Hateful Bully (Bad Bullies Book Two): A Dark Step Brother Bully Romance

by Logan Fox

  Perhaps because things have changed.

  Something keeps bugging me about yesterday. I’d heard Dad in the hallway clear as day…but he’d have to have walked past Candy’s door to get to the stairs.

  Why the hell hadn’t she warned me? Had she wanted him to catch me in his office?

  I hid.

  I know my suspicion is getting out of control again. It’s like a fucking see-saw sometimes. People say things, I believe them. The next day, everyone was lying.

  Sure, I could be imagining it, but that doesn’t change the fact that some things just don’t add up.

  Discrepancies.

  If this is real, if my father did what Candy’s accusing him of…then he needs to be brought to justice.

  I can’t do that, but the cops can.

  And maybe, just maybe, this will clear up everything. Even those other discrepancies…the ones that had him at the station yesterday.

  Because if my dad hurt Candy…if he had anything to do with Diana’s disappearance, or Emma’s accident…

  Then he has to pay.

  Chapter Fifty

  Candy

  The cops make us wait in a small room where the recycled air reeks of Freon. It’s cold in here, and I keep wishing I could move closer to Josiah so he’d hold me and keep me warm.

  Instead, I hug myself and bounce my legs, trying to warm myself and get rid of the nervous tension spreading through my body.

  A man in plain clothes opens the door and steps halfway in. Before he closes it, he holds a hushed conversation with someone outside. It shouldn’t, but that makes me nervous as hell. Not just the way he couldn’t give a shit about letting us wait, but how he keeps his voice super low so we can’t hear what he’s saying.

  A piece of nail comes off in my mouth. I hurriedly shove my hand between my thighs. I try and keep it there this time, just like I try not to keep looking in Josiah’s direction.

  He could have been waiting at a bus stop for all the emotion on his face. If anything, it looks like he zoned out the moment we set foot in this room.

  Interrogation room.

  But it’s not.

  It can’t be.

  We’re not the suspects here.

  Josiah just asked to speak to the detective handling Emma’s case. When the police guy at reception asked our names, he only said, ‘Tell him it’s Wayne Bale’s kid.”

  Damn it, my thumb’s in my mouth again. I tangle my fingers together and keep them on the table where I can see them.

  The detective finally ends his conversation and steps into the room, giving us each a perfunctory smile that fades almost as soon as it arrives, and closes the door behind him.

  “Detective Reed,” he says, holding out his hand to Josiah.

  “Josiah.” Josiah shakes his hand. “Candy,” he says, pointing a thumb at me.

  I don’t move, and I ignore the hand stuck out at me. It’s not that I’m being rude, I just don’t trust myself not to tremble like I’ve got epilepsy.

  Reed sighs as he sits, as if his day thus far has been a long and taxing one. It’s not even eleven yet, so I can’t imagine being around this guy in the afternoon.

  “I told your father I didn’t have to see you,” he says, shaking his head. “But Wayne Bale sure wasn’t in the back of the queue when they were handing out stubbornness.”

  “That’s not why we’re here.” Josiah sits forward and rubs his palms over his jeans.

  My stomach does a somersault. And here I thought he was calm.

  “Yes?” Reed asks, sounding bored already.

  “Uh…my dad…” Josiah cuts off. Silence filters into the room.

  I risk looking up, and wish I hadn’t. They’re both staring at me. Josiah lifts his eyebrows, and then points at Reed with his chin.

  “Kids,” Reed says through a sigh. “I have a busy day, so if you could just—”

  I open my mouth, but the door opens before I can say anything, simultaneously cutting off Reed’s sentence.

  A man wearing a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit and a navy-blue tie steps into the room. “Morning, Detective.” His eyes dart first to Josiah, then to me. “Jo.” He pauses. “Candace, yes?”

  “Mr. Dench,” Josiah says, rushing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to represent my client,” Dench says, as if Josiah was being a complete idiot for not knowing it. “Now, Detective, I do hope you haven’t begun questioning yet?”

  “I wasn’t interro—” Reed cuts off with a twist of his mouth. “I didn’t bring them in. They came by themselves.” He waves toward me. “She has something to discuss.”

  “I’m sure she does, but no one is discussing anything without me around,” Dench snaps. “Now please…if you’d be so kind…”

  He sweeps his arm toward the door and holds it there.

  Reed stands with ill grace, throwing both Josiah and me a scathing look before storming out of the room.

  Dench takes his seat, slapping a briefcase onto the table so hard that the impact dislodges my hands.

  “Now, what’s this about?” he asks, fixing pale, watery eyes on me.

  My jaw locks.

  Before, I thought I’d be speaking to a policeman. Someone with a badge. But now?

  I shift in my seat. A moment later, Josiah slides his chair closer to mine. He puts a hand on my knee and gives me a squeeze.

  I wilt from the wave of hot shame that consumes me.

  I try to push off his hand, but he seems to misunderstand the gesture and, the next thing I know, he’s got me in his grip.

  “It’s okay,” he says. I don’t dare look at him because I’m sure he’s smiling. “You can trust Uncle Quinten. He’s our family lawyer.”

  Mr. Dench is Wayne’s lawyer? I guess Josiah’s never heard the way his father speaks to Uncle Quinten, because if he had, then he’d realize Wayne has this man wrapped around his finger.

  And this is the guy I’m supposed to speak to?

  “It’s…uh…it’s kinda private,” I murmur. “I’d rather just speak to—”

  “Candy, just tell him what happened,” Josiah says.

  My cheeks are on fire. “I really don’t want—”

  “You trust me, don’t you?” Josiah ducks his head to try and catch my eye, but I keep my gaze fixed on my hands.

  I give him a slow nod.

  “So then tell him.”

  A whine floods my ears.

  The first thing Uncle Quinten will do is go to Wayne. Then they’ll start conspiring between them. I heard them on the phone—I know this guy’s here to protect Mr. Bale and no one else. It’s not like Josiah pays him. If Wayne were to go to prison, this paycheck would dry up faster than a lake during a drought.

  “…just tell him the stuff you told me. About the pills, and the—”

  I rush to my feet, throwing Josiah a glare. “I made it up, okay?”

  I do trust Josiah, but I don’t trust this man with his watery eyes and prissy manner.

  I guess I could have said something else, maybe delayed this and gotten hold of the detective some other way…but I just want out of this tiny room with its clinical air. Out and away from Uncle Quinten’s now too-intense stare.

  “Candy—?” Josiah’s up a second later. He grabs my wrist, but I shake him off.

  Quinten’s eyes narrow, and he starts scanning us both as if he’s trying to figure out some puzzle.

  He knows we’ve been intimate. In a moment, he might even figure out just how far it’s gone. It’s like he can read my body without having to take into account anything I’m saying.

  “Let go!” I pull out of Josiah’s grip and storm to the door.

  The handle opens before I can turn it. Luckily, the door opens out, or it would have come crashing into my face. Instead, I’m dragged into the hall when the door swings out.

  Wayne catches me before I face-plant the hallway floor. Shock flashes over his face a second before something much darker creeps into his eyes.<
br />
  Anger.

  He steers me back inside the room, his fingers digging into my bicep, and uses that grip to shove me into the closest chair. “What the hell’s going on?” he asks, voice dangerously low.

  Quinten scrambles up, hand extended. “Good to see you, Wayne.”

  Wayne ignores him, instead focusing entirely on Josiah, hand still on my shoulder. He’s keeping me down, making sure I don’t bolt out the door.

  I’m in a goddamn police station, but I’m still terrified. Not so much for myself, but for Josiah.

  There’s no denying the hatred boiling in Wayne Bale’s eyes when he looks at his son.

  Now I know those memories weren’t concocted by my own twisted mind.

  Mr. Bale is capable of drugging and molesting me…so how difficult could it be for him to take it one step further and kill someone?

  Emma.

  Mom.

  Josiah.

  My heart’s in my throat, but it doesn’t move no matter how hard I swallow.

  Where’s the detective? If he walked in on this scene, he’d know who was guilty in an instant. What will happen if I yell for help?

  “I was just about to get to the bottom of it,” Quinten says cheerily. “Shall I get us some coffee?”

  “No,” Wayne says. The fingers gripping my shoulder shift until he has hold of the back of my neck.

  I shudder at that touch. I know that feeling; it’s not the first time he’s held me like this. My lungs contract, and my breath comes fast and shallow, and panic builds.

  “Is there something I need to know?” I’m sure he’s looking at me now, perhaps staring at the top of my head.

  Josiah’s glaring up at his father, but then his eyes flicker to me.

  No. Josiah, no!

  Josiah’s face softens a little. “We were worried about Candy’s mom.”

  “That again? Christ, I said I’d take you to her,” Wayne says, his hands tightening on the back of my neck. I keep my gaze forward, refusing to look up at him; I’ll piddle myself if I see how angry he looks.

  “So, coffee?” Quinten asks.

  “Reschedule the interview,” Wayne says, his voice no longer aimed toward me. “I need to talk to my kids.”

  My stomach shrivels.

  Oh my God, he knows.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Josiah

  “Leave your car. You’re coming with me.”

  I stop walking, glaring at the back of my father’s head until he turns to look at me. He led us out of the station, as silent as we were, and now he’s holding up the back door of his Merc like he’s got an actual chance of convincing me that he’s a fucking gentleman.

  “Josiah, get in.”

  “I’m not driving with you.”

  Candy is by my side, and she’s not moving either. Someone walks past on their way to the station, and they turn to look at us as if even they—a random fucking stranger—can sense the tension between us.

  “Candace.” Dad’s eyes shift to Candy, and she literally flinches as if he’s slapped her.

  “I’ll drive with Josiah.”

  “You’ll both drive with me,” Dad says through his teeth. Then his eyes flicker to Candy again. “Do you want to see your mother or not?”

  I turn to her just in time. Her lips part, and her chest puffs out as she takes a big breath. “Where is she?”

  Judging from the tightness around my father’s eyes, he’s about to manhandle us into the car if we don’t get in. “Only one way to find out.”

  I don’t know what’s going on in Candy’s head, but a second later she’s climbing into the back of my dad’s car.

  “I can’t just leave my car here,” I tell him.

  He closes Candy’s door, shrugs, and heads for the driver’s door. “Do whatever the hell you want son.”

  Shit, I can’t let him take Candy. I still don’t know why she said what she did back there, that she’d been lying, but I’m sure she had her reasons.

  I snarl at him and spring forward, grabbing the passenger side door.

  It’s locked.

  Christ, is he going to drive off with her?

  Big blue eyes stare at me through the window. Then she reaches beside her and pulls at the handle.

  Her door stays shut.

  “Josiah.” She slams her palm into the window. “Josiah!”

  This can’t be happening. We’re right outside a goddamn police station. My heart leaps into my throat as I move to her door and try yanking it open from the outside.

  It opens, and I almost lose my balance.

  “Are you done throwing a tantrum?”

  My eyes peer through the interior, settling on my father as he takes his seat behind the wheel.

  “Then get in,” he says.

  Candy slides over for me, and I climb in with numb legs.

  “You forget there’s a child lock on that door?” Dad sneers at me through the question.

  My face is hot, but my hands are ice cold. Candy’s on the other side of the seat with more than a foot of space between us. I wish she’d move closer. Wish she’d let me touch her—but she’d made it abundantly clear that I’m not welcome.

  I don’t understand this. Any of this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear my mind was fucking out again.

  Yesterday, I’d have sworn I was in love with Candy.

  Today? Today, it’s as if that had been nothing but a sick fantasy. One of so many, and one of the better ones.

  Did yesterday even happen?

  There’s pressure behind my eyes, like a headache’s coming on.

  How am I supposed to know what’s real when everything keeps changing?

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Candy

  It takes me a few minutes before I’ve built up enough courage to push the question past my tight throat.

  “Why did the police want to question you?”

  Josiah sits up a little straighter.

  I stare at Wayne’s reflection in the car’s rear-view mirror. His dark eyes stay fixed on the road when he responds. In fact, nothing in his face changes.

  “Emma’s time of death was off.”

  “Off?” Josiah asks, sitting forward in a rush. “Off how?”

  “Off as in different to the one I gave them.” Wayne’s gaze shifts, but it’s to study Josiah, not me.

  Why won’t he look at me? Is it because he feels guilty for what he’s done to me? To…Mom? Dread hollows out my stomach, and that hole keeps growing the closer we get to Bale Manor.

  I wish I’d been brave enough to turn around and walk back into the police station. I could have found Detective Reed and given him my statement. I could have told them all about the horrible man Wayne Bale is…but then I might never have seen my mother again.

  I know we’ve never been that close. I’d like to think there was a time we were, maybe when I was really young…but that doesn’t matter. She’s my mother. She’s family.

  For all I know, Wayne killed her just like he killed Emma. If that’s the case, then it doesn’t matter what I do or don’t do—she won’t be coming back to life. In that case, there’ll be nothing stopping me from going back to the station and laying a case against Wayne.

  But what if she’s still alive?

  I can only hope.

  “You lied?” Josiah asks. His eyes dart to me.

  Why would he lie?

  “I didn’t lie,” Wayne says. “I gave them the time I thought was right.”

  “You thought—?” Josiah cuts off with a laugh. “What the fu—” He stops talking, face reddening as if it’s taking a physical toll for him not to swear in front of his father. “What does that even mean?”

  We’re back at the mansion sooner than I thought possible. Wayne remains silent as we wait for the wrought iron gates to open for us, but he doesn’t drive through immediately. Instead, he puts the car into park, drapes his hands over the steering wheel, and lets out a long sigh.

  Josiah sits back with a f
rown on his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits.

  I’m staring so hard at Wayne’s reflection in the mirror that I’m surprised he doesn’t have a hole in his head.

  “I don’t know when Emma drowned,” Wayne says quietly.

  His eyes go to Josiah, and then touch on mine. My body stiffens, and I look away.

  Josiah stays quiet.

  “Diana and I had a fight. She said she was leaving. Just before that, Emma—” Wayne cuts off with a strangled sound. “Let’s get inside. This isn’t—”

  “Emma what, Dad?” Josiah’s voice is steel.

  “She wanted to go swimming!” Wayne’s voice booms through the interior. I jerk, my hands squeezing each other in surprise. Even Josiah stiffens as if he hadn’t expected that vehement outburst from his father. “She wanted to swim, and I was too busy. Too tired. Too whatever.” Wayne’s voice drops a little. “So when Diana and I started yelling, she obviously thought she could sneak out, and we wouldn’t notice.”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t?” There’s acid dripping from Josiah’s tongue.

  “No, son, I didn’t notice.” Wayne twists in his seat. “I didn’t notice when your sister got into the pool. I didn’t notice her splashing around. I didn’t notice when she started drowning.” Those cold, black eyes dart to me. “I only noticed afterward.”

  “After what?” Josiah demands. He leans forward, hands on his knees.

  “After I was done fucking Diana.” Wayne sneers at Josiah, and then turns that horrific expression to me. “Your mother always loved a good fuck after a fight.”

  Blood sings in my ears and turns my cheeks crimson. My entire body thumps with shame, fear, nausea.

  Josiah slumps back, and his hand falls limply to the seat beside him. “She’s alive? You didn’t…?”

  A burst of stale laughter peels from Wayne as he tosses back his head. “I have no idea,” he says, back to somber a second later. He glares at Josiah, then me. “She left, like I said she did. I don’t know where she went. I didn’t even know if she has a fucking sister or not—she didn’t say.”