HUGE STEPS

by Stephanie Brother

  Stepping out of the blackness of that room and into the hall is fucking terrifying. If I’m discovered and injured or killed they may hurt Sammie in retaliation, if they haven’t already. The thought of her being mistreated makes me feel crazy. Every step feels hazardous.

  Downstairs, I hear a knock at the door and know that Jared is trying to draw the remaining gang members to the front of the house. I hear footsteps and cursing as I take silent steps down the hall with my back pressed against the wall. The gun in my hand feels slick with sweat but I don’t have time to adjust my grip. If I need to, I’ll use it and fuck the consequences.

  As I reach the doorway, I nudge the door just slightly with my hand, figuring that anyone inside will come forward to investigate the movement. I wait but there is nothing so I risk pushing it open further.

  As it swings I see the end of a bed come into view and a woman’s feet and legs, still in their high-heeled shoes. Sammie. The sight of her in front of me sends me into action. I surge into the room, my arms out in front of me, pointing my gun into every corner. There is no one there, but Sammie’s eyes are wide, staring at me as I frantically make sure we’re safe. She can’t talk because there is a gag around her mouth but she nods at me, her eyes beginning to blink frantically and her body bucking against her restraints. I want to fucking kill someone for doing this to her but I’ve got to hold it together. I have to get us out of here.

  Taking a deep breath to steady the effects of the raging adrenaline in my veins, I push the door back to where it was and make my way over to Sammie. I put my finger to my lips and then set about removing the gag from around her mouth. When I get the knot undone and pull the cloth free she gasps and licks over her lips. “Oh god,” she whispers. “Where am I? What’s happening?”

  “It’s okay. Stay quiet,” I whisper back, reaching around her body to untie the rope around her wrists.

  “I can’t move very much,” she says. “How am I going to get out of here?”

  “I’m gonna get you out. Don’t worry. Just stay calm.”

  The rope is tight from where she’s been pulling at it, trying to get free. It seems to take forever for me to get it loose but I know that time feels distorted in a situation like this. Then there’s a loud bang and shouting coming from downstairs and everything speeds up.

  I hear cursing and more banging, the sound of fists hitting flesh. A gunshot rings out, slicing through the last fragment of calm and restraint I have. The rope comes loose and I scoop Sammie up from the bed and hoist her over my shoulder. I’ve got my gun pointed in front of us as I make my way towards the bedroom door. I cover the ground between Sammie’s room and the room with the open window quickly. Getting her out through the window when she’s not got full movement of her limbs is a challenge but I manage it. When I get onto the flat roof I see Jared running around the side. “We’ve got them tied up down there,” he shouts up.

  “Help me get her down,” I call back. I sit down on the edge of the roof with Sammie on my lap. She’s clinging to me like she doesn’t want to let me go, and I don’t want to release her from my care but I can’t get us both down without risking an injury. Then Dirk is behind Jared and he gets up onto the dumpster to help me.

  “Samantha,” he says. “I’m Dirk, your P.I. You’ve got to let go so we can get you down.”

  She blinks at me and whimpers but as I loosen the grip of her hands around my neck she lets me hand her across to Dirk. He passes her down to Jared and both Dirk and I jump down.

  “What happened in there?” I ask Dirk and he grins.

  “Like taking candy from a baby,” he laughs.

  Jared laughs too. “You should see them, Brandon. Trussed up like two Thanksgiving turkeys.”

  “Fuck them,” I say, reaching for Sammie and holding her against me. She’s wobbly on her feet and her eyes are glancing back and forth, as though she’s still worried she’s unsafe. “Come on…let’s get the fuck out of here,” I say.

  I swing Sammie into my arms and carry her like a bride, telling her she’s okay now, she’s safe, I’ve got her, over and over until I get to my truck. There’s no one around on the street. The other gang members must still be meeting with Adam. I wonder what they’ll think when they get back and find their crew left so humiliated. Half of me wants to get back in there and make them regret ever even looking in Sammie’s direction. My desperation for revenge is like a raging fire in my chest. Those assholes nearly killed me, but it’s the trauma they put Sammie through that’s driving me to go back. But then I look down at her in my arms, and I see the fear there, and I know she won’t want to hang around while I deal with those scumbags. She needs to get away as quickly as possible and I know there is a very real risk that if I go back to that house that I will do something I’ll regret for a very long time.

  Dirk helps me open the passenger door and I rest Sammie gently onto the seat. She clutches at the edge as though she’s feeling adrift and needs to know she’s anchored to something. I know what that’s like because there hasn’t been a day gone by since I left my stepsister behind that I haven’t felt that way.

  Escape.

  If I can just hold myself together and do what’s right I’m closer than I’ve ever been. We’re getting away together, not just from this fucking ordeal but out of the life that has kept me down for so long.

  I shut the door and turn to Dirk. “Thanks for all your help, man,” I say and he nods.

  “Tell Sammie that I’ll be in touch,” he replies and strides off further down the road. Jared is hanging around the truck, his gun still clutched in his hand, pointing at the ground but ready just in case. I can tell he’s worried we’re going to be disturbed and I’m grateful for him keeping a vigilant watch over everything. He’s acted like a true pro.

  “You okay from here?” he asks.

  “Yeah, man,” I say. “Thanks for your help.”

  “I’ll see you back at Jackson’s?” he asks, slapping me on the shoulder. I shake my head.

  “I’m done, Jared. I’m done with all this shit. I’ll take it all to the grave, but I’m out for good.”

  He looks surprised. “Adam isn’t gonna take that well,” he warns.

  “He knows. I’ve done a lot for him and this is my time now.” It’s awkward for a moment as Jared takes it in. We’ve known each other for years but we’re not friends, not really. Just acquaintances that have been forced together into situations requiring a lot of trust. He’s a good guy considering the bad life he leads. I hope he’ll find his way out sometime soon.

  “Okay,” Jared says eventually. “You take care now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  I pull him into a one armed ‘bro’ hug because it seems the right thing to do. He’s always had my back at the end of the day. “You take care too,” I say.

  Dirk’s truck fires up in the distance and I make my way around to the driver’s door. When I climb in Sammie reaches out and grabs my hand, holding onto it with a fierce grip. “Thank you,” she says, “for finding me and getting me out of there.”

  “It’s my damn fault that you were there in the place,” I say, squeezing her hand back. “Just rest okay. I’m gonna take you to the hospital to get checked out.”

  I put my foot on the accelerator and tear out of the road, passing Jared as he gets into his car and making my way towards Sammie’s neighborhood and the big swanky private hospital they have there.

  “How did you know where to find me?” she asks.

  “The men who took you want to make a deal with my father. They sent your necklace as proof that they had you. They’re trying to muscle in on territory and it’s been getting crazy.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should have done what you asked and left you alone. You had to risk your life to come and get me out of there.”

  “No, Sammie?” I snap angrily. I won’t have her making me out to be a hero. “It was my fault they took you in the first place. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do wi
th the shitty things I’ve done.”

  Her breath hitches and she starts to cry quietly. “I couldn’t just leave you…once I found you again,” she whispers, using her free hand to wipe away her tears.

  “I know, baby. I was trying to be strong for your sake and I couldn’t see how to get away. Now I just don’t give a shit. If Adam wants to come for me, he can come. I’ve told him I’m not going back and I’ll tell him again. This is it. I’m out.”

  Sammie squeezes my hand in hers. It’s such a simple gesture designed to reassure but the feelings rush straight to my heart.

  She could have died. We both could have died.

  And I can’t believe I’m really doing this. I’m walking away from Adam. I’m making my escape and I’m trying, for both our sakes, to take my future into my own hands.

  Chapter 14

  Samantha

  Brandon takes me to the hospital to get checked out even though I tell him I feel fine. The drugs seem to have worn off and the only physical damage I have is sore wrists and shoulders from being bound. My head’s still a little woozy but I don’t say because I don’t want to make him worry more. When we get there he tells me I need to call my dad but on this I get my way. There is no way I’m going to call my dad from a hospital and worry him to death when I’m safe. It’s a conversation for another day, when he can see me in person and know that I’m fine.

  The doctors look at Brandon suspiciously. He does look very disheveled and frantic, pacing back and forth in the room as they observe me and take blood tests. His black t-shirt is smudged with dirt. He still has bloody scratches on his arms and battered knuckled from before, and they make him look dangerous even though they have started to heal.

  Eventually the doctor comes back to confirm what we both suspected. Roypnol. I shudder when I think about what usually happens to women that have that drug slipped into their drink by a stranger. I may have had a pretty terrifying experience but it could have been a lot worse. Brandon goes and stands against the wall, about as far away from the bed I’m in as he can get, holding his head in his hands.

  “Bran,” I call out when the doctor has left. I’m well enough to leave but Brandon seems paralyzed. “Can we get out of here now?”

  “It’s all my fault,” he says, rubbing his hand across his face then balling his hands into fists at his side. He turns away from me as though he doesn’t want me to see his reactions and I slip off the side of the bed, gown flapping as I walk towards him.

  I put my hand on his tense shoulder and tell him that I’m okay, that I’m safe and that he did that. He found me and got me out of there. And now I want him to take me home. Bran looks at me as though he’s buried somewhere in his guilt and can’t quite hear me.

  .

  “Take me home,” I say again. He’s lost in his own guilt and I know it’ll be up to me to get us out of here.

  “Okay,” he says, reaching out to stroke over my hair.

  I go to the chair where my clothes have been placed and begin to take off my gown. Bran gasps a little when I stand in my underwear. He’s watching me but when I look over he turns his back. “Sorry,” he mumbles under his breath and I smile a little at his bashfulness even in these pretty awful circumstances.

  I pull on my skirt and blouse, but leave the jacket off. I feel ridiculous in my high heels but it’s all I have to wear.

  “I’m ready,” I say and Brandon turns around, looking relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with me half naked.

  “Come on then,” he says, making me sit in the wheelchair so he can push me outside.

  We get into his truck and drive the half hour back to my apartment in near silence with only the ‘oldies’ station that he’s tuned into for background noise.

  In the lot he dashes around to open my door and help me out. He keeps a hand on my elbow the whole way into my apartment as though I’m some kind of invalid. It’s cute and what I expected from Brandon, despite his rugged outward appearance. He always was a very caring person, gentle and empathetic.

  He tells me I need to go and rest while he makes me something to drink. I take a quick shower, desperate to wash away the horror of the day. In the shower I allow myself to cry. Although I don’t remember much before Brandon came into the room to rescue me, all the fear I felt during our escape is there. I shudder as I process what could have happened if he hadn’t been successful in getting me out of there. I’ve never been that close to death before and I never want to be again. I dry myself, wiping away my tears and blowing my nose, vowing to remain calm when I step into the den. Brandon feels guilty enough for everything that’s happened. He doesn’t need me wallowing and wailing about it all. I’m a warrior, I tell myself. Fuck them if they think they can make me weak. Fuck them. I put on some grey yoga pants

  , a camisole and a brave face and go to find Brandon sitting in the den. He’s just staring into space, hands resting on his knees and a grim look on his face. I wish I knew what he’s thinking and feeling. I’m so raw, from the day’s events and the feelings that are bubbling inside me for my stepbrother. It’s so hard to look at him without getting crazy with love and longing for the way we once were. And it’s all mixed with a craving that should feel wrong but feels too strong and good to be anything I can be ashamed about. And then there’s the utter gratefulness. I’m safe because he came for me. He risked himself for me.

  .

  “You need to get into bed,” he says when he catches me leaning against the door frame watching him.

  “I will,” I say. “Go take a shower, Bran. You look beat. I’ve got a t-shirt and some old running shorts you can wear.” It makes me feel better to fuss over him, it gives me something else to focus on.

  He looks torn but then he nods and we walk back into my bedroom together so I can get him a towel and clean clothes. I slip into bed while he cleans up, curling up on my side. My body feels weary and my head is still a little foggy from all the crying and the after effects of the drugs. I must fall asleep because I don’t remember Brandon coming out of the bathroom and when I come around, the room is suddenly dark. I turn in bed, finding him lying next to me on his side, respectfully still on top of the covers. He’s sleeping, his long fair lashes casting fan-shaped shadows onto his beautiful high cheek bones. His skin is so smooth and peppered with freckles, just like when he was a child. I lay and watch him breathe slow and steady through slightly parted lips. He’s lovely like this, with no stress marring his brow or worry in his eyes. Everything feels familiar to me. But so different too. His hands that used to be just a little bigger than mine are huge, his biceps and forearms containing so much strength. I can’t stop looking at him even though I worry it’ll be weird if he wakes up and catches me. I want to take him all in while I have the chance. I even look at his feet, marveling at their size and slimness.

  I’ve never felt this way before, finding everything about a person so right. It sounds cheesy or cliché to say that he feels like a part of me, but it’s true. We are connected in a way that’s special. I feel it all the way to my marrow. And I know it started when we were young and stepsiblings but I don’t care about that. He used to be my best friend and we’re not related in any way that matters. I have no doubt in my mind that he’s meant for me and I am meant for him. And now he’s so close, I’m not letting him go again. This could be my one chance to make him see it too. No matter what has happened today, I’m not going to let this chance slip through my fingers.

  I shift closer, carefully moving out from under the covers. He stirs but doesn’t wake and I stay motionless for a while. When I’m sure he still sleeping, I lean forward and kiss his top lip very gently, running my tongue along the inside to taste him. He exhales against my lips, still locked in his slumber and I move closer, kissing him again and slipping my hand under the fabric of his shirt. His lips move slightly, like an automatic reflex, and I feel on fire, like I might combust with the longing I feel for him. I snuggle even closer until our knees are touching and his curle
d hand rests against my breast. His skin is so warm under my palm, his chest so solid and muscular. I kiss him again and this time his tongue touches mine. He’s still sleeping, I think, but it doesn’t take away from the pure sexual rush I feel between my legs. He shifts closer to me, reaching out for me and pulling me close, even though he’s still lost in his dreams. I feel the rigid press of his cock against my belly, and I want to moan so badly I have to bite my lip.

  Tucked into his arms I feel warm and safe, exactly what I need to put my anxiousness to rest. His roaming hand slips up my ribs, pushing up my camisole until he palms my breast. Brandon moans in his sleep, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. I’m watching his face when his eyes pop open, bleary for a second until he realizes where he is and what he’s doing. He goes to pull away, heat flaring across his cheekbones but I hold his hand against me.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, quickly trying to release himself from my grasp.

  “Don’t stop,” I breathe, leaning forward to kiss him again. His lips are reluctant at first but as I squeeze his hand harder on my breast I feel his reluctance start to wane. I slip my tongue into his mouth in the most explicit way I can, licking over the roof until I feel him shudder. “Make me feel good,” I whisper. “I need you, Bran. Let me show you how much I want you.”

  For a second we stare at each other, his lovely blue-green eyes searching mine, and I know what he needs to see. He needs to be sure I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons, because I’m disturbed by what happened. I smile and stroke his face. “I love you,” I say, and that’s all it takes, then he’s on me with all the passion I’d been hoping for. Underneath his weight I feel tiny and overwhelmed in the best way possible. His free hand moves into my hair, gripping hard and angling my head so he can kiss me deeply. The thigh that he’s pushed between my legs now presses upwards, grinding hard.