See No Evil (Brotherhood Trilogy #1)

by Jordan Ford

  He knows we’re clutching at straws here; he just doesn’t have the heart to say it. I turn away from the truth in his gaze, refusing to accept his last plea for me to stay put and let the police deal with it. Without another word, I go over and help him shift the desk. Then he disappears through the wall and reminds me exactly why I call him brother.

  #35:

  Family Feud

  Christiana

  “I didn’t do it,” I slur again, blood glistening on my lips like lip gloss.

  I’m sitting on a hard wooden chair, my wrists and ankles bound. Thankfully they’re not bound to the actual chair; two beefy hands have that covered. The brute behind me grips my shoulders, keeping me in the chair while some chick with a punch too powerful for her skinny physique dishes out some major attitude.

  I must look like something from a horror movie. A golf ball has grown on my left cheekbone and blood is trickling down my face. Her rings are sharp. My head is pounding. My ears are ringing. And no matter how many times I tell this stupid woman what I did, she won’t believe me!

  “Did you want him to die, huh? Did you stand over his body while he bled out on the cold hard ground?” she screams in my face.

  I close my eyes against her wrath, and with a calm that’s supernatural, I repeat the story again. “Marco Sorrentino pulled the trigger. I went into hiding because I’m going to testify against him. He’ll go to prison for the rest of his life and Robbie will get the justice he deserves.”

  “You’re lying! You lured my brother in and baited him.”

  “Never!” I rage back. “Your brother was the sweetest guy I knew! Why do you think I want my uncle to go down so bad? Robbie never deserved to die! I would’ve stopped it if I could have. I’m going to end this, and my uncle will rot in prison for what he did!”

  “That’s not good enough.” She paces away from me. Her heels are gunshots on the floor, making me flinch. “He deserves death.”

  She spins back, her eyes narrowing in on my beat up face.

  “Your whole filthy family deserves it.” She’s back in my face again, slapping her hands on the arms of the hard wooden chair. Her spittle sprays my skin like poisonous venom. “My father warned you not to try for revenge, but you were too stupid to listen.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “A son for a son? Yeah, well, now they’re going to lose their daughter too!” She snaps her fingers and the brute behind me pulls out a knife and presses it to my throat.

  I want to strain and struggle but the cold blade on my skin holds me still. It’s an effort to fight the panic spurting through me. “What son? What are you talking about?”

  She goes still, her forehead wrinkling. “You don’t know?”

  She flicks her fingers and the knife disappears. Grabbing my face again, she makes me whimper. Her pincer grip is hard and unrelenting. My cheek is screaming as my teeth grate against the cut.

  “They never told you, did they?” She snickers and crosses her arms. “So, how do you think your brother died?”

  I study her face, cautious with my response. “What brother?”

  Shaking her head with a pitiful laugh, she tips her head and glares at me. “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen,” I mumble.

  “So you weren’t born yet. Still, what kind of sicko wipes all evidence of their child from a home? You honestly know nothing?”

  My throat’s so clogged it’s hard to swallow. My mind is racing. I don’t want to believe this woman, but she’s making it impossible not to. Her expression is raw with honesty.

  “You had an older brother. He would have been six when you were born, but he was only four the day he died.”

  Time slows down around me, the ringing in my ears replaced by an eerie silence. Her voice sounds far away but I can still hear every word she’s saying.

  “He was standing next to your father, holding his hand while he accused mine of stealing from him.”

  My skin prickles. I shake my head, trying to deny this truth but my gut’s telling me different. Vague memories of my mother’s distant stares, those times I’d spy her sobbing. The day I watched through the crack in the door as my father comforted her with words like, “It’s in the past. Dwelling on it only makes it worse. Our time will come, my love. All will be set right.”

  I was so young at the time. I didn’t have the courage to expose my eavesdropping and ask what they were talking about.

  As the years slipped by, whatever secrets they kept became distant memories.

  At least they did for me, as I turned a blind eye to the truth and bought into the lies so I could maintain my lavish lifestyle and not have to feel guilty for my family’s shady business deals.

  “He pulled the trigger first, you know. Your father shot mine in the chest. That’s why your brother died. My father’s gun went off as he was falling and your brother scored it in the head. There’s no coming back from a wound like that.” She purses her lips, then swallows. “My father was recovering in the hospital when he got a visit from the mighty Mr. Sorrentino. He swore that one day we’d pay for killing his son.” She raises her finger. “He never said when, just promised revenge.”

  No! I don’t want to believe that! My father is not a killer. Marco is! He’s the devil!

  My vision is blurry with tears. I can’t speak. All I can do is shake my head in denial.

  “My father didn’t kill Robbie,” I manage to croak. “They didn’t even know about him! I met him at the end of the summer and kept him a secret from everyone. My father wouldn’t have known about this! Uncle Marco was just…”

  “Just what? Just happened to be stalking you and shot my brother for the fun of it? Get a clue, you stupid girl!” Her sharp voice shuts me up. My paralyzed mind is burning, threatening a full-blown meltdown. “We moved away from your family’s threats. My father wanted to keep us safe. We figured after all this time, it’d be okay to return. We’d stay out of your way, you’d stay out of ours. But no…you just had to hunt my brother down and finish what was started twenty years ago!”

  “That’s not how it went! There was no hunting! I cared about Robbie, okay?”

  She shuts me up with a backhand slap across the cheek. I barely feel it. I’m too numb from shock and pain to do anything more than take the hit.

  “This ends now. Your father is a fool and he will pay the ultimate price. I will kill every member of his family and then finish with him. I want him to suffer, knowing he’s responsible for the death of his children, his wife…”

  Mom!

  I tune out the rest of her words, my wrath igniting as I listen to this woman spout off about killing every member of my family. My father may not be an innocent man, but surely my mom can’t be involved with this. I refuse to sit here and let this injustice reign.

  Robbie’s sister will not be killing me tonight. I need to get out. I need to warn my family.

  The taloned bitch has stopped talking. She’s now standing over me, reaching out for the knife. As soon as her fingers lock around the hilt, I lurch forward. My quick movement takes Brutus off guard and I’m able to strain against his grasp and snatch the woman’s wrist. Pulling with all the force I can, I fall back into the chair while the knife digs into Brutus’s stomach. He stumbles back with a grunt, tripping over the chair behind him and thudding onto the floor.

  Using the surprise to my advantage, I lunge out of my chair. No longer held down by the big guy’s beefy hands, I bury my shoulder in the woman’s stomach and knock her off her feet. She lands with an indignant scream, scrambling back to her feet and coming at me with her tiny fists. I knock them aside and shift my weight, executing the head-butt move Riley taught me.

  Her head lurches back and she wobbles on her feet. Touching her forehead, she stumbles, her heel catching on a hook in the floor. Her fall is sharp and final, her head catching on the window frame.

  Blackout. She flops like a rag doll.

  I have no idea how long it’ll take h
er to come back around and with Brutus writhing to get up, I have to move quickly. Jumping across to him, I pull the knife from his middle. He groans and swipes at my ankles. I hit the floor. The knife rattles onto the metal. I ignore the pain in my hip and start wriggling away from his groping fingers, grappling for the bloody knife that’s an inch away from me.

  He’s trying to get up.

  Snatching the blade, I struggle onto my butt and start hacking at the rope around my ankles. By the time I’m freed, he’s lumbered to his feet, storming towards me with a rough growl.

  I scream and scramble out the door, attempting to run down the stairs on legs as useless as silly string.

  My foot slips and I snatch the cold railing, forcing my body upright. Fear is pounding through me, thrumming in my ears, making my heart want to explode.

  His steel-toe boots ring out on the stairs above me. He’s getting close. I pick up my pace, jumping down the last of the stairs and nearly stabbing myself as I tumble to the ground with the knife still clutched in my bound hands.

  He’s five steps away, growling at me like an angry bear. A bright red patch is soaking into his shirt. His hand is smeared with blood.

  The look in his eyes injects me with another shot of adrenaline and I struggle to my feet, flying around the corner before he can reach me.

  The dock is open with security lights that will give me away in a heartbeat. I push through them, my running slowed by the fact my hands are still bound.

  I need to hide. I need time to cut this rope and figure out what the hell I’m doing. Surging for the rows of containers, I duck into the darkness between them and stop to catch my breath. Sawing at the ropes around my wrists is an awkward job. My heart is thundering the whole time, and I’m waiting for Brutus to pounce on me at any second.

  With a soft grunt, I manage to cut through the final rope. The knife clatters to the ground, giving away my location. I snatch it up and start running between the containers.

  My erratic breaths feel loud, like a GPS locator.

  But it’s hard to stay silent.

  Reaching the end of the row, I’m about to round the corner and get my bearings when I’m stopped short by the beast. His body looms over me, blocking my escape.

  I scream and slip to my ass as he makes a grab at me. I spin and try to crawl away, my knuckles scraping on concrete as I refuse to let go of the knife.

  He snatches my ankle, yanking me back to him. I buck and kick but have nothing on his strength. My only advantage is the knife.

  So I use it.

  Swiveling around, I slash out with the blade, slicing through his leg. He flinches and growls, tussling for the knife. I dodge his attempts, writhing out of his grasp and throwing all my force into a final spin, burying the knife in his thigh.

  He roars in my face, his knee buckling.

  I jump away from him and sprint for my life.

  Bursting out from between the containers, I quickly scan my surroundings and notice a small office to my right. I reach it in record time, wrestling with the handle. It’s locked!

  Thumping the door, I step back and assess the window next to it. I don’t have time to hesitate. Offices have phones and right now, I need any help I can get.

  I pull off my shirt, wrapping it around my elbow before punching it against the glass. It takes three attempts, but finally the glass shatters enough for me to reach through and unbolt the door. My arms get nicked and I’m sure I’ll be picking out splinters of glass for the next week, but adrenaline is a magical thing. I can’t feel any pain as I smash through the door and leap around the desk.

  Snatching the phone, I don’t even think to call 911. Instead, I punch in the only number I can trust.

  #36:

  The Eton Breakout

  Trey

  Shadows cloak us as we creep towards Henry’s dugout. As far as we know, no teacher has ever found it. The hole was made by the legendary Henry Trenchman as a way to sneak in and out of the school. He went down in Eton history, and his hidden passageway beneath the south-line fence has been passed down through the last few years. We’ve used it a couple of times to get to weekend parties or to sneak out to buy booze on a Friday night.

  I’ve never needed it for something so important before. My heart is still hammering. I don’t know if it’ll ever stop. Breaking for the trees, we dash across the last patch of exposed lawn and disappear into the forest. The guys are puffing behind me, Riley bringing up the rear as he tries to run and hunt for clues on his phone.

  “So if Ivan does have her,” he puffs, “and he’s handed her over to the Sorrentinos, then he must be getting some kind of payout or something, right?”

  I nod. I don’t know what else to assume.

  “No, wait!” Riley slows to a stop. I spin in frustration, urging him on with a flick of my hand. He won’t be able to see it in the darkness, plus he’s too busy looking at his phone screen.

  “Come on, man. Talk and run. Talk and run.”

  He catches up with me and shares his theory while we jump over tree roots and weave our way out of Eton.

  “There was an article on the news about the Candellas thinking Chris did it, right?”

  “Only you would know that, dude.” Kade dodges a low-lying branch in the nick of time.

  I crouch against a tree trunk and scan the field in front of us. Henry’s dugout is about a football field to our left. We’ll stick to the tree line and should make it undetected. By now teachers will have been woken and told to search the school.

  “We just read about it.” I glance over my shoulder at Riley. “What’s your point?”

  “They interviewed Mr. Candella on the news and he said he’d pay good money to see her brought to justice. What if Ivan’s not connected with the Sorrentinos at all? What if he’s getting paid to deliver her to the Candella family?”

  “But that doesn’t make sense.” Kade shakes his head. “Won’t they be after justice? They’ll want her to testify.”

  “Not if they think she’s the killer.”

  “That’s insane!” I whisper-bark. “She didn’t kill that guy.”

  “But they might still want her dead,” Riley counters. “A life for a life. A child for a child. They might be after retribution. They don’t want the law getting involved with something they can do on their own.”

  “It’s like a Hollywood movie,” Kade mutters. “This shit can’t be real.”

  “Yeah, well, it is.” I smack his arm. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to get to a car and find Chris…before they kill her.”

  I close my eyes, battling off the wave of nausea. I don’t want to think about how she must be suffering right now, but I can’t help it. Images torture me as I stand up and start running for the dugout. I’m going to freaking kill Ivan…after I save Chris.

  In spite of the evening chill, my hair is wet with sweat when we finally reach the fence. I check both ways are clear before pulling back the grass-covered canvas and scrambling through the hole. Standing on the other side, I brush the dirt off my clothes while the others crawl through. As soon as we’re clear, we start jogging for the gas station.

  We’re still on high alert and even though no one’s saying it, this feels like a futile mission.

  We have no idea how Ivan got Chris out of school, which direction they went, where they might be hiding. So what if we manage to steal a car? Where will we start driving?

  But it’s all I’ve got. Pacing around our bedroom while we waited for news from the incompetent agents would have driven me insane. I have to act, to move, to do something that feels like it’s helping Chris.

  Pumping my arms, I pick up the pace, hauling ass down the country road towards the distant glow of the gas station.

  *****

  Leaning against the darkest edge of the building, I peek my head around the corner to scan the station. Every pump is empty, but there is one car parked on the other side of the building. It’s a red pickup that looks bone-tired and ready
to fall apart. But it’s all we’ve got.

  Kade creeps back from the other corner and whispers, “Looks like we’re gonna have to go for the pickup.”

  “Great,” I grumble.

  Riley checks my view, then looks to Kade. “I doubt it’s locked, but we’ll still have to be careful. Let’s sneak around the back way. There’s no point walking across the lot and drawing attention to ourselves.”

  Following Riley’s lead, we stick close to the wall and walk-run around the back of the station until we reach the windows on the other side. Ducking low, we shuffle beneath them.

  Riley pops up to do one quick scan of the store. “There’s a guy behind the counter. He’s reading a magazine, but he’ll definitely look up if he hears the truck starting.”

  “Fine, let’s push it out of the station and start it up down the road.”

  “What if he looks up while we’re doing that?” Riley counters.

  “We need a distraction.” I look around me for inspiration while Riley digs something out of his pocket.

  Wriggling his phone in the air, he then turns to Kade and whispers, “You guys head to the truck and start pushing. I’ll distract the guy with a call and then make a break for the road. Have the vehicle running when I get there.”

  We all nod, then get to work. I hear Riley dialing and then softly asking the operator for the number of the Miles To Go gas station.

  Ducking behind Kade, I hold my breath while he eases the driver’s door open. It creaks and moans and we both freeze still. I bob my head above Kade’s crouched body and check out the counter. The attendant is still looking half asleep behind it, flicking through his magazine like a low-battery droid.

  “Okay, go.” I pat Kade’s shoulder and he slithers inside, quickly looking for a set of keys. There are none so he immediately rips out the wiring beneath the steering column and gets to work.

  “It’s ready to go when we are,” he whispers. “Let’s start pushing.”

  Wriggling the stick shift, he puts the car in neutral and releases the brake while I put all my energy into reversing the truck. As soon as there’s enough room to turn, Kade spins the wheel and then jumps out, pushing from the driver’s door while I take the back.