Score - A Stepbrother Romance

by Daire, Caitlin

  She still didn’t meet my eyes. “You won’t believe me,” she said, her voice hoarse from all the crying she must have done earlier. “You won’t.”

  “I will. I believe everything you say. Just tell me who it was.”

  “Tripp,” she finally replied. “It was him. I didn’t make the connection until today. Back then, he was just the guy everyone called Strike. I never knew he was your cousin. I never even knew he’d attacked me until I saw him today, and it all came flooding back. I remember it now. I remember everything, and that’s why I’m so fucked up. That’s why I kept running from you when it was dark, or when you said certain things. It set something off in my brain, even though I didn’t understand what it was or why until now. I’m fucked up, Chase. I’ll never be normal.”

  White hot anger flooded every inch of my body as she spoke. That fucking bastard. I’d always known Tripp had a thing for younger girls, but drugging and raping them? No. No way. I would have never expected that in a million years.

  But I knew Lina wasn’t lying. She wouldn’t. She had no reason to lie, and besides, no one could be that good of an actress.

  “I’ll fucking kill him,” I said, my hands clenching into fists as I leapt to my feet. “I’m going back there, and I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  Lina reached out for me. “Chase, no. Don’t. You’ll only get in trouble, and I can’t prove any of this. It’s been too long. I didn’t even know it had happened when I woke up the day after, so I never reported it. I just thought I had a bad hangover.”

  I paced back and forth, considering her words with one half of my mind; the other half seriously considering homicide.

  “It’s not too late,” I said, finally stopping and looking right at her. “There’s no statute of limitations on rape. I’ll take you to the police. We’ll talk to them together and get them to file charges.”

  She shook her head again, and fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “Don’t you get it? It is too late. Cases like this happen all the time, where it’s just the girl’s word against the guy’s. Who’s going to believe me now, two and a half years after it happened? I have no proof. No one saw. He’ll deny it, and I’ll lose.”

  She began to sob, and I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her. “I’m so stupid…and it’s all my fault. I lied to my Mom. I took a drink from a stranger,” she said. “And I’ll always be messed up.”

  I sank to my knees in front of her and grabbed her hand. “Lina, it’s not your fault. I swear to you, it isn’t. Just because you lied to your Mom and sneaked out doesn’t mean you deserved what happened. You were only sixteen. Sixteen year olds always sneak out to parties. Doesn’t mean you deserved any of what happened,” I said. “The only person to blame here is my cousin…and I promise you, he will pay. One way or another…he’ll fucking pay.”

  “I can’t press charges,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper. “Like I said, it’s too late for that now. I can’t prove it, and I don’t even want it…I don’t want to be dragged through some long court case. I just want it to be over…I want to forget it ever happened.”

  She lay down and curled up into a ball, and I lay next to her, stroking her back as she cried.

  “Lina, you know it’ll always be up to you. If you don’t want to take it to the police and drag it through the courts, then I’ll respect your decision, and I won’t force you to do anything. I think you should, though. My Dad is friends with the State’s Attorney. He could help.”

  She shook her head. “No. I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Okay,” I said softly. “I promise I won’t make you. But I do think you should see a therapist. My Mom saw a really good one while she was married to my Dad. She had a lot of issues, and she was able to work through them in the end. I’ll call her and get some contact details for you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell her why.”

  She sniffled. “So you agree. I’m crazy. I’m fucked up.”

  I kept soothingly stroking her. “No. You’re not crazy. Something awful happened to you, and your mind just needs time to heal. A therapist can help with that. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t think you’re fucked up.”

  Her chest continued to heave with sobs, and I held her for hours until she finally drifted off to sleep. I felt so fucking guilty. That first night, when she’d run off the way she did…I should’ve known something was wrong. I should have seen it after our other encounters too, but I’d wanted her so badly that I’d ignored all the signs.

  I wished there was something I could do to take her pain away. If there was some way I could build a time machine, go to that party and rescue her all those years ago, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. The only thing that would heal her was time and support from people who cared about her…people like me.

  I tucked her under her blankets and looked at her beautiful, tear-stained face for a while, and then I leaned down and kissed her forehead before quietly exiting her bedroom. I didn’t want to leave her, but there was something I needed to do.

  I’d promised her that I wouldn’t force her to take her case to the authorities if she didn’t want to, but there was one promise I hadn’t made.

  I hadn’t promised her that I wouldn’t beat the ever-living shit out of Tripp.

  I might even kill him.

  Chapter 20

  Chase

  “Chase? It’s past eleven…what are you doing here?”

  Tripp must’ve been in bed, because he was rubbing his eyes and yawning as he opened the front door of his townhouse to me. I shoved past him without a word and stepped into his lounge room, and he shut the door and followed me.

  “Let me guess…you changed your mind? You want back in with the fights?” he said, seemingly oblivious to my mood.

  “No,” I said, turning to him and squaring my jaw. “I came to say a few things. Maybe do a few things.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Are you high? You’re being weird.”

  “Never been more sober. Tell me again how you met Lina.”

  This time he raised both eyebrows. “I told you earlier. I’d never met her before today.”

  “So it’s not possible that you met her at a party on the South Side around two and a half years ago?”

  He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Shit, fine. I know you’re into her, so I didn’t want to say anything, but I did meet her a couple of years back. I thought you’d be upset if you found out we hooked up. But I guess she told you, huh?”

  I crossed my arms. “You’re saying you hooked up with her?”

  “Yeah. What’s she saying? Let me guess…she’s running her mouth and saying all kinds of shit about me, huh? Well, I guess South Side trash will always be trash, no matter where it ends up.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I said, gritting my teeth. “We both know you didn’t ‘hook up’ with her. You drugged and raped her, you piece of shit. She told me everything.”

  “What? I didn’t rape her. Look, I gave her a little something to make her feel good and loosen her up, y’know? Everyone takes shit like that at parties. Not my fault she wanted my dick that night. Pretty sure she was awake and loved it. You know what girls are like; they regret fucking a dude so they go and cry rape.”

  “You’re pretty sure she was awake? As in, you don’t even know for sure?” I said, my hands curling into fists by my side. “Fuck you, man. You drugged her. You raped her. You fucking traumatized her.”

  He saw my fists, and his eyes took on a panicked expression for a few seconds until he regained his composure.

  “Look, Chase, we’re blood, okay? You can’t touch me. You won’t. Besides,” he said, lips curving into a cold smile. “It wouldn’t look good if your Dad found out about what you’ve been doing in your spare time. I’d hate to have to tell him or the media about the fights…or the fact that you’re fucking your stepsister.”

  He was bluffing because he was so afraid of me. He wouldn’t go to the media, because if my fat
her’s campaign went down in flames, then so did our family name…and as a Stryker, that affected him whether he liked it or not.

  He truly was a pathetic little weasel, and I felt physically sick looking at him. All these years I’d thought we were so alike and had so much in common compared to our other family members, but no...no fucking way.

  I was nothing like him.

  “You think I give a shit? Go ahead. Tell the whole fucking world what I’ve been doing,” I replied.

  “Chase, you really wanna think about what you’re—”

  He was cut off mid-sentence by my right hook to his jaw, and he cried out and stumbled backwards, clutching his face. “What the fuck? Did you not hear a fucking word I just said, you little cunt?”

  Eyes fiery with anger now, he came at me with a vengeance, dancing around me with his fists out. Tripp might not have been a big guy, but he knew what he was doing. After all, he was the one who had trained me, and I was one of the best because of him.

  The worst thing that could happen to a fighter was for them to get too confident, too sure in their abilities. As they said, pride always came before a fall, and in fighting, that saying could be taken quite literally. It wouldn’t do for me to get too cocky now, thinking it would be easy to take him down.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t fucking going to.

  I knew what he was going to do already. I’d sparred with him in the gym enough times, so I knew his moves. He was going to feint with his left leg; pretend to kick at me, but really he was going to try to spin at my leading arm, lock it in a hold and get me down on the ground. After that, he’d have the upper hand.

  Too bad I knew it was coming.

  One thing most people thought fighters learned in basic training was to anticipate their opponent’s next move and plan their reaction around that. To me, that was bullshit. It wasn’t enough. I’d anticipate their next several moves, based on however I reacted to what I knew their first move would be, and I’d use that to get the upper hand. Anticipating one move wasn’t enough, especially when it came to a smart guy like Tripp.

  I ignored the soft kick he aimed at my shins and concentrated on his leading arm, punching at it just above the elbow. It wasn’t a sensitive spot, but it was enough to stop him from being able to reach out and lock me in a hold. He spat on the floor and drew back for a second, and I laughed.

  “You taught me a little too well,” I snarled as he threw a left feint at me before striking at me with his right fist. I’d seen that coming too, and I took the much softer feint before dodging away from the right hook and charging at him with a jab of my own.

  Coppery-tasting blood filled my mouth from the weak left punch he’d thrown at me, and I ignored it as I laid into him, my feet and fists moving like lightning compared to his. He was fast, but I was much faster.

  We danced around each other, aiming kicks and strikes at each other, and within three minutes, he was weakening, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. I didn’t have him yet, though.

  He stumbled back from another blow to the chin, and I leaned forward and wrapped an arm around his neck, trying to spin him and get him on the ground. He saw it coming and kicked one of my legs off balance. Cursing, I let go of his neck and jabbed an elbow in between his ribs as I regained my footing, and he gasped and took two steps back, completely winded.

  He was screwed….until he changed everything up.

  Everyone knew that there were less rules in illegal fighting than in regular MMA fighting, but that didn’t mean there weren’t still a few. There were some moves you just didn’t make. It was part of the code; don’t fight fucking dirty, even if you’re just fighting a guy on the street. Win because of your talent, not by being a dodgy motherfucker.

  I guess I should’ve seen it coming that Tripp would fight dirty, because he was a dodgy motherfucker.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t anticipate it until it was too late, and I gasped and dropped to my knees as he aimed a heavy kick right at my groin.

  The bastard had actually gone ahead and kicked me in the fucking balls. If there was just one move in the whole world that could be considered more illegal than any other, a groin shot would be it.

  “You think you can come into my house and attack me, little cousin?” he said with a nasty smile as he beckoned for me to get back up. “Well, come on. Get up, you little bitch.”

  “Fuck you,” I replied. “Fighting dirty, huh? Well, if that’s the way we’re gonna play it...”

  I didn’t necessarily have to fight dirty as well, but if I knew that Tripp was doing so, then I could figure out his next move.

  Million bucks says he goes for the head-butt, I thought, springing to my feet and watching as he came at me. I was right, and the second he lowered his head even half an inch, I took the opportunity to charge forward, grab his neck and spin him into a hold on the floor. I kept one arm wrapped around his neck, roughly holding him, and he weakly struggled in my grip, gasping for air as blood continued to stream from his nose and split lip.

  “Let…let me go!” he gasped out, tapping one of his fists on the carpet.

  “This isn’t a real fight like we have down at the warehouses,” I replied. “You can’t tap out.”

  “Please…I can’t breathe…”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you decided to rape a girl. Didn’t it ever occur to you that there might be consequences?”

  I could’ve easily snapped the fucker’s neck right now if I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to drag myself down to his level. He didn’t deserve a quick death here in his own house. No, he deserved something far worse. He deserved to rot in jail, and one day, I knew Lina would be strong enough to finally bring charges against him to make that happen.

  I didn’t give a shit that he was my cousin. He’d hurt the girl I loved.

  I might not have ever told Lina that I loved her out loud, but she had to know it. I was crazy for her, and I was certain that she felt the same. I’d do anything for her, even if that meant risking everything.

  “Go to the media about me, and I’ll come back and give you some more of this,” I said, releasing his neck from my arm before slamming the back of his head forward into the carpet.

  I heard the telltale sound of cartilage snapping, and I knew I’d broken his nose, but that was only a minor injury compared to what I could have done.

  “That’s for Lina,” I said.

  I stepped over him as he lay gasping and bleeding on the floor, and on my way out, I stopped as I noticed a patterned ceramic vase on a shelf he had on the other side of the lounge room. It wasn’t the antique family heirloom vase his Mom had insisted on keeping from my Dad all those years ago; it was just a cheap one from Ikea.

  Hmm. Fighting over vases did seem to be our family tradition.

  As Tripp struggled to get up, I grabbed the vase and brought it down on his back, grinning as the thin ceramic smashed into a million little pieces. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t going to hurt him any more than he’d already been hurt, but it still felt fucking good smashing it over him.

  “And that’s for your side of the family stealing great-grandma’s vase,” I said as he collapsed back onto his stomach. “She left it to my Dad, you know.”

  “Fuck you, you crazy bastard,” he spat out, brushing shards of ceramic off himself as I exited the room.

  I was crazy. Crazy-fucking-furious. He’d hurt the one person who mattered most to me in the world, and he’d paid in blood. Someday, he’d pay in other ways.

  My body ached as I left his building, and I ignored the pain. I was sore, bleeding and limping, but I’d won. And you know what? It felt like shit. Usually I got that amazing adrenaline rush when I won a fight, but this time I felt…nothing. Even though I’d done the right thing by fucking Tripp up, I hadn’t enjoyed it one bit.

  As I licked blood off my lips, it suddenly hit me; something I’d known for weeks now, but never really thought about too deeply.

  That eupho
ric feeling I’d always experienced when I fought and won? I felt it a hundred times more when I simply looked at Lina. She was it for me. Holy God, had I made the right choice in quitting the fights…I didn’t need them anymore, and I never really had.

  All I needed was to be with her.

  Chapter 21

  Lina

  It had been a week since Tripp and Chase’s confrontation. When he’d come home that day, he hadn’t wanted to speak to me about what had gone on. All he’d done was mutter something about a vase, and then the topic was closed.

  I only found out a day later that Chase had smashed the vase on Tripp’s back after beating the crap out of him. His Mom had called Peter, and they’d had a screaming match on the phone which ended with Peter slamming the phone down; apparently not so unusual for their heated relationship.

  At least neither of them knew what had actually happened.

  I still felt horrible, drained by my horrible memory resurfacing. I kept trying to fight off the feelings of dread that tried to take over every once in a while, and for most of the time, I succeeded. I’d come to terms with what had happened to me, but that didn’t mean I was okay with it. Even if I wasn’t going to press charges, I was broken inside.

  But I knew Chase had taken care of Tripp for me, and I was grateful just knowing he’d never come near me again.

  Chase had also made some calls for me, and I was going to start seeing a decent therapist soon, just so I’d have extra help dealing with the ramifications of what had been done to me.

  I was worried about my Mom somehow finding out about Tripp, even though there was no way she possibly could unless Chase told her, which he wouldn’t do without my permission. I was going to tell her what Tripp had done to me eventually, but the time wasn’t right. Maybe next week...maybe years from now. One day, I’d be able to talk about it without feeling nauseated.

  Today, the wedding planner was coming over to go over the wedding details one last time. A soft knock on my bedroom door interrupted my thoughts, and I called out. “Come in!”