by Peak, Renna
I felt his hot breath in my ear. A chill of terror ran down my spine and my heart raced like it was trying to escape from my chest, even faster than it had been before.
“Jen, we need to get out of here.”
Broken #5
The MISTAKEN Series - Part Eleven
1
Six Hours Earlier - Brandon
The last thought I ever imagined I would have had when I saw Robin’s name come up on my phone’s caller ID was that this was a lucky thing. The woman couldn’t take a hint—we hadn’t been together in well over a year, and even when we had … we were never really an item. It was more a convenience factor, at least for me. We were both in L.A. when it started and she was always so willing. Too eager. And the fact that she almost always demanded something more than I was willing to give her—a relationship—meant our interaction usually ended in some sort of disagreement. And she was getting even more demanding now, which made absolutely no sense at all to me. How could she demand a commitment from a man with whom she had no relationship? She was nothing to me. Nothing. And she never had been.
I used her that day in L.A.—the day I was stabbed. I called and she came running. Nothing new about that—it had been going on for years. I needed help and there was no one left in Los Angeles who was willing to help me. Not anymore. Not after everything. I was in a bind that day and called for help. That was the bottom line. I didn’t owe her a fucking thing for it, either, not after her manipulation—after all the shit she had pulled on me. And I definitely didn’t owe her a damned ring—I couldn’t believe she had tried that bullshit in the first place. It was over the top. And the only woman who would ever wear a ring of mine wouldn’t be a talentless hack.
Jen was the real deal. She had been born into an unfortunate situation, but she was mine, and I had every intention of keeping it that way. I couldn’t see the ending of our story yet, but I knew I would win in the end. There was no doubt in my mind that this was a game I would win. Even if it meant every other person in our lives would meet their doom—I was going to win. I’d burn down the entire city of San Francisco if I had to. And D.C. Neither would be much of a loss to me, anyway.
I let Robin’s call go to voice mail, not even giving her a second thought. I didn’t need to hear from her in the middle of this day—it was going to be a bad enough day without her in the mix.
But then the phone rang again. She somehow seemed to know when I was trying to avoid her, and I knew the phone wouldn’t stop ringing until I told her to go the fuck away.
I slid my finger across the screen to answer. I was seething just at the thought of speaking to her. “What?”
She cleared her throat. “That wasn’t very nice, Brandon. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.”
A bitter taste came to my mouth. “Bullshit. You don’t even know the definition of the word ‘nice.’” I took a deep breath, trying to calm what was left of my nerves. “What do you want?”
“Well, I’d like for you to be nice, for once. I do still give you a fairly large chunk of my life and I think…”
I gritted my teeth. My free hand clenched into a fist and I dug my fingernails into my palm. “What do you want? I don’t have time for this shit today.”
She cleared her throat again. “You know, if we were married, we could share it. My money, I mean.”
My skin crawled at the thought of ever even seeing the woman again. “I don’t give a fuck about your money, Robin. It’s the principle. I don’t give favors away for free and I don’t like that you’ve tried over and over to take advantage of the kindness I’ve shown you. Kindness. What I’ve done for you—that’s the definition.” My jaw was tight with the fury I was trying to hold back. “Was there a point to this call? I have somewhere to be.”
“Somewhere like with Jenna Davis? I heard all about it, Brandon. You know, you could have told me before I made a fucking fool of myself in front of her. Her little friend called my publicist and dropped her name…”
Her little friend? I had no idea what she was talking about, nor did I give a damn. I was almost desperate for this conversation—if that’s what you could call it—to end. “What do you want?” I was beyond having my patience tested with her. I had a goddamned execution to plan, and I didn’t have time for this shit.
She let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, if you’d let me finish a sentence, Brandon, I’d tell you. I was trying to say that I’m going to some socialite’s party tonight in Palo Alto. I think you know her brother. Amanda Agostino?”
I almost choked trying to hold back the gasp from escaping my lips. There was no way this was real. The past six months had been one fortunate coincidence after another—almost like the universe really was trying to reward me for something. This was too good—too fortunate. Too lucky. My luck never ran this way—sure as hell never for this long. I let out a long breath, trying to calm what almost felt like excitement. I almost had to bite my tongue to keep the grin off my face. “And you are telling me this because…?”
“Because I need a date. And I know you’re back in San Francisco. And I know that Jenna Davis won’t be at the party because she wasn’t invited. And you owe me, Brandon. You owe me…”
I leaned back in my chair, grimacing. “I don’t owe you anything, Robin. Let’s get that straight.”
“I took care of you. I came all the way to Baltimore to be with you. And then I find out you’ve dumped me for some party girl. Some socialite…”
“She’s not a socialite.” Shit. My muscles tensed involuntarily. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. She didn’t need to know anything about Jen, least of all about her social life, or lack thereof.
“Please come tonight, Brandon. We can talk. You can explain to me why you feel the need to stay in my life when you say you want me out of yours so badly…”
My lip curled into what felt like a sneer. “I don’t feel the need to stay in your life, Robin. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear. I don’t think I could have made it more clear if I tried.”
“Does Jenna know about us? About what you’re doing to me?” I could hear her beginning to sniffle.
“You don’t need to bother practicing your acting skills with me—I know your bullshit too well. We both know what this is about.”
“It’s about you being unfair, Brandon. What you’re doing isn’t fair.”
I shook my head and walked into the kitchen, pulling open a cupboard. I pulled down a bottle of scotch, pouring into a glass an amount that would almost certainly get me instantly wasted these days. Having less than half a liver was a bitch, at least as far as drinking was concerned. I downed the liquid in a single gulp, not caring at all that it might damage the few remaining liver cells that were still in my gut. I didn’t really give a fuck if I lived or died at that point—my life as I knew it was going to be over after this weekend, anyway. I might as well enjoy the few hours I had left.
“We should talk about it. Tonight.”
I began to pour another shot into the glass and stopped. “Wait. Where is this party?”
“I told you. At Amanda Agostino’s house.”
“At her house? You didn’t mention that.” This was lucky. This was so fucking lucky it wasn’t even funny. I had a reason to get into her house. One that wouldn’t require breaking and entering or home invasion or scaring the shit out of her kid. I was invited in. I could get the layout of the whole house—figure out where she would be if I did have to break in. Where the best place to do it would be when I came back. Where the kid slept so I could get him out afterward and deliver him intact, as promised. It was perfect and it had just fallen into my lap. Again. Perfect, fucking luck.
“Where else would a dinner party be?”
“Fuck if I know, Robin. Is Ryan going?” I rubbed at my side—the mere mention of Ryan Agostino was making the scar that now lined the side of my abdomen burn. I knew what had happened in L.A. had only been a warning, but it was still just a little too fresh in my mind. If Ryan was
going to be there, that would be the only crimp in the perfect plan. He probably wouldn’t suspect anything if I was there with Robin—he had known about our relationship for years. But he would almost certainly know something was up—he’d know it in the way I acted. He was smart and he knew me too well. We had worked together for too long for him to not know when something was up with me. It might have been a few years since we had worked together in any official capacity, but he still knew me. He knew exactly how I worked. And when he found out what was going on, he’d want me to double-cross Senator Davis. And the only reason Daniel had survived the mere suggestion of pulling something like that was because of who his father was. I didn’t have a father or anyone to rely on but myself. And if I was caught in the middle of even the thought of a double-cross, my punishment wasn’t going to be banishment to another country. And it wasn’t going to be a little slice through my belly, either. I knew if I so much as thought about double-crossing Senator Davis, no one would ever hear from me again.
I heard some clicking on the other end of the phone. “I don’t see him on the guest list. Does that mean you’ll come?”
Hell, yes. This was going to kill two birds with one stone—I’d get to see the layout of Amanda’s place from the inside and I could finish this thing with Robin once and for all. I still had a day to figure out what to do about Amanda, and this would be the perfect opportunity. There’d also be an explanation for my fingerprints being in the house if I did have to do something, which was even better. “Fine.”
“Really?” She almost squealed. If I could have reached through the phone to strangle her, I think I might have.
“Yes, really. Bring the fucking contract.” I might as well end this contract thing with her tonight, too. I didn’t need her money—I never did. It was just a way to keep her in line—keep her at arm’s reach when I needed her. And I didn’t need her anymore, either. I had no intention of ever returning to Los Angeles, so there would be no more desperate “help me” calls to make to her. “Make sure Amanda’s assistant is a notary. Or make sure there’s one there. This is the last time we see each other, Robin.”
2
An unfortunate effect of alcohol was that it could turn me into a pussy without warning. That was the only explanation I had for the thoughts that were drifting through my head as I waited for Robin to arrive at my apartment to go to that fucking party. I wanted to be angry—I wanted the scotch to fuel the hatred I had for all of it. I wanted it to light a fire inside of me that would allow me to do the things that I knew had to be done. But tonight, it wasn’t fueling anything but sadness. Hopelessness. And goddamned fear.
I knew Jen looked at me and thought I had my shit together most of the time. It was just an illusion. There was still a huge part of me that was still the same love-struck twenty-three-year-old kid who saw her on the stage that night on my grandmother’s birthday. There was a huge part of me that still melted just at the thought of her. She was all I could think about. All I had ever thought about. All that mattered. What I had with her was something I had never had—something I knew I would never have again if I somehow lost her. And I didn’t want to fuck up what I had with her.
But I was stuck. There was no way out of this one. If I did this job, I would lose her. And if I didn’t do the job, it would be even worse.
I was completely screwed. Senator Davis hadn’t been kidding when he said I had signed that contract under duress—that was putting it mildly. He had threatened Jenna. He had threatened me, too, of course, but he had threatened his own daughter’s well-being.
What kind of sick fuck does that?
I didn’t have a choice—I had to keep reminding myself of that. Amanda Agostino had been blackmailing him, and I knew how the senator felt about being blackmailed. Not that I had ever done it to him—not personally anyway. I was sure I had been accused of blackmail and extortion plenty of times in the past, but I hadn’t really ever blackmailed him directly. Not him—not Senator Davis. Other people—yes. Lots of other people. But not him. I wasn’t dumb enough to ever try it with him. But when I overreached just a little … I ended up on his payroll. Okay, not on his payroll, exactly, but close enough. Close enough that Jen didn’t need to know about it. Close enough that he owned me now. There was no more playing both sides against each other—no more trying to score the best deal for myself. Not with them—not with the Agostino kids. Daniel might have been able to get away with it—he at least had the balls to try, but not me. Not anymore. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t been sitting here for the past three hours trying to figure out how I could get away with it. Even though I was drunk—almost as drunk as I had been when I picked up those two co-eds—I was still trying to figure out how I could play both sides and save that woman’s life. I was just trying to figure out how in the hell I could get out of this one, but the alcohol didn’t seem to be helping.
I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t known about Senator Davis and Amanda. Where the hell was I six years ago when this whole thing must have started?
Away. As far away from politics as possible. Shit. I dropped my head into my hands, feeling like it might split open at any moment. The one time I’d had any common sense—enough sense to get the hell away from D.C. and not pay any attention to what was going on there—this must have happened. And I never had a damned clue about it until I got on that plane to Baltimore after Ryan stabbed me. What in the hell kind of luck had that been? Ryan stabs me then I end up sitting next to his sister on the plane? Next to his nephew? Next to Jenna’s little brother who she has no fucking clue about? What the hell kind of luck is that?
Obviously, not all my luck in the last six months had been good. I didn’t know why I was thinking that it had been earlier—before I met my favorite bottle of scotch for a few drinks. Sitting next to that kid on the airplane was some of the worst luck I had ever had. Hell, I never would have known about that kid—not until Senator Davis had come to ask me to do this job for him.
That day he asked me had been a nightmare. Jen had gone back to San Francisco and I was stuck in Krystal’s apartment with a home care nurse and a sadistic physical therapist who was trying to torture me to death—and then he came over. He came over and told me if I wanted Jen to live to see another birthday, I’d do this job for him. Threats against me didn’t make a difference—he was smart enough to know that. But this person I had become—this man who was such a head-over-fucking-heels-in-love pussy … I had to be a pussy to accept a job like this to protect a woman—even if it was Jen.
My fingers tore through my hair. Who in the hell am I? I didn’t even know anymore. I didn’t know who I was or how I had arrived at this place—this place where any choice I made was going to have devastating consequences.
There was no way out. Not this time. There wouldn’t be any faked deaths with Amanda. She had broken the cardinal rule—no blackmailing. Blackmailers ended up dead. That was how Senator Davis justified my father’s death. I was sure if I ever ended up “eliminated,” that was how he would explain it to Jen, too. No second chances for people who try to blackmail the great and powerful Senator Davis. You can try to do whatever else you want—you’ll fail, but you can try—but blackmail, extortion and double-crossing, those are unforgivable offenses, punishable by death. And he is the judge and jury.
Unfortunately for Amanda, I was going to be her executioner. Unless I could somehow warn her—unless I could figure out a way to get her away from here … I might not have to do it after all. If I could come up with some kind of excuse for her to leave the country. To eliminate herself… I knew that was going to be the only answer for me, too—to leave the country. I would have to figure out a way to get myself out of here, too. Maybe convince Jen to come with me. Montana might have been an option before, but now … now I was going to have to banish myself somewhere away from his influence. Far enough away that Senator Davis would never have influence over me or Jen again.
If I hadn’t been so fucked up in the head for t
he past few weeks, this wouldn’t have been a big deal. I would have been able to find someone to do this job or I would have figured out how to help Amanda save herself. I was sure of that—I might not have friends in L.A. anymore, but I could have found someone to take care of this if I had had enough time. If I wasn’t so screwed up in the head, this job would already be done—Amanda would be out of the country and Jen would have never had a clue about it. But because I let my jealousy get the best of me, I missed the deadline. Because Jen was so goddamned in my head, I couldn’t even think. I saw that guy in her apartment and I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle thinking about having someone else touch her—someone else hold her. And Ben was there. That little fucker, Talbot … speaking of double-crossers…
I leaned forward in my chair and banged my head against my desk several times, hoping maybe the impossible decisions I had in front of me would clear up the harder I hit my head against the wood. I still had a whole day to figure everything out. I still had more than a few hours to get Amanda far enough away for them to never find her or her kid…
What the hell is wrong with me? I had never been like this—unable to make a decision. I just wanted to do what was best for Jen, and I felt like a lovesick puppy, desperate to please her. This wasn’t me. I didn’t do this.
I put my arms over my head, wishing I could be anywhere else. Wishing I hadn’t had so much to drink. Wishing I had never signed that damned contract with her father. Wishing I had never signed that damned contract with Robin. Wishing I had never bought those tickets to that concert so many years ago. Robin was going to be here any second—and there was no way out. No way out of this clusterfuck I had created. This new shit storm that I was in the center of once again. I wasn’t cut out for this—for politics. I needed to get myself out before I completely self-destructed.