by Avery, Quinn
“You really want to know…where I was?” she wheezed. “I was with another man…someone who isn’t a calloused bastard…or a complete…coward when it comes to his daddy!”
His fist came at her before she had a chance to react. Pain exploded around her eye, and black dots danced before her eyes.
* * *
Somewhere a phone was ringing. It was dark. Her face was pressed against a hard floor.
When she moved her head, it felt like someone had stuffed rocks into her jaw. Wincing, she checked her teeth with her tongue to make sure nothing was knocked loose.
The last thing she remembered was Kellen punching her. She could only imagine how he would’ve reacted had he known she was sleeping with his twin. Considering there wouldn’t be any hiding the mark Kellen likely left on her throat and eye, it would only be a matter of time before the brothers went after each other. She hoped there would be enough time to get everything in order first.
The house phone rang one last time before Kellen’s cocky ass voice clicked in. “You know what to do.” The deep buzz of a dial tone answered.
Cameron limped over to the island and flicked on the pennant lights, finding Kellen’s keys missing. When she checked her phone, finding four hours had passed, she was filled with a rush of relief and trepidation. He had been ridiculously drunk. If he didn’t kill himself or someone else driving in that condition, how long did she have until he returned to continue where he left off?
Her phone’s screen lit with a call from the private investigator. It had been nearly a year since Cameron first came up with the idea to go after Kellen, and hired Bexley Squires to dig up information. Once Bexley informed her of a deal Howard Farrington’s company had signed with Vataban in which Kellen was in charge, Cameron was able to get one of her professors to write a glowing recommendation, and was promptly approved for an internship with Vataban. She never dreamed Kellen would pursue her once they were reunited, making the next step flawless.
Cameron ran into the office, closing the door before she answered the call. “I hope you have good news.”
“What I have to tell you could probably be categorized as colossal news,” Bexley sang excitedly.
“You found the money?” Since Cameron had moved in with Kellen, she’d eavesdropped on enough of his conversations to suspect he’d been embezzling from his father’s company. Bexley hadn’t been receptive to doing anything illegal to obtain the information since she was still new to the business and operating under another investigator’s license. While Cameron understood, she convinced Bexley to let her know if she came across anything questionable on Kellen’s part. The location of the money was the final step in Cameron’s plan. “Please tell me you found it.”
“Hope you have a bottle of champagne nearby, sister. After digging through his private email account, it seems Kellen has been skimming from Luxco Industries for several years with the help of a man he refers to as ‘Agron.’ They started with small withdrawals from the corporate account to see if anyone was paying attention. They’ve been funneling the money to an account in the Caymans under a bogus name. Kellen’s picture is in the bank’s file under a forged passport.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Nearly a million dollars.”
With stuttered breaths, Cameron gripped her phone tighter. She was tired of Kellen getting by with every crooked thing he had ever done to her and everyone else. She was ready to make him pay. “Can you forward me the details?”
Bexley huffed in a noisy breath. “I’d feel amiss if I didn’t inform you this is dangerous business, Cameron. I dug around for deets on this ‘Agron’ character, and have reason to believe there are ties to the Russian mafia involved. It seems the smartest course of action would be to contact the authorities with your suspicions. Let a court of law inflict your revenge on this weasel.”
“I appreciate your advice, Bexley. I really do. If you pass along the information you’ve gathered, you can wash your hands of any involvement in this. I’ll swear in a court of law that we never had this conversation.”
“Okay, but I hope your reason behind doing all this is worth it. You’re no longer dealing with the teenage boy you once knew. This guy sounds as prickly as a feral porcupine.”
“Trust me, it’s worth it. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll come to Papaya Springs and we can talk about it over a bottle of wine.”
“Make it a bottle of Prosecco and you’ve got yourself a deal. In all seriousness, please be careful and watch your back. When you’re dealing with powerful men who have access to endless resources, there’s no limit to what they’re capable of doing.”
Cameron ended the call with a satisfied smile. She imagined Kellen’s reaction once he learned she’d hacked the account, and felt a rush of empowerment. He’d never believe that she was capable of outsmarting him. But in order to execute her idea, she had to find out whether or not Lincoln was willing to play along.
11
Three torturous hours of radio silence passed after Cameron reported her arrival in San Francisco. When Lincoln’s final call to her went unanswered, he hauled ass to the airport and booked the first red-eye out. As the wheels touched down on the SFO tarmac, he was itching to pull his hair out by its goddamned roots. For a good hour, he’d considered reaching out to his brother. As ridiculous as it seemed, considering Kellen was the one who may have hurt her, he didn’t know how else to check in on her. Lincoln was eight hours away by car, and he’d lost all contact with anyone who still lived in the area except for their parents. His father was the last person he’d ask for help.
He was the first one off the plane, and secured a rental car from the first kiosk he came across. He arrived at Cameron’s apartment in record time. It was so damn early that the evening doorman he’d convinced to let him in the other night was still on duty.
“I need to see her,” Lincoln said, passing the man another hundred dollar bill. “She’s not answering her phone.”
Adjusting his red tie, the man chuckled. “Probably because she’s sleeping.”
Not in the mood for sarcasm, Lincoln clenched his teeth. “Is my brother home?”
“So you are Mr. Farrington’s brother.” His eyes flicked over Lincoln’s equally tense features. “Why bribe me to stay quiet about your visits if you’re family?”
“Don’t bust my balls, man! This is an emergency!” Dipping into his wallet, Lincoln handed him another fifty. “Is. He. Here.”
The man plucked the bill from his fingertips, flashing a smart-assed smile. “No. He left early last night…seemed pretty loaded. Hasn’t been back since.”
“Thanks,” Lincoln muttered, butting him with his shoulder as he passed.
In the event Cameron was perfectly fine, and he was being paranoid—in which case he hoped she had a good explanation for worrying him out of his damn mind—he sent another text on the elevator ride up to let her know he’d arrived.
As he stepped up to the apartment door, it swung open. He was greeted with a delighted cry and a blur of honey-blond curls as she jumped into his arms. She wore the same pajamas as before, exposing a glorious amount of skin to his fingertips.
He squeezed her tightly, burying his lips in her floral-scented hair. “Thank shit you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she cried, clenching her thin arms around him. “I should’ve messaged you back to let you know that I’m okay. It’s just…it was late, and…”
Hearing reluctance pinched in her throat, he set her back down on the hallway floor and took her chin in his twitching fingers. The early signs of a nasty bruise covered the apple of her cheek and around her eye, and faint fingerprints peppered her neck. He should’ve known the coward would knock her around once he learned the truth about them.
Blood boiling, he sucked in a sharp breath. “Kellen did this?”
Her gaze darted away as she took his hand. “Let’s talk inside.”
He refused to budge. “Where is he?”
<
br /> “I don’t know. He took off after we had a fight. Probably spent the night with a booty call.”
“Pack a bag,” Lincoln growled. “You’re not staying here.”
“Linc, I can’t leave.” Throwing him a pleading look, she again tugged on his hand. “Come inside. What I have to say is going to take a while. I’ll have to fill you in while getting ready for work.”
“I’ll come in, but only long enough for you to get dressed. You’re not staying here.”
Letting out a long huff, her shoulders dropped. “Fine. I’ll let you take me out for breakfast. We can talk there. But I’m not packing a bag.”
A knot of unease twisted inside his stomach as he followed her into the apartment. Was she changing her mind about him? Did his brother threaten to hurt her even more if she left?
“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder, heading back to their bedroom.
He took a visual sweep of the place, looking for signs of a struggle. But it was as neat as the last time he was there, almost like one of those modules they keep just for showing potential renters. Freaked him out how well-kept the place was, which was saying a lot from someone who had been trained to expect perfection.
Though Cameron had agreed to take him back, being in the apartment she shared with his brother still made him uneasy as hell. Thankfully he wasn’t left with his thoughts for long before she returned in leggings and an oversized shirt, hair pulled back in a ponytail. The mark on her face seemed ten times worse without the veil of her curls.
“If anyone sees you scowling at me like that, they’re going to think you’re the one who did this to my face.” With a dramatic roll of her eyes, she snagged a small wallet off the counter top before claiming his hand. “Come on. I’m buying this time.”
“I’ll kill him,” Lincoln snarled.
“I know.” Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. “But you might change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
* * *
Seven years was undoubtedly a long time. Leaving home and maneuvering in the world as a new adult was difficult in itself. Being brought through hell and back to become one of the country’s most elite made those seven years seem like a lifetime. But when Lincoln stared back at the woman he thought he wanted to spend the rest of eternity with, bottom lip held between her teeth as she waited for him to say something to her story, he realized those seven years had changed her in more ways than he could’ve imagined. He wasn’t so sure he really knew her at all.
He spread his hands over the table between them, waiting for the truth to sink in. She’d tracked Kellen down, and got him to agree to pay off her college debt along with Rebecca’s rehab bills. It was…insane. “If you’re worried about breaking it off with Kellen because you think he’ll freak over the money he gave you for college, I’ll pay him back—every last cent.”
She clasped her fingers around one of his hands. “It’s not that money I’m worried about.”
Lincoln scratched his head. “I don’t understand.”
“Awhile back, I hired a private investigator to dig around into Kellen’s financial affairs.” A little grin danced across her lips when she leaned over the table. “She called me last night to inform me he’s been stealing from Luxco, Linc. He started out withdrawing small amounts, but it increased slowly over time. He has a sizable account in the Caymans…it’s almost worth a million dollars.”
Lincoln wasn’t completely surprised, but thought it was ironic his brother was stealing from their old man. The apple really didn’t fall far from the tree—at least in Kellen’s case. He was grateful he’d left for the military and hadn’t ended up like either one of them. “So this whole game of marrying him is just so you can claim half when you leave?”
With a shake of her head, her smile grew. “The account wouldn’t be traceable in a divorce. It isn’t in his name. It’s registered to a Trevor Benkin. The only man with that name I could find in social security’s records died five years ago.”
“And you’re happy about this because…”
She reached into her wallet and slid a passport book across the table. “I found this buried in the back of Kellen’s closet. You could be Trevor, Linc.”
Dumbfounded, he instinctively flipped the book open to find his brother’s picture beside the name TREVOR BENKIN. Stomach dropping, he dropped the book like a hot potato and pushed his hands under his armpits. Cameron looked ready to burst with excitement. Who the hell was this woman, and what had she done with his girl? What she was insinuating was both illegal and dangerous. “You want me to help you steal the money from my brother.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” she pleaded, throwing a paranoid look at the couple seated across from them. A shy smile passed over her lips when she leaned back over the table. “You have to admit, it would be fairly easy to walk in there and pretend you’re him.”
“Have you lost your mind?” he spit out, ready to shake some sense into her. “Baby, I have enough money for us to live very comfortably.” She looked irritated that he wanted to make her a kept woman, so he took a calming breath and ran a hand over his closely shaven head. “He’s a loose cannon, Quinn. He tried drowning me because he was jealous over the attention I got. Imagine what he would do if he discovered we stole that kind of money from under his nose.”
One of her shoulders rose as she retrieved the bogus passport. “He doesn’t know I have access to his accounts, so I already have an advantage. As long as I can convince him that I’m still planning to go along with our agreement, he won’t suspect anything out of the ordinary. When we’re ready to empty the account, I’ll tell him I have to be out of town a few days for work. It wouldn’t be the first trip my supervisor sent me on.”
Irritation pricked at his skin. He leaned back in the booth, wondering why she was ready to put their future on hold when they didn’t need Kellen’s money. He still had a sizable chunk of his inheritance set aside. And if he lived to retirement age, he’d be able to provide them with whatever they may need.
Then again, a million was game-changing. And it was Kellen’s.
The waitress appeared to hand out their plates. “Anything else I can get you?” she asked, glancing at each of them.
“We’re good,” he answered in a clipped tone. The woman had barely left the table when he met Cameron’s gaze and said, “This is about revenge. You want him to pay for everything he’s ever done to you.”
Her mouth drew into a straight line. “Don’t you?”
Grabbing a fork to push the scrambled eggs around on his plate, he shrugged. “Well yeah, but—”
“He raped me.”
His chest caved and his fingers released the fork. His eyes snapped onto hers. “What?”
“During senior prom…the night you broke his nose.” Her expression remained dull as she continued, as if numb to the memory. “He grabbed me by the girls’ bathroom and pulled me around the corner. Cal and Alan kept watch. He told me I’d be reunited with my dad if I screamed, or told anyone what happened.”
Rage unlike anything he’d ever felt electrified Lincoln’s body. Bile gurgled in his gut. He had suspected something bad went down that night, but he didn’t think Kellen had the balls to take it that far. When he recalled the state she was in when she came back from the bathroom, agony solidified in his gut like a ball of cement.
He hurt his girl.
His Quinn.
He was a dead man.
The diner was suddenly too loud and too bright, filled with too much movement. He bolted from the bench, twitching fingers clenched into fists, and marched toward the entrance with Cameron pleading his name behind him. Their waitress stopped her as he exited the diner.
Thoughts too messed up and too loud to be heard over one another rippled through his head. He should’ve kept a better eye on her that night. He should’ve gone looking for her after a few minutes had passed.
He didn’t know whether to roar, or run, or raid the first gu
n shop in sight. He had to do something before the raging inferno in his chest exploded.
“You all right, mister?”
A busboy leaned against the building, smoking a cigarette. From the way the kids eyes rounded, he must’ve feared Lincoln was a terrorist.
“Can I bum one?” he asked, starting for the busboy.
With a shaky nod, the kid grabbed one from his shirt pocket and handed it over. Lincoln popped it into his mouth, waiting for the kid to light it. Sucking in the poison he hadn’t brought into his lungs for years, Lincoln titled his head back against the brick wall, eyes closed.
An image of Kellen smirking on prom night appeared behind his eyelids.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Linc!” Cameron was running toward him. “Oh thank god. I was scared you’d run off.”
Lowering the cigarette, his fingers jerked uncontrollably, almost dropping the cigarette. Although he tried to look back at her without losing his mind, he was drowning in anger too intense to contain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The busboy flicked his cigarette into a garbage bin and disappeared through the diner’s back door. Cameron let out a loud sigh and plucked the cigarette from Lincoln’s fingers. She backed into the wall at his side, taking a long drag. “Because I knew you would’ve tried to kill him.”
“Damn right I would’ve!” Squaring himself in front of her, he scowled. “Still can’t promise that I won’t! That son-of-a-bitch doesn’t deserve to be breathing!”
“That’d be too easy. And I couldn’t stand the thought of you spending the rest of your life in prison.” Blowing the smoke out between her lips, she handed the cigarette back. “I want him to feel real pain, Linc. The kind you can’t recover from. I want him to suffer.”