The Secret Life of Bryan

by Lori Foster

  “Behave, Morganna.”

  “Now, sugarplum, what fun would that be?”

  Bryan gave up with a rusty chuckle. “Lock the door after me, and remember—”

  “Don’t open it to no one unless I know they’re supposed to be here.”

  “Exactly.”

  Shay watched him stride off, and not once did he look back at her. She didn’t realize her expression was so wistful until Morganna rudely elbowed her in the side, nearly knocking her off her feet.

  “You’re gawking, tootsie, but then, that man is fine to look at, isn’t he?”

  “He’s gorgeous.”

  “Yeah, but don’t waste your time. Even when the offer is free, he never touches any of us, except to joke around every now and then, or to offer a shoulder to cry on. Besides, that man is made of ice. I swear, it doesn’t matter what a body does to try to attract him, he just treats us all like pals, or little sisters maybe. Now I ask you, do I look like anyone’s little sister? Hell, no.”

  Shay felt herself warming inside. Bryan had covered his reaction well in front of Morganna, but the kiss he’d given her earlier hadn’t been friendly or familial. It had been hot, assuring her of eventual success.

  In a fine frame of mind now, Shay turned to address Morganna. This is what she’d been waiting for, a chance to get to know the women. How was it Bryan had put it? Oh yes, she’d now be working in the field. The idea was almost as exciting as Bryan himself.

  She sent a beaming smile to the younger woman. “Why don’t I make some tea and we can get to know each other a little better?”

  Eyeing her up and down, Morganna said, “My, you’re a fancy one, ain’t you?”

  Shay blinked, unsure what that meant. “I, ah…”

  Morganna curled her lip in distaste. “Sweetie, if you want me to choke down tea, we’ll have to spice it up a little.” She moved the stepstool so she could reach a cabinet over the refrigerator, and drew out a bottle of whiskey, waving it toward Shay with a happy grin. “This is guaranteed to help a body sleep on a miserable night like tonight.” She climbed down and went for some teacups. “A little of this mixed in our tea and we’ll be able to get to know each other real well in no time at all.”

  It was an offer Shay couldn’t refuse.

  Chapter Four

  The preacher had finally left, and this time he hadn’t even sought her out to say good-bye. But she wasn’t hurt. In fact, she was glad. Yes, glad! His constant coddling was annoying, filling her with guilt, making her think…No. She knew better, damn it.

  Damn him.

  But lately, God, he made her nervous. He wasn’t as…warm as he used to be. Sometimes he even seemed glacial.

  When he looked at her, it was like he could see clear to her soul. Like he knew what she was, what she wanted and what she did. She shivered, filled with sick dread.

  Her hiding place beneath the stairs was stuffy, filled with cobwebs and dust and the stench of her own fear. But this way she could hear the chatter of the new woman and that bitch Morganna.

  Stupid Morganna, always acting so friendly with everyone, always flirting with the preacher. She never learned.

  Who was the new lady, anyway? Not a whore. Though the stairs muffled some sounds, she’d heard every word said. She couldn’t believe the preacher still thought the new lady was a hooker.

  She was up to no good, that much was plain.

  It would be smart to keep an eye on her. Later, she’d join them in the kitchen. Maybe ask a few questions. If she could find out anything, it might earn her some points.

  “I’ll be right back, okay?”

  “Don’t disappear on me now, Shay. There’s no fun in drinking alone.”

  Shay laughed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  With a hand over her mouth, she ducked farther back into the corner, until the unfinished wall dug into her spine. Her heart was pounding, her legs shaking, her underarms had grown clammy. Why did everything scare her so much? As footsteps neared her, then stopped, she didn’t dare breathe. After a moment, she worked up the courage to peek between the steps.

  Shay paused by the mudroom where she’d plugged in her cell phone to recharge it. She glanced around, making sure she was alone, then dialed a number.

  “Dawn? Hey, it’s me.” With a laugh, Shay said, “I’m better than okay. I’m staying at a safe house.” She paused, smiled, and said, “Seriously!”

  She watched the woman pace as she talked, and from her hiding spot, she tracked the movements with envy. Shay was tall, slender, beautiful. She’d be valued. She’d be loved.

  Even though she knew she had no choice, she felt wicked for listening in. But information was all she had now, and she had to get it when she could.

  “How’s Leigh?” Shay listened, closed her eyes a moment, and sighed. “Wow, that’s a relief. Tell her I’ll come to see her tomorrow. I don’t know when, but I’ll definitely stop by.” Shay ducked her head, paced the length of the hall, and said, in a whisper, “Hey, call my realtor for me. Tell her to start scoping the area for any property suitable for a safe house. Yeah, I know, but I want my own, too. If one is good, two would be better, right?”

  She listened a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry so much, and don’t call my cell phone. In fact, I’m going to turn it off. But I’ll check in with you each day, okay? Yes, I promise. Hold down the fort for me. Love ya, too. And Dawn? Thank you.” She tucked the phone deep into her purse and headed back to the kitchen. “All right, Morganna. Where’s that drink?”

  Oh God, she’d mentioned Leigh.

  Spots danced in front of her eyes—from fear, anticipation…elation. If she knew where Leigh had gone off to, she could really make him happy. He hadn’t meant to lose his temper. He sure as hell hadn’t meant to lose Leigh, even if he had kicked her out.

  A long time passed, and still she stayed hidden, breathing in the thick air beneath the stairs, gleeful of what she now knew, scared spitless at the idea of getting caught. But she had no choice.

  It wasn’t until much later, when the others joined Morganna and Shay in the kitchen, that she finally crept out of her special place. No one saw her.

  No one suspected a thing.

  After taking his time, walking around the block and down a few dark alleys, deliberately leaving himself open to an attack, Bryan gave up. There’d be no outlet tonight, damn it.

  He needed some physical activity, some way to release the pent-up energy induced by Shay and her kamikaze-style flirting. The woman didn’t even try to protect herself. She just kept coming after him, leaving herself open to hurt and rejection.

  But he was the one who felt battered.

  Right now he’d welcome a brawl. The last time he’d thrown any punches had been against Joe Winston, in Visitation, North Carolina, and that hadn’t been very rewarding because he hadn’t really wanted to hurt Joe. Their situation had been one big misunderstanding, with both of them after the same man.

  This time the situation was crystal clear, and he was the only one hoping to get hold of the jerk who’d hurt his brother. But the coward didn’t show himself. Yet.

  Bryan let himself into Bruce’s apartment in the old run-down building only three doors down from the safe house. The walls were thin and the decoration total crap, but there were no bugs and the windows were secure.

  The second he stepped inside, he knew he wasn’t alone. His hand paused on the light switch and he went still, soaking in the feel of danger, seeking it out, all his senses alert.

  Then he relaxed. “Damn it, Bruce. I’m not fifteen anymore. You could get hurt lurking around in the dark.”

  From his lounged position in the worn-out easy chair, Bruce laughed. “How do you do that?”

  “What?” Bryan flipped the wall switch and the room filled with light. He looked toward his brother, and grimaced. Dressed in baggy brown slacks, a ragged flannel shirt and with his hair long and stringy, Bruce made a foul sight. “Good God, you look like a derang
ed hermit.”

  Bruce rubbed his patchy beard. “Yeah, I know. Nifty, huh?”

  “Nifty? What the hell is nifty about it?” Bryan stepped inside and secured the door.

  “The disguise conceals the real me.” Bruce pushed to his feet. He was healed now, but it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d been too injured to walk on his own. “So how’d you know it was me?”

  Shrugging off his jacket while heading toward the kitchen for a beer, Bryan said, “Because any real threat smells dark and murky and mean. It sticks to your skin, burns your throat.”

  “Yeah?” Bruce followed behind. “What do I smell like?”

  Grinning to himself, more than ready to twit his brother, Bryan said, “Cookies. Santa Claus. Hell, I don’t know. But nothing close to evil.”

  Not at all insulted, Bruce pulled out a chair and straddled it. “In my line of work, that’s a good thing.” He seemed full of energy, but then Bruce usually was. “So how’d it go?”

  “Pure fucking hell, if you want the unvarnished truth.” Bryan aimed the neck of a tall beer bottle toward Bruce. “You’re sick, you know that? Only a sick man would surround himself with loony broads who eat, sleep and drink sex—when he’s not supposed to touch any of them.”

  Bruce chuckled. “Like you even wanted to.”

  “There’s the hell of it.” Bryan pulled out his own chair and dropped into it with a groan. “I wanted to.” He ignored Bruce’s snap to attention to down half his beer in one long gulp. If he couldn’t fight, maybe he could at least get drunk.

  “You…?” Bruce couldn’t seem to finish that awesome thought.

  “I was on my best behavior.”

  “Which isn’t saying much!”

  “Quit squawking.” Bryan set the beer aside with a sour expression. Hell, he knew he wouldn’t get drunk. He never did. Only an idiot reduced his reaction time with alcohol. “All your fallen doves are unsullied by me.”

  “I never thought otherwise.” Bruce rose and went to the refrigerator. He popped the tab on a Coke, set it beside Bryan, and dumped the beer in the sink.

  It was a routine they often went through, something Bruce had started when they were little more than kids and he’d taken it upon himself to keep Bryan out of trouble. He’d steer him away from fights, pull him back from smiling girls, prod him into doing homework.

  His efforts weren’t always successful, but since Bruce seemed to take such utter satisfaction in making decisions for him, Bryan occasionally let him have his way.

  Besides, it was nice to know his brother had his best interests at heart—not that Bryan would ever admit that to Bruce. That’d ruin most of his fun.

  Bruce slapped mayo on whole wheat bread, loaded on three pieces of cheese, and handed it to Bryan.

  “I already ate.” But he took the food all the same.

  “Really? With the women?” Bruce rejoined him at the table with his own sandwich in hand. “Barb cook for you?”

  “No, Shay did.”

  He paused with his mouth open for a bite. The sandwich got lowered. “Shay?”

  “A new one.” Bryan eyed the sandwich, realized he was hungry after all, and dug in. Eating when Shay sat so close that he could smell her hadn’t been possible. He’d barely managed three bites, then. “Found her tonight.”

  “I see.”

  That had Bryan laughing. “No, I doubt you do. She’s…not like the other ones.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “Stunning.” The Coke actually tasted much better than the beer had. Bruce was a good influence on him. “Tall, built like a brick shithouse, legs up to her armpits, long blond hair…” Just talking about her made him hot. He shrugged. “Stunning.”

  Bruce nodded. “And so you’re attracted to her?”

  Not even close. He wanted to fuck her lights out. But then…he’d enjoyed holding her, too. And talking to her.

  Shit.

  “Look,” Bryan said, glaring at his smiling brother, “if it was just the looks, I could ignore her.”

  “Hmmm.”

  God, he hated it when Bruce said “hmmm” in that sanctimonious way of his. “She’s…” Bryan hesitated, trying to decipher his own thoughts, but he shook his head, at a loss. “I don’t know what she is, all right? Annoying, for sure. Cocky as hell. Pushy.”

  “Sounds like a real charmer.”

  Feeling unsettled, Bryan left his seat, paced to the cabinets and rummaged around for some chips. “She’s outspoken—but not in a defensive way. More like she’s just very self-assured. But she’s hiding something, too.”

  “Most of them are.”

  “I don’t mean that.” He found stale nachos and dumped them in a bowl. “She needs to be at the safe house, that much I believe. But the rest…I dunno. She’s not telling me the whole truth, but I can’t pick out the lies.” He shook his head again. Damn it, he hated being confused.

  Bruce propped his bearded chin on a hand. “Let’s get back to that part about you wanting her.”

  He didn’t want to talk about that. “Totally fucked up, huh?”

  With a scowl, Bruce said, “Your language is fucked up. I swear, you make my ears burn. If Dad heard you—”

  Bryan shrugged. “I curb it around him.”

  “But you figure I can take it?”

  “You haven’t fainted yet.” Bryan started to grin, but it ended in a groan. “I should admit that I’m having a problem watching my mouth around Shay, too. She keeps telling me that I’m not like any preacher she’s ever known.”

  That worried Bruce a bit. “You think she’s guessed?”

  “No way.” At least, he hoped not. “There’s just something about her that pushes my buttons. All my buttons. She makes me forget what I’m doing, lose my temper…and hell, you might as well know I let her kiss me.”

  Bruce choked. He appeared more fascinated by the moment. “You let her…?”

  “Like I said, she’s pushy.” Disgruntled again, Bryan explained, “I told her no. Hell, I kept telling her no. But then she got upset about something and turned on the tears and the next thing I knew, I was too damn close to her, and she—”

  “Kissed you.”

  “Yeah.” And what a kiss. He’d sunk into it, let his mind go blank while every nerve in his body had jumped to attention. A mind-blowing kiss—from a hooker.

  Bryan took another vicious bite of his sandwich.

  “So what?”

  Doing a double take, Bryan growled, “What do you mean, so what? I’m supposed to be you.”

  Bruce looked thunderstruck, and he even paled a little. “Did anyone see you kissing her?”

  “No.” With Bruce’s good humor shot, Bryan went back to eating. “And it was the other way around. She kissed me.”

  “Semantics.” Bruce relaxed again. “I repeat, so what? You obviously like her.”

  “Like her?” Bryan snorted. “I’d like to get her naked, yeah. But she’s most likely a hooker, Bruce. She’s supposed to be under your protection. Doing the horizontal rumble with her sure as hell wouldn’t do the safe house’s reputation any good.”

  “Assuming anyone found out, which maybe they wouldn’t.”

  “You’re trying to talk me into this?” Bryan sat back and stared at his brother. In his experience, now was the time for Bruce to break out the long talks. Not encourage him. “Why?”

  Bruce shrugged. “Never met a woman who rattled you before.”

  “I never had to play a preacher before.”

  “Maybe that’s it.” Bruce dragged his finger through the frost on his Coke can. “But maybe she’s just special.”

  “God save me.” Crossing his arms on the table, Bryan glared. “You think a hooker is special?”

  Bruce grew serious quickly, matching Bryan’s dark frown. “Don’t judge, Bryan. Don’t do that. They’re human beings like the rest of us, with flaws and worries and—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You gave me this lect
ure once already. That wasn’t what I meant.” But it sort of was. He wasn’t a chauvinist and he didn’t mind a woman who enjoyed her sexuality, but a guy had to draw the line somewhere.

  “If I met a woman,” Bruce intoned, looking down his nose at Bryan, “who pushed my buttons, I wouldn’t care about her past.”

  “No?” But it wasn’t surprising, because Bruce was different. Bryan had never met another human being with a bigger, more forgiving heart than his brother. Strange how identical twins could be so different.

  “And it’s not like your life has been all lily white anyway.”

  “True.” Bryan’s past overflowed with dark memories that fell just short of legal, and a few that didn’t even come close. In the line of duty, he’d done things he regretted. In his personal life, he’d made mistakes that had turned deadly.

  But in the end, he knew he’d do them again.

  “So?”

  What did Bruce expect him to say? That he wanted Shay enough to change his life and settle down? Idiotic. “So I’m not interested in getting involved with any woman right now.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re already involved.” Bruce smiled with satisfaction.

  “You better hope you’re wrong,” Bryan told him, “because after I catch the son of a bitch who jumped you, I’m walking away. And you’re going to be left to deal with her.”

  Thunderstruck, Bruce said, “And she’ll think that I’m you….”

  “Exactly.”

  “All right, all right.” Bruce held up his hands. “Then stay away from her.”

  And therein lay the biggest problem: He didn’t want to. “Easier said than done. She’s pushy.”

  “So you keep saying,” Bruce grouched. “You telling me you can’t handle one little woman?”

  Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Bryan grinned. “She isn’t all that little. In fact, she’s as tall as me.”

  “Really?” Bruce rubbed the disreputable whiskers that couldn’t seriously be called a beard. “Maybe I could clean up, drop in and see for myself.”

  Bryan’s chair scraped back and he towered over Bruce. “Do not even think it.” Only to himself would Bryan admit that it wasn’t just fear of his brother getting hurt that motivated him. He didn’t want Shay rubbing up against Bruce, maybe coercing him into a kiss, maybe even…