“I’m so sorry.” Allie ran her hand down Brynn’s long hair. “I had it on vibrate and forgot to turn the ringer back on.”
“Where are Arnold and Frances?” Trevor asked.
Brynn shrugged. “They were busy, and I didn’t want to bother them with this.”
“No reason to worry your father right now, Allison. I’ll call my attorney and take care of it.” He reached out and patted Brynn’s head before walking past them toward his office. “It’ll be fine, I promise,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
Allie guided her sister up the stairs and into her room. Brynn pulled away and flopped down on the bed while Allie walked into the closet. “How did Monica sound?”
“She’s in a cell with a bunch of drunk people. She sounded scared.”
Allie shimmied out of the dress and threw on a pair of old jeans and a sweatshirt. Walking back into the bedroom, she stuck her hands in the shirt’s front pouch and settled herself next to Brynn.
“Is Monica going to be okay, Al?”
“Yeah, she will. But first we need to see if we can get her out of jail.”
“You’re not going to make me go back home, are you?”
She rubbed Brynn’s back. “No, but Dad has the final say.” Not that he seemed to care one way or another. And that’s what pissed Allie off the most. She was worried sick about her sisters while her dad was probably out having a great time with his new girlfriend. Resentment and frustration warred with the anger. She was tired of being the responsible one. She closed her eyes. But that’s why Brynn was here in Trevor’s home, and it was why she was going to bail Monica’s sorry ass out of jail. Her sisters needed her. Allie wasn’t going to abandon them.
“I don’t know why Dad gets to make the decision,” Brynn said. “You’re the one who does everything. And I like it here. Mags and Nigel are funny. Besides, I’m going to be in the wedding. Mags asked me to be…what did she call it? Not flower girl. Junior bridesmaid, that’s it.” She smiled. “I like them. Why doesn’t Trevor?”
Allie smoothed a strand of Brynn’s dark hair, flipping it behind her shoulder. “They weren’t always the best parents.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” Allie said.
Trevor stepped into the room. He’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt. Her eyes drifted to his and this time, she didn’t look away.
“I found your sister. She’s in the North Las Vegas Detention Center. We can bail her out now.”
Allie stood. “Let’s go.”
“I want to go too,” Brynn said.
“No, you stay here.” She slipped her feet into a pair of tennis shoes. “We’ll be back soon.”
***
Trevor held open the sedan’s passenger door for Allie before walking around and climbing behind the wheel.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can handle it myself,” she said.
He started the engine and pulled through the gate. “You’ve been dealing with this by yourself for too long.” He twisted his head and glanced at her.
“I don’t need saving, Trevor.”
“Really? So you have the fifteen hundred dollars for bail money, do you?”
Gritting her teeth, she stared out the window. She owed him big time, and it was always there between them, like an invisible wall. She was tired of being indebted to him, wished they were on equal footing. Then you never would have met him.
“We could, of course, allow her to rot for a few weeks until her trial. How does that sound? She is eighteen, after all,” he said.
“Fine. So what do you want in exchange for this loan?”
When he didn’t answer her, she unhooked her seat belt and moved closer to him, placing her hand on his leg, creeping it closer to the juncture of his legs. When she stroked his semi-hard dick through his fly, she whispered in his ear, “What’s fifteen hundred dollars worth, Trevor? How many handies will it take?”
He sharply pulled over to the side of the road and threw the car in park before turning on her. He grabbed the back of her head, drawing her face close to his. “Stop this at once. I want your forgiveness, you ungrateful brat.”
She did laugh then. How very Trevor-like. Demand forgiveness and insult her in the same breath. “Tough. I don’t want to forgive you. You don’t deserve it.”
He leaned down and kissed her hard—and all too briefly. “I know I don’t deserve it.” He let her go and gripped the steering wheel, rotating his shoulders. “Now, put your seat belt back on.”
She sighed and snapped her belt in place. Just when she thought she had a handle on him, he did something surprising and thoughtful. It was irritating.
“Besides, I’ve never bailed anyone out of jail before. I can cross it off my bucket list.”
She slanted him a look. “Glad you think this is funny.”
He reached out and picked up her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “My lawyer assures me he can get the charges dropped if she enters a drug rehab program.” He lightly kissed her fingers. “And I heard from the detective today.”
“What?” She jerked her hand from his grasp. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? What’s Brad’s last name? Who is he?” She twisted in her seat and glared at him. The passing headlights cast shadows onto his profile.
“I didn’t tell you because I was angry. The longer you kept that hideous smile in place, the more I wanted to throttle you.”
He was unbelievable. Yeah, this was the Trevor she was used to dealing with, the selfish jerk who did whatever he wanted and couldn’t care less about anyone but himself. “What’s. His. Name.”
“Bradley. Thomas,” he said, mocking her cadence. “There, does that tell you everything you want to know?”
She took a deep, steady breath. “Here’s a wacky thought. Why don’t you just tell me what the detective said, so I won’t have to beat it out of you?”
“Well, we do have a safe word—Uruguay.”
“Trevor—”
He sighed. “Fine. He’s twenty-four, has three prior arrests, two for drugs, one for a DUI. He’s lives in a house in North Las Vegas, and he’s three months behind on rent.”
Sounded like even more of a loser than she thought. “What does he do for a living?”
“No job on the books. The detective thinks he sells drugs. Pot mostly. He’s living with four other people, two men, two women, not including your sister.”
“Perfect. How much are the detective and your lawyer going to cost me?”
There was a long pause. “You know, darling, you’re beginning to piss me off.” His pleasant voice belied his words.
She knew from experience, the more polite and cheerful he got, the angrier he was. Well too bad, she was angry as well—angry at him, Monica, her father, her dead mother. Oh God, no, that wasn’t true. She wasn’t mad at her mom. How the hell could she be mad at her mom for dying? Allie missed her every day.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She was a bitch for even thinking such a thing. Her mother had been warm and big-hearted and cared about people. She’d depended on Allie, had asked her to do one thing—take care of her family.
It shouldn’t be so goddamned hard. Why couldn’t her dad and sisters just do what they were supposed to do? She had. She’d quit school and come home. Allie hadn’t complained, run off the rails, or started dating someone inappropriate.
She needed to fix this. And she’d start by accepting Trevor’s help. She couldn’t get Monica out of jail by herself, even though she’d argued otherwise. She’d get Monica home and talk some sense into her. True, that hadn’t worked the thousands of other times she’d done it, but she had to keep trying. It’s what her mom would want.
***
Trevor looked around the detention center with distaste
. There was an odious mixture of alcohol and unwashed bodies—never a pleasant combination. The uniformed man behind the glass took their money, Allie signed a couple of forms, and then they waited for over an hour in uncomfortable molded-plastic chairs.
Allie remained silent, but glared at him every once in a while. Usually after he said something he thought was rather witty. But at least she was looking at him again.
He’d been serious before. He would stop at nothing until she forgave him. Bailing her sister out of jail was a start. And the irony wasn’t wasted on him. Allie had asked him to forgive his parents three days ago, and he’d been angry at her interference. Now she wouldn’t forgive him, and it was tearing him apart. She was right—he didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it just the same.
Clutching her release papers, Monica stepped through the door, clothed in jeans and a dirty pink T-shirt. Her hair was a snarl of tangles and her cheeks were blotchy from crying. Dark makeup circled her eyes.
Monica ran toward them, flinging herself into Allie’s arms. “Thank you. Thank you for getting me out.”
Allie hugged her back. “Are you okay?”
The younger girl nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” She glanced at Trevor with puffy eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
Trevor stepped forward. “Let’s get out of here.”
Allie kept her arm around Monica’s shoulders. “He’s the one who bailed you out.”
Trevor held the door, and Allie threw him a look as she passed through it. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
He didn’t want her gratitude. Not really. He wanted things to be the way they were before his mouth got in the way—comfortable in each other’s presence, the sexual awareness bubbling beneath the surface of every touch, every glance. He wanted her to want him.
Once they reached the parking lot, Allie rubbed Monica’s back. “So, why didn’t Brad bail you out?”
Monica stiffened, stepped away from Allie. “Don’t start, okay? He’s on probation.”
“So? What does that have to do with it?”
Monica said nothing but looked away.
“Was he with you when you got arrested?” Allie came to a stop in the middle of the lot.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Monica said.
“So he just left you there, by yourself?”
“He didn’t want to leave me, but if he gets into trouble again, he’ll go back to jail.”
“Maybe that’s where he belongs.”
“Shut up, Allie.” Monica clenched her hands at her sides. “You don’t know him, so why are you even talking about it?”
“I met him. He’s an asshole.”
“And he’s not?” Monica pointed at Trevor.
Allie took a step toward her sister. “He’s the asshole who bailed you out. You should be on your knees, thanking him.”
Monica sneered. “Isn’t that your job?”
“You little—”
Trevor smoothly stepped in between them. “I think we should go back to my house and get a good night’s sleep.” He took Allie’s arm in one hand and Monica’s in the other and all but hauled them toward the car.
“I want to go home,” Monica said.
“Finally, you’re talking sense.” Allie peeked around Trevor’s chest to look at her sister. “Have you called Dad yet?”
Monica tried to pull out of Trevor’s hold, but he tightened his grip. “No, why should I? And I’m not talking about that home. I mean where I’m staying with Brad.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re going back to the loser who left you to get arrested?”
“Shut up—”
Trevor gave both of them a shake. “Both of you shut up. Now, who’s hungry?”
***
“I’m calling Dad,” Allie said when they walked through the front door of the mansion.
“Yeah, you do that,” Monica said in a snotty tone.
When Trevor led Monica to the drawing room, Allie remained in the foyer and tried calling her dad. It went to voice mail and she left a message, feeling angrier by the minute. Where the hell was he, and why couldn’t he just pick up the damn phone?
She turned to find Trevor leaning against a display case of bird eggs. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her, leaving her drained. “Why are you doing this anyway?”
“Standing here? In my own foyer? Because I can.”
She took a step toward him. “Why are you doing this for Monica?”
“Bailing out teenage delinquents is a new passion of mine. Although she’s quite a little bitch.”
“You don’t get to talk about my sister that way, and you can’t buy forgiveness, Trevor.”
He pushed off the glass case and slowly moved toward her. “Doesn’t hurt to try.” He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking along her bottom lip.
It felt good, his touch. And it shouldn’t, because he wasn’t right for her. He was callous and uncaring and selfish. Most of the time. And they made a deal, one that didn’t leave room for the emotions churning inside of her.
He leaned closer, his mouth a whisper from hers. She wanted his kiss, his touch, even though her feelings were still bruised from his hurtful words.
He kept his eyes open, locked on hers, as his lips softly brushed her own.
“Oh look, Nigel, they’ve made up.”
Trevor closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said.
She snapped her head back. This interruption was a good thing. She had been weakening toward him, and she needed to stay strong. It was just a bargain. She needed to remember that and not let her feelings get tangled up.
“I’ll go see if Brynn’s still awake,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll want to see Monica.” Allie nodded at Mags and Nigel as she ran up the stairs.
Trevor straightened. “When are the two of you leaving?”
“I don’t know what you and Allie fought about, Son, but you’ve been like a bloody thundercloud for the last few days,” Nigel said.
“Where did everyone go?” Monica asked, stepping into the foyer.
“Oh, this one’s new. Are you starting a harem, dearest?” Mags asked.
Trevor stared at the ceiling and sighed. Then he roused himself. “This one’s off-limits too,” he said to Nigel.
“Son, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m with your mother.”
Mags swished forward in a bright green caftan, her arm extended. “I’m Mags, Trevor’s mother. I tried to teach him some manners, I really did.”
Trevor scoffed. “Was that in between your second and third marriage, or your third and fourth? Because I can’t remember.”
Nigel walked forward and smacked Trevor on the back of the head. “Behave.” Then he turned to Monica. “I’m Nigel.”
“Monica, these are my parents, such as they are.” He nodded toward the two nightmares who’d created him. “This is Monica, Allie’s middle sister. We just bailed her out of jail.”
“Ooooo, what were you in jail for, darling?” Mags threw her arm around Monica’s shoulder and walked her out of the foyer.
Trevor turned to Nigel. “I’m quite serious you know, about leaving these girls alone. If you so much as look at one of them sideways, I’ll kill you.”
“I keep telling you, Trev, I love your mother.”
“Right.” He glanced toward the stairs where Allie and Brynn stood. “Brynn, we busted your sister out of jail, and we brought you a burger to celebrate.”
Brynn gave him a tired smile. She’d obviously been asleep. Her dark hair was flat on one side and she wore a pillow wrinkle on her cheek.
“Thanks. For the burger and for breaking Monica out.”
“Go to the drawing room and get something to eat before Mags beats you to it.” He nodded his head toward the hallway. Brynn walk
ed by and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear.
Trevor draped his arm around Allie’s shoulder and led her away. She shrugged it off, but he yanked on the hood of her sweatshirt, forcing her to keep pace with him.
“Guess she hasn’t forgiven you after all, Son,” Nigel said, before jogging back up the stairs.
No, she hadn’t. But she would. It would help things along considerably if he could get Mags and Nigel to leave. They popped up at the most inopportune times.
In the drawing room, Monica perched on the love seat next to Mags. Brynn sat cross-legged on the floor, throwing tater tots in the air and catching them in her mouth.
“Oh, darlings, Monica has been telling us about her new friend, the prostitute. Tell them.” Mags rubbed her hands together. “This is dreadful.”
Monica gave Mags a confused, sideways glance. “There was a hooker in the cell with me who got cheated out of her money. So she hit the guy in the head with her shoe and the heel got stuck in his skull. She was covered in blood.”
Trevor sank onto the sofa and pulled Allie down next to him. “What a charming story. One I’m sure you hope to tell your children.” He said to Brynn, “Pass me a bag of fries, would you? And give Allie a burger.”
Brynn dug into the grease-coated white sack and pulled out a burger and a bag of fries, handing it to him. “Here, Trevor, catch.” She threw a tot. It hit him on the forehead and landed on his trousers. He simply picked it up and tossed it in his mouth.
Then he peeled back half the wrapper and handed it to Allie. “Eat this.” He held out a fry. She gave him a look but let him feed it to her. “You hardly ate a bite at dinner, love.”
“I wonder why.”
When he gazed up, Monica, Brynn, and his mother stared at him with wide eyes. “What?” he asked with a frown.
“So are you two, like, dating? I thought she was your assistant,” Monica said. “What is she assisting you with?”
Trevor glanced over at Allie and found her cheeks had turned bright red. Almost as red as the bra and knickers she wore earlier. “I suggest you tone down the snotty attitude and show your sister a little respect.”
Monica tried to hold his gaze but eventually dropped her eyes. He didn’t imagine this subdued change in behavior would last long. Didn’t seem her style to back down from a fight. Being in jail must have really shaken her.
His Every Need Page 20
