Trick You: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (Rebel Ink Book 2)

by Tracy Lorraine

  “It’s so funny, you know this is a silent auction, right? That means you need to read what each lot consists of. Who the fuck thought it was a great joke to bring you? Not only can you not afford to support the cause, but you have no fucking clue what each lot its. And the final joke is that we’re raising money to refurbish a library. You ever even stepped foot inside one, brother?”

  “Enough,” Carter barks, taking a step closer to his twin. The similarities between them are unnerving now they’re side by side. Logan looks exactly like the profile picture I spent so many hours looking at. Freshly shaven, styled hair, suit. But under all that, it’s seems he’s a massive arsehole.

  “Do our parents know you’re here? They’re going to have a fucking field day when they find out.”

  “Jesus, Logan,” I say stepping in front of Carter. His eyes widen in shock. “I’m Danniella, your sister-in-law. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it seems to be turning out to be very much the opposite.”

  His eyes flick between me and his brother, disbelief written all over his face. He lifts his glass of scotch to his lips and drains it. Fuck knows where he managed to get that from. Christ knows how many of those he’s had, but the way he’s running his mouth I’d like to hope a lot.

  “Sister-in-law. Fuck off. No one’s stupid enough to marry that.” His eyes flick over my shoulder, and I lose my shit.

  “What the hell is your problem?” I shout, my palms lifting ready to slam down on his chest. I might not have met this dickhead before, but the fact that he’s Carter’s brother is all the connection I need to give him a piece of my mind.

  “Whoa, Danni.” Carter’s strong arm wraps around my waist, and I’m pulled back into his chest. “Don’t cause a scene,” he whispers in my ear. I nod, but I don’t relax. My fists curl with my need to hurt that arsehole.

  “What happened, bro? You never used to need a girl to fight your battles for you.”

  “I don’t. I could have your drunk arse on the floor in the blink of an eye. But I refuse to give these bunch of pricks the satisfaction of you making me lose my shit. It’s what they expect of me, and I won’t give it to them.”

  “Well they sure as shit don’t expect you to go and read out the auction lots, that’s for sure.” Carter tenses, the tightness of his arm around my waist almost painful.

  “Enough,” he grates out.

  The two stare at each other as things start falling into place in my mind. Catching Carter talking into his phone, although he wasn’t on a call. Getting me to read his messages when most guys would refuse point black. Even his sketched cooking instructions.

  Fuck.

  “Logan, what are you… oh. Carter,” another male voice says from around a tree that Carter had managed to hide us behind. When he emerges, I find I’m staring at an older version of my husband. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  “Me either,” he grunts.

  “Didn’t think this was your kind of scene.” Logan scoffs but their father ignores him. “You need to get out of here before Logan makes even more of a spectacle of himself.”

  “Me?” Carter asks in disbelief. “Shouldn’t he be the one leaving? He’s drunk off his arse and running his mouth.”

  “He needs to be here. You don’t.”

  Carter tenses, and I expect an argument to fall from his lips, but instead, it’s like all his fight leaves him.

  He releases me and takes a step back.

  “Fine. I hope you fucking enjoy yourselves. Look after my wife.” And with that, he storms away.

  “Carter, wait,” I cry, racing after him, but I’m stopped when a warm hand wraps around my wrist.

  “Let him go. He’ll need to cool off.”

  “How the fuck do you know what he needs? You don’t even know him,” I shout at his dad. I might not know the whole truth, but things are seriously starting to fall into place. The issues with education, him never feeling like he’s not good enough. All of that is the fault of the two arseholes standing in front of me. Carter might let them get away with it but I sure as fuck won’t.

  “I think I know him better than anyone. I spent years and tens of thousands of pounds trying to make something of him.”

  “He doesn’t need your pity money,” I snap. “So what he didn’t go to uni and get a fucking degree. It doesn’t make him any less of a person. He’s incredible, not that you’ve ever given him the chance to show you.”

  “Dan, what’s going on?” Zach’s voice booms from behind me. I don’t turn to look at him. Instead I keep my eyes trained on Carter’s dad.

  I sense the moment both Zach and Biff come to stand either side of me.

  “Either of you to ever met Carter’s brother or father?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you’re in for a real fucking treat.”

  “Where’s Titch?” Carter’s dad rolls his eyes at the nickname.

  “Gone. These two wankers ran him out of the party.”

  “What?” Zach roars.

  “Let’s go,” Biff says softly, taking my hand and pulling me away from the car crash I was in the middle of.

  We’re back at the car in no time. Zach floors the accelerator and we race from the car park in search of Carter, assuming he’ll be walking along the road somewhere.

  “I didn’t know Titch had a twin,” Biff muses as we look out the window for signs of him, reminding me that we’ve still not talked properly.

  “I think he wishes he didn’t.”

  “He was a dick. Nothing like Carter.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “Off his face. It’s barely four PM in the afternoon at a charity event. Who does that?”

  “Logan, apparently.”

  We don’t find him, so without knowing where else to go, we head back to my flat.

  “What if he’s not here?” I ask as we walk towards the front door.

  “Then we’ll try other places. He can’t have gone very far. He keeps his circle small.”

  We race inside, hoping to find him relaxing on the sofa, but there’s no sign of him.

  “Motherfucker. Where are you?” Zach barks.

  “So?” I ask, already losing patience with this. I need to know he’s okay. I need to tell him that I don’t care about anything his brother said. I need to prove once and for all that he is enough.

  “The studio. Spike’s…”

  “The boxing gym.”

  Zach narrows his eyes at me, but I don’t have the time or energy to ask why he looks at me that way.

  “Come on then,” Biff says, walking from the flat, as impatient as I am.

  Zach steps to follow her. “Zach, wait.” He turns back to look at me. “Logan said…” I hesitate, questioning my need to ask because deep down I already know the truth. “Logan said that Carter can’t read. Is that true?”

  “Not really. He can read, he just finds it really hard. He’s quite badly dyslexic. His family thinks that makes him an idiot, and it was drummed into him so much as a kid that he still believes it despite knowing it’s not really true.”

  “That’s fucked-up.”

  “Family,” Zach says with a shrug as we both head for the door.

  The studio is empty—well, that’s not true. Spike and D are both busy with clients on their chairs along with ones waiting in reception. But neither of them have seen Carter and both look equally concerned.

  “Do you think he’d…” Spike trails off while we all stand in his doorway.

  “I don’t know, man. He hasn’t for months.” My stomach drops, because I have a very good idea of what he’s talking about.

  “He has,” falls from my lips without instruction from my brain.

  They both turn to me in shock. “L-last weekend. Haven’t you seen his bruises this week?”

  “Yeah but he said… fuck,” Spike barks. “If he ends up in the fucking hospital because of that cunt, I’ll fucking kill him.”

  The woman on his chair with half a tattoo blanches but
doesn’t say anything as Spike begins to pace.

  “Where does he go to fight?” I ask, assuming they don’t all just rock up to the gym for it. With the whispered conversations I witnessed, I’ve got a suspicion that these fights aren’t all above board.

  “He used to get a text with the address and just disappear.”

  “Great, well that’s fucking helpful.”

  “Let’s go to the gym, see if anyone there knows anything.”

  “Go to our place first. We might be wrong. He could be hiding there and be perfectly fine.” Spike tries to sound hopeful, but I’m not sure any of us really feel it.

  In only a few minutes we’re back in Zach’s car.

  “Tell me about these fights,” I demand. “I know he’s done cage fighting. I saw him fight last weekend. I—”

  “He made you watch? Jesus,” Zach interrupts.

  “No, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t take me there for that, just to work out. One thing led to another… not the point. This fighting circuit is underground, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How didn’t I know about this?” Biff sulks.

  “It’s not exactly something he advertises. Plus, he’s not been involved for ages. He got a concussion on his last fight and was advised he should stop.”

  “What?” I ask, blanching. “So this is even more dangerous than I thought. Fucking hell.”

  “This is Spike’s place?”

  I look up and down the street. I’m not sure I could imagine a more suitable location for two bachelors to live. “They live next to Pulse?”

  No one answers—they don’t need to. The sign is right there in front of us.

  “Fucking hell, you’d never guess that Titch had moved out. Look at the state of this place,” Zach mutters as we walk inside and find the mess.

  “Is that a pair of…” I don’t finish my thought, because the small bit of red lace hanging from the lamp in the corner could only be a pair of women’s knickers.

  “Spike’s a dog. I think most of the strippers from Pulse have given private shows up here.”

  “You think?” Biff asks, her hand on her hip.

  “Uh huh,” is all he gives her before disappearing down the hall.

  We stand in the middle of the chaos, not knowing where to look.

  “He’s been here. Look.” When Zach emerges, he’s holding Carter’s phone.

  “Please tell me there’s an address on that thing.”

  He shrugs. “It’s locked.”

  “Give it.” I tap in his passcode and open his messages.

  “Clapham. Let’s go.”

  “I should drop you two back off. You don’t need to do this,” Zach says before moving the car.

  “No fucking way. Drive there now or I’ll call an Uber and get myself there.”

  “I’m with her,” Biff says. “Now go. We need to get him.”

  Zach’s wheels screech as he takes off towards the address Biff put into his GPS.

  27

  Carter

  If I had any suspicion they’d be there, then I never would have agreed to the fucking charity event. I knew my parents got involved with that kind of stuff, but what were the chances of them being at the exact same event? High, apparently.

  The second his slurred voice hit my ears, I knew everything was about to go to shit. My brother is an over-privileged prick at the best of times, but give him some alcohol and he’s just a straight-up cunt. As proved by what immediately fell from his lips.

  I wasn’t keeping my issues from Danni per se, I just didn’t really want to talk about them. I spent all of my childhood having to fucking talk about it with everyone my parents paid to try to ‘fix’ me.

  I’m dyslexic. Not fucking diseased.

  But that wasn’t good enough for them. They wanted the perfect, intelligent boys who always made them proud. Well… they got that with one of us. Logan was the golden boy. Gifted at school, excelled at all kinds of sports. He got the grades, went to university, and ended up working as a banker, all the while I flunked the lot and vented my issues via my fists. Something that my parents hated, just like the rest of my life. Drawing on people’s skin for a living wasn’t the ‘real’ job or career they wanted me to have, and their idea of sport was golf or fucking cricket, not cage fighting. But ever the disappointment, that was who I was.

  My first instinct the second I saw him was to fight. What I’d really love to do is slam my fist into his smug fucking face for all the years of hell he’s put me through. It wasn’t his fault that he was the apple of our parents’ eyes. However, it was his choice to play to it. To use every opportunity, every one of my fuck-ups to make himself look that little bit better. And today was no exception. He couldn’t cope with the fact that I might have been invited to the same stuck-up party he was, so he had to belittle me. Drag up my weaknesses to make it seem like I didn’t belong there. He really didn’t need to. I felt like an outcast from before we’d even arrived.

  My intention was to walk off the frustration and go home, but I was barely off the grounds of the massive house when my phone chimed in my pocket.

  Pulling it out, I found a name staring back at me that I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Mickey: Tonight. You in?

  My hand trembled as I stared down at it, but this time, the words were loud and clear, and they were exactly what I needed. I hit the speech to text button and replied with one simple word.

  Titch: Yes

  The address of tonight’s fight was immediately sent to me. It’s still early, but knowing I can’t sit at Danni’s and wait, I call a car and head for the old flat I shared with Spike. Most of my clothes are still there. I’ll grab a clean pair of shorts and head to the warehouse early. Mickey will be there, and, if I’m lucky there will also be a bottle or two of alcohol.

  The house is a dump. I always used to joke that Spike would be happy living in a pig sty, and it seems I was right. There are clothes, bottles, and empty take-out cartons everywhere.

  Ignoring it all, I go straight to my room and pull open my drawers to grab what I need.

  Finding there’s a hell of a wait for a car, I decide against it and set off running. The warm-up will do me good.

  By the time I jog through the closed industrial estate to locate the building where this fight is taking place, my lungs are burning, but it’s a fuck load better than feeling the lingering anger from my brother’s arsehole words.

  My fists clench.

  Fighting has been the only way I’ve been able to rid myself of the feelings of uselessness they all fill me with. They make me feel like nothing, pointless, and fighting proved to me that I am worth something. I am capable of something even if, like everything else, they don’t approve.

  To my surprise, the place is almost packed when I push through the doors. I guess we’re starting early tonight.

  “Titch! My main man,” Mickey calls when he spots me. “I gotta be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to agree.”

  “If you’d have asked me six hours ago then I probably wouldn’t have.”

  “You got shit going on?”

  “Yeah, enough to get me pumped for this.”

  “Come on then, let’s get you ready. I’ve got a few guys lined up before you. Get the crowd in the mood and then the floor is all yours. They’re gonna fucking love having you back, man.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “It’s going to be epic,” he continues, ignoring that I even said anything.

  The roar of the crowd makes me wince as a couple of naïve looking kids step into the centre.

  “Fucking hell, where you finding them these days, primary school?”

  “Don’t let their looks deceive you. They’ve got potential.”

  “Potential to be flattened,” I mutter.

  Mickey leads me out the back and away from the action so I can get ready.

  “Who am I fighting?”

  “Ace.”

  “Ace? You’re fucking j
oking.” Ace is massive. I might have been out of the game for a while, but I can’t imagine he’s got any smaller, or slower in that time. I, on the other hand, am very out of practice.

  “Nah, man. You can take him.”

  I picture my brother and father and the way they looked at me earlier, and it stirs within me exactly what I need. Hate.

  “You got any fucking whiskey?”

  “Just one,” Mickey states.

  “Whatever.” He disappears for a few minutes before bringing me a bottle.

  I neck a few shots before it’s swiped from my hand.

  “Being half cut won’t help.”

  It feels like one second that whiskey is burning down my throat and then the next I’m approaching the ring with a cheering crowd in every direction.

  The MC announces my name and they fucking erupt. I didn’t really expect anyone to miss me when I stopped fighting, but it seems I might have been wrong.

  I push everything from my head and focus on that feeling that constantly sits heavy inside me. The need to prove myself. The need to show I’m worthy. Everything else vanishes, and when I look at Ace, who’s smirking at me like he’s already fucking won, all I see is my brother’s face.

  The second the horn sounds signalling the start of the fight, I fly at him.

  I don’t think of the consequences, of the reason I gave this up, and I sure as fuck don’t think of her.

  My fists fly, making contact with my target, but I’m not the only one.

  I grunt as his knuckles connect with my ribs. My chest burns as I fight to drag in the air I need.

  “Motherfucker.”

  The sound of the crowd is silenced as I focus on my task.

  Taking this arsehole to the ground.

  Proving myself.

  Being worthy.

  28

  Danni

  “What the fuck is going on?” I bark at seeing yet another road closure.

  “Essential road works,” Zach mutters—not that it’s necessary, anyone with eyes could see all the warning signs.

  “This is bullshit. It would have been quicker to run.”