Devilish - A Demon Stepbrother Romance

by Michaela Adams

  Both were empty.

  The house was so silent. Even if it’s just one man in a house, I had figured there would be some noise, whether it was the sound of a TV playing somewhere or the rheumatic coughs of an old man.

  But there was nothing.

  I turned around and saw Liam standing by the kitchen. His body was completely still. I could tell he was listening for noise as well. He leaned back and looked down the opposite side of the room. Seeing something, he quickly made a motion for me.

  I hurried over, mindful to still step lightly. The house had clearly been expertly renovated but there was no removing the age. And old houses made noise.

  Reaching Liam, I saw him point towards the opposite end of the room, towards the front entrance of the house. There was a staircase to the third level.

  I looked up at him. Third level probably meant only bedrooms. That was a narrow space. If anything were to happen, a narrow space would be hard to fight free from.

  I saw the same though process work through Liam’s head. Without saying a word, he put a hand to the small of my back and guided me towards the stairs.

  “Go up,” he whispered quietly. “In one minute, I’ll follow.”

  I nodded, ready to take my first step when he grabbed my arm and whispered against my ear, “If you see anything off, come straight back down.”

  I nodded again, feeling my heart thudding so loud I was sure all of the Hamptons could hear it.

  Gently, I took my first step. I didn’t look back but felt a bit more secure knowing Liam was there at the bottom of the stairs, standing guard. No one would surprise attack me from behind.

  I just had to worry about what was there in the front.

  Swiftly but quietly, I worked my way up the stairs. On the third floor landing, there were three doors to my right and one on the left. All the doors were shut and based on how close the doors were to each other, I was sure they were just guestrooms.

  Down straight ahead was a set of double doors. One door was slightly ajar. And from the sliver of an opening, I saw a faint glow of light.

  I paused, waiting. Listening. Again, no noise. No sounds.

  Was he sleeping? Even still, there was something eerie about this silence. There was something off. I felt a chill crawl down my back but I shook it off. This was just nerves. Nerves trying to psych me out of what I wanted to do.

  Taking my courage into both hands, I carefully walked down the hallway. I felt the cool press of my gun, taken from my dad’s safe, digging into my lower back. I felt the steeliness of my knife tucked inside my boot.

  I would not let my nerves rob me of my moment. I had entered into a demonic bargain, been shot at, shot, and then revived to get to this moment. Not to mention, initially being murdered in the first place.

  I would not let revenge slip away from me when I was so close.

  Just outside the double doors, I pulled out my gun and held it behind my back. My plan was to shoot him just to disable him from running or attacking me. Then I would finish him with my knife. He had not let anyone in my family leave this life easily. I would return the favor.

  Taking in a deep breath, I pushed through the door with force, letting it swing wide open and bang into the wall, my gun outstretched and pointed straight ahead.

  But with adrenaline still pumping loudly in my ears, all I saw was a large empty king size bed in a huge master bedroom. Off to the side, near sweeping bay windows, was a leather armchair.

  Seated in the chair was Ron Lawson, eyes closed and head tilted as if asleep.

  But how could he not have awoken at the sound of her entrance? The door had slammed against the wall with a loud thud.

  Gun still aimed at him, I looked him over. He was wearing a pair of khakis and an old sweater. I had seen him wearing that same outfit earlier in the day. So he hadn’t changed for bed yet.

  I was standing literally only a few feet away from him. He could reach out and touch me, if he wanted to. But his head was still tilted to the side, as if slumbering.

  I cocked the gun back, the small click echoing in the room.

  Lawson still remained motionless.

  Feeling my heart race, I gave a quick kick to his leg.

  Lawson didn’t even jerk. He remained completely still. I kicked again, harder.

  This time his head fell forward against his chest but nothing more. I nearly jumped at this movement but recovered quickly.

  What the hell was going on?

  Keeping my gun poised and my hand ready to fire, I carefully leaned forward and pushed Lawson’s head back.

  The head moved back with no resistance. Eyes still remained closed. But I jerked my hand away.

  His forehead had felt cold.

  I looked over him carefully. No blood, no wounds, nothing. He was whole and visibly fine. What was going on here?

  Carefully, I leaned in closer, quite sure this was some kind of elaborate ruse to lure me in. I put a finger under his nose.

  Liam rushed into the room. “What’s going on?” he asked. I’m sure he was confused by the lack of gunshots or cries for mercy.

  I looked up, my finger still under Lawson’s nose.

  “He’s dead,” I said softly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Reports on Ron Lawson of RL Co.’s apparent suicide are still coming in. So far sources are saying that Mr. Lawson had taken a large quantity of prescription sleeping pills. It is a shocking development that has rattled not only the business community but the global public at large. Right now we have Francine Douglas with a report from….”

  I stared at the blonde news anchor in shock. Still wearing the dark, bank robbing clothes from the night before at the Hamptons, I sat in front of the TV in the office, just in shock.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I murmured aloud. How could Ron Lawson be dead?

  Liam sat on the edge of the desk, watching the report. There was an aerial shot of Lawson’s house in the Hamptons swarming with cops and ambulance vans.

  “We got the wrong guy,” Liam said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

  I broke away from another shot of the house from a different angle. I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing even though I had seen it for myself in person! I stared at Liam. “You can’t know that,” I said quietly. “He might’ve been the right guy who just couldn’t take the guilt anymore.”

  Liam grabbed the remote and clicked on the mute. He shook his head. “No, we got the wrong guy,” he said again. “Lawson is not a man who would commit suicide. He is not the type to feel guilt and he is not the type to commit suicide.”

  I had to admit, even I had a hard time believing he had done it. Lawson had always been so greedy and territorial in life, I couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t be the same with his very own last breath.

  “But then what does that mean?” I asked. “Someone made him take an overdose of prescription drugs?”

  Liam tapped his fingers against his thigh thinking. “It’s not adding up,” he said slowly. “Your family’s murder was perfectly planned. A bunch of sadistic lackeys sent over to bust up a home and murder a family so viciously it could only be attributed to some freak attack. And I’ll bet you anything, those meatheads are at the bottom of some river right now.”

  I startled at this. I hadn’t thought of that. Even though those three men had been the ones to break our bones and kill us, it had burned me up even more knowing that there was someone sitting far away, in a cozy chair, smiling smugly at what he had gotten away with.

  “But then that attack with the Blue Boy vans. What was that?” Liam continued, thinking out loud. “That was sloppy and completely unprepared, at best. They didn’t even stay long enough to see if they had done a proper job of their drive by. And driving in on such a recognizable van? Who in their right mind would do that?”

  That was true as well. The van had appeared out of nowhere and their shots had been aimed quite poorly. And even Lawson had to have known that I would’ve recogni
zed the Blue Boy vans. I had been more than old enough to remember the Blue Boy acquisition.

  “Then the shooting in the city,” Liam said. “There was something to that. Somebody went whole hog on that one. That was so crazy of an attack it was almost genius. Nobody could get indicted in that attack. It was two armed gunmen in the streets of New York. That alone is all anyone needs in terms of information.”

  Liam shook his head, his chin in his hand. “No, we got the wrong guy,” he said again. “Something is not adding up here.”

  I sat back in my seat. Liam was right. There was definitely something off here. Had Ron Lawson been some kind of pawn in a clever plan? Or maybe he had been apart of the plan but had strayed? Or maybe he was a separate player altogether?

  I looked up at the silent screen and saw a photo of Ron Lawson and his wife. Mrs. Lawson should be thrilled right about now. She was about to enter into a huge sum of money.

  I ran a hand through my hair, feeling like my brain was about to pop. “What is the point of being immortal without omniscience?” I demanded in frustration.

  A dry smile played on Liam’s lips. “I’m now immortal?” he asked, amused.

  I raised a brow. “Oh,” I said, taken aback. “Well, I just assumed. I mean, isn’t God supposed to be…?”

  “But I’m not God,” he said with a full smile now, dripping with dry humor.

  Ignoring his teasing tone, I asked, “So you’re not immortal?”

  “I prefer to just think of myself as having a very long life,” he said vaguely.

  “Ah,” I said shortly, annoyed. “Lacking succinctness as well as immortality, I see.”

  Liam snorted. “I do admit,” he said, “omniscience would be really helpful right about now. Because something is wrong here.”

  I stared at the TV, reading the scrolling headlines of the Lawson death, falling back into thought over this whole mystery when the phone rang. I jumped at the sudden sound.

  Picking it up, I answered, “Hello?”

  “Miss Madewell? You’ve heard the news, I suspect,” Jeremy answered, his tone grim.

  “About Lawson? Yes, of course. It’s terrible and shocking,” I said perfunctorily.

  “It is,” Jeremy agreed quickly. I could hear the stress in his voice.

  “What is it?”

  “Miss Madewell, Harrison Dell has made the push against RL Co.,” he said slowly.

  I paused, trying to make sense of it all. Harrison Dell has made a push? Then it hit me. The contract. We had gotten that major government contract. And by the stipulations of our alliance, if you missed contributing monthly to the production then it could be considered a breach of contract.

  “But the new month hasn’t even come yet. They’ve just found his body,” I said. “How can he push now? There’s been no breach.”

  “He’s gathering support from the remaining members. He said he came to us first,” Jeremy added a little disdainfully. Clearly he didn’t like this kind of patronizing favoring.

  So Harrison Dell was now pushing to sue RL Co. the day his dead body was found. If that didn’t ring several alarms, I didn’t know what would.

  I looked at Liam. “Okay, thanks for letting me know, Jeremy. Don’t commit to anything yet. Deflect until we can see how RL Co. handles this death.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I think that’s the wisest course of action. I’ll keep you updated,” he said before hanging up.

  “Harrison Dell is now playing his cards, huh?” Liam said, rubbing his chin.

  “It seems so.” I felt as if I had entered a hedge maze only to have it turn into a funhouse maze halfway through. I couldn’t figure out what was up or down and everything seemed twisted and backwards.

  For the rest of the day, Liam and I stayed glued to the TV. Although we kept it on silent, we watched the steady and repetitive coverage of Lawson’s mysterious and sudden death. I think we thought if we both kept watching, some kind of clue would maybe come out of it.

  It was nearing evening, the sky turning a soft navy blue, when the phone rang again. Liam had turned the TV off and was lying on the leather couch in the corner of the room. He said so much TV had completely fried his eyes.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Have you heard?” Jeremy asked.

  “Jeremy? Are you still at the office? It’s nearly 8,” I admonished. The man was working much too hard these days. I felt bad, knowing he was working so hard partly because of me.

  “Have you heard, Miss Madewell?” he repeated.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. Liam lifted his head, hearing the conversation.

  “Turn on your nearest TV,” Jeremy said simply. I pointed at the TV and Liam turned it back on. He turned up the volume.

  The blonde news anchor was still on. “This just in,” she said haltingly. “We are now getting reports that T.J. Mackson of Mack & Sons Ltd has died this evening from a heart attack. These are still initial reports without confirmation but sources close to the Mackson company have reported that….”

  I nearly dropped the phone. I stared at Liam, at a complete loss for words. Mackson was dead now as well. This one at least seemed more natural but that was two men out of the alliance all in the space of one day. If I had stayed dead, that would’ve been three out, leaving one remaining.

  Harrison Dell.

  “Miss Madewell,” Jeremy said, making me startle a little. I had forgotten I was still on the phone, “I know this might sound like a bit of an overreaction and a little paranoid but…” he sighed “please be careful.”

  I gripped the phone a little tighter.

  “Something is wrong here and it gives me a bad feeling,” he said. “Just please be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, Jeremy,” I said, locking eyes with Liam. “I will.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ring ring!

  I jerked awake and nearly fell off the sofa. After staying up most of the night discussing the barrage of events, I had fallen asleep on the sofa in the office.

  Ring ring!

  I whipped my head around back and forth, confused and disoriented. I tried to pull my arms out from a blanket that had trapped me in its folds. I didn't remember falling asleep with this blanket. Liam must’ve brought it.

  Ring ring!

  Ok, first thing’s first—phone! I got up very ungracefully and nearly tripped over the blanket as it clumped down around my feet. My eyes still gluey from sleep could barely focus on the phone.

  I stepped blearily towards the desk before running straight into Liam, walking into the office with two mugs.

  “Gah!” he cried out as he dropped the steaming hot mugs of coffee as he reached out to catch me at the same time.

  “Ahhh!” I cried out, my feet still caught up in the blanket that had puddled on the floor into a deathtrap.

  Liam let the mugs drop and he reached out with a swiftness of a ninja, grabbing my around the middle and flipping me around so he could hoist me up into his arms, safely away from the scalding hot liquids below.

  Ring ring!

  “Oh fuck, the phone!” I muttered, completely forgetting why I had gotten up at all. I tried to scramble down from Liam’s arms but he kept me firmly in place as he carried me over to the desk, bypassing the spilt hot coffee and broken mugs. I was dimly thinking what a gentleman this demon was when he reached my chair and unceremoniously dropped me into it.

  Landing with a loud plop, I glared up at him. He gave me an unrepentant smile as I picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” I answered huskily, my voice still rough with sleep. I cleared my throat. “Hello?” I said again, a bit more clearly.

  “Sophia,” Harrison Dell said, sounding relieved to have reached me.

  I shot up in my seat, completely alert, all traces of sleep gone. “Harrison!” I said in a louder voice than I meant to. I looked up to find Liam standing next to me. It was funny how now my natural instinct whenever a new development occurred was to look for Liam.

  �
��Sophia, I’m sorry if I woke you,” Harrison said, clearly having heard my raspy morning voice. “I wanted to speak with you as soon as possible.”

  I had spent the better part of last night with Liam, trying to cobble together all the ways we had missed targeting Harrison Dell. True, Mackson’s death seemed to be of natural causes but even still, it was quite suspicious how fast Harrison was moving with the alliance and our government contract.