“I should probably get to work,” I say, looking longingly at the couch, “since we aren’t following through with our terrible stalking plan.” I took myself off the roster after Sylar wouldn’t get off my back until I did. He said that there’s no point in me working myself to death when we don’t need the money. He might not need the money, but I do, and it’s not even that. It’s my business, and I still have to run it. There’s no way I’m not going in. When I have the baby, Christina will take over for me, but until then, there’s no reason for me not to go there every day, even if it’s just for a few hours.
“We are following through, just not right now,” she says, wiggling her perfectly arched brows.
“Right,” I say, grinning.
She grins back.
We really are easily amused.
*****
“Hello,” she says into the phone, then curses under her breath. “I took the wrong turn. Crap, I don’t know how to get around!”
I snicker. “You always know how to get around, Christina.”
“Hey,” she says, trying to sound offended. “I’m an angel. Practically the Virgin Mary.”
“Yeah, okay.” My tone’s filled with amusement. “Where are you exactly? We ordered dinner, and I thought you were coming.”
“I am,” she says, pauses, then yells at some driver. “Why the fuck does no one know how to merge?”
I kiss Snoop’s head and roll my eyes. “When will you be here?”
“Give me twenty,” she says. “See you soon.”
We hang up, and I lift my head when Spencer comes to sit next to me on the couch. “Is she coming?”
I nod. “Yeah, said she will be here in twenty.”
“That’s probably an hour in Christina time.” He leans back and glances at the ceiling before returning his gaze to me. “Jack is leaving town tomorrow. This whole thing will be over.”
“So we just pretend it didn’t happen?” I ask, eyes going wide. “This isn’t some small family secret, Spencer. Your uncle is dead. And you’re friends with the guy who killed him. And we all know about it.”
“Well, when you say it like that,” he grumbles, clearing his throat. “Look, we haven’t been saints, Bree. Sylar and I didn’t exactly have a normal upbringing, and our uncle wasn’t just a normal man. But you have nothing to worry about. In fact, you’re probably the safest woman in the world with my brother.”
“I never said I felt unsafe, Spencer,” I say, trying to explain to him how I’m feeling. “I know Sylar would never hurt me, or let me be hurt. I know he’s had a rough childhood, and he has secrets that I hope one day he will feel comfortable enough to open up to me about, but what are you going to do if the police show up here?”
“They won’t,” he says, shaking his head. “We’ve covered all our tracks. We know what we’re doing.”
“I don’t want to know how.” I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t understand why you had to cover up for what Jack did. Shouldn’t this whole thing have been his problem to deal with?”
“Jack is practically a brother to Sylar,” Spencer explains. “Or at least he was. Sylar is nothing but loyal, and we knew about how our uncle was trying to take Jack down. I don’t know, we were just all involved in the situation. We couldn’t just turn our backs on him.”
I don’t really like Jack, or what he’s done and how he’s done it, but I don’t say anything. The man is obviously not one to mess with, going by the man now buried six feet under, but since he’s leaving tomorrow, I just hope that he never returns.
Maybe things will go back to normal.
Or as normal as they can be, since we’re now all in this together.
Chapter Ten
We slide into the cab, dressed all in black, large sunglasses covering half of our faces. Fred glances at each of us and shakes his head, amusement written all over his expression.
“Well, I feel like today just got interesting,” he says, reversing out of our driveway.
“You have no idea,” I mutter from the backseat. Both of us decided to sit in the back so we’d be harder to see.
“So who are we following exactly?” he asks, glancing at us through the rear-view mirror.
“Our boyfriends,” Christina says confidently and without shame.
“Lucky men,” Fred mutters under his breath, making me smirk. “Boyfriend stalking it is. And don’t forget you promised a snack stop.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” I say, rubbing my belly. “It’s going to be the highlight of this trip.”
“I think my convo will be the highlight,” Fred says, his tone laced with amusement.
“I think your outfit is the highlight,” I say, looking at his clothing and laughing. “Did you wear that just for the occasion? Oh my God, you’re so cute, Fred.”
He’s dressed in head-to-toe camouflage.
He really is such a great guy.
“Had to dress the part for this operation,” he huffs, squaring his shoulders. “Now, let’s find out what your men are up to.”
“That’s the spirit,” Christina says, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get this plan rolling.”
“What are we looking for?” he asks.
“No idea,” I tell him. “We just want to see what they’re up to when they go gallivanting. We think they’ve gone to visit their friend, who is staying at a hotel.”
We only have three hotels in this town, so not much investigative skill is going to be needed.
“So we’re just doing hotel drive-bys?” he asks, sounding upset we aren’t doing anything wilder.
“Sorry to disappoint, Fred,” Christina says, unable to keep the grin off her face. “Something fun might come up. You never know what’s going to happen when you’re out with Bree and me.”
“Oh, I know what happens,” he says, driving towards the first hotel. “You get drunk, and whoever is with you, they get drunk too.”
My shoulders shake with laughter. “That’s only because we call you when we’re drunk and need a ride. It doesn’t mean we’re always drunk.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, disbelief filling his tone. “What’s the bet we stop at a bar on the way home?”
“I’m pregnant,” I point out. “So I don’t think that will happen.” I pause, then add, “Unless you guys want to. I can be designated driver.”
Christina nods like it’s the best idea she’s heard. “What do you say, Fred?”
“I say yes,” he says, nodding animatedly. “But first let’s see what these men are up to, to make you both suspicious enough to plan today’s events.”
“Perfect,” I say, staring out of the window.
I feel a little guilty to be doing this, to be honest. Most women would do something like this if they thought their man was cheating, but I know that Sylar would never betray me in that way. The situation with him is completely different; it’s him not telling me everything because he wants to protect me, or because he doesn’t think I can handle the truth. And maybe he’s right, maybe I can’t, but it’s not like I can sit back and not be curious about what the truth is. It’s hard. I know he keeps things from me, and I know it’s probably better that way. But it’s human nature to be curious, and finding out whatever we can can’t hurt.
He won’t even know.
Famous last words.
*****
Fred refuses to play music and tells us to sing instead. It’s his sense of humour; he finds it hilarious, and it’s not the first time he’s done this to us. Christina starts rapping some song I haven’t even heard, and Fred and I lose it laughing. Not exactly investigator behaviour, but we’re probably the dodgiest ones who have ever tried to do so anyway. We find Sylar’s car at the third hotel. I should have known luck wasn’t on our side by that alone, even though the saying goes something like ‘third time lucky.’
“Do you want me to come in?” Fred asks, glancing up at the tall building. “How exactly are you guys going to pull this off without being seen?”
C
hristina and I share troubled glances.
“We haven’t really thought this far,” I admit, cringing.
Private investigator fail.
“If there’s a guy at the reception I could try and flirt my way to get any room information?” Christina suggests, plumping her breasts. “And then we can go from there.”
I roll my eyes at her. “That shit only works in movies. And what if it’s a woman?”
We both look at Fred, who is kind of old, bald, and not really a ladies’ man, but his kind eyes make up for the fact. He simply grins. “I’m in.”
Such a champion.
Christina heads in by herself to check out the situation. When she returns, she looks to Fred and says, “You’re up.”
Fred gets out of the taxi, gives us a nod each, then heads inside.
“What does she look like?” I ask Christina, curious about the woman Fred needs to charm.
“Blonde, pretty, and young,” she says, wincing. “I mean like really young.”
I blink. Yeah, this isn’t going to work then. “Do we have a backup plan?”
“No,” she whispers. “But we probably should have.”
I’m racking my mind for a new idea when Fred returns to the car, a grin on his face. “They’re in the penthouse. At least you both chose men with money.”
“How the hell did you manage to get that info?” I ask, eyes wide. I look to Christina to see a similar look on her face. Surprise, awe, and confusion.
“What, do you think I can’t charm the ladies?” he asks defensively, lifting his chin. “I’ll have you know I was quite the ladies’ man in my time.”
“I’m sure you were,” I say, smirking. “But the chick was young, so if you hit on her, that kind of makes you a creep.”
He crosses his arms over his camouflaged chest. “Fine. She’s my niece.”
His niece gave him the information?
We process that for a few seconds, then both crack up laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, sounding put out.
“You should have let us think you were a creep,” Christina says, grinning at him. “Oh, come on, Fred, I’m just playing. Thank you. Otherwise we’d never have found out where they were. Although we should have guessed it would be the most expensive room.”
“We don’t know if Jack is loaded or not though,” I say, shrugging. I look towards the entrance. “Should we head up? Fred, if they come down, maybe you should follow them and see where they go. We’ll hide somewhere, and you can come get us afterward?”
“Sounds good,” he says, nodding. “And then, the bar.”
“Deal.”
We walk inside, and I smile at Fred’s niece before we get into the elevator. Christina presses the button. “Have you ever fucked inside an elevator?”
I shake my head. “Have you?”
“No, but I want to.” She glances around the confined space. “I wonder if Spencer will fuck me on the way down.”
“We’re not meant to let them know we’re here,” I say, throwing my hands in the air dramatically. “Pay attention, woman.”
“Oh, right. Well in case they do end up seeing us, that can be a very satisfying plan B.”
I tilt my head to the side and consider. “Fine. But don’t forget we’re taking Fred to the bar.”
“Of course. I’d never forget alcohol.”
The elevator stops and the doors open. I walk left but then realise we need to go right, and Christina crashes into my back.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“No problem.”
We make our way to their room and press our ears to the door. I can hear voices, and one of them is definitely Sylar’s.
“What the hell are the two of you doing here?” Spencer asks from behind us, making me jump. I turn to look at him as he stares at us with a quizzical look on his face, a carton of beers in his hand. They’re having a party? “And how the hell did you get here?”
“You guys getting drunk without me?” Christina asks him, eyeing the beers. “What is this? Some bachelor pad shit? Better not be any strippers in there.”
“We’re just saying bye to Jack,” Spencer says, looking between us. “What the hell did you think we were doing?”
Christina and I exchange a look. “I don’t know. Something a little more… devious.”
Spencer sighs and knocks on the door. “We didn’t want you two near Jack,” he explains. “That’s all. And he’s leaving tonight, and we want to make sure he does so. We didn’t want him dropping by the house, so we came here.”
When no one answers the door, he knocks again—harder. “We heard voices before, why is no one answering?”
Spencer puts down the carton and tells us to move back. He then proceeds to kick at the door while I watch in fascination. Four kicks later, we’re in.
“Fuck,” Spencer mutters as we walk into the room, only to have a gun pointed at us by Jack.
“Brought company, did you?” he asks, grinning at Christina and me. “Welcome to the party, ladies.”
I gasp when I see Sylar lying on the ground, face down. “What the fuck have you done to him?” I ask, running to him and lowering to the ground, not caring if Jack tries to shoot me or not. Jack keeps his gun trained on Spencer, the only threat in the room, while I struggle to roll Sylar over onto his back.
“He’s fine,” Jack assures me. “I just slipped something into his drink.”
“You date rape drugged my man?” I growl, glaring up at him. “The same man who helped you and defended you? You have no fucking loyalty whatsoever, do you? You don’t deserve to have a friend like Sylar.”
“Calm down,” Jack commands in a condescending tone that has me wanting to kill him with my bare hands.
“What do you want, Jack?” Spencer asks, his eyes not leaving his sudden adversary. “Bree is right. We helped you, and my brother had your back, and now you pull something like this?”
“I need money,” he states, ignoring Spencer’s other points. “Transfer two hundred thousand into my account, and you will never see me again. Simple as that. I need to go into hiding, and I’ve run out of funds.”
“So steal some more,” Christina says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aren’t you some sort of criminal?”
“That’s what I’m doing, sweetheart,” Jack says to her, grinning and showing his teeth.
“From your friends though? That’s low, even for you,” she says. I lift my head to see Spencer move to stand in front of her completely, probably knowing her mouth is about to make her the first target.
“Let the women go, and we can sort the money out,” Spencer says.
“No. Now that they’re here, I can use them,” Jack says, looking pleased with himself. “The women don’t leave until I get the money.”
“I have to go to the bank for such a large transfer, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving the women here with you.”
“They will be untouched,” Jack promises.
“Your word doesn’t mean anything,” Spencer says, shaking his head.
“Then I guess we’re at an impasse.”
When I feel Sylar tighten his hand around mine, I know that he’s awake, and he’s letting me know that he is.
And now we need to get everyone out of this without any of us being killed.
Chapter Eleven
Without being able to talk to Sylar, I have no idea what he wants me to do, but I need to think of something. I figure if Jack concentrates on Spencer and the rest of us, Sylar can jump up and unarm him. It’s a gamble, and someone could get hurt, but I can’t think of anything else. I stand up and move next to Spencer.
“We can wait here, Spencer,” I say, Jack’s eyes on me. “I’m sure he wouldn’t do such a thing as hurt a woman, right, Jack? Surely there’s some humanity left in you somewhere.”
He smirks, seemingly amused. “I don’t know about all that, but like I said, the two of you will remain unharmed. I want the money, and that’s it. Also
, I’m not fucking stupid enough to touch either of your women. I don’t exactly want to be looking behind me for the rest of my life.”
“Shake on it,” I say, offering him my hand. As he moves closer to shake my hand, Sylar jumps up and hits him from behind. The gun goes flying across the room. Spencer scrambles to get it, while Sylar pins Jack to the floor. Spencer then trains the gun on Jack’s head.
“Brielle, you and Christina need to get home, now,” Sylar commands. I nod, grab my best friend’s arm, and get out of there. I don’t know what they’re going to do, but I know Sylar won’t kill Jack. I also know that the two of them will handle the situation in their own way. Before I leave the room, I hear Jack say, “So Sylar gets to kill countless people, and it’s okay? All I wanted was money for a fresh start. It’s not me who’s the worse person here.”
Sylar has killed?
Countless people?
What?
Fred’s still waiting for us in the car park, and we jump in the car and tell him to drive to the nearest bar. I don’t know how to deal with what I just heard.
All I know is, if I wasn’t pregnant, there’d be a bottle of vodka with my name all over it.
*****
“Where the hell have you been?” Sylar asks, pulling me into him. “Why didn’t you come straight home?”
Christina stumbles in drunk and grins at Sylar. “Don’t you think we make great sidekicks?” She steps into the house, calling for Spencer.
“We went to a bar,” I say, stepping back and looking up at him. “I promised Fred I would, plus I needed time to think.”
“Who is Fred?” he asks, looking confused. He rubs the back of his neck, glances down, then up, and says, “You heard what he said, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer, which is probably an answer in itself.
Emotions pass over his face.
Sadness, concern, fear.
It’s the fear that gets me.
I don’t want him to be scared of losing me and the baby, but my man has killed. Taken life. Did he regret it afterwards? Did he feel anything? Is he truly so dead inside? He said he was a bounty hunter, and I assumed they were men who brought in fugitives for money. Isn’t that what they do?
See No Evil: Part Two Page 6
