Brother’s Keeper Series Box Set
The Complete Collection
Stephanie St. Klaire
Books By Stephanie St. Klaire
McKenzie Ridge Series
Rescued
Hidden
Forgotten
Fearless
Redemption
McKenzie Ridge Novellas
Christmas in July
Brother’s Keeper Series
Declan (pt. 1)
Declan (pt. 2)
Liam
Luke
Dace
Wylie
Love, Cass (a contemporary romance novel)
The Keeper’s Series
Close Encounter (pt. 1)
Close Encounter (pt. 2) - 2021
DILF Diaries
Oh Baby
Faux-Mance Novels
Liar
Rumor Has It
Sneaking Around
Bed Buddies
COPYRIGHT © 2017
Stephanie St. Klaire
Brother’s Keeper I: Declan (Part One)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.
EDITOR: Dawn Yacovetta
COVER ARTIST: Opium House Design
FORMATTING: The SSK Group
Acknowledgments
To my family for your endless support and love beyond measure. You inspire me, you drive me, and most importantly, you laugh at my bad jokes. This is all because of you and for you.
To my readers…my wonderful, lovely, amazing readers. Thank you for believing in this nutty indie girl and putting me, and my stories, on top of the world.
Without you, there is no me…
Thank you Lord for removing all obstacles so I can stand firmly in faith above all fear…
For turning trials to triumphs…
I’m stronger in the storm…
1
He shot the man. Lydia just watched her husband commit murder in cold blood. His eyes were void of emotion, his expression seething, and his cold demeanor something she didn’t recognize. Murder was a far cry from the affair Lydia Prescott-Valdez feared she would stumble upon when looking for her husband after he skipped yet another date night – a sign her marriage was in trouble. The shock of what unfolded instead provoked a sharp gasp and sent her running when one of Esteban’s men caught her eye – he saw her. She ran blindly, her body on auto-pilot while the last several minutes, which would change her life forever, played back like a bad movie reel.
When she had pulled up to the real estate tycoon’s building in booming Miami just minutes before, she thought it odd that there were so many cars in the parking lot at such a late hour. Esteban’s car, front and center. Nobody holds board meetings that late. Mistake number one – don’t go in. A sense of fury raced through her, and rage sent her storming through the front door despite the warning bells sounding in her head telling her not to go unless she was prepared for hard truths and ready to deal with them. Deaf to her own good sense, she went up the elevator to his executive suite. Mistake number two – if you act on emotion, be prepared for the fall out.
Confident that she was about to unveil the source of her husband’s distraction in the form of giant fake boobs and a trashy discount store outfit that wasn’t even fit for a stripper, she was surprised to find his office empty. Fists tight and white knuckled, she followed the sound of something she couldn’t identify, intent on finding her damn husband. Half of the executive floor was under construction, and as she followed the sounds, it began to look like it was just late-night renovations, given the drill-like sounds and what was perhaps a saw. Mistake number three – missing people and odd noises never end well.
She stopped in her tracks when she heard a man’s blood curdling scream. Mistake number four – if a man screams in sheer agony, you should run. But she didn’t; she kept on going until she found her husband, gun in hand, watching one of his associates drag a knife down the side of a bloodied and beaten man’s face while an equally brutalized man lay on the floor in a wounded heap. The man at the other end of the torture was held up only by rope dangling from the rafters because he could no longer stand on his own two feet. Certain her husband had nothing to do with something so heinous, that he stumbled upon it just as she had, she waited for him to use the gun to free the victims.
He raised his gun, alright, and used it but not at all the way she assumed he would. Gunfire rang out as the body on the floor jolted from the impact of the bullets Esteban just emptied into his now dead corpse. The other man cried out, wetting himself from fear. Fear Lydia’s husband invoked, fear only evil could stir, fear that now raced through her, too.
She hadn’t realized that her reaction was out loud. She didn’t hear herself, but one of Esteban’s men did. Jason. He was her driver and body guard, appointed to watch over her and her son. Nausea settled in when their eyes met, and menace rested in his stare; all she could do was run. She was completely unaware of how she made it down the elevator, through the lobby, and out to her car – she was just…there.
Sitting behind the wheel of her running car, panic threatened to paralyze her until she saw Jason through the lobby’s glass doors, running toward her. Tears spilled over, and she gasped for air while her tires spun out on the hot pavement. Slammed with every emotion one could muster after realizing that not only was her marriage clearly over, but she also just witnessed a murder, her next move became obvious. Run.
Her whirlwind love affair with Esteban was tainted at some point, and Lydia had been determined to get things back on track. She wasn’t a quitter, used to getting what she wanted. Thinking back, the socialite circuit that Lydia and her sister Trinity frequented exposed them to endless lines of suitors, but there was one that caught Lydia’s eye, and fought for her heart – Esteban Ricardo Valdez – also accustomed to getting what he wanted. He pursued her, wooed her, and finally won her over despite the enormous red flags on fire that she chose to ignore. He was too damn charming and easy on the eyes for her own good.
Their marriage began as a fairytale, certain to end in a forever happily ever after, but eventually, the newness wore off, and the once doting husband became the absentee husband. When Lydia became pregnant with their son, it seemed their happily ever after was on the horizon once again, until the baby was born, and family became boring. She had always prided herself on her independence, though she lived on a trust fund and never worked a day in her life, and her confidence – until now.
It wasn’t the money and spoiled life her husband offered her; she grew up privileged. It was love, or so she thought, and she had been ready to fight for it. Whatever had Esteban’s attention was to meet its match, but she was no match for murder and scandal, nor did she expect to stumble upon it.
She wasn’t that tough, and he wasn’t worth that much. Sitting in a cold musty interview room at Miami PD, her mind was reeling. It all started to fall into place as she sat alone in the room, lost in thought. So many late night, broken hearts and tears, wondering where h
er husband had been, fell into place now. A person doesn’t simply pick up a gun one day and create a scene such as the one she watched unfold. It was calculated, methodical, and horrific. He knew what he was doing because he had done it before, more than once, more than twice.
How the hell did she love a man like that, and why the hell had she been so bent on trying make him love her back when he didn’t want her. Now she didn’t want him. She feared him and all that came with him. When she told the police officer what she had witnessed, he placed her in an interview room and was likely watching her through the large mirrored window to her left, trying to decide if she was a half-crazed loon or a real witness to a crime. She was dressed in a scandalous dress that was supposed to impress and seduce her husband, and her makeup was a runny mess from all the frantic tears she unloaded, along with skinned knees and elbows…she must’ve fallen at some point and just couldn’t remember. Lydia looked like a hot mess right out of Miami’s seedy night life.
Jason was trained to see, hear, and smell everything – to always be intimately familiar with his surroundings. Tonight, that skill paid off when a small breathy sound caught his attention, and he quickly followed it back to its source, standing halfway around the corner of a wall behind a plastic construction curtain in the dimly lit distance. Lydia. He’d recognize those curves anywhere, even in the shadows. When their eyes locked, he knew exactly how much she had seen…everything.
Terror and fear were evident in her expression, even with the poor lighting. He needed to get to her before anyone else noticed her, especially Esteban, and before she ran. Like she read his thoughts just as they surfaced, she backed away slowly at first, then turned and ran. Shit.
Jason stepped back from where he stood and pulled his phone from his pocket, as if he was taking a call, then excused himself. As Esteban’s right hand, nobody, including Esteban, questioned him. It wasn’t unusual for him to take calls and disappear to take care of business without explanation, and it worked this time too, despite the old played out I’m taking a call trick. Truth was, Esteban was entranced and completely distracted by the torture he and the rest of the men were inflicting; they didn’t care or even notice his absence. Good.
Once out of view of those he wished not to draw attention from, he tore out of there, a man on a mission. He came through the lobby doors as her car tore off like a bat out of hell, understandably so. Quick to follow, he tracked her using her GPS, his gut burning. He knew exactly where she was headed, and it was the worst place she could go. He needed to stop her before she ruined everything, or worse, got herself killed.
After hitting every red light in town, Jason finally made it to the Police Station where he found Lydia’s car haphazardly parked, right out front, keys still in it, and running. In a petrified frenzy, no doubt. He hoped he was there in time to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Before she incited her own death sentence.
It didn’t take long to find her – she was the talk of the station. Esteban owned the local PD; they were deep in his pockets. When you were in the business he was, local law enforcement went to the top of your payroll because you were going to need a lot of favors, deaf ears, and turned blind eyes. He caught the attention of a familiar face and was quickly taken to her.
Jason entered the room Lydia was held in, and her face drained of all color. “Let’s go.”
“No!” she said, turning to the officer as she made a desperate plea. “You can’t leave me with him. He was there. He…he knows!”
The jackass smiled. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’m doing you a favor.”
“A favor? I’m as good as dead; you have to help me! Please don’t leave me with him!” she pleaded to no avail, and again the man just smirked while Jason glared.
“Thanks, man. I got it from here – I’ll take care of the problem.” Jason tried to keep it cool to avoid any more unwanted involvement. They needed to get the hell out of there while they could.
“Problem? I’m a problem? I think you mean witness – to murder – one you seemed heavily involved in.” She turned to the officer one more time, so desperate her voice fell to a whisper. “You can’t leave – please arrest him. Don’t leave me with him. He’s going to hurt me – probably kill me.”
Something she said hit him hard in the gut, and he didn’t know why it mattered so much to him in that moment – she was afraid of him. She thought he was as bad as Esteban, and that stung.
The officer fired back in a less than gentle way, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m letting you out of here. You came into a Police Station drunk, high, and who knows what else, trying to file a false report and stir shit for a trick gone bad. I should arrest you for each count, including driving under the influence. You parked your damn car on the front steps of the Police Station!”
“High? Like drugs? Wait, trick?” Lydia saw red, and her whisper quickly became a raging roar. “You think I’m a prostitute? Who the hell do you think you are talking to? I’ll have your badge for that!”
Jason could only imagine what was going through Lydia’s head. First, she knew that he saw her at the crime scene, or she wouldn’t have run or feared him now. Then she went for help, was denied, and the officer not only insulted her but was willing to turn her over to an accomplice to murder. He didn’t want her to fear him, but she needed to until they got out of there.
Approaching her with a grab of her arm, Jason pulled her close enough to hear what he had to say. “Play along, or neither of us is getting out of here alive.”
Confusion darted across her expression but was gone as quickly as it came.
“Let’s get out of here, Jackie,” he said. “The boss wants to see you – you’re late.”
Initially, she had no desire to trust him, but when he called her Jackie, something changed. He had always been good to her, patient, never offending or intimidating. It seemed he was at risk as much as she was if he was worried about getting out alive as much as she was. Her choices were slim; stay with cops who think she’s a drugged-up whore and get tossed in jail where Esteban is sure to find her. Or, take a gamble with Jason who seemed to be giving her a way out…but to where?
“Get your hands off of me, jerk.” Stumbling came easily as he manhandled her a bit, trying to get her to the door. It helped the whole drunk and high thing. “I’m not going to see the boss; he can kiss my ass.”
“Uh huh, whatever you say, sweetheart.” She stalled, wondering if he was still playing along or if he was really taking her to the boss, Esteban. He leaned down and whispered, “Trust me.”
And she did. All the way to her car where he placed her in the passenger side, got behind the wheel himself and sped off.
2
“What are you doing?” she asked after minutes of silence. His presence was intimidating at over six feet tall and with more muscles than a small army. His slightly overgrown auburn hair, ending in an almost curl, was slicked back, his face shadowed in day or two old scruff. The emerald green eyes were as beautiful as they were frightening.
“Driving.” His smug response and expressionless demeanor had her on edge, wondering if she made the right choice.
“Wh-what about your car?”
“It’s being picked up.” His eyes never left the road; his jaw was clenched and tense.
“By who.” She was genuinely curious. If she was being abducted, she would have to try and get away at some point, and knowing who all the players were would benefit her later. All of the late-night crime shows she watched, waiting for her husband to come home, were paying off. Irony at its best.
If looks could kill, he was the reaper. Unamused, and highly agitated by her questions, he finally turned to her with a sharp tone, “Don’t worry about it.”
Why wouldn’t he look at her? It was like it pained him to do so, and it was out of pure irritation that he finally did with his last response. His disposition was cold and oddly focused. He was thinking, plotting, and that had her worried. She had perceived him a
s a man of few words in the two or so years she had known him, but she never knew him to be so short and insolent – it was ticking her off.
“What’s going on? Where are we going?” There are several levels of emotion people go through when they are exposed to traumatic events. Lydia was past shock and fear, heading right into angry and ballsy. “Why won’t you look at me? Too much for you because you’re going to kill me, too?”
Enough was enough. Her sassy and demanding spoiled attitude raked his last nerve. Pulling into a dark, empty parking lot, he stopped the car and turned to her.
“Are you done now? Can I talk?” he asked.
“No. No, I’m not. What the hell is going on? Where are you taking me, and why the hell did you think you weren’t going to make it out of the Police Station alive?” With her back to the car door, she crossed her arms and shot him her best intimidating glare as a challenge.
“Because the police station is the worst place you could’ve gone! Esteban own’s that place. Lucky for you, we put on a pretty good show, and they aren’t likely to run to him – especially since they let you go. That’s a fucking death wish.” He paused a moment, took a deep breath and was ready for the big reveal. “I’m undercover – an agent for a branch of the government you’ve never heard of and nobody recognizes – we don’t exist. You may have just blown the case and ruined two years of work.”
“Un…undercover? Why? You live in my home, work for my husband. Who exactly are you building a case against?” There it was again - her crime shows and more irony. Two years gathering evidence, undercover with agents that didn’t exist as far as the rest of the world was concerned? She knew this was big – bigger than big – and didn’t want to believe a word of it. More of the missing pieces were about to fall into place – the reason her husband was always gone. She already didn’t like what she was hearing.
Brother's Keeper V: Wylie (the complete series BOX SET): NEW RELEASE + Series Box SET included! Page 1