didn’t mean to trip her. She could have turned on the light.”
“No, you meant to scare her.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Why would you return stuff you held onto for over a decade right after you found out about the boxes only an hour ago? You knew it would scare her!”
“Do you really think I kept the box in the trunk of my car all of these years just for a possibility to scare your girlfriend? I was cleaning out my place. I found the box and brought it over. I thought you’d be happy to get some of your stuff back.”
The sneer on “girlfriend” didn’t go unnoticed. Brett stopped and glared for a moment. I touched his arm and felt the muscle ripple defensively. He straightened, clasping his hand tight over mine.
“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm,” Lil said.
Emily nodded. “I was just trying to be nice.”
Rand snorted and tossed down his napkin. “You’ve never been nice a day in your life. Why don’t you tell the truth for once?”
She sputtered, tossing down her napkin as well. “I am.”
He smiled, a ragged tug at his mouth that showed anything but humor. “That box has been in your trunk since the day we left.”
She sniffed. “That only proves that you’re too cheap to buy your wife a new car. I drive that antique every day and you don’t care.”
“Damn right,” he agreed, storming from the house, slamming the patio door closed behind him.
Lil coughed and scooted from the table, the chair scraping on the floor. “I bet you’re hungry, Mars. Let me fix you a plate.”
“I’m okay, really,” I said. “I think I’ll just go back upstairs, if you don’t mind.” After the recent scare and Emily sitting at the table, arms crossed, I thought sleep would be a much better choice.
Mike and Lil exchanged a glance.
“How about some herbal tea?” Lil asked.
“No, thank you. I’d rather just—”
“I’ll just start the kettle and bring a cup up to you. It will help with nerves.”
“That will be nice, thank you,” I gave in.
Brett wrapped his arm around my shoulder, shot a lethal glare at Emily, and steered me to the stairs. I heard the ominous sniff as we left.
“When’s her birthday?” I asked.
Brett frowned. “January fifth. Why?”
“I’m going to buy her a box of tissues.”
Brett chuckled, hugging me to his side as we climbed the stairs. I ignored another prick of jealousy that came from his remembering her birthday. I wondered if he knew mine? Crap. Did I know his? Did he tell me and I wrote it down somewhere . . . or didn’t?
He opened the bedroom door and kicked the offending box out of the way. “I’m sorry. Emily went too far.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I shook my head. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. A box was left in your room, not at the mailbox or door. It was silly to think such a thing.”
“I jumped to the same conclusion. It's easy to do in a situation like this.”
Easy to do, yes. But really, how would someone smuggle the box inside and up the stairs with an entire house of people? I glanced at the window briefly, doubting anyone could climb a tree with a box, only to have to jimmy the window and shove it through, all while not waking me. No, it was a stupid mistake on my part.
“Lie down and get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep after this.”
He sat on the bed next to me. “Wait for Mom’s tea. It will help.”
I didn’t see how tea would help, herbal or not. But sitting next to Brett was at least comforting. Unwanted thoughts slid back to Emily. It sounded as if the entire time she was married to Rand, she had still loved Brett. Why would she marry Rand, then?
“Mr. Whitt returned my call,” Brett said.
“The prosecution lawyer? What did he say?”
“He thanked us for the information and will do everything he can to block the defense before they can strike.”
“Do you think the charges will be dropped?”
He shook his head adamantly. “They can’t be. They need to treat this as a separate case.”
I didn’t think that was going to happen, but what did I know about law? “Do you think we’ll be safe here? Two boxes were already sent, and there might be more.”
“I’ll deal with any deliveries if they come.”
“But you’ll be at your place. Maybe I should go home with you. There could be a delivery there too. What about your cabin? Didn’t you say you had a cabin around here? Should we go there and check?”
“No!”
I recoiled from the force of his refusal.
“I’m sorry. I’m a little agitated.” His hand lightly rubbed my back. “For now, I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs.”
“What about your thing with T tonight?”
“We were just going to look over some new contracts that came in. It can wait,” he said stiffly, shutting down any further discussion.
“Would you rather sleep in here instead of on the couch?” I asked, obliging his need to divert the subject.
He glanced at the twin bed. “If I wasn’t afraid of my mom swatting me with the newspaper, I doubt you’d be able to sleep with me hogging the entire bed.”
That could be true. But I’d rather have him in the room than not. The couch couldn’t be comfortable. “There are three rooms up here. Isn’t one a guest room?” No one had showed me what was behind the closed door at the end of the hallway, but I assumed it was a guest room.
“Eve’s room,” he said.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know. And I might have slept in there, but Emily snatched it before I could.”
“Emily?” I questioned. “Emily is staying here? Your parents are okay with her sleeping in Eve’s bedroom?” I wasn’t okay with her sleeping anywhere under the same roof as me, and certainly not near Brett.
“Emily and Eve were best friends for a long time.”<
br />
Best friends? I wanted to groan. How could I compete with an old flame and best friend?
“How long were they friends?” I asked.
“Since second grade.”
Great.
“Was Eve upset when Emily ran away with Rand? I’m sure she thought you would marry her instead.”
An unwanted image appeared in my mind. What a happy family they would’ve been had not Emily run away and turned . . . sniffly. Perhaps she was always that way, but I couldn’t see Brett dating someone like that. Maybe, somehow, with an alternative past with Brett and Emily marrying, Eve might not have been placed in the Sledgehammer’s path and therefore Annie would’ve never met Brett. This whole nightmare would belong to someone else.
“I think we all thought that,” he said. “But I’m not so sure anymore.”
It took me a moment to remember what I had asked. “Why?”
“Nothing I felt for Emily could ever compare to what I feel for you.”
Oh, he was good. A slow smile spread on my lips, lighting my insides. I leaned against him. “Thank you. But you wouldn’t have known that at the time.”
“True. But I think I would’ve seen the error of my ways and separated long before now anyway.”
“You are pretty intelligent,” I agreed.
He laughed softly. “I have my moments.”
Loud, clomping steps on the stairs had us looking to the open door. Lil coughed and hacked as if a hair ball was caught in her throat. She hesitantly peeked into the room.
“Are you okay?” I asked, standing to take the mug out of her hand or to whack her back, if needed.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I brought your tea.”
“Thank you. I hope you’re not catching a cold.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine.”
“She was just making sure we knew she was coming,” Brett said.
Lil didn’t say anything, just glanced around the room. Her gaze focused on the box kicked off to the side. She shook her head and turned to leave, but not before saying, “Brett, I expect you downstairs in five minutes or I’ll come and drag you myself.”
A playful spark ignited in his eyes. “I think that might be enough time . . . for now.”
“Oh!” she gasped. Reaching for the nearest object, which happened to be a bobblehead, she flung it at Brett. He easily caught it, a grin on his face.
“It’s just not the same without the newspaper,” he said, tossing the bobblehead back and forth in his hands.
“You have two minutes,” Lil warned. “Have a good night, dear,” she said sweetly to me. “Let me know if you need anything.”
Brett grinned wider as she shot him one last warning look before leaving, the door still open.
“Well, you heard her,” Brett said loudly. “We have two minutes.”
“Brett Michael Thompson, you come downstairs in thirty seconds!” Lil shouted.
Brett chuckled and fell back on the bed.
“You did that on purpose,” I said, poking him in the ribs. “You like to harass your mom.”
“Harass is such a harsh word, but yes, I do,” he said, suddenly looking thoughtful. “It’s been a long time since she’s chucked anything at me. Normally it’s the newspaper or fly swatter.”
“Hasn’t that ever hurt?”
He shook his head. “She never does it hard, and I normally know it’s coming. Don’t worry, she’d never fling a bobblehead at you.”
“You better go downstairs. I don’t want her upset tonight.”
He ran his hand along the length of my back, sending delightful ripples. “I will. I just wanted a few minutes of quiet time with you.”
I curled into him. “Quiet time sounds heavenly.”
As we cuddled together, his hand lazily drifted along my back, lulling me to sleep.
* * *
Sitting up straight in bed, I scoped the familiar room. Brett’s room. I wiped the perspiration from my brow, relieved the bad dreams had ended. But they hadn’t, not really. Tomorrow, Annie would stand trial . . . or not. I didn’t want to see her again. I didn’t want to see the violent hate in her eyes, directed at me. Always aimed at me.
My phone danced on the nightstand, vibrating itself nearly off the edge. I grabbed it before it fell. I had turned off the ringer yesterday, just to escape for a few minutes. I knew Kym would call after the text I had sent, and I hadn’t been ready for a full inquisition. So, I silenced the oinking-pig ringtone and thankfully had a full night’s rest. Even if Annie did disturb it.
Looking at the phone screen, I sighed at the many awaiting calls and texts, mostly from Kym. I felt bad. I had only wanted a few minutes of rest, but I must have scared her in the process. There were twenty missed calls and at least ten texts, ranging from a simple “Call me” to “Where the hell are you? You better not have gotten killed, because I’m going to kill you myself!”
Clearly, she was angry. And had every right to be. I was a horrible friend. I’d call her right away. After breakfast. And a strong cup of coffee.
It was nearly nine o’clock, and I smelled bacon wafting up from downstairs. Perfect.
With an armful of clothes and necessities, I scampered to the bathroom to shower and change. Unfortunately, the sole household bathroom was occupied. Not wanting to knock, I listened at the door to determine who might be in there. If it was Brett, I’d knock. But I didn’t want to run into Emily, or disturb Mike or Lil.
“Are you going to stand at the door all day or come in?” Brett’s voice came from behind the door.
I cracked open the door and peeked in at Brett, who was naked except for a loose towel wrapped around his hips. “How did you know it was me?”
“Mom or Dad would have knocked and told me to get out. Emily would have barged in.”
My lips twisted at the thought of Emily. Of course she would barge in. “Then you should have locked the door.”
“And missed you sneaking in?”
“I didn’t sneak in. In fact, I’m still outside.”
He smirked. “Then come inside. You’re letting all the warm air out.”
Stepping in, I closed the door behind me. The shower steam engulfed me, blanketing me in a damp mist.
“Why didn’t you turn on the fan?” I asked, flipping the switch on.
“I like the steam.” He stepped close to me, taking the bundle of clothes from my hands and setting them on the counter. “I’ll turn on the shower, but you might have to take a quick one. I tend to use up all the hot water.”
“I know.” Heat that had nothing to do with the steam ran up my neck, flooding my cheeks.
He smiled. “I’d have waited for you if I had known you were awake.”
“I just woke up a few minutes ago,” I said, stripping off yesterday’s clothes that I had fallen asleep in. “When did you go downstairs?”
“A few minutes after you fell asleep.”
“I must have been out cold. I never heard you.”
“I fell asleep too. Mom came in and nudged me awake.”
“Not with a newspaper, I hope.”
“No, just a shake to my shoulder. The shower is ready.”
I moved around him and stepped in.
“Is the temperature okay?” he asked.
“A little on the hot side,” I admitted, reaching for the knob to adjust it.
“Sorry, when I’m tense I like it at near-scalding temperatures. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”
What he’s been told? I didn’t want to know who told him that. I certainly didn’t. Emily might have.
Damn!
Lathering soap into my hair, I tried to scrub Emily from my thoughts.
“Careful, sweet thing,” Brett said, easing into the shower behind me. “You’re going to pull out all your hair.”
He took over the lathering, and I let my hands fall to my sides.
“I love your hair,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” I said, wondering if he was just saying that to be n
ice. My hair was nothing special. Just a boring brown. Feeling him shiver next to me, I looked back at him. “Are you cold?”
“A little. I just took a hot shower and now it’s like bathing in ice water.”
“The water is warm.”
“It’s just the change in temp. I’ll be fine.” His arms curled around me, pressing my back into his chest. “See? Already feeling warmer.”
Smiling, I inched away. “Your mom will beat you if she finds you in here with me.”
“She’s making breakfast. She’ll never know.” His lips descended to my shoulders, whisking away any words of protest. There weren’t very many, anyway.
An abrupt knock on the door jarred us apart. The door flung open.
“I need the bathroom,” Emily said, her words a shrilled demand.
I peeked around the curtain. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
She crossed her arms. “I have personal needs to attend to.”
“Then go ahead. I still have soap in my hair.”
“I can’t just . . . you know.”
Brett peeked out of the other side of the curtain. “Go to Rand’s house.”
Emily sucked in a long breath and let out a high-pitched squeal. Before I registered what she was up to, Mike and Lil raced inside, asking what was wrong.
“I was just surprised to see Brett and Mars showering together.”
“You wouldn’t have seen anything if you’d stop barging in where you don’t belong,” Brett stated.
“Brett Michael Thompson!” Lil scolded. “You get out of that shower this instant!”
Emily smiled smugly.
Brett frowned. “Yes, yes. I know. No sex under your roof.”
“Nothing happened,” I said.
“Maybe not now, but it would have if I hadn’t come in,” Emily said.
Brett’s normally good-natured humor suddenly snapped. “We’ll be out of the house in five minutes if you’ll all get the hell out.”
I hazarded a glance at him. He was serious.
Mike saw the same. He nudged Lil from the doorway and downstairs, shushing the protests from her lips. “Leave him be.”
“Emily, get out,” Brett growled.
Her smile faltered a little, but she kept it in place. “If you leave, you’ll hurt your mom’s feelings.”
Biker Brigade Page 6
