Escape: A Stepbrother Romance Novella (4 page)

Chapter 7

Samantha

I wake up feeling
sad but determined.  When I get into work I call our firm’s private
investigator and ask him if he could find someone for me, off the company
books.  We’ve worked together on quite a few cases so he’s happy to help for a
small fee.  I give him Brandon’s name and date of birth, which is all I have,
and he tells me he’ll get back to me with information as soon as he has it.

The
day passes in a blur.  I have paperwork to catch up on and talk to a few
potential new clients but nothing stops me thinking about Brandon.  That look
he gave me just before the elevator doors closed is burned into my memory.  I
know he didn’t want to walk away and I know he must have some pretty good
reasons for doing so.  I’m just choosing not to listen to them.  But I can’t
say I’m not scared about what I’m going to find out.  We were reunited in a
police interview room after all.  Brandon’s harder now and tougher looking than
he once was.  If Adam and Connor are his business associates, and if the police’s
suspicions are correct, I’m not going to like confirming he’s involved in
criminal activities.  I want my stepbrother back but if he comes with a whole
lot of baggage, can I find the strength to drag him out?  Will he even let me? 
He’s been reluctant so far. 

In
the late afternoon I get a call from John, the P.I. who confirms Brandon’s
address and that his known associates are indeed part of an organization
involved in criminal activities. My heart sinks.  He also tells me that Brandon
hangs out at a bar called Jackson’s, downtown.   I don’t know it but use Google
to find the address.  I thank John for the information and hang up, wondering
what to do next.

Turning
up on his doorstep feels like a step too far.  I’m traditional that way.  A
person has to invite me into their home before I’ll step foot over the
threshold.  I think about the bar and I know I can’t go in there either.  He’d
be mad as hell if he finds me willingly putting myself in danger.  But I could
drive and park outside.  I could wait in the safety of my own car until I see
him.  I can try my best to find the words that might convince him that he
doesn’t have to choose one part of his life over another.  We’re family, sort
of.  There’s no reason for us to not see each other.  We could meet somewhere
neutral, away from the restrictions in both our lives.

So
I get into my car, convinced of the sanity of my plan.  I drive downtown and
park up across the street from Jackson’s.  It’s as shabby as I expected, and
the customers look like they’ve all passed through the justice system at one
time or another.  Tattoos seem to be a uniform for Jackson’s patrons. 

The
first half hour that I wait, I watch the door like a hawk, but time passes so
slowly.  I pull out my phone and reply to a few messages, read a little on my
book, eyes flicking up regularly so I don’t miss anything.  I must be too
engrossed in reading because I almost jump out of my skin when there is a thump
on my window.  I glance up and Brandon’s there, looking down at me with fierce
eyes and a jaw that’s so tight I see it tick.  Oh god, he’s really mad with
me.  I press the button for the window and get hit with the delicious scent of
him, freshly showered.  Even angry he looks so good my heart seems to roll in
my chest.  He rests a thick forearm on the now open window ledge and leans in.

“What
are you doing here, Sammie?  How did you find me?”

I
feel heat rising up my cheeks and chest at the embarrassment of having stalked
him.  His eyes follow my blush until they rest on the skin above my breasts,
just for a second.  Then he shakes his head and looks into my eyes.

“You
paid someone to find me?” he asks.

I
nod.

“Why
would you do that when I told you to stay away?  Why would you want to get
involved in this?”  Brandon gestures towards Jackson’s and I look down at my
knees.  Maybe he’s right. 

Maybe
this is a terrible mistake but I feel like I had no choice.  I want him back in
my life.

 “I
wanted to see you again,” I say, feeling pathetic until I hear him sigh softly,
and I know I wasn’t wrong to try.

“So
now you’ve seen me…” He trails off as though he doesn’t know what else to say
and I don’t either.  What I want doesn’t involve words but physical touch.  I
want him next to me, throwing his big muscular arm around my shoulders and
pulling me against his strong body.  I want him to tousle my hair like he used
to.  I want to share my secrets with him again.  I reach out and rest my hand
on his forearm and he looks down at where our skin is in contact as if he can’t
understand how something so simple can feel so good, so right.

“Tell
me you don’t feel that,” I say, so quietly it’s barely a whisper.

“Sammie…”

“I
never stopped thinking about you,” I say.  “Things would remind me of you, a
song or a smell or something on the TV.  And every time it happened I’d feel so
sad.  Did you remember me, Brandon?”

“Yeah,”
he says.  “All the time.  But it doesn’t change anything.  We’re on opposite
sides now.  And you being here could threaten your livelihood and your life. 
So, as hard as it is for me to say this, you need to go.”

“You’re
not tied here,” I say.

“You
don’t understand.  This is where I belong now, Sammie. There are people in
there that won’t let me walk away, and they won’t want me to have something to
lose.  You understand?  I know too much now, I’ve done too much.”

“What
have you done?” I ask, not really sure I want to know.

“Things
that could get me put away for a long time.”

“Oh,
Brandon.  What happened to you?” I say and he flinches.  My heart sinks,
knowing I’ve made a mistake. I’ve hurt his pride.  “I just miss you so much and
I hoped that I could change your mind.”

He
shakes his head but his eyes stay on mine, filled with love and regret.  I move
my hand from his arm to his cheek and turn to press my forehead against his, my
eyes closing as I take the seconds I have to feel him.  Two tears slip from the
corners and run in cool streams down my cheeks, dripping from my jaw. 

“Don’t
Sammie,” he murmurs.  “Don’t make this harder for me.”

“How
can it get any harder?” I ask.  My sadness seems to weaken his resolve. He
slips his hands into my hair and holds us close.  I don’t expect it but his
lips graze the corner of my mouth and it’s like a jolt of pure lust.  He
exhales against my skin and I turn, just a fraction.  When his lips touch mine,
it’s just a glance but I feel it everywhere.  My mind feels like it’s going to
explode, and I can’t hold myself back.  I want him too much and that desire is like
a force of nature, twisting and pulling inside me.  I press closer to him, our
lips joining with more pressure and I lick out at the inside of his top lip,
needing to taste his mouth.  As if he has the same idea, the very tip of our
tongues touch and it’s just too much to bear without moaning.

I
regret it as soon as I do.  It seems to jolt him from a dream-state because he
pulls back, looking at me like he’s woken up to discover himself doing
something terrible.

“Sammie…”
he says in a way that sounds part warning, part apology.

I
pull back and swipe and my face and then rest against my seat.  Brandon stands and
turns and I see him cupping one of his fists in his other large hand, the
picture of frustration.  After a few deep breaths that are obvious from the way
his back rises and falls, he turns and pats the car. 

“You
go on now, it isn’t safe for you here.” His voice is so firm I know there is no
arguing.  My voice has been lost somewhere in that mind-blowing kiss.  “And get
rid of my tail.  He’s not going to see anything you want to know about.”  He
waits while I raise the window and then turns, striding across the road. 

Fuck. 
That didn’t go as I’d planned at all.  I mirror his deep breathing to push down
all the terrible feelings I have inside.  I wish I’d never taken that phone
call from Adam.  I wish I’d never walked into that interview room and seen my
stepbrother again.  But I know my thinking all that is stupid because I’m so
damn glad I got to touch him again, even if it was fleeting. 

I
start the car and just as I’m about to pull away I catch sight of a man on the
other side of the street.  He’s smoking a cigarette, just out of the shadow of
an alleyway on the opposite side from Jackson’s.  Rake thin, with dark hair
that curls up over the collar of his blue jacket, he’s creepy looking.  I glance
back at the bar.  Brandon has disappeared inside.  When I look back at the man
he’s still staring and the nerves on the back of my neck prickle in a wave.  I’m
being stupid, maybe because Bran has been so adamant that us seeing each other
is somehow risky for me.  I don’t want to think about the things he might be
involved in.  It seems crazy to me that he’s crossed over into this kind of
life.  His mom had such big dreams for him.  He had big dreams for himself.

All
I can think is that it must have been his father’s influence.  I can’t believe
that Brandon would have allowed himself to be dragged into this just by hanging
with the wrong crowd. He had backbone even as a pre-teen and always stuck up
for what he believed to be right.

As
I pull onto the road, the man watches, and when I check in my mirror his eyes
are still on my car.  There’s nothing for me to do but head home.  I feel
dejected. 

Once
I’m back in my apartment I call my best friend Holly.  We grew up together so
she knew Brandon when we were kids.

When
I tell her what’s been happening since I received the phone call she’s as shocked
as I thought she’d be.

“So
he was your client?”

“He
refused to let me represent him,” I say.

“Wow.
He must have felt embarrassed.”

“Maybe. 
He keeps talking about how dangerous it is for us to be associated.”

“Because
of what he did?” she asks.

“It’s
more than that.  They told me at the station that he’s suspected of being
involved in some kind of criminal gang.”

“Brandon?”

“Yeah,
I know. That’s what I thought, but you should have seen his hands.  They were
all split from fighting and he seems so fierce.  He’s not like he used to
be…but then he is.  I don’t know.”

“So
that’s it then.  He told you that you can’t stay in touch and you’re never
going to see him again?”

“That’s
what he said.  I tried Holly.  I really did.  I still care for him so much.”

“Ah,
Sam,” she says when she hears my voice break. 

“It’s
just…it’s been so long.  And I’d kind of accepted that he’d left me and Pop behind
and decided not to keep in touch.  It hurt, but I accepted it because we were
so young and the situation with his mom and the cancer had been so traumatic. 
I rationalized that he needed a fresh start, you know.  That he didn’t want to
be reminded of the past.  But now I’ve seen him I can’t keep hold of that
rationale anymore.  He’s wrapped up in something bad that he doesn’t feel he
can get away from.  I know he wants to keep in touch but he feels like he can’t
or shouldn’t or whatever.”

“I
don’t know what to say, Sam.  Maybe it is best that you stay away.  You don’t
want to put yourself in danger or risk your job.  You’ve worked so hard.”

“I
know that’s the sensible thing to do.  I mean, we haven’t been in touch for
fifteen years and we only lived together for two.  But he really means
something to me.  All the same attachment I had to him when we were kids is
still there.”

“Really,”
Holly says.  “You still feel like he’s your brother?”

I
pause, wondering if I should tell her what happened yesterday.   All those
shivery feelings I had when he cupped my breast roll over me again.  I can’t. 
There is no way she’d understand and that’ll just make me feel a whole lot
worse about it all.  I don’t want her memories of him to become tainted. 

“I
still love him,” I say quietly.  “It’s like time folded in on itself and the
decade and a half we were apart just disappeared.”

“If
you feel like that then maybe you need to try again.  Is there a way you could
help him?”

“Well,
I have the investigator.  I could make it more of an investigatory thing,
gather evidence against others in the gang and weigh up if there is anything
that could be passed to the police.”

“And
if Brandon is implicated too, what would you do then?  You might be trying to
help him but it could end up hurting him badly.  He could go to prison.”

“It’s
a risk, but that could happen anyway.  He might be under surveillance already. The
cops could have someone undercover or someone staking out the places he hangs in.” 
I think back to the long-haired man who was smoking outside Jackson’s.  Could
he have been a cop?

“That’s
true,” she says.

There
is a part of me that thinks maybe I should leave well alone.  If I stick my
nose into Brandon’s life and something goes wrong I’d never be able to forgive
myself.  But then again, how much of a risk is it to keep the private
investigator on Brandon?  I could pay him to keep an eye on things for a couple
of days and find out a bit more about what my stepbrother had gotten himself
involved in.  In some ways I don’t want to know.  Brandon was such a good kid
and I have a feeling that having the police’s suspicions confirmed might just
break my heart.