Cocked: A Stepbrother Romance (45 page)

And I was in the mood to do some killing. That motherfucker interrupted me when Bren had her hand on my dick. All of the other garbage was enough to piss me off, maybe earn him a beating to within an inch of his life, but interrupting me when I was about to take Bren how I wanted meant instant death. I couldn’t forgive that.

Knife gripped in my hand, I came out into the kitchen. The place was empty. I walked over to the control panel and looked at the beeping light. Apparently, the front door was what set the alarm off. I keyed in a few commands and shut down the awful screaming noise.

I stood quietly and listened. I couldn’t hear anything but my own heart and breath, and even those were as faint as possible. I moved on the balls of my feet down the hall, keeping close to the wall. Fabrizio would likely have a gun if he was packing, and I had to make sure I could get close if I was going to win that fight.

And I was going to win that fight.

Up ahead, the hall turned, opening up into the foyer. I crouched down and looked around the corner, expecting to see Fabrizio trying to struggle through the glass window.

Instead, lying in broken glass was a single red brick.

I stood and walked carefully into the foyer, looking around. Nothing else was out of place. The door was still standing and the other blast- and bullet-proof windows were still intact. The only real glass window was that small, decorative plate on the front door, designed to crumble in case of a bomb to help channel energy away from critical stuff. Or something. O’Brian had explained it to me once, but I had only been half listening. At least I knew that window was the only thing a brick could have broken through on the entire fucking house.

I stared at it, lying alone in the broken glass, with a piece of paper wrapped around its length.

How the fuck could he have known the brick would go through that particular window? If he had tried any of the other windows, the alarm would have gone off, and we would have known. Which meant that his first try went right in the single weak spot in the entire house. It wasn’t big enough for a person to sneak through, but it was the perfect size for a brick.

I shook my head, anger lancing through my veins. Jimmy was right. The Irish Mob had a fucking rat, and he was working with Vince Fabrizio. There was no other explanation, and I couldn’t keep denying it any longer.

I crouched down, careful not to step in the shards, and picked up the brick. I unwrapped the paper and held it up.

I’m coming for my wife
was written in thick black Sharpie.

I laughed. What a bold piece of shit. And a dead one, too. I tossed the brick back on the ground and walked upstairs, the message clenched in my hand. I walked down to Bren’s room and tried the handle, but it was locked.

“Bren, it’s me,” I called out.

“Colin?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, everything is okay.”

The door unlocked and she pulled it open. I could see the fear still lingering in her face.

“What happened?”

I sighed. “Promise not to freak out?”

“Colin, what happened?”

“Your husband threw a brick through the front window.”

“I thought those were blast proof or whatever?”

“Well, they are. Except the decorative window in the front door. And somehow he knew to aim right for that.”

She paused, digesting that information. “How would he know?”

“You know how.”

She nodded and looked away. “Somebody told him.”

“Things are getting more dangerous, Bren.”

“Colin....”

“Listen to me.” I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her against me. I was still in nothing but my underwear and my beater, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore but keeping her safe. “If someone on the inside is helping Fabrizio, it’s only a matter of time before he gets to you here. You think it’s bad now? Imagine three weeks from now with constant threats from that psycho. Maybe we catch him and maybe we don’t. Do you really want to live that way?”

“No,” she said softly.

“No, you don’t. But if we go to O’Brian’s farmhouse right now, you can be safe.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of course you’re afraid. Your psycho ex is trying to hunt you down.” She smiled a little at my joke. “But I’m not going to let you out of my sight until we get the fucker.”

“Okay,” she said softly.

“Okay, you’ll come to the country with me?”

She sighed. “Yeah, fine. If that’s what it’ll take.”

I grinned. “You’re not going to regret this.”

“I probably will.”

I kissed her again quickly then moved away.

“Get packed. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

She blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. I know where it is. I’ll call your dad and we’ll head out.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I gave her another grin then went back into my room and began to throw my shit into a duffle bag. I made sure I brought both of my guns and my knives, plus some comfortable clothes. I probably wouldn’t need to pack heat out there, but it wouldn’t hurt to at least have it on me at all times.

When I was done, I called O’Brian’s phone. It went to voicemail.

“Sir, it’s me. I convinced your daughter that the country is the safest place for her right now. We’re leaving in fifteen. Call if you need something.”

I hung up and tossed the phone into my bag. I pulled on some clothes and looked around the room.

It wasn’t exactly home, though it was at one point, a long time ago. I wasn’t going to miss it. I threw my duffle over my shoulder and walked back over to Bren’s room and watched as she lazily picked through her clothes, tossing her stuff onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Packing.”

I laughed then walked over to her closet and pulled out her suitcase. I threw it down on the floor, opened it, and began to fill it with clothes.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Packing.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Fine, okay. Let’s do this.”

With a laugh, we began to throw her stuff into the suitcase. In less than five minutes, we had it packed to the brim. She had to sit on the lid while I zipped it up.

“Think you got enough stuff in there?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’ll survive.” She eyed my small duffle. “You are not borrowing my underwear.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She picked up her over-full suitcase and looked at me. “Well, let’s get going.”

I took the suitcase from her and nodded. “Follow me.”

We walked down the front steps together, careful not to step in the glass. I felt the weight of my gun in its holster on my side as we pushed the front door open. Half of me expected to see Fabrizio standing right there, waiting, but there was nothing.

“Wait here for a second,” I said.

She nodded. I slipped down the steps and quickly did a sweep of the block, making sure nobody was around to see us leave. When I was reasonably sure there were no suspicious figures lurking nearby, I found where I parked my car, started the engine, and then pulled it around the front of the house.

We had some driving ahead of us, but in the end, we’d be safe enough in a beautiful farmhouse out in the country.

And I would have Bren all to myself.

W
hen he said “farmhouse,” I expected a quaint but old and crumbling country home. Maybe wicker furniture on the wraparound porch, or maybe some old and peeling red shutters. I assumed there would be at least one tractor. But when we pulled out in front of the building, I was shocked at what I saw.

The place was the definition of modern. It was all sleek lines and smooth planes with glass all over the place. It was set back down an old dirt and gravel road and surrounded by a huge fence. There were enormous maple trees and evergreens all over the place, making it seem like the “farmhouse” was the only building in the whole world. There was no porch and definitely no rusting old equipment, which was a little disappointing.

“Holy shit, Colin.”

He laughed. “Not what you expected?”

“This is like, a multi-million dollar house, isn’t it?”

“Your dad doesn’t do anything half-assed.”

He parked the car out front and climbed out. I followed him, staring.

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

He shrugged. “Not many people do, actually. He felt it was safer to keep it low-key.”

I laughed. “There’s nothing low-key about this.”

“You’re right, but it’s private.”

“Yeah, but still. He must have put a lot of work into this.”

“Knocked down the original structure and put this up.”

“Why call it a farmhouse, then?”

He shrugged and gestured around us. “We’re in Amish country. What else do you call a house out here?”

I laughed. He obviously didn’t have much experience outside of a city. Although I had to admit, neither did I. Still, there was something about Colin that made him seem out of place without concrete and steel.

“So, is like, the door unlocked?”

He shook his head. “Security code.”

We climbed out of the car and I followed him to the front door. He opened a small panel next to the frame, displaying a phone-like row of numbers and letters. He keyed in a string of numbers and suddenly the door unlocked and opened slightly. It was almost like magic.

I laughed again, giddy at how fancy it seemed.

“Where the hell
are
we?”

“Amish country. Like I said.” He grinned at me.

I pulled the door open all the way and walked inside. The entrance was decorated in a minimalist style, mostly blacks and whites and greys, with industrial-looking furniture and some exposed wood and brick. It was the most expensive-looking place I had ever seen, and it was absolutely beautiful. The foyer opened into a large open room that served as both kitchen and living room, with low walls and shelves and furniture acting as the breaks between areas. It was tastefully and artfully laid out.

I stared as I walked in. The entire back wall was glass and looked out onto an open backyard with a beautiful oak deck. The woods almost touched up against the house in some places. It was like looking out into a picture book. I shook my head, totally entranced. Expensive art hung on the walls, and whoever had picked every one of them out had clearly been some sort of professional. I couldn’t imagine my dad giving much thought to the way a vase would work with an impressionist portrait, but someone clearly had.

It was almost too much. It was almost an insane and useless display of wealth and taste, especially considering the house was empty the vast majority of the time. Then again, it was gorgeous, and I didn’t care about any of that.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Not my taste,” Colin said.

I looked at him. “You don’t think this place is perfect?”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’d take a nice south Philly row home with a roof deck over this place any day, though.”

I laughed and shook my head. “You’re unbelievable. This is probably the nicest house you’ve ever been in.”

“It definitely is.”

“You can’t compare Philly to this place.”

“I can and I am.”

I looked back out the huge glass wall as Colin brought our stuff in. I was entranced by the motion of the trees in the soft breeze, and suddenly I felt more at peace there than I had ever felt before. In that moment, I didn’t know why I had resisted it so hard in the beginning. I missed my friends, or really I missed my one friend, and wished I could reconnect with more of them, but the farmhouse was just too amazing. I wouldn’t have minded staying there for a while.

“What now, Princess?” Colin said.

“Show me to my room.”

“As you wish.” I followed him back toward the front door and through another doorway, up a staircase, and into a large loft area.

It was another hugely open room, with a large canopy bed, a big chest of drawers, and low couches. I sighed, looking around at the beautiful decorations and the plush rug underneath. On the ceiling was a pane of glass looking out through the trees and up at the sky.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“Is this the only room?”

He shook his head. “No, but it’s the nicest. Want something different?”

“No, I mean. Where is your room?”

He laughed. “Downstairs. Close by.”

I walked into the room and hopped up on the bed, sinking into its plush comforter and comfortable, fluffy pillows. I laughed as Colin hopped up beside me.

“This place is incredible,” I said.

“I guess it’s pretty cool.”

“We should celebrate.” I sat up, suddenly excited.

“I know how we can do that.” Colin gave me a look.

I shook my head. “No, let’s go somewhere. I haven’t been out in ages.”

“You just got here, and now you want to leave?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Take me dancing somewhere.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure there are any decent clubs around here.”

“I don’t care. Find a bar.”

“I’m not exactly the dancing type, Bren.”

“I’ll dance without you, then. You can just sit at a table and look all moody.”

“I can probably handle that, yeah.”

I laughed. “Come on, please? I have all this pent-up energy.”

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll find a place.” He rolled off the bed and got up. “But you’re going to owe me.”

I smiled. “Owe you what?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know when I come to collect.”

––––––––

C
olin’s car pulled off of the old pothole-filled road and stopped in front of a dilapidated building. I stared at its old wood façade and the sign that read “Reddy’s Roadside Bar” and sighed. I was wearing the sexiest dress I had brought with me, a skin-tight thing that showed off my curves, and he had brought me to some crappy redneck bar in the middle of nowhere. Then again, I wasn’t sure what I had expected, since we really were in the middle of Amish country. My dad’s house was probably the nicest building for miles in every direction.

And yet I couldn’t imagine sitting at home another night. I had done plenty of that already. Even if my prison was expensive and comfortable, it was still just another prison.