Dirty Little Secrets: A Stepbrother Romance (9 page)

I
was
on the 405 heading north, skipping the more picturesque PCH in order to get back to Portland quickly while still bypassing the overcrowded center of LA. As much as I wanted to stay in Los Angeles, I had to get back to work. If anything, I had bills to pay and payroll to sign for. While Monica and Vince were good people, nobody sticks around a job where the boss takes off for a week, extends his vacation and then forgets to sign the paychecks.

I was in Northridge, just about two miles from merging back onto the 5 when my phone rang. My music, Creedence Clearwater Revival that was great for making the miles disappear, went mute as my in-dash system showed it was from Vince. “Yeah Vince, go ahead.”

“Hey boss, it sounds like you’re driving. You sure I’m okay?” he asked cautiously. “I don’t want you to get pulled over. I’ve heard the LAPD are a bunch of assholes.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m on the Interstate, so the only thing I have to worry about is the CHP. And I’m on hands free, I just look like any other idiot talking to himself while he drives. What’s going on?”

“I’ve got more information for you. I tracked down a contact on one of those other people on Alix’s photo shoot, Karla McDonald. I gave her a call, and as soon as she heard who I worked for, she demanded to talk to you. I couldn’t get a peep out of her, but she sounded pretty frantic about it.”

“All right, I’ll give her a call. Give me a minute to get off the Interstate though, there’s an exit coming up in half a mile. Text me the number?”

“Sure thing,” Vince said. “Just be careful that you don’t get off in the wrong part of town.”

“Not an issue,” I said, hanging up. I took the exit and ended up parking next to a Catholic cemetery of all things, while in the meantime Vince sent my phone the number it needed. I quickly dialed the number, hoping that this Karla would be able to shed some light on the situation.

“Hello?” a voice with a definite Australian accent said.

“Miss McDonald? Hi, I’m Kade Prescott, my paralegal said he spoke with you earlier. I was hoping you had a minute to talk,” I said, while outside my window I watched a groundskeeper rake the grass on the other side of the fence. “I’m Alix Nova’s stepbrother.”

“I know your name, mate,” Karla replied, and it took me a second to get her accent through my phone. “Good onya to call me so quick. So from what your assistant was telling me, you want to know about the photo shoot last week.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. When Alix came to our parents’ house, she was sporting what turned into a very large black eye. Now, she had a story about walking into some equipment. Is that true?”

“Hell no,” Karla replied, outraged and surprised. “I canna believe that bastard actually hit her though.”

“Who?” I asked, my emotions rising as I thought of Alix being the victim of violence. I had my suspicions, and for them to be confirmed . . . I kicked myself. I should have done more earlier. “Miss McDonald, please. Who are you talking about?”

“Sydney Hale,” Karla answered immediately. “He and Alix were dating up until a few weeks ago. He was the photographer for the shoot. I thought he’d been a bloody cunt during the shoot, but I never thought he’d . . . that fucker.”

“Miss McDonald, this is important to me. Alix borrowed a large sum of money from me, and I suspect she’s being forced to give it to this Sydney Hale. Can you tell me where I can find him?” I was squeezing the steering wheel hard enough to leave divots, and there was an ominous creaking coming from the metal inside. I peeled my hands away by pure force of will. “Please, Karla, Alix is my family.”

“I’ve done shoots with him at his private studio, it doubles as his apartment,” Karla said. “He lives in North Hollywood, near Burbank.”

Karla gave me the address, which I punched into my car’s internal navigation. The drive wasn’t far, and I turned around to get back on the road. “Thank you, Karla. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“No worries,” Karla said. “Just a warning to you, Syd’s a regular dunny rat. Keep your eyes out if you run into him.”

I had no idea what a dunny rat was, but I got the idea. “I will. Thank you again, Karla.”

As soon as I was back on the 5 heading toward North Hollywood and Burbank, I tried calling Alix. Her phone immediately went to voice mail, which for some reason scared me. I tried again, hitting redial as I pushed faster. I moved over to the passing lane, willing the evening traffic to go faster, but finding myself increasingly frustrated. The miles crawled by as I broke every rule I’d ever given myself about driving, weaving in and out of gaps in traffic until my car told me to get off the Interstate. I followed the directions to a dumpy looking apartment building. It looked like something out of the nineteen eighties, and had probably last been shoddily repainted ten years ago. What a professional photographer would be doing living in such a dump was beyond me.

My heart leapt into my throat when I saw Alix’s car parked in one of the visitor spots in the parking lot, and I threw my car into park, blocking her in but not really giving a damn. If someone wanted to call the cops and give me a ticket, I’d be happy about it. Shutting off the engine, I sprinted up to the main gate, frustrated when it turned out to be locked by a number code. Looking around, I saw a gap in the stucco wall that surrounded the building, so I hopped it quickly, landing in what I thought was the middle of someone’s tiny little front yard, probably the building superintendent or handyman. A startled woman stared at me through the window before pointing and beginning to yell.

“Sorry!” I replied before she could come outside. Instead, I ran through onto the main walkway through the building, keeping the number for Hale’s apartment in my mind. It was on the second floor, I quickly figured out, taking the stairs three at a time to the next level, only to find I was on the wrong side of the huge horseshoe that was the building.

I ran as hard as I could, my fear growing with every step. Apartment two twenty-nine was on the corner of the building, and from the way it was shaped was most likely larger than its neighbors. I came closer and slowed to a stop, reaching for the handle, which was locked. “Alix! ALIX! It’s Kade!”

Inside I could hear something moving, then a sound that would haunt me the rest of my life. “Kade! Help me!”

I lowered my shoulder and rammed it into the door frame, the whole thing shuddering but not giving way. Stepping back, I reached up and kicked, wishing I’d chosen kickboxing instead of boxing as a hobby in college. Still, my kick was enough to splinter the simple lock on the door, one of those automatic jobs that was supposed to only supplement deadbolts and chains. The door banged off the hallway drywall before trying to shut on me again, but I threw my shoulder into it again and was in.

Running down the hall, I burst in to see a man, shorter than me but still taller than Alix, kneeling over her with his fist bunched. Alix was on the couch, and the man had one foot on the floor and the other beside Alix’s hip, his left hand reaching for her throat. Alix’s fingers were hooked into claws and she was trying, but he was too far away. Similarly, his legs were positioned so that he could push on her, but she couldn’t knee him in the balls or reach with her hands.

“Get your fucking hands off her!” I yelled, grabbing Sydney as he turned his head toward me. With all of my anger and rage I pushed him, slamming him into the wall on the far side of the room.

“Get the fuck off me!” he yelled, trying to turn. “Fucking bitch was trying to rob me!”

“Like hell she was,” I replied, spinning him around. Using some of the street tactics that my boxing coach had taught me, I slammed my forearm into his face, shattering his nose and sending him dazed to the floor. “Motherfucker.”

I turned away from Sydney and looked at Alix, who was trying to cover herself. In her fight with Sydney, he’d torn her t-shirt and bra, her right breast exposed to the light. I immediately pulled my shirt over my head and handed it to her and grabbed the money off the table. “That’s not his.”

Alix pulled my shirt over her head and tried to get up, but her legs were unable to support her. Trembling, she collapsed to the ground and I caught her, letting the stacks of cash fall to the floor. Ignoring the money, I picked her up in my arms, holding her tight.

“Shhh Alix, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll protect you,” I whispered before turning my attention back to the still-dazed Sydney. “When I get out of here I’m calling the cops. I swear, if I ever see you again, I’m not going to let you leave alive.”

“My bag,” Alix whispered. “Please, my bag.”

I snagged the bag with my free hand and carried her out of the apartment and out onto the walkway. Neighbors were already sticking their heads out of their apartments, curious as to what was happening. I tried to enlist their help, but nobody would get involved. I tried again in what Spanish I remembered from my childhood and one class in legal Spanish—I asked them to call the police.

One of the neighbors, a middle-aged woman with two kids sticking their heads around her legs, nodded and slammed her door. I could only hope that she was calling the cops, but I wasn’t going to stick around to make sure. This wasn’t the sort of neighborhood that the police responded to quickly, and I worried it would be more dangerous to stick around than to get the hell out of there.

Alix was able to walk a bit as we went down the stairs, and I helped her into the passenger seat. She had a torn shirt, but didn’t look otherwise harmed. She was definitely a bit rattled though. “My car,” she started to object, and I shook my head.

“I’ll call a tow truck for it or something,” I said, firing up the engine. I pulled away and headed toward the Interstate. “Alix, did he touch you?”

“No, you got there in time,” she said, her voice cracking as she realized how lucky she’d been. “But if you hadn’t . . . ”

She broke down sobbing, and I pulled over, leaving the engine running. Reaching over, I took her hand carefully. “Alix . . . Alix, look at me.”

She looked up at me, her eyes puffy with tears, and I knew something for certain: I’d never leave her. “Kade . . . I’m sorry . . . I screwed up so much . . . ” she got out, before the sobs took over again.

I held her hand, wanting to reach over and hold her closer but knowing that she was going through the aftereffects of domestic violence. If I comforted her the way I wanted, I could actually end up hurting her more, scaring her. Instead, I held her hand carefully, looking at her with concern in my eyes. “Alix, do you want me to take you to a hospital?”

She shook her head. “No . . . I’m not injured, just a torn t-shirt. The hospital can’t do anything. Can you just take me home?”

“Doesn’t he know where that is?” I asked. “Would you be safe there?”

“I’m safe wherever you are,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “Take me with you, please.”

I nodded, understanding the message behind her blue eyes. Driving north on the city streets again, I got back on the Interstate, this time intending to go south toward Laguna Hills. “No,” Alix said as she saw which lane I was getting into. “Not Laguna. Derek and Mom can’t know about this. Please, Kade.”

“Where?” I asked, looking at her. “And why can’t they know?”

“Syd was blackmailing me,” she said, shame creeping on her face. “He and I . . . he has photos of me that would destroy Derek. If those come out, there’s no way he’ll get elected. It’s also why there can’t be any cops. I can’t go to them, not unless we want the photos to come out.”

I nodded and drove on, skipping the off-ramp south. “Okay. Well, you mentioned never being to Portland. What about visiting with me for a few days? Think you can do it?”

Alix nodded, then grinned sheepishly. “I don’t have any clothes though.”

For some strange reason, I found the comment hilarious. Leave it to Alix. We were driving away from a blackmailing asshole of a man, who had evidence (I didn’t know what at the time) that would ruin my father’s political ambitions, and I had no idea if Alix had work lined up or not, or if this situation with Sydney would hurt her career. Still, her first concern was that she didn’t have any clothes to wear. I chuckled and pointed toward her bag. “Tell you what. Pull out your cellphone and find us the closest place to buy some clothes. We’ll get you something to wear that will at least last until we can get to Portland. It may not be the most fashionable thing in the world, but you’ll be comfortable.”

Alix blinked and looked at me. “My bag . . . my phone!”

T
he next morning
, Kade and I were cruising on fumes as we pulled into Portland. Other than the promised stop at an all-night shopping center, we’d driven all night, Kade powering through with the help of a few energy drinks, exceptionally loud music, and two ten-minute naps while I did the refueling at truck stops.

For my part, I had trouble falling asleep. Part of it was initial adrenaline as I explained to Kade about my downloaded app on my phone. My earpiece was gone, most likely falling out at Sydney’s, but my phone itself was fine. In fact it was still recording when I took it out of my bag, although it was down to less than half a charge. “Here, plug it into my car,” Kade instructed me, pointing toward the docking port.

“We might be able to use that file. I got some pretty damning commentary from him, as well as assaulting me on audio. We could ruin him more.”

“We’ll see if the file is good when we get to Portland,” Kade replied. “If we can, we’ll see what our options are. By the way, don’t forget to text Layla and Dad that you’re coming with me, I don’t want them concerned.”

We found clothes for me soon after, and by midnight I was starting to crash. The stress-induced adrenalin had worn off long before, leaving just exhaustion. Even with Kade’s music, a lot of which I remembered from his visits before, I was nodding. “Jesus, Kade, don’t you update your music collection?”

“Not often,” he admitted. “Usually I’ve been too busy doing other stuff. Besides, good driving songs only come out once or twice a year. And this is the sort of drive that requires good driving music the whole way.”

I couldn’t disagree with him, but still I was nodding off. Kade noticed and patted my arm, reassuring me. “Alix, take a nap, it’s all right.”

“But you’d be driving by yourself then,” I countered, yawning. “That’s not good for driving safety.”

“True, but I’ve done all-nighters before, so my body is used to them. Besides, I have a six pack of drinks, plenty of sugar and caffeine to get me all the way to Portland,” Kade said. “So go ahead, take a nap. Don’t make me order you around.”

“Yes . . . sir,” I said sleepily, smiling at the comforting weight of that sound in my ears. I did nap some, only to wake up what felt like minutes later, a scream barely cut off behind my lips. Kade, who was draining what turned out to be the third of his drinks, swallowed quickly and put his can in the cup holder.

“You were having a bad dream,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you up, because your body needed the rest even if it was unpleasant rest. Want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” I answered. “Kade, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, if you’re intent on staying up,” he said. “By the way, we just passed through Hilt. Welcome to Oregon.”

“What time is it?” I asked, wiping at my eyes. “And how’d you get here so fast?”

“It’s four thirty-six, and I told you, at night the CHP is relaxed. I can cruise without anyone giving me grief since we spend so much time in rural areas. Speed limit’s seventy out here.”

There was a moment of silence, and then I finally spoke up. “Are you curious about the stuff Sydney has on me?” I asked. “I mean, I haven’t given you any details.”

Kade shook his head. “Not really. I assume they’re sexual in nature, as that’s just about the only thing that would threaten Dad’s political ambitions with how you were so worried. You’re not into drugs, you’re not into crazy stuff, so it’s most likely not illegal. Not much left, am I right?”

“Yes. Sydney talked me into some things that I’m not proud of.”

Kade surprised me with his next comment. “You should never be ashamed of your body or your sexuality. That he has them, yes. Your choice to let him take them, yes. But never be ashamed of who you are.”

“Even if I did things that I didn’t want to do?” I asked.

Kade thought about it, then shook his head. “Well, despite being a lawyer, I keep thinking in only the good side of things. I don’t force things on people.”

“That’s why I feel safe with you,” I said. “Rita told me a lot.”

Kade glanced over before returning his eyes to the road, not saying a word.

“Kade. I just want to let you know . . . I’m interested.”

“We’re stepsiblings,” Kade said. “If you think the pictures or whatever it is Sydney has on you would hurt Dad’s political ambitions, if it ever came out that we were together, it would totally nuke them.”

“I know, which is why this is hard for me,” I said. “Kade, I’ve thought of you as my dream guy for years now, it just took Rita to point it out to me.”

“You have no idea how indecent I am,” Kade replied with a shiver. “Alix, some of the things I’ve dreamed . . . you’re not able to handle them.”

“Was Rita?” I asked bluntly. “I’m not trying to sound hurt, I’m just curious.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “The physical stuff, yes. But the level of commitment I demand, no. She and I were never more than bedmates. Alix, I want you to think long and hard about this, and don’t give me an answer now. I’m willing to do what it takes, hiding the truth from Dad and Layla, lying to everyone else, all of it publicly needed to make sure my father and your mother are protected. Dad deserves that much, after all the years of busting his ass trying to be a good father after my mother left us. But I won’t do any of it if you’re also not one hundred percent committed as well. If we pursue this and see where it goes, we’ll have to do it privately. If we break it off, I can live with that, but it will never come to light. If it works out, then it’ll still have to be our little secret.”

“Derek I can understand, but why your concern about my mother?”

Kade looked at me and sighed, then looked ahead. “Fuck it, time to break that ground as well. Alix, tell me what you know about your mother and father’s marriage.”

“Mom took me away from Daddy when I was five, and fleeced the hell out of him in the divorce. Lucky she did it in California I guess, with the no-fault clauses and everything. She did everything in her power after that to keep me from seeing him, and when I turned eighteen I learned he was dead, and in fact the rest of his money was sitting in a blind trust for me.”

“Your mother took you away because Paris Nova was a serial abuser,” Kade said softly. “She left when, after breaking her eye socket and her arm for the second time, he said he was going to go after you too. She ran into the night with a broken arm and you in her arms, penniless and hopeless, but she did it to save your life.”

I shook my head, “Kade, that may be what she told you or Derek, but Daddy never laid a hand on me.”

“Of course he didn’t, you were his Princess,” Kade said. “But I saw the photos, Alix. Remember when I told you about the case I argued in law school with a swollen eye? It wasn’t the first case I’d looked into. My first year of law school, just after Layla and Dad got married, I talked with her, asking if I could look into the file. She took me down to the county courthouse herself and signed to let me see the divorce files. I saw the X-rays, the photos the hospital workers took. They wanted Layla to press charges, but she refused, because of you. She didn’t want you being dragged into court and having your image of your father being shattered. She didn’t want the mental trauma on you. Paris was such an uncaring son of a bitch that he agreed to give her full custody if she took a smaller cut of the marriage property and didn’t press charges. She agreed, and since then bore the weight of your anger, because you’ve blamed her the entire time for ruining your relationship with your father.”

“And what about Daddy’s death?” I asked, my voice dry as Kade’s quiet words tore at my heart. There was no deception, no taunting or condemnation. In that quiet, dark hour, as the highway rolled beneath us, a black ribbon lit up by the LEDs of the car’s headlamps, both of us were too tired for anything but the truth. “I couldn’t find anything, and the lawyer that represented the trust wouldn’t tell me anything, not even where he died.”

“Paris Nova died in a prison in Singapore when you were still in elementary school. He turned his fists on a young call girl and crippled her while holding enough coke to get most of the country high as a kite. They didn’t even have time to give him the death penalty. He was shanked in prison two months after his conviction. You were eight when he died.”

I felt the foundation of the world shifting beneath me, like I was in an earthquake. For sixteen years, I’d hated my mother, when in reality I should have been thanking her daily for saving my life. I must have known it inside, thinking back to how I couldn’t refuse Mom when she really needed me or asked something of me. I blinked, tears forming in my eyes, shaking my head. My stomach twisted, and I felt gorge rise in my throat. “Kade, pull over,” I said, holding my arms over my gut.

I staggered out of the car, falling to my knees in the breakdown lane of Interstate 5. All I could do was scream and cry, pounding my fists into the ground.

Kade came around and knelt beside me, letting me vent my feelings. When I was hollowed out, an empty shell, he gently wrapped his arms around me. “Now you see why I couldn’t even let you know how I felt,” he whispered. “Alix, you have to let it go. Your illusions, your anger toward your mother, all of it. Because if you want to go somewhere with me, you’re going to need all your strength for that.”

I sobbed, nodding into his chest as I felt purged. “Help me please, Kade?”

“I can try,” he replied. “No matter what, I’ll try. I love you, Alix.”

I sniffled and looked up at him, barely illuminated in the yellow light that came from the running light on the side of the car. “Love me like family . . . or something else?”

“Until a few days ago, I would never have let myself love you as anything but family, except in my dreams,” he replied. “This is new for me, too.”

We knelt there on the side of the road, and again it was pure nature that took over for us. I saw the love in his eyes that said he’d never do to me what Daddy—no, that man wasn’t my Daddy—what Paris Nova did. I leaned up and kissed him once, and it was just as sweet as when we’d kissed on the pier. It didn’t go further, though, as we were lit up by lights coming up toward us as another driver pulled over. “Hey, you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” I called back, breaking the kiss and getting up. “Everything’s fine. Everything’s fine.”