Blood and Sympathy

by Lori L. Clark

  "Good morning, I'm not late am I?" he asked.

  "Nope, right on time." I leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

  The annual Fourth of July parade was supposed to start at ten, and by the time we found a place to park and got a place to sit, it was just starting. Afterwards, we took our time browsing through the flea market. We bought two giant blueberry muffins from Belle's and Whistles Bakery.

  "Claire, it's good to see you, sugar," Belle said. Belle Grover was the owner of the little bakery I was supposed to be working at this summer, before Dad intervened.

  "You too, Belle." I gave her a faint smile. I felt guilty for backing out of the job she gave me at the last minute, even though it wasn't my fault. "I'm sorry about how things turned out."

  "Don't you worry about that, sugar. Whenever you're ready, the offer stands." She winked and added, "Mama always told me it was best to hire the competition rather than let 'em open up their own place and run you out of town."

  I giggled. "You're just being nice. You make the best muffins in three states."

  She put our muffins in a paper bag and threw in an extra one for Braden. We left and Braden bit into his muffin, still warm from the oven. "Oh shit, you weren't kidding. This is the best blueberry muffin I've ever had." The look on his face was somewhere near ecstasy--an expression I wanted to see as he hollered my name in the throes of passion. Sooner, rather than later.

  I threaded my arm through his and said, "Come on, let's go to the park."

  We sat on a bench and people watched between stealing quick kisses. But I wanted more than chaste public kisses. I wanted deep, passionate, kisses that involved a little tongue. He leaned in to brush his lips across mine and I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck, intent on giving him a hint of what he was missing. His lips were soft with the faint taste of blueberries.

  "Claire." His voice was low and he was breathing hard. We both were. "Keep kissing me like that and I'm going to forget we're in public."

  "That was my intention. I want you to kiss me like we're the only two people in the world who matter, Braden." I rested my forehead against his and cupped his face with my hands.

  "I know, I want that too. It's just, well shit, I'm scared," he whispered.

  "Scared of what?"

  "I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."

  I shook my head and hugged him. "Never."

  The corners of his mouth curved into a smile, but his eyes were sad. "You say that now."

  I decided to drop the subject and just enjoy his company.

  ***

  The rest of the day we just wandered around holding hands. Time passed quickly, and before we knew it, the fireworks were getting ready to start. We found a place to sit, and he offered to run to the pickup and grab a blanket while I saved our spot.

  While he was gone, I got the creepy sensation that I was being watched. I glanced around, and my eyes landed on Alistair. He was leaning up against a tree several yards away, staring at me. The look he was giving me made my skin crawl. I quickly looked away and rubbed my arms, mentally telling Braden to hurry the fuck up.

  "Claire, you're shivering. You can't be cold," he said when he returned with a blanket.

  "I'm fine."

  When I looked again, Alistair was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief and scooted close to Braden.

  After the fireworks, the traffic out of Hensteeth was slow going with the entire population trying to get where they needed to be at the same time. Dad's SUV was parked in the driveway, and the kitchen light was on when I got home.

  Braden kissed me tenderly, as though he was afraid of breaking me. I wanted to scream out of frustration but restrained myself.

  "You know, we haven't had a real date," he murmured.

  My eyebrows pressed together. "What do you call today?"

  "That doesn't count. I'm talking about where I come to the house, pick you up, and take you out to dinner and a movie or something."

  "Okay ... so what did you have in mind?" He was so damn shy, it was making me fidget. I rested my hand on the nape of his neck where his silky black hair had started to grow out.

  "I'll pick you up early, about five or so, and let you plan the whole evening. Anything you want to do, we'll do it," he said.

  My eyebrows shot up. "Anything?"

  He pursed his lips. "Claire. I'm being serious here."

  "So am I." I grinned mischievously at him. I thought for a minute and got the perfect plan. "Okay. You be here at five on Friday. It's a date!"

  Before he could say anything else, I gave him a quick kiss and jumped out of the truck.

  Braden didn't have a lot of money; neither of us did, and I didn't want him to go blowing a bunch of his hard earned cash on me. It just so happened I'd have the house to myself Friday night. Dad would be out of town on a camping trip with the youth group from church.

  I'd cook dinner for him, show off my culinary expertise. If things went the way I hoped they would, I'd be showing him some of my many other many talents as well.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Braden Sayer

  After dark, the road between the Copeland's and home didn't get much traffic. I thought it was a little strange when I noticed headlights in my rearview mirror on the way home. Knowing that the marina had been broken into and that my brother was on the loose put me on edge. When I pulled into the driveway at Uncle Jeb's, whomever had been behind me went on by. I shook my head and laughed at myself for being so paranoid.

  I parked Uncle Jeb's pickup up by his house and walked the short distance back to my trailer. As soon as I climbed the steps, the skin at the back of my neck prickled. I was positive I'd pulled the front door closed when I left that morning. Maybe Uncle Jeb had dropped something off and didn't shut it all the way.

  There wasn't anything worth stealing, so if someone had been there with the intent on robbing me, the joke was on them. I stepped inside, and before I could close the door behind me, the light flicked on scaring the shit out of me. Brogan stood to my right, his arms folded across his chest.

  "Brogan, what the fuck? You know the sheriff was here looking for you?"

  "The fuckin' cops in this podunk town don't have a clue when it comes to law enforcement." He snorted and poked me in the chest. "Where the hell you been all night? I've been waiting on your ass since dark."

  "What do you want, Brogan?"

  "The fuck kind of greeting is that? Ain't you happy to see me?" His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head, watching me.

  "Look, I don't want any trouble. Just leave, and I won't mention to anybody you were here." I didn't figure I could reason with him, but it was worth a try.

  "Pfft. Yeah, right. Like I trust your pussy ass not to go ratting me out as soon as I leave."

  I scrubbed my hands down the stubble on my face. "Why are you here?"

  "I need some money."

  "And you're telling me this, why?"

  The crazy fucker rolled his eyes and stared up at the water spotted ceiling for a few seconds right before backhanding me across the face. Instantly the taste of blood filled my mouth, and I dove headfirst into his gut, taking him down. I surprised him nearly as much as he surprised me, and was able to pin him beneath me on the dirty carpet.

  He broke into a fit of maniacal laughter. "Damn. I didn't think you'd have the balls to actually fight back."

  My fingers curled around his neck. I squeezed just enough to make his eyes round with shock. "You listen to me, Brogan. There was once a time when I would have cowered in the corner like a little bitch if you even looked at me cross-eyed. I'm not that scared little boy anymore, and I'd just as soon break your neck as look at you."

  I was shaking from anger. I'd never been a violent man, but if I learned anything in juvie, it was to stand up for myself and never, ever let anyone get the upper hand. As much as I hated my brother, I wasn't a murderer. I released the hold I had on his neck. He sputtered and coughed a few times trying to catch his breath.

 
"Look, I just need a few bucks so me and Aja can get the hell out of here. She's got relatives in Mexico. Give me some money, I'll go, and you'll never see or hear from me again." His voice was hoarse and his eyes were black as beetles.

  I climbed off the top of him and sighed. "Yeah, let me write you a fucking check. Now I know you've lost your mind. I don't have more than fifty or sixty bucks, and that sure as shit won't get you to Mexico."

  He pushed to his feet and I steeled myself in case he tried something. "That's enough for a tank of gas. That'll help."

  I clenched and unclenched my hands, resisting the urge to cold-cock the smug son of a bitch. For about two seconds, I considered just giving him the money to get rid of him. I didn't trust him any further than I could throw him. "What about the cash you stole from Uncle Jeb? You blow that already?"

  His face reddened and he clamped his mouth shut. "You going to give me the money or not?"

  "I'm not giving you one fucking dime," I said through clenched teeth. I stepped aside and pointed toward the front door which was still standing wide open. "Now, you've got about five seconds to get the fuck out of here."

  He opened his mouth to say more but thought better of it when he saw the look on my face. Moving toward the door, he turned and snickered. "You know, I may not be able to kick your ass anymore, Braden, but I bet I can make that pretty little Claire Copeland whimper in pain."

  Before I could stop myself, I drew back and punched him hard enough that his head snapped back. He stumbled out the door, down the steps, and landed in a heap at the bottom.

  I stood over him and kicked him hard in the ribs. I leaned over and fisted my fingers in the front of his shirt. "You lay one finger on Claire, and so help me God, I will hunt you down and break every fucking bone in that no good body of yours."

  He grunted and pulled out of my hold before lifting himself to his hands and knees. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to talk myself out of kicking him again for the hell of it. I just wanted the worthless piece of dog shit to leave, get out of my life, and stay out.

  I turned and went up the steps and deadbolted the door behind me. I collapsed against it, completely wrung out from the confrontation. After my heart rate and breathing returned to normal, I peeked out between the window blinds to make sure he was gone. He was a snake in the grass, and I knew just because I couldn't see him, didn't mean he wasn't there.

  He didn't scare me, and I meant what I said. If he so much as looked at Claire, I'd probably be going back to prison for murder.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Brogan Sayer

  I worked my jaw back and forth. Son of a bitch got me good. I was walking back to where I'd left Aja's car when this sawed-off little fucker jumped out in front of me.

  "What the hell?" I scowled at him and shook my head. He grinned at me and I went to move past him. Dumbass must have had a death wish. He grabbed me by the arm, pinching the bare flesh. "The fuck is your problem, dude?"

  He nodded his head back toward Braden's trailer. "I heard the two of you fightin'."

  "Yeah, so?" I shook myself loose from his grasp and started walking away. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"

  "You help me, I'll help you." He didn't tell me his name.

  I stopped and turned sizing him up. He was shorter than me, and all muscle. I wasn't sure if he even had a neck. "Why the fuck should I help you?"

  "You fake kidnap Claire. I'll rescue her, be a big hero and implicate loverboy back there," he thumbed over his shoulder. "I'll give you cash. Like I said, win-win."

  "Yeah, how much?"

  He shrugged. "Name your price."

  My eyebrows shot up. "Five grand."

  "You got it. I'll give you half up front. The other half once the job's done."

  Fucker didn't even flinch. I should have asked for twice that amount. "Yeah, okay. When?"

  "This weekend? I'll get the cash. How can I reach you?" He grinned and rubbed his hands together. "It's the perfect setup. You look just like him."

  I scowled. "We're twins, moron. That's what twins do. They look alike."

  His smile faded. "You don't have to be a prick about it. So, how can I get a hold of you?"

  "Give me your number. I'll call you." He followed me to Aja's car and I wrote his number on a wadded up receipt. "I'll be in touch."

  I climbed inside Aja's car and headed back to Weston. The joke was on that fucker. I'd take the twenty-five hundred bucks he planned to give me and kidnap the little slut. By the time I got done with Claire Copeland, there wouldn't be enough left of her to be rescued. Me and Aja would be long gone, and that cocky little douche with all the cash to throw around could keep the other half of the money.

  It was my turn to grin. Even the pissed off mood Aja was in when I got home didn't wipe the smile off my face.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Claire Copeland

  Dad stuck his head inside my room to tell me he was leaving for the weekend. "I don't want the boy spending the night here while I'm gone."

  My back was to him so he didn't see me roll my eyes. "Of course not."

  He paused, probably waiting for me to turn around and acknowledge him. I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction. If Braden didn't spend the night, it wouldn't be because my dad told me not to.

  I had three hours before Braden was going to be there, and I had to get my ass in gear. My hands shook as I pulled the mixer from the cupboard. For some reason, cooking dinner for him made my palms sweaty.

  Most of my specialties were cold weather comfort foods. I decided to make twice-baked potatoes, fresh green beans, meatloaf, and a cherry cheesecake. Nothing fancy. As soon as everything was in the oven, I ran upstairs to take a quick shower.

  I wiped the fog from the mirror and leaned in close to stare at my reflection. The dark shadows beneath my eyes were a constant reminder of sleepless nights. There wasn't enough concealer in the world to make them go away. I pulled in a deep breath and began to braid my wet hair.

  When we were little girls, Olivia and I used to take turns braiding each other's hair. She was always better at it than me. She never complained that I fidgeted as she worked her fingers through my thick locks.

  I dressed in a simple outfit consisting of a simple cotton lavender sundress and some lacy panties. I wanted him to notice me. I needed him to want me. Barefooted, I ran down the steps and checked on dinner. It had been barely twenty-four hours since I'd last seen him, and my heart sped up at the thought of his soft, sweet kisses.

  The table was set when I heard the rattle of his pickup bouncing up the driveway. What was it about Braden Sayer that got under my skin? I'd had my fair share of attention from the opposite sex, but none of their touches lingered like Braden's. Maybe it was because he treated me like I was somebody special. He made me feel like a friend, but the smoldering looks he gave me said he thought of me as much more than his buddy.

  I stared as he climbed from the cab of the truck. His short hair was still damp from his shower, and the way his white t-shirt pulled across his chest made me check myself for drool. How could something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt look so damn good? The only way they could possibly look any better would be if they were strewn across the floor in a trail to my bed.

  He lifted his eyes to mine, and his face turned an instant shade of red. I bit my lip and held the door open for him. "Hi. You sure look pretty tonight," he said. His buttery soft voice sent butterflies fluttering through my insides.

  He kissed me on the cheek and for a second I was speechless. He grinned and slipped past me into the kitchen, bringing with him the soft scent of soap with a hint of amber.

  "So do you," I managed to mumble.

  We ate in companionable silence, except for the moans of pleasure he made over my cooking. I ran my index finger over the top of my sweaty glass of lemonade and watched him eat. "Save some room for dessert," I reminded him.

  His eyes darkened and he got a devilish smirk on his face. "I'll alway
s have room for that."

  I got up and brought out the cherry cheesecake. "I hope you like cherries."

  "My favorite."

  After dinner, we went outside, and even though the sun had started to sink in the western sky, it was still a hot Tennessee night. There was no breeze, just heavy, humid air filled with the sound of croaking bullfrogs and an occasional barking dog in the distance. The sweet aroma of freshly mown hay from across the road perfumed the air.

  He sat beside me on the porch swing. We weren't touching, but even so, the heat between his body and mine was intense. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying not to think about the desire building between my thighs.

  "I was thinking," I interrupted the silence, pushing the swing back and forth lazily.

  He turned toward me and asked, "Yeah? About what?"

  "A couple of things, really." I shifted on the swing, tucking one leg beneath me. "One, I want to run that half marathon Olivia and I had planned to do together."

  He nodded slowly. "Your ankle healed enough to run a half marathon?"

  I twisted my mouth into a frown. "I think so."

  "When is it?"

  "It's not until September. I figure by then I should be able to manage the whole thirteen point one miles." I slid him a sideways glance. "Why don't you train with me? I promise to go easy on you."

  His face flushed and he turned away. "I'll run with you. But I don't expect any special treatment."

  "It's a deal. We can start Sunday morning before church."

  "Okay." He paused and cleared his throat. "You said you were thinking about a couple of things. What's the other one?"

  "I want to get a tattoo."

  "Me too, but I don't turn eighteen until January. I'll hold your hand for moral support, though." He reached for me and laced his fingers between mine.