Miss Congeniality (20 page)

B
rea felt feather-light kisses peppered along her ribcage, waking her slowly. She felt ridiculously relaxed as she stretched like a cat. Lance’s head lifted as she moved, leaning back to take in her complete movement.

“Baby, I sure do love the way you move.” He grinned wolfishly. She put her hand on the back of his head, leading him to her lips to sink into him, wanting to be closer to him, morning breath be damned. She would be content to lay here in his arms forever and shut the world away.

“I love you,” she whispered seriously, rubbing where she had just kissed with her thumb, as though trying to imprint her lips to his.

His eyes filled with a suspicious wetness which didn’t fall; he simply kissed her again before moving on to her ear. “Love you, too,” he whispered between kisses. He kissed her cheek and the corners of her mouth before he finally got to her lips. He brushed his lips against hers, once, twice, three times, teasing her softly without giving her what he knew she craved. She finally took matters into her own hands, holding his head in place so she could devour his lips. And devour she did. It was different, making love in the morning light with their declaration of love lingering in the air, and Brea wouldn’t trade this feeling for all the money in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling she got in knowing she belonged to someone, no questions asked, and he belonged to her, as well. Loving and being loved had a redemptive quality one would never truly experience, except with the one person you were meant to be with.

She never wanted to leave the hotel room, but anxious worry about her brother was causing her to retreat into herself before the sheets cooled. Lance was in bewilderment as he watched the hardening shell engulf her while they were sitting on the same bed they had made love on less than an hour ago. She was in her fight mode, nothing overtaking her when the problems of yesterday threatened to overwhelm her. She refused to have a conversation with him about it, choosing instead to answer him in one- or two-word responses. He allowed her to wallow; he’d never been in her shoes, and the chances of his law-abiding sister and her police officer husband ever being arrested were about as good as seeing pigs fly, so he gave her space. The only option he saw for himself was to be there for her, this beautiful, broken, gorgeous woman who was still so entrenched in her past he could physically feel her pain when she talked about it.

“Let’s go,” he commanded when Brea continued to stare out the window while seeing nothing. She flinched as though he had struck her, nodding a couple times and gathering her bags. He reached for her hand, half-scared she would reject him, but she simply clutched it like a lifeline. He stopped at the door, not wanting her to leave the room without knowing the magnitude of his feelings.

“I love you,” he declared, watching disbelief, sadness, and wonder flash in those gorgeous gray eyes. She licked her lips nervously, nodded and reached for the door handle to leave. He put his hand on top of hers, holding her in place. He lifted her chin with the other hand so she was staring directly into his eyes.

“I love you,” he said emphatically. “You think I can’t see what the shit going on with your brother is doing to you? I may as well have been in LA because you definitely weren’t in the room with me this morning.”

“I’m scared.” She whispered.

“I understand.” And he did. He may not have any family members facing the possibility of prison but when his sister was hurt in the car accident, his only recourse was to pray for the best. “But understand I’m here for you, and that’s not changing. And I have really big shoulders, so you are more than welcome to lean on them.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” she asked honestly.

“Nothing,” he replied, eliciting the laugh he was hoping for, “but I sure as shit deserve you, and I’m planning on keeping you. Whatever happens, we deal with it together, got it?”

“Yes.” Her voice wasn’t as strong as usual, but it was better than ten minutes ago.

“Brea! Lance! Over here!” Lance and Brea moved quickly through the media, trying to avoid the camera flashes. Photos and videos were to be expected at all times, something her agent had drilled into her head when she started being recognized from
Maggie Beach
, but never at this level of intensity. Whoever the hell tipped them off was an asshole in Brea’s mind, which was the only reason to explain the extra scrutiny. Lance walked beside her, his hand on the small of her back, never leaving her side while they navigated their way to the waiting driver.

“Brea, what do you have to say about your brother?” The microphone shoved in her face prompted her to step back or be hit. Lance kept her moving, his face as firmly fixed as granite, giving nothing away when he quickened his pace. But this was bad, really bad, because how in the hell did they know about her brother?

“Is it true your mother was a prostitute?” was screamed from the back.
Fucking hell, they know about my mother.

“Do you do drugs, too?” She stopped, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Brea wanted to curse him out for implying she was anything like her mother, but before she could set him straight Lance put his mouth to her ear and talked so only she could hear.

“Don’t you say a fucking word! You know the drill; you walk straight ahead and do not smile or even react. We’ll deal with this in the car.” Great, now Lance was mad at her, too. While she wished she could punch the guy who asked her if she did drugs in the stomach, she knew he was only doing his job. Her job was to walk forward while she was subjected to a barrage of abusing questions about her family. These people were sharks who scented blood, and she didn’t want to become their latest victim. What was it like growing up with her mother? Did she ever consider becoming a prostitute? That one even made Lance clench his jaw but blessedly, they saw their driver up ahead.

“Come back for the bags.” was the only statement Lance made before the driver ran to front of the car so he could get them away quickly. Brea faced front, ignoring the rapid-fire click of the camera going off beside her window.
Do not break down, do not break down,
she whispered over and over, breathing a small sigh of relief when the driver sped off.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke in the suffocating silence. Lance wasn’t speaking; he was playing with his folded hands in his lap.

“For what?” he asked curiously.

“All that.” She waved her hand in a circular motion. “Although, I’m not really sure what all that is.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he felt brewing. “I’m not mad at you, baby; I’m mad for you. What the hell happened between when we left DC and when we came back to LA, I haven’t a clue, but I’m going to find out because that shit was crazy.” He studied her, huddled in a ball in the corner, her feet propped up on the seat with her arms around her legs, feeling a massive wave of possessiveness rise inside him. “How dare they bombard you at the airport with those bullshit questions?! And the shit about you being like your mom was way out of line.”

“I know.”

“Come here.” He held his arms wide and she fell into him, finally allowing herself the breakdown she so desperately needed. He clung to her, soothing her in the only way he knew how. She finally fell asleep, her head in his lap, overcome with all the excitement from the day. When Lance felt her breathing even out, he waited a couple more minutes before pulling out his phone. He didn’t know what in the hell caused that to happen, but he was going to find out because not only was that shit crazy, but no one threatened his woman as they did today.

Brea awoke confused as to how she ended up in Lance’s bed and groaning when she saw the clock. All she remembered was crying all over him more than three hours ago. She hugged the pillow, breathing in the scent which specifically belonged to him, not wanting to get out of bed and face the rest of the day. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. This morning, she had been terrified for her brother, not wanting to talk about it, but Lance seemed to notice the minute she pulled away from him. Then, all the shit in the airport; how the hell they could have found out without someone telling them was impossible. Clare and Raquel knew about her family. She knew about their history, as well, but she hadn’t told them about her brother. The only person she told was Lance, and she wasn’t going there. She heard the unmistakable beep of her phone, which had magically ended up on the bedside table, signaling a text message.

She smiled at Clare’s message, while Raquel’s made her groan.

Clare: Thinking about you :) Call me if you need anything.

Raquel: Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?! Call me- that’s not a request!

“You’re up.” Lance was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed against his chest, looking good enough to eat. If she didn’t have to deal with more pressing matters, she would’ve tried to coax him into afternoon sex; although, all she really would have to do was kiss him and he’d be ready for her.

“I am.” He read the questions in her eyes, hating what put them there.

“I made some calls while you were asleep.” He stood there. What he had to say would hurt her.

“And…” She gestured for him to get on with the story.

“It was your brother.” She stared at him like he was an idiot.

“I know it was my brother. I was in the airport when they were yelling questions about him at me.”

He shook his head. “You’re not getting what I’m saying. Your brother is the one who told them.” Impossible. Her brother wouldn’t sell her out.

“I don’t understand.”

“It may be better if I showed you.” He disappeared into the other room, coming back with his laptop. He sat on the bed, wrapping his arm around her when she snuggled into his chest. “Remember how I was wondering what happened from the time we got on the plane in DC to the time we landed in LA? This has been airing on all the major news stations since someone picked it up this morning.” He pressed play, and Brea sat silently while she watched Alex talking to the judge. It was Alex, but this guy wasn’t the Alex she remembered. Her Alex had about fifty pounds on him, and his gray eyes always shown brightly. The guy on the video was too skinny, with eyes sunken into a pale face. He looked as though he had been in a fight because the places under his eyes appeared so bruised. Brea put her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out, so she missed the actual exchange of words, but he started screaming into the camera.

She rewound the video back, her initial shock over with, so she could focus on what was actually happening. It started as a normal hearing, with the judge laying out the charges before him. He pled not guilty, then turned and started whispering to his lawyer. The lawyer looked to be telling him no, and Alex was getting more and more agitated. He turned behind him to talk to their Uncle Derrick, who had showed up with Silvia. Brea smiled; thankfully, they continued to support him, especially when he needed it most. They couldn’t give him the answer he wanted either from the looks of it.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Richards?” the judge asked sarcastically. Brea wanted to punch the guy; he didn’t have to treat her brother as if he was a common criminal. In the eyes of the law he would be, but Alex was still her brother.

“I want my sister.” Brea’s stomach dropped, sensing what was coming.

“I’m sorry? Did you say you want your sister?” The judge asked in disbelief. “Sir, your sister is not required to come to these proceedings at all. So I suggest…”

“I want Brea! I want Brea Richards!” The look on the judge’s face said he knew who she was. The judge cocked his head at Alex and pointed to the bailiff, as though to ask him to remove him, but the damage was done. They dragged her brother away screaming for her, and whoever filmed the video must have known the implications when they let it leak. Her brother had to know what could happen to her reputation if this got out.

Lance took the computer out of her hands, shutting it off and putting it beside the bed.

“Why would he?”

“I don’t know, honey.” he kissed her head and rubbed his hand down her arm.