Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Hey!” Randi yelled from the doorway of the Triple B. “Knock it off, you two. Whatever you're arguing about, take it off the street. You're distracting my customers!”

  Great. Now they had an audience. Well, too bad. “Fuck you, Jonah.”

  “Excellent response. That response tells me you don't have a solid argument against what I've said. If you did, because, hey, you're a heck of a debater when you want to be, you'd come up with something a lot more intelligent than Fuck. You.”

  Reid unfolded his arms and let his hands dangle at his sides while he weighed his options.

  Pop Jonah.

  Pop Jonah

  Or pop Jonah.

  He inched closer, almost touching Jonah's nose, ready to push every one of the Baby Billionaire’s buttons.

  Years of the two of them trading punches had perfected their routine.

  The corner of Jonah's mouth lifted. Oh, he knew what was coming. He was waiting for it. The attack.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Harsh sunlight fried the back of Reid's neck and he set his hand over the hot skin. None of this was right. The standing on the sidewalk screaming at each other, him going at Brynne; it all sucked.

  All because he was afraid of getting too attached. To Brynne and to the home he'd spent years running from. Now a woman, one in the Ridge of all places, had finally reduced the hotshot Green Beret to a sniveling wimp. How fucking fitting that he wasn't man enough to deal with it. Instead, he'd lashed out like a five-year-old, screaming at the people he loved most.

  And, yeah, he could include Brynne in that. Way too soon to know if it would be love, solid, down-deep love like Grif and Carlie Beth, but it was more than casual.

  More than a quick lay.

  Reid knew that, understood it on an emotional level he'd never reached before. One that terrified him. That level meant commitment and staying put in Steele Ridge.

  For a woman.

  God, save me.

  New territory for sure and probably why he blew his top. When it came to fight-or-flight instincts, he fought. Every time.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. “You're right.”

  Jonah's head snapped back as if disbelief hijacked his body.

  Reid burst out laughing. “Yeah, douchebag, I said it. Happy now?”

  Jonah blew out a breath. “Could you repeat that? So I know I heard it right.”

  At that, Reid flipped him off.

  “What are you two doing?”

  Jesus. Reid angled back, spotted Britt lumbering toward them. He'd been cooling his jets in the Triple B while Reid waited on Brynne.

  But big brother apparently got tired of waiting. First Jonah and now Britt. Could this get any worse?

  Jonah cuffed him on the arm. “Reid just admitted I was right about something.”

  Britt's eyebrows drew in. “No shit?”

  “Everyone,” Reid said, “shut the fuck up.”

  A horn honked and Grif's—yep, just got worse—minivan rolled to a stop in the middle of Main Street. He'd never get used to his slick sports agent brother driving a mom-mobile. More evidence of his life going down the crapper.

  Grif rolled his window down. “What are you d-bags doing?”

  Stevie Ray Vaughan's “Little Sister” blurted from Reid's phone. Saved by a text from Evie.

  Jonah jerked a thumb at Brynne's shop. “Reid's about to get his ass in there and apologize to Brynne.”

  “No shit,” Grif said.

  Reid finished reading Evie's text and fought for his last bit of control.

  “Too late,” he said. “She's not in there.”

  “Where is she?”

  He fired a text to Evie and shoved his phone in his back pocket. “On her way to Nelson's. With Brynne. Let's go.”

  “Where?”

  “To Nelson's. Where I will ask your baby sister and Brynne just what the fuck they're thinking.”

  * * *

  After parking in Nelson's driveway and ringing the bell to make sure Mr. and Mrs. Marsh weren't inside, Brynne unlocked the front door and led Evie in.

  The pungent aroma of neroli oil slammed her. That damned potpourri. He'd put it in every room and now simply stepping into Nelson's house unleashed a wave of sadness that sliced into her.

  Grief was a fickle thing. No doubt. But she didn't have time for it right now. “I think we should start in the basement. I went through the house with Maggie the other day and didn't see anything on the upper floors. We didn't spend a lot of time in the basement.”

  “Is it finished?”

  “Partially. There's drywall, but he never painted or put in carpeting. He hadn't gotten that far. It's mostly storage down there.” Brynne pointed toward the back of the house. “This way.”

  She walked through the kitchen to the door tucked in the back corner. At the top of the stairs, she peered down to where sunlight streamed through a side window and lit the bottom landing. She flipped the switch, lighting the remainder of the stairwell. “These steps are narrow. Don't fall.”

  At the base of the steps, she smacked at another set of switches that lit up the entire basement. Stacks of boxes sat in one corner and adjacent to the boxes an exercise bike. He'd even mounted a television on the wall.

  Brynne tilted her head.

  Television.

  Behind the exercise bike.

  She hadn't noticed that little detail the other day when she'd shown Maggie this space.

  “That's weird.”

  Evie set her hands on her hips and looked around. “What?”

  “The television. Why would he have that behind the bike? If you were exercising, wouldn't you put it where you could see it?”

  “Maybe he moved the bike.”

  “Maybe.”

  But Brynne wasn't buying that. Not completely. Nelson never did anything without a reason.

  She stepped away from Evie, positioned herself across from the television and looked down at the cement floor. Why, why, why did he have that television there? Plus, he'd run cable. Obviously, he'd spent time down here.

  In a partially finished basement.

  She peered at the wall behind her where he'd wainscoted the right-hand portion and the memory of watching home improvement shows with him brought a fresh wave of sadness. On the night he'd decided to wainscot down here, they'd watched an episode on how to build a secret storage room door.

  Using wainscoting.

  She measured the distance between where she stood and the television. If he'd been down here working on the remodel, it wasn't unreasonable to think he'd want the television on while he worked.

  A gap between the edge of the wainscoting and trim caught her eye. She moved closer, squatted, and found a seam running from floor to ceiling. In the middle of a section.

  What the heck? That made no sense. Being the perfectionist he was, Nelson would make sure the seam was closer to the corner.

  Unless…

  Secret door.

  “Evie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think there's something behind this wall.”

  19

  “Get out of town,” Evie said.

  “I'm serious.”

  Brynne put her hand against the wall and pushed. A door-sized hunk of the wainscoting swung open.

  “Whoa.” Evie rushed over.

  “We saw this on television one night. I didn't know he'd actually done it.”

  Brynne poked her head into the opening. Behind the wall was a long, narrow workspace that lined the right side of the house.

  “Looks like a workshop,” Evie said.

  Sure did.

  They moved into the room, where folding tables had been set up on one side. On top of the tables were spray bottles and large cookie sheets. Overhead, Nelson had hung a row of wire shelves. The first shelf held four clear plastic boxes.

  “Huh,” Evie said. “Maybe he did his potpourri stuff down here.”

  “Maybe.”

  But he'd never mentioned it.
In fact, he'd told her he'd experimented with the potpourri in the kitchen where he could spread out on the large rectangular table.

  “Don't touch anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have no idea what this is and your brother just told me he thought Nelson was selling pot.”

  At the end of the second long table was a chair and next to it Nelson had flipped over two milk crates that held his missing laptop.

  And a phone.

  Dammit. That had to be the phone her intruders were looking for.

  Oh, Nelson, what did you do?

  Curiosity getting the best of her, Brynne ignored her own warning to not touch anything and picked up the phone.

  Dead battery. Of course. He must have left it on and then…never came home.

  Evie trailed along behind her. “Brynne?”

  She turned back, found Evie eying the bottom of the plastic bins through the wire shelving. “Yes?”

  “These bins are labeled on the bottom.” Evie met her gaze. “All drug names.”

  “What?”

  She pointed to the bins. “All of them have powder in them.” Evie pulled her gaze from the boxes to the spray bottles on the table. “The spray bottles.”

  “What about them?”

  “Oh, wow.” She put her hands out. “I could be wrong. I hope I am, but we talked about this in my human anatomy class the other day.” She looked over at Brynne. “It was the day that kid from Asheville died. The one who smoked synthetic pot.”

  “Synthetic pot?”

  “Yeah. It's crazy. Dealers buy drugs online—mostly from China. They dilute the drug and spray it on grass or whatever dried plants they can get their hands on. The worst part is, my professor said it's technically not illegal.”

  “Oh come on! How is that not illegal? They're making homemade pot.”

  “It's the drugs. The DEA can't keep up with the different drug compounds. Every time they discover a new compound and put it on the controlled substance list, the drug manufacturers tweak the compound. They may mix in five different drugs. The boy that died last week? His friend smoked the same stuff and he got wasted, but that was it. It's nasty stuff. Basically the killer combo of a methamphetamine, LSD, and PCP.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Yep. Once the compound is tweaked though, it's technically not—” Evie made air quotes “—illegal. It's basically a new recipe. At least until the DEA discovers it and the government adds it to the list.”

  Nelson's recent spending popped into Brynne's mind. He'd said he'd gotten a raise. “But the people selling this stuff have to know they're riding the edge.”

  “Of course they know. To protect themselves, they put a label on the packaging that it's not for human consumption. The people buying the stuff know how to use it to get high, though, and the manufacturers are making millions.”

  Evie's phone rang. “Uh-oh. It's Reid.” She tapped the screen. “I'll call him back. After we figure out what we're doing here. He's going to freak over this.”

  Brynne looked up at the bins on the shelf, then cut her gaze to the spray bottle. Could Nelson have been doing this? Using his potpourri business as a front to manufacture and sell synthetic pot?

  Vomit lurched up her throat. How could she not have known?

  “I'll take that.”

  Brynne and Evie swung back. Standing in the makeshift doorway behind Evie was a man. An extremely large man the size of Reid, but dressed in slacks and an Oxford shirt.

  And he had them blocked in.

  “Who are you?” Evie said in a voice that was more Reid than Evie.

  The man pointed to the laptop and phone sitting on the upended milk crates. “I'm the one looking for that fucking phone and the recipes that belong to me. Thought I'd spin by here and see if I could find it.”

  Frying panic started at Brynne's core and exploded outward. Her fingers twitched. She closed and opened them—close, open, close, open.

  The man took two steps forward and Brynne slid in front of Evie. The guy's hands were at his sides, but he could have been armed, the gun in a holster at his back or something.

  And Evie was an innocent in all of this.

  “Whatever you want,” Brynne said, “just take it. Take it and go.”

  A slow smile lifted one side of his mouth. “I was planning on it, sweetheart.”

  “Just let us go.”

  He stepped closer, then stopped. “Can't do that. Now that you know about this side business, you've”—he circled one hand as if searching for the words—”become a liability.”

  “We don't even know who you are. Just take the laptop and phone and go.”

  Footsteps above them, in the kitchen by the back door, drew everyone's gazes up and Brynne's slamming pulse eased a bit.

  “Oh, crap,” Evie said.

  The creep reached behind him and whipped out a gun—a giant one that looked like a single bullet could shred its victim.

  He pointed the gun at Evie. “Who's that?”

  “I…don't know,” she said. “But my brother just called me. If it's him, you're in a butt load of trouble.”

  If that was Reid up there, this thing was about to get crazier. Please let it be Reid.

  A muffled voice came through the floor, followed by a second, louder one. Definitely Reid. And Jonah maybe. But more footsteps sounded. More than two people.

  “You two,” the guy said, “move.” Using his free hand he pointed to the secret door leading to the main part of the basement. “Out there. But you—” He poked the gun at Brynne. “Grab that phone and computer.”

  She glanced at the laptop, then went back to the giant gun. Dammit. Trying anything in such close quarters would be risky, and if anything happened to Evie…

  No way.

  “Grab the phone, too.”

  Fingers trembling, she stuck the phone in her back pocket and picked up the laptop, holding it lengthwise. She squeezed her fingers around it and gently tested its weight while the man glanced up at the ceiling again.

  If she could get close enough, she could slam him with the laptop—pow—right over the head. It might not knock him out, but it could give them a second to run.

  To escape.

  If they didn't get shot first.

  Brynne eyed Evie. Get her out. Breathing in, she faced the intruder. “Let Evie go. She can walk upstairs and tell her brother—who by the way is a badass—that she's the only one here. He'll believe that. Evie and Nelson were dating.”

  Hopefully Evie would catch on to the lie and play along.

  “Yes,” Evie said. “I came here a lot by myself. I'd wait for Nelson to come home. My brother is probably checking on me.”

  The guy shifted his gaze to Evie. “How come Nelson never talked about you?”

  That one set Brynne back and another chip flew off her already broken heart. This guy was close enough to Nelson to know his dating habits. And Brynne had no idea who he was.

  So much she didn't know about her best friend.

  “They were keeping it quiet,” Brynne said. “Evie is still in school. Her family didn't want her distracted by a boyfriend at home.”

  Worst excuse ever. Wait. The idiot nodded. Maybe he'd bought it. Or maybe he didn't care. Who knew?

  “Brynne!” Reid's voice. Still upstairs. “Where are you?”

  And, oh, that last bit of panic vanished. With Reid here, they had an even better chance of escaping.

  The intruder's shoulders flew back and he gestured at Evie with the gun. “You. Go first. We're all going. “ He aimed the gun at Brynne. “Or she dies.”

  Evie swung back to Brynne, eyes bulging. Still holding the laptop, Brynne focused on her friend and made direct eye contact. “Listen to me. No one is dying here. Just do what he says.”

  A strangled noise came from Evie's throat and she scrambled through the doorway. Brynne and the intruder fell in behind her, but Brynne wanted her out of here. Away from the gun. She had to try. “Why not just let�
�”

  “Shut up,” the guy said. “Stupid bitch. You've been in the way for days. I wanted that fucking recipe and Nelson wouldn't give it up. Fucking pansy. One kid has a bad reaction and he pisses himself. And then Dexter and Reggie fucked the whole thing up. All they were supposed to do was scare him. Then his asshole friend had to go to.”

  “What?”

  “Shut up.”

  At the base of the stairs, Evie stopped. “What now?”

  “Go up.”

  “Brynne!” Reid hollered again.

  Evie started up the stairs, her hands now visibly shaking. “S-s-s-s-s…someone has to say something. He knows we're here.”

  At the base of the stairs, the guy poked Brynne in the back with the gun, and a fresh wave of panic exploded, just swarmed her body in one violent rush. With all that had gone on, if this jerk was the leader, he wouldn't have an issue killing her.

  Or even the troop of people in the house right now. He could wipe out the Steele siblings. All because of her.

  That couldn't happen.

  “Get out!” she yelled. “He's got a gun! Evie, run!”

  She swung back, blocking his aim as Evie charged up the stairs. Don't let him shoot. Stop him.

  He slid his finger to the trigger and her vision tunneled, blocking out everything but the gun, and a loud whooshing drowned out any coherent thought. Stop him.

  His finger started to move. A slight twitch. On the trigger.

  No.

  Using the laptop as a weapon, Brynne whacked at his arm. He squeezed the trigger. Boom! The shot went wide, blasting through a hunk of trim along the ceiling.

  From somewhere above, Evie let out a terrified scream and Brynne's head spun from the chaos and the panic raging at her. She glanced up to check on Evie and the basement door flew open. It smacked against the wall, but no one was there, just an empty space. Someone must have pulled the door open but taken cover.

  Evie ran right through, disappearing into the kitchen, and a mix of relief and added fear hit Brynne.

  Now she was alone.

  And then everything went quiet. The screaming and pounding footsteps vanished, giving the house an eerie, charged feel.

  The intruder aimed the gun at her, but—crash—something flew through the half-sized basement window lining the staircase. Glass flew and Brynne swiveled away, shielding her face and eyes. Something thumped on the steps. A brick. One of the brothers had thrown a brick through the window.