The Blame Game_A Brook Brothers Novel

by Tracie Delaney

  Still, he said nothing. After about five minutes, he drew to a halt outside a coffee shop. He pushed open the door and virtually shoved her inside. “Sit down,” he barked, pointing to a table in the corner. “I’ll get the coffees.” He held out his hand for money. With a sigh, Indie gave him ten dollars.

  She took off her coat and laid it over the back of the chair. Her skin prickled as she watched his stiff posture while he stood in line. Clearly, he wasn’t happy with her. Well, tough shit, because she wasn’t happy with him either. And this time, he was going to get the sharp edge of her tongue.

  “Now will you tell me what’s going on?” she said when he put a large latte in front of her. “You never said you’d be there.”

  “Just as well I was, because you suck at this.”

  Indie glared at him. “No, I don’t.”

  “Okay, let’s go with out of practice.” Phil laughed and took a sip of coffee. “He’s interested, though. I could tell that from the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you, but you gotta go slower. Make him work for it. You give away the honey after one date without him making any effort, and it’ll be the last you see of him.”

  She shuddered. “My brother watching me flirting is beyond creepy.”

  “Believe me, I wasn’t enjoying myself either. In fact, watching that bastard touch you, not to mention when you put your hands on him, made me want to rip his throat out.” He shrugged as he tipped sugar into his coffee. “Still, it’s what we planned.”

  Indie slowly stirred her latte, readying herself for the fury her next words would bring. But she had to say them. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? After all, Jax isn’t his father.”

  Phil paused, his hand stopping midstir. He lifted his head, his eyes directly meeting hers, and he gave her a hard stare. “You’d better not be losing your nerve, Indie,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction.

  “I’m not… but isn’t the fact he lost his parents in such terrible circumstances punishment enough?”

  Phil’s nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t driving the truck that ran them off the road. But just because we can’t punish the father doesn’t mean we shouldn’t punish the offspring.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  Spittle began to form in the corners of Phil’s mouth, reminding Indie of their father. Like him, it was a sure sign Phil was about to lose his temper. Indie stiffened, readying herself for what was to come. Sure enough, Phil grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Hard.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, trying to free herself. Phil tightened his grip, and involuntary tears sprang to her eyes. If he didn’t let go soon, he’d break her wrist. But there was no use begging. It would only make him hurt her more. She tried to relax her hand and block out the pain.

  “You listen to me,” Phil said between clenched teeth. “You will do whatever it takes to make Jaxon Brook fall in love with you, and once he’s in so deep he can’t see straight, then we’ll strike. You’ll break him emotionally. I’ll break him financially. That was always the plan. That’s still the plan. And you will do as I fucking say. Understood?”

  She nodded vigorously—anything to make Phil release her before her wrist snapped. When he did, she pulled her arm close to her chest. No doubt, she’d have a nasty bruise there the next day. Good thing it was the weather for long-sleeved shirts and sweaters.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, softening his voice, the flash of anger withering now that she’d complied. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But we’ve come too far to give up now.”

  Indie nodded glumly. “I know.”

  That was the problem—he never did mean it. Just as Dad hadn’t meant it. Maybe once they’d gotten their revenge, the brother she’d once known would return to her. After all, she owed him so much.

  Phil clipped her under the chin, a habit he’d had since they were kids. “You can do this, honey. And from the gleam I saw in your eye earlier, it won’t be such a hardship. It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

  Indie held her hand in the air. “Stop now. I’m begging you.”

  Phil laughed. “Okay, okay. But take it slow. Let him chase you. Guys like him prefer to do the running.”

  “I will. And you.” She poked her finger at him. “No more spying.”

  He held three fingers to his temple. “Scout’s honor.” When Indie rolled her eyes, Phil laughed again. “Love you, sis. You’re all I’ve got left. Make Dad proud.”

  Twenty minutes later, Indie let herself into her apartment. She went to the freezer and took out a bag of ice. After fetching a face towel from the bathroom, she wrapped a few cubes in it and pressed the makeshift icepack to her wrist. Phil had really hurt her. She shouldn’t have goaded him.

  She sank onto the sofa, and as she closed her eyes, the past came back.

  She pressed herself into the corner of the dark, dank room with Barney—her one-eyed, scruffy teddy bear—dangling from her hand as she waited for Daddy’s breathing to change into something deeper. His breaths were too shallow, and if he wasn’t properly asleep, he might wake up. And then… and then.

  An empty bottle lay beside the sofa, her cue that he wasn’t simply taking an afternoon nap. It took ten minutes before she felt safe to emerge from the darkness. She tiptoed past him, her stomach rumbling. She spied a half-eaten sandwich Dad had brought home. He’d passed out before he could finish it. She crouched down and wrapped her fingers around the doughy bread. As she slowly got to her feet, her cravings became too strong to wait. She bit into the sandwich and swallowed, her belly crying out with joy.

  Slowly, slowly, she backed away, taking another bite as she did so—and then her heel connected with the bottle. It skidded across the floor, clanging against the hearth.

  Dad was on his feet in an instant. For a moment, he seemed confused, then his eyes, all wild and bloodshot, fell on the sandwich.

  “What have you got there, Indie?” he slurred.

  “I was hungry, Daddy, and it was just lying there.”

  “Is it yours?”

  Her chin dropped, and she shook her head.

  “What happens to thieves, Indie?” His voice was low and menacing.

  Terror pushed a fat tear from her eye. She shrank back, trying to make herself as small as possible, but it didn’t work. Daddy grabbed her skinny arms, making her drop Barney and the sandwich. He shook her so hard her teeth rattled. He ground his foot into the sandwich, crushing the remains into the threadbare carpet.

  “They get punished,” he yelled in her face, his breath stinking of whiskey and desperation.

  “Get off her!” Her brother appeared from nowhere. At eighteen, Phil was starting to fill out, but he still wasn’t a match for their father. It didn’t stop him trying to protect her, though. He grabbed Daddy around the waist and tugged. They both fell backward onto the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs and fury.

  Daddy pinned Phil beneath his body while Indie silently cried. She didn’t wail because things got worse when she made too much noise.

  “You want to hurt someone, Dad?” Phil panted beneath their father’s much larger body. “You hurt me. Not her. Never her.”

  Daddy clambered off the sofa and hauled her brother to his feet. He slammed Phil up against the wall, his forearm rammed against Phil’s throat. Her brother kept his arms loose by his sides. He didn’t fight back because that would only make Daddy angrier. It was better to take the punishment and pray it would be over quickly. But whether Daddy saw something in Phil’s eyes or his drink-fogged brain cleared for a moment, he let go and took a step back.

  He hung his head. “I don’t want to hurt either of you. You’re my children, and I love you. I only want to hurt one man—the one who stole everything. The one who did this”—he gestured around the dark, damp space—“to me. To us.”

  Phil gingerly touched his neck, his face sad and so much older than his eighteen years.

  “I know, Dad. I’ll help. We both will. We�
�ll do whatever it takes to make Jaxon Brook pay.

  Indie rubbed her face and rolled onto her side. Jaxon Brook Sr. had died before Phil or her father could take revenge, but that didn’t deter Phil. He couldn’t have the father, so Jax had become his whole focus for revenge. She’d asked him once, “Why Jax and not any of his brothers?” Phil had shoved a picture of the father in front of her. Jax was the image of his dad.

  With a groan, she closed her eyes. She might have to lie to Phil, but lying to herself was going to be a lot more difficult. The truth was, she liked Jax. A lot. Which made what she had to do even worse. No matter how Phil dressed it up, he was basically her pimp, and she was prostituting herself in the name of revenge.

  There were two questions she needed to answer: was it worth it, and did she have it in her to deliver the end game?

  Chapter Five

  Jax passed a bottle of water to Calum and took a long drink of his own. He looked around the enormous room that would become the hub of the hotel, a sort of bar-lounge-hangout combination. He felt a stab of pride. They’d made enormous strides in less than two weeks, and both Calum and Cole were helping out where they could, which took the pressure off him and the builders—not to mention saving a chunk of cash.

  Nate… now, he was another story. Jax looked over at Calum. “You or Cole heard from Nate yet?”

  Calum shook his head. “I’ve texted and emailed him and left messages on his phone, but so far, nothing.”

  Jax let out an exasperated sigh. “Same for me. What’s his problem?”

  Calum shrugged. “I told him we were all getting together for Thanksgiving. Knowing Nate, he’ll turn up unannounced, eat all the food, and head back to California.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if he did. At least we’d get to see him and make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’ll be fine. Nate could fall into a vat of shit and come up smelling of expensive cologne.”

  “You’re probably right,” Jax said with a laugh, although his insides still felt all twisted. His youngest brother had a special place in Jax’s heart, probably because Nate had been so young when their parents died. Jax had tried to be the replacement parent Nate so desperately needed, but nothing could fill the gap of their passing. Nate felt the loss of Mom the deepest. They’d been so close. Nate had idolized her. They’d often share a secret smile or a joke, then Mom would pull him into her arms and tell him how much she loved him and how special he was.

  Jax rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand as memories swept through his mind. He thought back to how, in the aftermath of the car crash that killed Mom and Dad, he’d spent night after night sitting on the edge of Nate’s bed, stroking his damp hair as he’d sobbed and begged Jax to bring them back.

  He wandered over to the window and looked out onto the street. A light dusting of snow covered the sidewalks, although the passing traffic had washed away any that had settled on the roads. The last time they’d had snow in October had been in 2011. He hoped it wasn’t an omen that the coming winter would be hard.

  He sat on the edge of the windowsill. “It’s coming along, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Calum said. “And despite my initial reticence, I have to say, you did the right thing, Jax.”

  Jax clasped a hand to his chest and pretended to faint. “Fuck me. That’s a first.”

  Calum laughed. “Do you think we’ll make the New Year’s deadline?”

  “We’d better,” Jax said. “That’s why I’m paying such extortionate rates to the builders—to make sure we open on New Year’s as planned.”

  “Shame we can’t open the week before,” Calum said. “Grab the Christmas trade.”

  Jax gave him a wide-eyed look. “Are you trying to kill me? I’m stressing enough about deadlines as it is. If I’d found this place a couple weeks earlier, then sure, I’d have liked to.” He shrugged. “Can’t do anything about that now.”

  Calum put the cap back on the bottle of water and set it on the floor. “Got the time to date though, huh,” he teased. “Speaking of which, how’d it go Saturday?”

  Jax grimaced. “Not great. She got a phone call and bailed after one drink.” He gave a wry grin. “I’m such a catch.”

  “Have you called her?”

  He nodded. “A couple of times. No answer.”

  “Then call again, or go see her. Jeez, you’re awful at this whole romancing thing.”

  Jax smiled. “I don’t usually have to bother.”

  Calum choked out a laugh. “Your ego’s going to rival mine at this rate.”

  Jax snorted. “Doubtful.”

  Calum’s face grew serious. “You like this girl?”

  Jax nodded.

  “Then go after her. Don’t give her an option to say no. Be tenacious.”

  “Stalk her, you mean.”

  “No. Make her feel special. Chase her. Yes, I know, I know,” Calum said, holding his hands in the air as Jax started to interrupt. “The great Jaxon Brook doesn’t chase women. Well, you know what, bro? Sounds like you’ll have to make an exception for this one. If you want to get laid, that is.”

  Jax laughed. “You make me sound like a total dick.”

  Calum raised an eyebrow. “If the shoe fits…”

  Jax flipped him off. Calum laughed.

  “Fine,” Jax said. “I’ll try it your way.”

  Calum dropped his empty bottle of water in the trash, lifted his jacket off the back of the door, and shrugged into it. “Okay, I gotta go,” he said with a wink. “Can’t keep the ladies waiting.”

  “Ladies? As in, plural?”

  “Yup.”

  When Jax raised an eyebrow, Calum laughed. Jax shook his head as his brother headed out. Nothing changed with that one. Then again, he’d never been short of offers.

  He took his cell out of his pocket and tried Nate once more. The familiar voicemail message kicked in, one Jax could recite word for word. With a heavy sigh, he called up Indie’s number. Might as well put Calum’s advice into action. No point procrastinating.

  Even so, his finger hovered over the call button before he muttered, “Fuck it,” and tapped the screen. His heart began thrumming in his chest as the ringing tone sounded in his ear. After five rings, he expected the call to go to voicemail as it had on the previous occasions he’d tried to get hold of her.

  And then she answered. “Hi.”

  Her silky-smooth voice had his ears singing. God, he’d missed how she sounded. He barely knew her, yet he could feel himself falling under her spell. He took a seat in an old armchair covered in paint and closed his eyes.

  “Hi. Is it too late?”

  “Not at all. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back when you rang earlier this week. Work has been so busy.”

  “It’s fine. I only wanted to check how you were? You looked a bit frazzled when you left the bar on Saturday night.”

  The phone went silent, and then he heard a soft sigh. “I’m sorry if I came on a little strong. I don’t know what came over me.”

  She sounded embarrassed. He imagined her cringing as she spoke.

  “I’m not going to complain about a beautiful woman throwing herself at me,” Jax said with a low chuckle.

  “Thank you for understanding.” He could hear the relief in her voice followed by another stretch of silence. Then she said, “It was my ex. On the phone, I mean. He calls from time to time. I think he’s lonely.”

  A surge of jealousy made his chest burn, despite the fact she hadn’t given any indication she wanted to get back with the ex.

  “Did you break up long ago?”

  “Yes, quite a long time ago now.”

  That made him feel better. It was time to move things along. “How about dinner tomorrow night?”

  She hesitated as though searching for the right words to let him down gently.

  “Or the night after,” he said, hoping a compromise might persuade her to accept.

  “No, tomorrow is good. Is eight okay?”

  A slug
of excitement curled in the pit of his stomach. “Absolutely. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Do you mind if I meet you there?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll book somewhere and text you the venue.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. Night, Jax.”

  * * *

  Jax smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt. He poured a glass of water for himself and one for Indie—the same Indie who was fifteen minutes late. He’d already had the sympathetic looks from the waiters. Any minute now, they’d ask him to move to the table by the kitchen or the one squashed in a corner next to the restrooms.

  He fidgeted in his seat. She should have been there by now. He checked his cell for the fifth time in the last minute, even though he’d have heard the notification come through. Nope. No call or text. Maybe she’d only accepted because she was being polite. How long should he leave it before sending one of those bright “Hope you’re not stuck in traffic” texts? He caught another glance from the wait staff and rearranged his face into an expression he hoped was nonchalant and casual even though his emotions warred between indignation and crushing disappointment.

  Jax repressed a laugh. If Calum found out about this, he’d bust Jax’s balls for at least a week. Maybe more. Jax had never been stood up in his entire life. He gave a metaphorical shrug. First time for everything. Except he really liked Indie, and that made the no-show sting.

  He was about to throw some money on the table and slip out the side entrance when she arrived in a flurry, her coat and scarf trailing behind her, cheeks pink from the cold wind.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, shrugging out of her coat, which she put over the back of the chair. Jax’s eyes flickered over her. She’d worn a fitted black dress with a high neckline, and his stomach clenched as he was treated to a flash of golden thigh. He caught the eye of the waiter, who gave him a look as though to say, Yeah, I’d have waited too.

  “I lost track of time,” she continued. “I’m working on something for a major client and, well…” She gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my shenanigans. I half expected you wouldn’t be here.”