"Yeah. I do get you." I flopped back on the bed. "Close the door on your way out, and good luck with him. He's cute."
"You think so?" Her voice lifted an octave.
"Heck yeah." I closed my eyes and smiled as the sound of the door closing filled the room. My sister was so easy to placate, though the young guy half-wrapped around her the week before was cute.
I tried to relax, but it wasn't going to happen. My brother was dead, and there was no way in hell it was his own doing. He was the most straight-laced, stiff prick of a guy I knew. Finding out that Denise poisoned him for only liking missionary style would have fit my understanding of who my brother was way more than a dope smoking, cocaine hitting addict. No fucking way.
After giving it a few more minutes, I rolled out of bed and dropped to the floor. The stairs that my mother once had for us to get into the Victorian-style four-post bed were gone, and it'd taken me ten minutes the night before to scale the fucker. I'd forgone peeing several times during the night to save myself from having to try and get back into it in the dark.
"What happened to you, Darek?" I paced the floor for a few minutes before grabbing my robe and wrapping it around me. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I stopped in the hallway and studied the pictures of me and my siblings.
It just didn't make sense, but nothing did that morning. Had I really let the hot guy from the coffee shop bend me over his thick thighs and spank me while he finger fucked me until I came?
Embarrassment burned my insides as I covered my mouth and giggled. I couldn't make this wild shit up.
But this morning wasn't fun and giggles, embarrassment and lust. It was death. It was final. Forever. As much as I disagreed with Darek on everything he was still my fucking brother, and someone killed him. It wasn't a suicide, and we all knew it.
The sound of Grace's voice was a comfort as I walked toward the kitchen downstairs.
"Should I go wake her up?" My best friend from childhood would, of course, have come over as soon as she found out. I felt like shit for not telling her myself.
"I'm already up." I moved into the kitchen and reached for her as she turned and crashed into me.
"Oh my God, Jenna. I'm so damn sorry. I feel like we should have been there or something, but-" She started to cry against my shoulder.
"No, there's nothing we could have done."
"You know that Thomas invited him and Denise to come with us, but he refused. He said they had a night planned together."
I glanced up at my father and tilted my head. "Speaking of the corpse bride. Where is she?"
"Jenna. For heaven's sake." Disgust rolled across my father's handsome features, which was rare.
"I'm sorry." I squeezed Grace and moved out of her hold. "I just don't see how everyone can be okay with us thinking this was a suicide. I want to know where Denise was. If that's her name." I gave my father an inquisitive look.
"And what would her name be if it wasn't Denise?"
"I don't know. Candy the stripper who turned part-time killer."
"Enough, young woman." My mother walked into the room looking like an aged Barbie doll. "You'll not be throwing around accusations in an effort to hurt someone else and make yourself feel better for missing the last five years of everyone's life around here. Lock it up." She pointed her finger at me, and that was it. No reason to fight it. She was Queen of the World, and we all knew it.
I moved over to the toaster and whistled the Cinderella theme song as I made myself two pieces of toast. I glanced over my shoulder to find everyone watching me, my mother agitated, my father lost and Grace looking ill.
"Toast?" I lifted a piece and smiled before taking a big bite of it.
"No." Grace shook her head. "You wanna go out on the back patio? It's a beautiful morning."
"Love to." I put the bread back on my plate and walked to the fridge to pinch off a piece of butter from a stick and grab the grape jelly.
"Jenna, really?" My mother scowled as I turned and walked to the exit. Gratefully, Grace had already made her exit. Nothing was more mortifying than being called out by my mother in front of anyone I actually cared about. Especially Grace.
"Yep. Really, mother." I smirked and walked toward the back of the house, whistling the same song. She knew the meaning. As far as I was concerned, she was the wicked stepmother and the only good person in any of our lives was my father. I wasn't sure what any of us would have done without him.
"She's pissed." Grace held the door for me and moved aside to let me out. "I thought she would have been devastated or sad or something, but she's just angry."
"That's her normal stance, Grace. You know this." I sat down at the table that hovered just above the expansive backyard. The fall leaves danced around on the dying grass in front of us and offered me peace.
"I hate that for all of you. You think she's just hiding her pain?"
"Pain? Ice hearts don't feel pain. Silly girl." I lifted my nose in the air and snorted. "Peasant."
Grace smiled and wiped at her face. "You okay?"
"Yeah. You know me and Darek didn't suffer any love loss," I glanced down at my toast and realized I didn't have a knife, "but he's still my older brother, you know?"
"Yeah. If it was Thomas, I don't know what I would do. Probably just lay down and die beside him."
"Yeah, but you guys are close." I dipped my finger into the butter and smeared it on my toast. "My mother would flip her shit if she saw this."
Grace smiled. "What happened last night? With that guy? Anything good?"
"Yeah." I shrugged. "We made out a little in the office. I think things would have gone farther if all of this hadn't happened, but I'm not complaining."
"No?" She lifted her eyebrows as confusion moved across her pretty face.
"No, not at all. I could fall desperately in love and lust with a guy like Nate. It's dangerous, and honestly not something I need on my plate right now."
"So that's it? Just like that?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Just like that. Besides, I'm going to figure out if Denise had anything to do with Darek's death."
"No. She wouldn't do that, Jenna. Come on. I know you don't like the girl, but-"
"But she's vile, Grace. You thought the cute boy in the library would be fun to flirt with and he's the sickest hitman in the whole fucking country." I tilted my head, almost feeling sorry for her. "You're not a great judge of character."
"Asshat." She reached out and snatched my toast from my fingers. "You don't have to be mean about it. I can stay away from Erik if you think that's best."
"I don't think." I let her get in a small bite before yanking it back. "I know it is. My brother died because he married a money-hungry whore. I'm going to find out what part she played in this whole thing."
"And then? You're going to do what with the evidence? Turn it into your father?"
"Nope. I'm going to kill her." I glanced toward the back forty and narrowed my eyes as I took in the beauty. Grace sat quietly for a minute, but I couldn't blame her. "You wanna help me?"
"No, but thank you for the offer." She stood up. "It's obvious you're in shock."
"No. I'm not at all in shock. She took something from my family, and I'm going to repay her for it."
"By taking her life?"
"No, by using my brother's money that she's expecting to get to pay a hitman to take her life." I glanced up at my best friend. "But don't tell anyone. It's too dangerous."
She stared at me a minute before smiling. "You're kidding. Right?"
I shoved the rest of the toast in my mouth and turned to watch the birds scatter across the yard. My silence must have gotten to her.
Grace gripped my shoulder tightly. "Hey. This isn't funny. Look at me."
I glanced up at her. "I'm headed over to the apartment to look through things. Come with me."
"No. We're not doing this. It's not what girls like us do."
"True." I stood up and gathered my stuff, feeling far calmer than I should have. "Girls like us
just take what life is offering instead of shoving the same barbed cock back up its ass that it shoved up ours."
"You're angry."
"No, I'm not. I'm completely in control right now, and I'm going to figure out what happened to my brother. Not for me, but for my father. He can't get his hands dirty with this Grace, but I can." I turned and walked to the house, counting to three in my head. She jogged up beside me as I hit three, and it took all I had in me not to give her a knowing smile.
She'd never let me drown alone. Not ever.
"Fine, but we're not killing anyone."
"Right." I glanced over at her and smiled. "Erik's going to do that part for me."
Chapter 13
Nate
"Just relax. They're really nice people. You might actually like them." Ashley gave me a tight smile as we got out of my truck and walked to the front of the mansion. My bike would have helped ease my angst, but I didn't think it would look too good driving like a badass on the rich side of town. Probably have the fucking cops called on me ten times before I parked the damn thing.
"I doubt that, but thanks." I placed my hand on her lower back and reached up to ring the doorbell. "I thought rich people had a valet."
"They do, usually." She glanced around and jerked back stiffly as the door opened. "Daniella. Paul."
I waited behind Ashley as she moved into the couple’s arms and let out a long cry. She broke down into tears and I found myself rather impressed with her antics. I'd never seen her really cry other than the day we found her mother raped and murdered in the old shitty shack where she lived when we were kids. Outside of that, she was emotionally high or fueled by anger. There was no in between.
Had her tears earlier back at the apartment just been a warm-up to her performance in front of the dude's parents? I realized that I didn't know his name. Fuck. I'd have to ask her just in case I got caught alone with one of them.
"This is my good friend, Nate." Ashley moved back and motioned to me. "He came with me today just to be a support unit."
"Well, that's very kind of you." The older man extended his hand and shook mine. "Paul Webb. Nice to meet you, son. This is my wife, Daniella."
The woman was breathtaking, her thick brown hair long and hanging past her shoulders, her body curvy and built for keeping a good man warm most nights of the week. I forced myself to stop being a bastard, though something about her kept driving me toward it. Had I slept with her before? She reminded me of someone. Who?
"Nice to meet you both. I'm so sorry for your loss." I shook the woman's hand and moved back to stand behind Ashley.
"Thank you. Denise here is the one that needs our attention right now. Us losing our son is just horrific, but I feel so bad for you." The gentleman turned his attention back to Ashley and reached for her hand. "Did you have any idea that he was taking illegal substances?"
"No. None at all." Ashley used her free hand to wipe at her face. "It's so lonely in that big house without him." She choked up again, and Daniella moved up and wrapped an arm around her before walking her down the hallway.
"There, there, dear. Let's get you something warm to drink. We'll figure it out."
"I know," Ashley's voice carried back to me, "I just loved him so much, Daniella. He was everything to me. We shared everything. Why wouldn't he tell me about his addiction to whatever the hell this stuff was?"
Paul let out a long sigh. "I never thought the day would come where I would have to bury one of my children."
"I'm so sorry, sir." I slipped my hands into my pockets, feeling beyond uncomfortable. I didn't do people. Ashley would be paying me back handsomely for this shit - in Benjamins. "How many kids do you have? Did you have? Awww shit. I'm sorry."
He gave me a sad smile. "No, it's okay. No one knows how to behave in these situations. I had Darek, and then my two daughters. They're twins, but they look nothing alike."
"Fraternal twins?"
"Yeah. Come on in here and take a load off while the girls visit." He moved in front of me, and I followed him down a long hallway to a brightly lit study. There were windows from floor to ceiling, covering three-fourths of the room.
"Wow. It's beautiful in here." I turned slowly, taking it all in. The pictures hanging on the wall caught my attention, but I forced myself to keep moving. No need to be nosy. I didn't want to know anything more about the guy or his family than I already did.
Ashley was the black widow. I was just the stiff dick that cleaned up her mess or pulled the trigger if she got too scared to do it. We had a good thing going. No fucking way I was going to let my conscience get in the way.
"Have a seat. You like bourbon?" He moved towards a large mahogany cabinet in the far corner of the room.
"Love it." I sat down and sunk into the leather, enjoying myself more than I should have. I was a bastard for wanting to live the poor guy’s life. All the parts except losing my son. I snorted softly as the old guy continued to chatter on about how great Darek was.
Funny to finally know the cat's name. After he's dead.
Would I ever have a son? I let my thoughts sweep me away to a hospital room, Jenna smiling up at me from the bed below. Her hospital gown looked good on her. Fuck, everything looked good on her. The little bundle tucked into the blue blankets in her arms was mine.
"You know what I mean?" The guy stopped in front of me and extended the glass of bourbon to me. "It just doesn't make any damn sense. Give your whole life to this fucked up city, and they take your first born when you're not looking."
I took the glass and nodded at him. "What do you mean, sir? You gave your whole life to the city? What do you do?"
"I'm the DA for the State of New York. I prosecute the criminals that sell this shit, and I'm going to let things die down for a day or two, and then I'll find out who did this to my boy." He lifted his glass as something came over his features that left me with the stark realization that if we got away with this shit, it would be by the skin of our teeth.
"I hope you do." I lifted my glass and drank deeply from it. Fucking Ashley, making me come over and sit with the old man whose son I'd helped her kill for money. For his fucking bank account. I hated myself a little more than usual.
Jenna.
I should just run. I had to run from her. Or force her away from me. What a bastard I'd been. Walking around dreaming about the pretty girl being more to me than a fantasy or a quick fuck for a night.
She deserved so much more than I could ever give. Or rather, more than I would ever be. What would she think if I told her that I was a murderer? That I'd snuffed the life out of a friendly young billionaire four years before? There's no way in all of hell that she'd stay with me.
So don't tell her.
"You close with your dad?" The guy's voice brought me out of my thoughts.
"Not particularly." I glanced down at the dark liquid in my glass, hoping he would move on from the topic.
"Paul? Can you come here, honey?" Daniella's voice reached us, and I held a sigh of relief behind my teeth.
"Sure, honey." He moved from the edge of the couch across from me. "I'll be right back. The bourbon is over there. Help yourself to it. Make yourself at home. You're family now."
"Thank you, sir." I took another drink and waited until he walked from the room to stand up. My stomach ached at the thought of these good people having a clue who I was, or better yet, who the fuck Ashley was. It was sickening all around. And yet... I'd keep doing it until something better came up.
Poverty hadn't left me untarnished, and I would sell the veins from my arms before going back to it. Being poor meant not having the power to fight back when the wolf showed up at your door. And I bent over and ate dirt when he fucked me and mine.
Never. I wasn't ever tasting that kind of weakness again. I'd kill every rich bastard in the city before I did. I'd rot in the state penitentiary and beat mother fuckers from sun up to sun down for coming near me.
"Never again," I whispered and rolled my shoulders
before tossing back the rest of the liquor and letting it burn my throat.
I couldn't hear voices down the hall, but leaving the office and wandering around the house seemed a little too cocky for even me. I forced myself across the room to check out the various pictures the DA had hanging on his wall.
"Of all people in New York City." I ran my hand down my face and set my glass down on the counter near the liquor. There were tons of pictures, most of them of Paul and some famous person who'd come to New York for something from what I could tell.
The one on his desk was facing away from me, but my curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to know what Darek looked like. Was he better looking than me? Better in bed than me?
I scoffed at the thought and picked up the picture as the DA walked back in.
"Oh, that's my family. It's about four years ago, but everyone looks the same." He moved up beside me and pointed at the faces, covering them up as he said their name.
"That's my wife, Daniella, here is Darek, and my beautiful girls. Kayla and Jenna."
My heart almost stopped in my chest as he moved his thick finger off the face of the girls. I pulled the picture closer as my blood ran cold.
"These are your girls?" I forced myself to sound normal. Natural.
"Yeah. Kayla stays here with us, but my Jenna... she wants to make the world a better place all by herself. She refuses our name, our money and most of our invitations to come to dinner. I love her so much, but I wish she would stop fighting against the grind and let me help her."
I couldn't find enough air in the room. "Does she work for you now?"
"Me? No." He chuckled and took the picture from me before placing it back on his desk. "She works at De Luca. It's this little-"
"-shitty hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. The coffee is terrible." I reached out and gripped the edge of his desk.
"Yeah." His brow contorted. "Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah. I just need to go to the restroom. Something I ate last night is-" I rubbed my stomach and followed him out into the hallway, my eyes wide, my senses on full alert. Was Jenna in the fucking house with me?
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