What Doesn't Kill You

by Aimee Hix

  I knocked again, louder, and then slowly opened the door. With two male best friends in my teen years, I had learned the lesson that you didn’t burst through any closed door unless you wanted to see a whole lot you weren’t prepared for. My awkward crush had begun after a too-quick swing of a bathroom door and a freshly showered high school senior Seth. The last thing I wanted to see was my naked little brother. The very thought of the possibility of it happening … I wasn’t prepared to even consider that horror.

  “Ben?”

  I had gotten no response because his headphones were cranked up so loud I could hear the music across the room. Hearing loss had not been mentioned on the list of things I was to prevent while I was “in charge,” but I was sure that wouldn’t be an argument Mom would accept. I flicked the light switch up and down a few times and watched as panic and terror registered on his face. He ripped the headphones from his ears.

  “Are you nuts?! I have backups running. Had backups running. Since you just rebooted them four times, I’m sure they’re no longer viable.”

  The attack was one I had gotten before. I wasn’t about to apologize. Come on, it was a light switch. He should have expected people to use a light switch to turn a light on and off.

  “I guess I assumed after the last time you would have taken something so critical off the light switch, Ben.”

  He looked like a stubborn toddler. “It’s temporary and only because Mom told me I can’t rewire the room.”

  “Whatever. You can back up the Internet later. I have a job for you. One that you can do while you study for your test.”

  I used air quotes for study because we both knew he’d been doing no such thing. He didn’t need to. He eyed me with suspicion.

  “Like what? Not helping you turn on Dad’s computer, right? Or maybe you need to change the channel?”

  “I need the files you got from my phone.”

  “The files you stole when you broke into Seth’s apartment? Our friend Seth, who happens to be an ATF agent? Files that must be a part of an ATF investigation that Seth is conducting?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  He fiddled with the cable on his head phones, still spilling out music. “He told me to delete them.”

  I nodded again. “Yeah.”

  He began to knot the cable around his fingers. “What makes you think I didn’t delete them?”

  “If you had then you wouldn’t be acting like Angelica Huston in the orange scene of The Grifters.”

  Another movie I probably shouldn’t have let a preteen watch. I was a crap older sister. By conventional standards, anyway.

  “But if they’re ATF files, can’t we get in trouble for having them?”

  “Yeah, but I doubt Seth is going to turn me in considering he’d have to explain how I got them in the first place.”

  I was a horrible person. A truly awful individual.

  Ben reached into his backpack and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He looked sheepish. “I was going to shred them in the computer lab at school tomorrow.”

  I took the pages from him. “And the computer files?”

  “They’re only on your phone. I was remote printing them on the high speed via WiFi when I figured out what they were and then with Seth here … ”

  “Okay, listen. What I asked you to do today wasn’t right. I can’t tell you I don’t want you to do PI work and then ask you for help when it suits me. I was caught up in the moment and I didn’t think it through.”

  “The ends don’t justify the means.”

  I smiled. “If you want to be clichéd about it. But here’s the thing, I don’t actually agree they don’t. Not always, anyway. Moral absolutism isn’t my strong suit. You have to make choices and you make the best ones for everyone concerned. But you’re not everyone, Benjy. You’re my brother, and I made a promise to always take care of you. I do that by putting your needs first.”

  Dammit. I wasn’t any different than Seth. I knew if it came down to it, I’d easily hurt Ben’s feelings to protect him. Plus I had already decided that the best thing for him was to go to college and use his big brain for something important.

  That’s some dysfunctional bullshit right there. That didn’t make me not pissed at Seth. I was an adult and Ben was not. I shook off the big thoughts I’d admonished Seth for not letting me think on my own and said goodnight to my brother.

  I went to my room in the basement. It was cool down there but it felt good. Like maybe I could sleep if everything was just right. My brain could stop thinking about everything. Mom had said meditation would help the insomnia. I couldn’t ever clear my mind. There was too much inside my brain. Getting rid of it all was impossible. But I could put it away. Everything but the case. The murder, the guns, the money.

  The money in his house. I knew where it had come from now. Reagan had to have been involved in selling the guns regularly. He hadn’t just gotten hold of the one. But how did he have that much cash on him? If he was in business with the thieves, they wouldn’t have left that much cash with a low-level guy. Unless they didn’t know about the cash. Maybe Reagan had been skimming. Maybe he had been killed because he’d betrayed his partners.

  My eyes slipped closed once then twice. I was just too tired to think anymore. I dropped my clothes to the floor and crawled into the bed determined to get some kind of sleep. Even an hour or two. Then I slipped into unconsciousness like a stone being dropped into a well.

  I actually got a decent night’s sleep. Better than decent, really. I almost didn’t know what to do without the crushing weight of exhaustion pressing in on me five minutes after I woke up. I knew it wouldn’t last. I had an hour, at best. I hoped I could extend it with coffee, but maybe the caffeine really was only making it worse.

  I found a flash drive and a sheaf of papers lying on top of the ones I’d gotten from Ben last night. I flipped through the pages, skimming information about high-end alarm systems and how to bypass them. Clearly Ben had read the files and gotten curious about the thefts. So much for the lecture I’d given him last night. If there was any doubt that we were related despite our very different appearances, this was proof.

  The only chance I had of getting Seth to agree to let me help on the case was proving that I could carry my own weight. If I could get him off focusing on my personal safety and onto my valuable contributions, I’d have him. He wanted to wrap up this case badly. I’d use that as leverage after letting him whine for a bit about how I’d promised him I’d stay out of it. We both knew I wasn’t going to let it go. He’d admitted as much, so he wasn’t going to be surprised that I was still in.

  I needed to let the Horowitzes know that Violet was mostly off the hook. I wasn’t sure how I was going to go about telling them that without giving any actual information, but I knew Seth wouldn’t let them twist in the wind too long. The Horowitzes were a nice retired couple trying to help their granddaughter. And if he didn’t see it my way, an anonymous call to the tip line letting them know that Joe Reagan had been the subject of a federal investigation might have to happen.

  I felt guilty for lying in bed so long even if I was thinking about the case. I could probably get some more sleep if I closed my eyes, rolled over, pulled the covers back up to my ears, and snuggled down into the sweet spot. I wanted to. I probably needed to. But this case was more important. Seth needed to bust this gun ring. The Horowitzes needed the truth about Joe Reagan’s death. While he didn’t deserve to be murdered, I was convinced he bought and paid for it with his actions. Maybe it was harsh, but he wasn’t an innocent. He’d gotten himself into something and if he hadn’t been smart enough or moral enough to get himself out of it, well, I wasn’t too upset that he’d met his end at the hands of a confederate. Honor among thieves was a concept that had been long outdated even when the phrase had been coined. And Robin Hood had been fictional. Not that anyone could ever convince me stealin
g and selling high-powered firearms was somehow a benefit to the people.

  The anger, righteous or not, spurred me out of bed and into a travel mug of coffee. I sat out on the back deck and went through all the case files. It was cold but the sun kept me warm enough. I was not going to miss the rare sunny fall day even if I was a little chilly. There was a piece somewhere, in my files or Seth’s, or maybe in Violet’s head, that would solve it all. Just one piece was all we needed. Finding it was the trick. Well, finding it and then knowing it was the right piece.

  I reviewed the new information on Reagan’s known associates. Apparently Ben had gotten bored with his single assignment and stolen my case files. He’d pulled together an impressive array of data on Reagan, his friends, and even Violet.

  From everything I saw, Reagan was a dumbass. How he could have even gotten hooked up with a high-level crew like this was a sticking point for me. I couldn’t find a logical connection for him being involved, but he had to have been, otherwise Seth wouldn’t have been grooming him as an informant. So he was at least on the fringes and capable of getting useful information for the ATF. That role belied Reagan’s intelligence and skill set, if the high school transcripts Ben had dug up on him were accurate. Barely graduated high school even with remedial everything and plenty of vocational courses. He hadn’t been good at anything. I mean, I knew the old phrase, God rarely gives with both hands, but in Reagan’s case it appeared God hadn’t given enough of a damn to give a pinch. What in the hell had Violet seen in the loser?

  I must had tipped my head back for a minute to think and let the fall sun warm my face because I startled awake with sticky eyes, feeling groggy. Apparently, I could have slept more. Even with sixteen ounces of strong coffee in me. Once this case was over I was going back to the doctor. I had to admit that I had a problem. Hi, my name is Willa and I can’t sleep, you know, except when my body just decides to shut down like the breaker has been flipped.

  I took my time in the shower. I’d heard that water could boost creativity. Something about negative ions. I had no idea, but Mom told Dad to take a shower every time he was stumped on a problem. She could have just been trying to get rid of him when he was being annoying. I didn’t come up with anything new on the case but my hair was deep conditioned and I was a little more relaxed, so there was that. Going a few rounds in a cage match would have been more relaxing than all the obsessing I’d been doing lately.

  I had, once upon a time, been a fairly laid-back person. I mean, sure, I had tormented Seth over his bimbos and protected Ben like he was made from spun sugar, but nothing else got me too high or too low. Spending my first nine years on earth with Leila as a mother made such excesses impossible. She was too flighty, too scattered. Someone had to be the grownup, and panicking every time we lost an apartment for unpaid rent or had to move to a new town for another this is my big break part would have made it all that much worse. Coming to live with Dad and his new wife allowed me to finally be a kid. I didn’t blame Leila and I didn’t leave to live with Dad because I didn’t love her. I did. I do. I just needed a different life. She had chosen the road and the theater. I chose Dad and school. A normal life. Dad had dived in with joy and a pretty big case of nerves, but he put me first. Always. That was a big relief. Being able to screw up and have a safe place to land is a gift every kid deserves.

  Chapter

  14

  Seth didn’t try to disguise the annoyance and weariness on his face when I walked in the garage’s office door an hour later. He upped and downed my body with his eyes, assessing I didn’t know what. He seemed satisfied with what he saw.

  “Dammit, Sunshine, do I need to duct tape your ass at home? What part of me telling you that it’s not safe for either of us if you’re here sounded like an open invitation?”

  I looked down at my clothes. “But I got dressed all special to be here.” It was the outfit I’d worn to Killian’s. I looked nothing like a biker babe but rather the girl who doesn’t understand that jeans are not appropriate for family celebrations. Exactly who I was.

  “You’re just killing me.” But he smiled when he said it.

  “I wouldn’t have come, I swear, but you’ve been ignoring my texts and I have information you need.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something more but we heard the clang of footfalls on the steel staircase. Four feet. Two people. Seth looked at me and I saw his face change. He stepped toward me and just before he grabbed me he said, “I’m sorry.”

  And then his mouth was on mine. I told him to never put his hands on me again. I told him if he ever touched me again, I’d do him harm. But if I’d known he was capable of touching me like this, I’d have threatened him for not putting his hands on me. He wasn’t sad and grieving. He wasn’t a guy taking a chance with a childhood friend all grown up. He was danger and bar fights and car wrecks; fierce, all teeth and tongue, gripping me tightly, holding me roughly, pressing into me, bowing me back with the force of his body. I could only hold on and try to meet him halfway. If he’d asked, I absolutely would have let him cuff me, hold me down—hell, I might be okay with him stealing my car when he was done. I hated to be the cliché girl who got off on the bad boy, but his mouth made me vow to rethink clichés—once I was able to think again. It was like we were reinventing foreplay. My mind fogged to anything but him and his mouth on mine, his hands on my body.

  “Whoa. Sorry boss.”

  He pulled away from me and the tension rushed out from in between us. I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings. No one had ever kissed me anywhere close to that and if I never got it again … that wasn’t okay.

  “What the hell do you want? I’m busy.” Even his voice was different—rougher, raspier, mean. I wasn’t even sure how a voice could convey that much menace in so few words. I realized as awful as he’d been the other day, he likely could have done and said worse. I wasn’t ready to forgive him, but perhaps I had gotten off easy in his quest to push me away.

  His hands held me in place against him, keeping my back to the men, preventing them from seeing me. It was smart for his cover. It effectively turned me from a point of interest to a non-entity. Just a woman he was sleeping with. And up against him, our thighs pressed together, hip to hip, I was absolutely willing to revisit that specific topic.

  The men had slunk back down the stairs as quickly as Seth had started yelling. Undercover Seth was a hell of a lot scarier than the small glimpse I got the last time I’d visited. But then, just like that, he was gone.

  “I’m sorry. I just … I’m so sorry.” His hands had become gentle again. Like a switch flipped from raw biker badass criminal to sensitive badass hero. It was enough to give a girl whiplash. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how he did that. “You told me not to—”

  I gently pushed him away from me, mentally restarting my brain. “Buck up, camper. I’m not about to challenge you to a duel. You did what you felt you needed to protect your cover.”

  He checked that the two guys weren’t still outside the door and locked it. When he turned back he made sure he was ten feet away from me. I guess he didn’t trust that I wasn’t going to make good on my old threat. “You said you have information I needed.”

  Back to business. Fine by me. I was starting to be a little embarrassed about my nympho thoughts. Not that he knew about them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t real. And still hovering somewhere in the back of my head. One slipped to the front and I blushed, wondering what I’d need to do to get that side of him to come out again. I shook my head, digging the flash drive out of my pocket and held it out.

  He plucked it out of my fingers and backed across the room. “And this is?” he asked.

  It was wrong, but I felt the need to tease him. “A flash drive. Some investigator you are.”

  He muttered something under his breath and I decided to stop being an immature ass. “Some research on breaching high-end se
curity systems like the ones from the robberies.”

  “You know we’ve got guys that do this. They have access to all the federal databases and information you can’t get on Google.”

  “Why don’t you look at it before you dismiss the information, Seth? Unless you enjoy being Undercover Seth and want to do it for a lot longer. He’s a charmer with the ladies.” He looked away. If he’d thought we weren’t going to deal with that at some point, he’d been put on notice. That conversation was going to be loud. “There are only a few people who can keep up with the constant changes made on those security systems. Those people also know how to stay out of federal databases.”

  He held the flash drive so hard I thought he was going to bend it. “You didn’t delete the files.”

  I squirmed in my too-high boots as he glared at me. “I figured if you really wanted me to delete them you would have made sure I had. I took that as a sign that you were flexible on the matter.”

  He shoved the drive in his pocket and began to pace. “I should have known. I don’t know why I thought you’d just let me take care of it.”

  “You mean take care of Violet? She’s under suspicion of murder, Seth. She’s scared. Her grandparents are scared. And we both know she didn’t do it. Look, I don’t want to screw up what you’re working on, but I’m not going to let this go. All those qualities you hate about me are what made me a great cop. You either take jurisdiction or you take the consequences of me being in your case.”

  “I could just arrest you for Obstruction.”

  I knew he wouldn’t do that. He knew he wouldn’t do that. So I doubled down. “And keep me jailed for how long? What happens to you after you have to explain how I was capable of obstructing? You lose your job, this bust goes down the drain, Violet has to stay on the run. And Thanksgivings are awkward forever.”