BE MY BRAYSHAW

by Meagan Brandy

  “Don’t fucking move!” he shouts, and I know Captain has stepped closer.

  “Mike,” I whisper, sliding my hands up to his face. “Mike, look at me.”

  His eyes tighten, and he jerks slightly, so I press tighter, move in closer.

  A heavy line forms between his brows and he licks at his lips.

  “Mike… baby, look at me...” I glide my thumbs back and forth in slow sweeps. “Please, look at me,” I whisper.

  His jaw flexes and then his eyes briefly cut to mine.

  I smile, gliding my hand down. “Hi.”

  His nostrils flare, his eyes bouncing between mine and over my shoulder in rapid, constant motions.

  “Let’s go, let’s leave this place,” I tell him. “You were right, there’s nothing for me here. I saw what you wanted. I saw him with Mallory. He doesn’t want me, and I don’t need him.”

  “But the girl, she’s still in there.”

  “We don’t need her,” I rush out. “We can, we can have our own.”

  He swallows, and his head tips to the side with a slight nod. He lowers his mouth to my ear.

  “You will love me,” he murmurs, kissing my hair and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I swear you will.”

  I nod, dropping my hands to his chest, my heart seizing in mine when the sound of the barrel clicking rings in my ear. “But only if you can’t love him.”

  I gasp, shoving at him. “Mike, no!”

  But it’s too late, the gun has already gone off.

  I fly around, screaming as Captain’s body falls to the ground with a crash, Connor Perkins on top of him.

  Everything happens quickly from there.

  Royce tackles Mike to the ground as Maddoc picks up the gun, points it right at his head, and without so much as a blink, he pulls the fucking trigger.

  I dart toward Perkins and Captain, screaming when I see blood running down Captain’s head.

  I grab Perkins, and he groans.

  “I’m sorry,” I cry as I roll him off, scrambling closer to Captain.

  Royce falls right beside me as my hands fly to my mouth.

  “No, no, no...” he panics. “Brother, no!”

  “Oh my god,” I croak, my eyes falling to his soiled shirt, blood dripping down his side.

  Raven runs out the door as Maddoc spins and drops with us.

  “Cap.” Maddoc smacks his face lightly. “Captain!” he shouts.

  I cry, pushing up his shirt to apply pressure to the wound, but freeze, my hands flying along his stomach, smearing in the blood in search of the bullet hole, but I don’t find one.

  I quickly move to his head, shaking as I inspect the gash there.

  Not a gunshot wound.

  “He hit his head...” I whisper. “He hit his head,” I say louder.

  They look to his stomach and then his head.

  Maddoc quickly feels for a pulse, nodding with a glare. “He’s knocked out.”

  “Thank fuck,” Royce croaks.

  “Guys,” Raven whispers.

  All eyes fly to her and slowly she lowers to her knees, kneeling beside Perkins who holds a hand over his gut, blood pouring from him, the color having drained from his face.

  Oh my god.

  Maddoc and Royce glance at each other, whipping around when footsteps sound behind them.

  Rolland drags himself closer, falling beside Raven and Perkins.

  He looks to his sons and then slides behind the man.

  Raven helps him push his upper body from the grass, and Perkins hisses, his head falling back on Rolland’s chest right as he settles himself there.

  He grips his hand.

  “I’ve got ya’, old friend,” he says.

  Perkins’ face tightens and he blows a hard breath from his nose. “He’s...” He tenses in pain. “He’s okay?” he asks, his eyes on mine.

  I look to Captain, whose eyes begin to flutter behind closed lids.

  I nod and he nods back.

  “Good.” He swallows, his blinks slowing.

  “It, uh...” He stretches his leg out. “It’s cold out here, huh?”

  I look to Maddoc when he drops beside him. He nods lightly, hanging his head as he props his arms on his knees. “Yeah, man. It’s cold.”

  It’s not cold.

  Royce lowers next, sitting at my side, but nobody says a word.

  Perkins gives a small laugh, but it turns into a wheeze and then a small cry and I force my eyes to the grass.

  “It might...” Our stares fly to Perkins. He tries to swallow, tears falling from his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “It might mean... mean nothing to you but I… I’m proud” —his voice cracks— “so proud of who you are.”

  We follow his line of sight straight to Captain.

  Captain, whose eyes are open and cloudy, locked directly with Connor Perkins, the man who just gave his life to save his, a boy who vowed to never claim the existence of the man before him.

  They hold each other’s gazes, father and son, as Perkins takes his last and final breath.

  He dies in Rolland’s arms.

  Chapter 37

  Captain

  Raven pulls the sweater from over her shoulders and drapes it over Perkins’ body as my dad lays him flat on the ground.

  My eyes fly to the pool house entryway, and Royce pops up, jogging inside to check on Zoey.

  My head falls back into Victoria’s lap and she offers a broken smile.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  I shake my head, lifting my hand and her forehead comes down to meet mine. “This isn’t on you, baby.”

  Her eyes fall.

  “Maddoc,” I call, lifting my hand.

  She pulls back, pushing to her feet as Maddoc yanks me to mine, holding me there a moment until I’m steady.

  “You good, man?” He eyes me. “He knocked your ass out with the gun and then you hit your head on a rock when you went down.”

  My eyes slide to Perkins’ lifeless legs beneath the thin cotton and I swallow, looking away. “Yeah.”

  I let go of him, walking over to Mike’s body, my eyes zoning in on the gunshot right between his eyes.

  I look to Maddoc and he nods.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Tires squeal around the front of the house and Maddoc’s face falls, but Royce rushes out, shouting, “It’s Maybell!”

  He jogs over to us, his eyes moving between the bodies. “She’s coming to play with Zoey, keep her busy inside while we… clean up.”

  Dad pulls his phone out. “I’ll call James, he has men for this.”

  “No,” Victoria says, and our eyes swing to her. “James isn’t in charge anymore.” She looks to Royce. “They have someone to call.”

  Royce frowns, but then a nod follows, and his cell is in his hands. “Hey, Siri, call Mac,” he says as he walks away.

  It takes less than twenty minutes for Mac to roll up, Andre and a couple others just behind him.

  They wait at the edge of the grass as he walks over, but he doesn’t look to us.

  He walks right up to Mike’s dead body and slips an all-black ski mask over his head.

  Mac stands and moves to Perkins to do the same, but I find myself sliding in front of him, and his eyes fly to mine.

  “I, uh.” I swallow. “Him, we’ll bury.”

  Mac gives a curt nod. “I’ll make sure he gets where he needs.”

  I nod and slowly move away, watching as he pulls the jacket from his face and slips the mask over.

  Only when he stands, having hidden the proof of who these men are, do the others come forward.

  They look nowhere but at the bodies, lift them, and carry them away without a word.

  Victoria sighs, her hands moving to her head as she lets out a heavy breath.

  “What the hell?” comes from Raven and we turn to find her staring at Victoria. “What is that?”

  Victoria frowns and then her eyes lower, and ours follow.

  My muscles freez
e and we look to each other.

  A deep crimson rushes up her neck and her hands lower, prepared to cover what we’ve now already seen, but then they drop.

  Her shoulders square and with a deep breath, Victoria grabs her shredded shirt in her hands and pulls it over her head.

  “Holy shit,” Royce whispers.

  Scar after scar line her abdomen in no particular order and of no common size, cut after cut, but none so deep the skin is bubbled, though each is lifted enough to touch.

  But that’s not what Raven saw or where our eyes are frozen.

  Just beneath her bra line, in the most elegant of cursive, a line is engraved into her skin, thick solid letters, each word as clear as the next.

  It starts on the far right, and like a wave, it rises and falls in perfect sync with her curves, stopping at her breastbone.

  Family runs deeper than blood.

  My eyes fly to hers, my feet subconsciously pulling me closer.

  Her smile is small and tight, unsure.

  She licks her lips. “When I was little, I had no knowledge of who I was or why I was alive. My maid and my teacher called me Girl, Mike called me Garden Girl.” She laughs, but it’s sad.

  “He was the boy, the friend you had there who talked to you through the wall, wasn’t he?”

  She nods. “I didn’t know until later, but Mero had planted Mike at the Graven Estate, hoping he’d find me and he did, came to live with us a couple years later, once Mero was sure he had all my trust,” she shares. “Even when he did he, he still called me what he knew me as.”

  “Perkins,” I say. “He said before Mero you had no identity...”

  She licks her lips. “The day he came for me, on the drive back to his house, Mero said to me, ‘everyone has a place in the world, and you’ve just found yours’.” Her eyes gloss over, and she lifts them to lock with mine. “He told me his name, and then he gave me mine.”

  “He was Brayshaw when he left...” Maddoc draws out, looking from her tattoo to me.

  “In Mero’s mind, that’s all he ever was.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “Even when he pawned off his own son to Graven for them to raise. Even later, when he tied himself to them even more by taking me.”

  Everyone has a place in the world, and you’ve just found yours...

  “Brayshaw,” I whisper. “He gave you his name, our name.”

  She nods. “He said I had to earn it for it to be true, so I did, and then I came here and realized I was everything opposite of what it meant to belong in a place like this. My purpose changed overnight, and nothing had ever felt more... right.”

  Suddenly I’m in front of her, my knuckle on her chin, but I don’t have to lift, she does it for me, staring me straight in the eyes.

  “I knew you were meant for me,” I rasp, my fingertips skimming across the tattoo.

  “It shouldn’t have been so hard to get here,” she whispers, her palms flattening on my chest.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “It should have. We don’t love without a little bloodshed.”

  Her muscles tighten, and I push closer. “Guess you don’t want me to be your Brayshaw anymore?”

  She smiles, shaking her head no.

  “Good.” I sink my hands into her hair, my eyes falling to those lips I’ve fucking missed. “I don’t want to be your Brayshaw, I want to be your man.”

  She pushes onto her toes, aligning her mouth with mine. “But, Captain… we can’t always have what we want,” she whispers my words. “Now can we?”

  “We’re Brayshaw, baby. We want, we get.”

  No exceptions.

  I fill the cup to the brim, slowly pouring it over Zoey’s head and she laughs.

  “Waterfall!” She smiles, reaching across to grab the floating baby doll from the water, and stands.

  “You ready to get out, princess?”

  She nods, so I set the cup on the counter, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her as I lift her from the bathtub.

  I kiss her hair as I carry her into her room and get her dressed in her pajamas.

  “Rora!” she shouts.

  I look toward the door and there Victoria stands.

  She leans against the doorframe, her eyes on us.

  Zoey sits at her little vanity, handing me her brush.

  Victoria chuckles, but her breath lodges in her throat when I hold the light blue comb in the air.

  Slowly, Victoria walks into the room, taking it from my hands as she steps up behind Zoey, and I behind her.

  My hand covers hers, one on the brush, the other on the tiny chair, and my head falls into the crook of her neck.

  She guides, and together we brush my daughter’s hair.

  “Rora, you know what?” Zoey asks her.

  “What, ZoZo?” she responds, resting her cheek against me.

  “Miss Maybell said we can make cookies tomorrow, with M&M’s. Want me to make one for you?”

  “Can I have extra M&M’s?”

  She laughs, picking up the plastic brush in front of her and brushing the giant Barbie head on her vanity. “Okay, Rora.”

  I smile, sliding my head back slightly so my mouth can graze along Victoria’s collarbone, and she inhales deeply.

  I drag my lips to her ear. “At some point, we’ll sit her down, and tell her... that you don’t like sweets.”

  An airy chuckle leaves her, and she pulls back, but only far enough to where our eyes can meet. “Not a chance.”

  I lift my left hand, pushing her hair from her shoulder and her eyes close.

  “You, uh, want me to take her for the night?”

  We look to the hallway where Royce stands, freshly showered, brow raised.

  I chuckle, bending down to kiss Zoey.

  “Nah, man,” I say to my brother, looking to Victoria. “I need my girls tonight.”

  I look his way and he nods, understanding in his eyes, but then a grin quickly spreads. “Hey, Zoey Bear.”

  “Hey Uncle Bro!”

  He chuckles. “Let’s go make some popcorn and hot chocolate, taking as absolutely long as humanly possible to do so, and then we can meet Daddy back upstairs?”

  Victoria laughs, shaking her head, and Zoey jumps up.

  “Can we put cheese on it?” she asks him, running off and snagging a stuffed animal on the way.

  I glance at Royce, who puts a hand over his heart as if he’s wounded, but he drops and swoops her in his arms. “Cheese. Like Uncle D?”

  Zoey nods. “Yep. Lots and lots of cheese.”

  They disappear.

  Victoria sets the brush down, and I push to my feet, staring at her.

  I grab her by the hand, walking backward from Zoey’s room, into the hall toward hers.

  She doesn’t question me, says not a word as she blindly follows where I lead.

  Once inside her bathroom, I finally let her go, but only so I can get the water on to let it heat.

  I step around her, closing and locking the door and I stay there when her hands land on my back, gliding up and around my shoulders, she massages the muscles there.

  My head falls to the door, my breathing deep and full as I focus on her touch, memorizing the span of her fingers and the sound of her breath.

  She shifts closer, her lips pressing against my shirt, and I quickly spin to face her.

  Her eyes heat at the sight of mine, and slowly she steps back, unbuttoning her jeans, so I follow, both our bottoms hitting the floor together.

  She tugs her top from her skin as I do mine, but I dart forward as she attempts to unclip her bra and do it for her.

  I haven’t seen her like this, bared for me, so with slow movements I graze her shoulders, my dick twitching against her as she moans from nothing but the feel of my knuckle on her shoulders.

  I drop my lips, running them along her skin, kissing as the last piece of clothing hiding her from me hits the floor at our feet.

  Her nipples are hard, and she shifts the tiniest bit, sliding them along me, and I groan against
her.

  She turns her head toward me as I do and when I lift, her lips are right there, mere inches from mine.

  My stomach twists in anxiousness, but I force my eyes closed, blindly reaching for her hand and tugging us into the shower, directly under the spray.

  I spin her, blocking her body from my view, but it doesn’t work.

  Her ass stares right at me, and then my cock is pressing against it, my hands coming around to cup her pussy and pulling her into me even more.

  Victoria moans, her head falling to my shoulder, harsh breaths turning to a warm, smoky mist above us with the help of the heated shower.

  Her feet shift, legs opening wide and I don’t wait, I push a finger inside, and then another and she gasps, whimpering into the air, but quickly swallows it.

  I growl, nipping at her neck and she shakes.

  “Sound. Every fucking sound, every word, every need...” I flick my tongue along her skin. “I want. Hold nothing back. Ever. Never. I want to hear what I can do to you. Always.”

  A heavy, breathy moan follows and my dick fights for entrance.

  I glide along her ass cheeks, as she makes circles on my hand, and she pushes back against me.

  “I need to feel you,” she begs. “Not your hands, not your mouth.” Her palms slide down her own body, and she pulls at her nipples, gasping and tightening around me as she does, but they quickly come around, slip between her ass and me. She grips me, squeezing. “This. I want this.”

  “I’m gonna give it to you, baby, so fucking soon, but let me take care of you, and then wash you, and then I will fuck you, properly, and in your own bed.”

  “Mm,” she hums, stroking me. “As long as I get to come on your cock, Cap, I’m good with that.”

  Fuck.

  I push into her palm, locking her hands there as I reach forward and pinch at her clit, vibrating my hand as I barely move in and out of her, focusing on the little nub instead.

  “Finish me, get me to the bed.” She shakes, her breasts pushing into the air, tempting and teasing me to face them full-on. To grab and squeeze and play with what’s mine and mine alone.

  I moan.

  And hers follows, her pussy pulsing around my fingers as she trembles in my arms, choked whimpers flying from her mouth to my groin and I pump into her hand, the veins in my dick throbbing in her palm.