The Kidnapper's Brother: A Dark Criminal Romance

by Alice T. Boone

  “Who the fuck asked you?” Toby hissed, shutting off the tap and drying his hands on his oversized t-shirt. “I already said I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  I was certain ego was the only thing that kept me standing.

  God knows it wasn’t a fucking backbone.

  My mouth turned to sand as I tried to choke out the question on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to be strong enough to ask him who he was talking about, whose body I was going to find upstairs, whose blood was on his hand, but the knock in my chest told me I already knew the answer. The fact that the thought left me sick to my stomach didn’t change my reality. Taking a step back, my heart pounded painfully, erratically when it wanted to torture me and painfully slow when it wanted to tease me with death. It was filling my head again— this constant pound, constant thumping, constant reminder of my place between the dead and the living.

  I should have known better.

  I should never have trusted him.

  “Shit!“

  I was certain Toby tried to follow after me, but I had made it to the stairs too quickly. The blood pooling in my legs only fed this fear, this anxiety, this poison in my veins. It only took a single shake to slip out of Toby’s grip and climb the stairs to the second floor, and by the time I was half-way up, I was certain I could smell the copper of blood in the air. While Toby had made an effort to clean the first floor, the second floor had been completely ignored. Bloodied handprints painted the walls and a disgusting trail led to the one room I was praying it wouldn’t. Reality didn’t sink in until I had already slammed against his bedroom door, until I looked at the mess Toby had created with the man staring over my shoulder. Then, I almost wished this thumping in my head would return.

  Anything was better than the screaming silence.

  At first, I was certain she was dead. She had to be dead, because the last time I saw the brunette, she seemed so full of life. To see her passed out, spread out on a bed with her hair coated in blood, it was hard to connect the two images. It only took a second to take in the mess that used to be her foot, glass gleaming even beneath the crimson stains. A bruise was now gracing her otherwise flawless features, dark purple against pale freckles. Someone had torn off her college sweatshirt, leaving the pile of fabric on the ground, and her pale skin was littered with bloodied handprints, marking her arms, her face, her throat.

  All I could feel was sorry for her— until my attention fell to the child behind me. Toby stood at the door, wide-eyed in a marvel I had once prayed to understand. Now, all his adoration did was make me sick. This thing that he hailed as gospel, this love he claimed to feel for the doe in front of us, had become too twisted to look at, too dark to see in the light. With a hiss, I tore us both back to the hallway, my hand slamming the man back against the wall as I did my best to keep the bile in my stomach.

  “Get the fuck off me!”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hissed, finally breaking the man out of his trance. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Toby?”

  His blue eyes locked onto mine, windows to the beast he kept in his stomach. Toby flashed between embarrassment and anger, disappointment and fear, between the man he used to be and the child he’d allowed himself to become. All I could really feel was defeat. For years, I was certain I could handle it. This time, it’d be different. This time, I could beat this thing.

  Pushing him back against the wall, I snarled again. “I told you to wait.”

  “Yeah?” Toby chuckled, stiffening his jaw and straightening his spine. “Who cares? She’s here now. Who gives a fuck if she’s here today or two weeks from now? What the fuck does that matter?”

  “It matters,” I bit. “You don’t think. You do this shit and then just expect me to—”

  The sound of a door opening, of a dark presence taking over the rotting home, was enough to steal the breath from the hall. The tensing of my shoulders told Toby that it wasn’t a god damn Girl Scout downstairs, and once again, I watched him snap between personalities. The man straightened, letting his anger wash out of his hair as he focused his attention on the staircase. One second, he resembled the little brother I used to make pancakes every morning. The next, he’d become this thing capable of more destruction than I could imagine.

  Toby pushed off me with a single shove, making his way downstairs as if he hadn’t already fucked up my entire evening. Confusion twisted my stomach, and before I could stop myself, I was slamming him back into the wall.

  “You ever touch me again and I swear to God—”

  “Deal with him,” I snarled, raising my chin slightly.

  His scoff wouldn’t knock on my pride. Not yet.

  “When the fuck did I start taking orders from you?” This time, when he pushed me back, it wasn’t to push past me. Toby’s blue eyes darkened, and his expression twisted into another sneer. “You think you’re somethin’ because they asked for you?”

  “Don’t start that shit again.”

  The sound of footsteps downstairs lowered both of our gazes to the floor. I didn’t need to explain to Toby that there was really only one type of person who would enter our house so casually. It was a threat we’d have to deal with immediately, but as Toby grew angrier in front of me, I had to reassess the situation. The only way things were going to be handled was if I dealt with it, and the only way to do that was to get Toby back on my side.

  “Who helped you through that shit with Gato?” I asked, my arms folding over my chest in an attempt to appear a little softer. “When you—” When my chuckle turned into a forced grin, I couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders fell. “When you got caught fuckin’ his girlfriend, eh? Who picked you up? Who got you cleaned up?”

  Suddenly, a new calm washed over the man. Toby looked back to the stairs and shrugged his shoulders in surrender.

  “You’ve gotta stop with this shit,” I reminded him. “All we’ve got is each other.”

  “Yeah.”

  Everything with Toby was a coin toss now. What little control I had over him was wearing away with every hit of a pipe, with every night out with that asshole from the city. The boy who listened to me was gone— but I had to risk it. Letting Toby take charge was like tying myself to a sinking ship. Even though the man looked far from ready to take another order from me, I pushed forward. With blood thick in the air, I had to move quick.

  “I’ll handle the bitch in the bed. You deal with him.” When Toby’s eyes narrowed, I wouldn’t give him the chance to snap back at me. “Deal with him.” My snarl earned the slightest amount of obedience, but before Toby could get too far away, my fingers sunk into his arm again. “Can she identify you?”

  The man shook out of my grip, shoving his hands into his pockets before making his way downstairs. “How the fuck should I know?”

  “She’s going home, Toby,” I warned, attempting to keep my voice low. “I’m bringing her home.”

  I thought once the kid left, I’d feel some wave of power. With my brother out of the picture, I was supposed to feel back in control, but maybe I hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Whatever gratitude that came with winning another battle was gone when I realized the spoils were more of a curse than a blessing. The body laying on the bed was mine to deal with now, alone with no sense of consequence. But a glance over my shoulder didn’t fill me with temptation— not the way it had the last time I’d laid eyes on my brother’s favourite little hit. Now, all the woman’s image brought was a sense of guilt, of annoyance, of anger.

  I was supposed to have more time.

  I was supposed to keep this shit under control.

  The only way forward was to keep my eyes glued to the floor. If I didn’t waste my time torturing myself, examining every bruise and scrap with terrifying detail, then the task at hand was easy. Not that I’d ever been good at controlling my masochism. By the time I slunk towards the mattress on the floor, I used every piece of my strength to ignore the things that made my stomach twist the most— the blood on her
neck, the bruise on her jaw, her swollen lips, the open box of condoms on the floor. All I could do was focus on the mangled foot in front of me. Her foot was ice cold as I picked it up, placing it in my lap to better examine the damage my brother had done. When I’d seen her last, I had assumed she’d at least be a warm body to sleep next to, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d overestimated my brother’s choice in women. While blood soaked her foot, an untrained eye told me the damage really only boiled down to a couple shards of glass jammed into the center of her foot.

  Toby had barely attempted to pull them out, but maybe he just didn’t have the patience.

  Maybe she wouldn’t let him.

  When her moans started to fill the room, it didn’t light the fire I was expecting it to. Before another grunt of pain could tumble from her lips, my body jerked into action. I was on top of her, assuring myself that I was only drawing my lips to her ear in a way to intimidate her, only because I was trying to hide my face. With my hand over her mouth, I could feel her screams choking against my palm, and the new excitement just brought a new level of hatred.

  “Don’t make a fucking sound,” I snarled into her ear. “You understand me?”

  Her pause brought another sharp pain to my chest— one her hesitant nod couldn’t quite soothe. Believing her was proving impossible, but as my hand drifted down to her neck, the brunette didn’t scream out— not for help, at least.

  “I’m sorry,” she finally squeaked, voice dry and throat shaking beneath my tightening grip. When annoyance tightened my muscles further, her icy hands jerked up to try to pry my fingers from around her throat. “Please, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

  “I told you—”

  “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

  I hated the excitement that tore through me, that darkened my vision, that knocked at the back of my head. The gentle plea only brought twisted fantasies. All that awful sound did was make me want to hear more, make me yearn to hear her beg for something much sweeter. It wasn’t until the knocking became too much that my attention shifted. Instead, all I could really focus on was the quiet scratching coming from downstairs, the familiar tones of two men I’d grown to hate.

  When I scooped her up into my arms, the girl kept her promise. Her dry sobs remained silent, mostly covered by her hand over her mouth as I carried her to my brother’s bathroom. The scent of mold in the damn place was sickening, but I’d never really operated under desirable conditions anyway. Dropping her onto the countertop, I cleared Toby’s garbage from the surface with a single sweep, positioning her the way I needed her before scanning the rest of the room. It was only after I’d turned my attention to the cabinet beneath the sink that I finally caught the sound of her sob, her cry of agony when she finally noticed the bloodied mess that had become her foot.

  I’d already lost my life, hadn’t I?

  Why the fuck did I need to watch her lose hers as well?

  “What are you doing?”

  I wouldn’t let my eyes drift up as I tugged the first aid kit from its shelf, jerking upright without more than a grimace of acknowledgement. Dropping the pack on the counter beside her, I focused my attention on her foot. Carefully, delicately, I led her under warm water, and despite a squirm and another grunt, the woman didn’t leave. My silence eventually relaxed her jaw, but it wouldn’t do anything to stop the trembling of her muscles beneath my touch. The brunette sat as still as she could, her only noticeable movement the nervous twisting of the rusted silver ring on her left hand. Shutting off the water, I jerked her into a new position, lifting her foot forcefully to give me a better angle. Once I quieted the urge to press against her, to appreciate the sight of her legs parting for me, all that I could see was the task at hand, and quietly, I worked.

  She wouldn’t break her promise again— not until bloodied glass began to fill the sink.

  “Please. I’m sorry,” she choked. When her sob couldn’t earn my attention, she shifted into a new kind of plea. “I don’t know your name. The other guy— I barely remember his face. We can just—”

  Her whimper hit my ears far before my snarl did. My fingers tightened around her foot painfully, an involuntary reaction when my heart quickened. The single hope I had left in the world was that the bitch wouldn’t recognize us, couldn’t report my brother to the police. A single fucking comment had sealed both of our fates, and yet, I wasn’t even sure that that’s what made me sickest. All I could really see was the subpar bandage job I was doing on her foot. Yet another mistake to add to the list, yet another fuck up because I couldn’t pay close enough attention.

  The world fell silent as our attention drew to the floor beneath us, a new panic settling in when the sound of movement drifted through the flooring. With movement downstairs, I wasn’t going to be able to fix the shit job I’d done on her foot, but priorities had to be kept. The girl would live, and as long as I was sure of that, I’d be able to deal with the shitshow Toby had created downstairs. My muscles moved as though they’d never known empathy, yanking her off the sink and forcing the woman to crumble into me as she landed on her injured foot. Her whimpers wouldn’t reach my ears as I pulled her along the bedroom, my snarls not powerful enough to earn her obedience any longer. It wasn’t until I threw her down on the bed that a spark of life seemed to fill her— even if it was only fear.

  “Where are you going?” Her shoulders dropped as she watched me take a step back towards the door, begging an answer as though she deserved it. “Please, just tell me where you’re going.”

  The rage that tore through me couldn’t be caged. When she couldn’t follow instructions, couldn’t listen to a single fucking command, my fingers locked around her wrist. She didn’t cry out this time when I forced her to her feet. Really, she couldn’t do much of anything beyond freeze as I pushed her back up against the wall. It wasn’t until my chin tilted, my hand wrapping back around her warm neck, that she finally released a desperate plea for her life.

  “I told you to shut the fuck—”

  Attention shifted from rage to panic when I caught the sound of creaking steps, of my brother’s eager voice. Whatever noise I’d let the bitch make up until that point had clearly garnered some attention, and when panic started to coat my stomach, the woman in my grip froze. Tightening my grip a little more, I earned her undivided attention, and gave her the only kindness she’d find in this hell hole.

  “Do not speak. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not to him,” I snarled. “Not ever.”

  I’d never been so quick to pull myself off a woman as when the duo stormed into the room. As my arms crossed over my chest, a bored look falling over my features, the woman beside me glued herself to the wall. She needed the support to stand on her own, and with Jax entering the bedroom, I wasn’t sure I could blame her. The first time I met him, I wanted to peel off my own fuckin’ skin.

  Toby hadn’t looked so alive as when his eyes landed on his goddess, another woman he’d beaten to hell and had dragged back to the land of the living. The dilation of his pupils were impossible to miss, but I wasn’t sure it would matter much to the brunette. While her attention was entirely focused on my brother, she left herself open to the beast behind him. Jax’s 6’6” frame and dark skin made him a polar opposite to my lanky brother, but birds of a sadistic feather always had a way of flocking together. His family was from somewhere on the coast, another gangster who thought he made it big after causing a mess or two out in Montreal. His eyes remained bloodshot, just as they had the first time I was forced into a cage with him. Though, now that his eyes had focused in on the woman beside me, it was hard to differentiate between his regular high and a new kind of bloodlust.

  “You weren’t kiddin’,” Jax chuckled, earning Toby’s grin of approval.

  When my stomach tightened, I couldn’t stop myself from taking a step forward, hoping to draw even a semblance of attention.

  “You could have just written me a love letter, Jax,” I waved, my
grin tightening the man’s jaw. “Coming all the way here just makes you look needy.”

  Jax’s attention would only stay on me for a moment. Toby was a crackhead through and through, a slave to his urges, but Jax’s danger had always been in his heightened sense of awareness. He was a prick, he was a dog, but he wasn’t quite the idiot I’d made him out to be. When I’d gone to his penthouse in Toronto, desperate to arrange some type of deal to get Toby some attention, he’d confided that he saw a bit of himself in me. Maybe that’s why his grin grew twice the size as his eyes shifted between me and the trembling creature over my shoulder.

  “Better break her in soon,” Jax chuckled darkly, his elbow pushing Toby forward. “Pretty sure your brother likes sloppy seconds though.”

  Letting my eyes travel to my brother was only going to reinforce that Jax had pushed a button, and I refused to give him the satisfaction. Still, I didn’t need to look at Toby to see those awful wheels turning in his head. A moment of doubt filled the room, but when his attention shifted back to the woman he’d been dreaming about, I found the space I needed to make my escape. While Toby had his fun with his newest pet, I’d be the one to deal with Jax, and the last place I was going to do that was in front of a fuckin’ witness. My hands shoved into my pockets as I made my way out of the room, passing by the two men with ease.

  “If we’re gonna talk, it’s in the kitchen,” I reminded them. “Toby’s room just reeks of cheap crack and old cum.” Pausing, I let my brow furrow, head lolling to the side to take in Jax’s grin. “Unless it reminds you of home, I guess.”

  “Please don’t.”

  Her voice left my skin crawling. As I led Jax out of the room, everything seemed to freeze. I couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t look at her, shouldn’t have even thought about meeting her eye. If she was going to beg for anyone, it shouldn’t have been me. Not when my hands were tied by fate. As I led Jax into the hall, I wouldn’t steal a final glance at the woman.