Fraud: A Stepbrother Romance

  Fraud

  A Stepbrother Romance

  By Stephanie Brother

  © 2016 Stephanie Brother

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over. None of the characters are related by blood.

  Kindle Edition

  Book cover designed by Kasmit Covers

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  Contents

  PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  EPILOGUE

  About Stephanie Brother

  Also by Stephanie Brother

  PROLOGUE

  Her eyes frantically watched the second hand on the clock sweep out the last seconds of her life.

  For the thousandth time, she tried to wrench her hands free from their tight leather bindings. For the thousandth time, she failed. Despair welled up within her bosom, as the knowledge of her impending doom sank into her psyche. She feared not Death; that was but another great adventure, an unknown waiting to be explored. But, she felt abject terror at having lost Derek, yet again. Death would actually be welcome, she thought. It was preferable to be no longer in this world when her soul mate and love would never be with her.

  She had seen Tanner shoot Derek, in the back! That bastard! She struggled anew, the bindings tightly winding and cutting the circulation to her hands even more. She craved revenge, and the thought of killing Tanner gave her new strength, at least for the next four or five sweeps of the unstoppable second-hand.

  The wires that were attached to the bomb were actually quite pretty, she thought, idiotically. They were the most intense shades of blue, red, yellow and green that she could remember.

  Suddenly, she had an idea! She tried to rock her chair, again, and was able to move it closer to the device. She had long ago succeeded in chewing through the sour tasting leather gag, and it lay draped partially on her shoulders. Her naked breasts heaved with the effort of trying to move the chair closer to the bomb without toppling over. All her earlier yelling had managed to do was confirm that she was utterly alone on the farm, with no one around for miles to hear her desperate cries for help. She had wasted valuable time then, and sweat ran into her eyes, not just from the horrible summer heat, but from the intense concentration she mustered.

  She was almost there, now. Just one. More. Jump!

  The chair teetered and almost tipped past its balance point, and for one terrifying second she thought she’d lost the game. But, sucking in her breath, she compensated and jerked just so, and the chair came to a solid rest with a dull thud.

  Her eyes and mouth were mere fractions of an inch from the bomb. She had exactly four minutes left, to do anything at all. She’d decided that, at least this would be a quick way to die, the bomb going off in her mouth, the force of the blast propelling her rapidly into oblivion.

  She looked over the wires, carefully, attempting to decide which ones she thought were the best option for disconnecting the battery. Her gaze kept getting drawn to a turquoise blue strand. She tried to think clearly, but at this point her brain was confusing her.

  Oh, Derek! She cried. Tears began to mix with the sweat in her eyes, and she gritted her teeth and flung her head to and fro like a terrier, clearing her vision. She used her tongue and nose to position the blue wire to a point where she could easily work it with her mouth.

  She opened her mouth, and her pearly white, perfect teeth gently went to work, gnawing the wire.

  I hope this works, she thought, as she worried at the plastic coating. It tasted awful, and she kept spitting bits of it out onto the dry hardwood floor of the barn. From the corner of her eye, she saw the timer.

  Only two minutes left!

  She had gotten through the plastic, and now her teeth encountered the bitter taste of raw copper. It smelled and tasted like blood, and she bit and chewed as hard as she could. The wire cut into the corner of her mouth, and scored small incisions in it. A drop of red blood oozed around the wire now, and slowly dripped down her chin and neck. One of her teeth chipped and she shouted out in pain as she bit her tongue.

  She reflexively recoiled with her body, and suddenly she knew it was over. The delicate balancing act with the chair had been lost and she braced herself for the impact as she toppled over and her head smacked into the floor.

  She saw stars, and then unconsciousness began to claim her. She heard Derek’s deep booming voice, calling her name.

  We’ll finally be together, in Death, was her last thought before the bomb exploded.

  Chapter 1

  Megan

  I knew I had the fat, smug bastard.

  Robert King was a consummate con artist, who’d managed to scam several millions of dollars from a series of wealthy lonely women from a retirement community in central Florida. He’d sold them all on a combination of classic land-switch cons, and even managed to fuck most of them.

  I mean, literally fuck them.

  The guy was an animal, and the only reason he was in court was that two of his ladies took to fighting over him in public. They created quite the scene, in a tony restaurant, where they’d both lost it and began to cat-fight in front of most of the money in Orlando. That was apparently something to see - two seventyish ladies, who up until that point had been celebrated for their generosity and charitable work (most of it putting on snooty balls and soirees for other old-moneyed crones, who shifted their husbands’ assets from one cause to another).

  But, apparently, the green-eyed monster knows no limitations, and so the two of them treated the guests assembled for a Democratic Presidential fund-raiser to one hell of a show. Plates went flying, champagne was tossed in faces, and these two women fought to the bitter end over their “Bobby”.

  I guess he was good in bed, or something. I can’t even imagine. What the hell kind of man was this guy? Going down on muff that probably was full of dust, it was so old? I guess it takes all kinds…

  Those ladies loved the hell out of him, though. The tabloids and even the local newspaper wrote it up, although the Democratic nominee had to be whisked out of there in a hurry. Word was that she had a bit of King in her, as well. Might have turned into a three-way…

  The practical outcome of that was an IRS investigation into his companies, (probably initiated by Ms. Nominee, is my educated guess).

  It turned out he’d been defrauding the State of Florida, as well as a whole bevy of well-to-do ladies, from one side of the country to another. Fucking old, rich bitches is one thing, but nobody fucks Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam fucks YOU.

  When the dust had settled, Bobby King was indicted for fraud, and lucky me got to be the prosecution.

  I mean, it’s not like this
is my first rodeo.

  I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Harvard Law School, and I even was a partner at a Dewy Cheethem firm for a couple of years. But, I missed the excitement of the courtroom, and sold my shares off to a junior partner. Too much bother, arguing with old farts who ogled me like I was some piece of meat. Even the younger lawyers only wanted to screw. Not that I did any of that…

  I’d long ago lost my heart to a man, an unattainable, beautiful beast of a man. We’d been so close, and then…

  Well, that’s ancient history. Old news. Best left in the past, where it belongs.

  My attention was drawn back from my woolgathering by King’s attorney introducing ‘new evidence, Your Honor’.

  What?

  That lousy fucker!

  He’d been trying for so long, delaying the trial, bribing witnesses and trying to get the case dismissed. I’d followed his conniving bullshit for three years now, and it was almost done.

  I had him!

  Now it was up to Judge Turner.

  *****

  The Judge and I went way back, all the way to law school.

  He’d not yet become the bitter old man he’d who sat on the judge’s bench now.

  No, back then, “Ike” Turner was a successful State Prosecutor, and was getting ready to go into the State government as a Special Prosecutor, appointed by the Governor for a Grand Jury looking into some shady land dealings between Loundstrad Timber Holdings and the prior administration.

  There had been some brouhaha about Indian Burial lands and a State Park, and it all ended up with the Native American Tribe, (they called themselves “The People” as I recall), winning an indefinite lease on their portion of the park. Apparently, uranium deposits had been found where the sacred lands were located, and the Governor and Harlan Calloway had done a deal. The story had been broken by Brian Cox, the guy with that reality show. He and his now-wife had been doing a show about the strange appearances of ghosts and things. People from around there, and even some visitors to the Park had seen weird things in the sky, like clouds that looked like animals. At night, there was this glow over the burial grounds. Lights could be seen moving around the forest. You know, all that ‘paranormal’ nonsense.

  Everyone thought the place was spooky.

  So Brian and this gal went out to film an episode of his show “Haunted” and the rest is history.

  They got a lot of exposure from uncovering old Calloway’s having bribed the Governor. I think someone even tried to kill them. It happened a long time ago, so I really don’t remember much of the details. But, I do know that it was that case that made Judge “Ike” Turner the man he is today.

  *****

  I don’t know what happened since then to him, but Ike had changed abruptly about five years after that case. It was like he was two halves of a man, that fought each other constantly. His wife had been killed in a senseless car accident, but he never seemed all that attached to her, to be frank. I’d met her, and she looked like she wouldn’t suck on a lemon lollipop, let alone a dick. But, apparently he’d loved her.

  Still, he was never the same after her death. Judge Turner became cynical, and his sentences reflected a harsher view of the world. He’d been fairly liberal in his earlier days, but now he went for maximum sentencing. A lot of his peers thought it was just his getting older and crankier, but he lost some of the even-handedness for which he’d been admired in earlier cases. He was still as keen as ever regarding the law, but his application of it seemed much angrier. I tried to remember how Ike and I related back when I was his protégé, and hoped he’d cut me some slack on this case.

  I had all the facts. It got down to just convincing him that my logic was sound, and that King was guilty of all the charges.

  *****

  “If it pleases Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” I ask, meekly.

  I always use that ploy when I want something from a man. Usually, they fall for it. Ike probably wouldn’t - this time.

  “Come forward, Ms. Greene,” he says. “I imagine I know why you want to, but let’s hear it anyway.”

  King’s attorney, some hot-looking dude from down in South Beach, named Floori, approaches as well, and then we are both standing there. Floori grins, and it’s only my will-power that prevents me from smashing those perfect, even teeth with my fist.

  If I were so inclined, I’d blow him first.

  He’s perfect. Beautiful. A muscled, athletic man, who most likely has a cock the size of a donkey’s.

  He’s confident, powerful and refined.

  “Floori the Fixer” is what all the other attorneys call him.

  He drives either a BMW M5 or a 7-series, depending on who his client is.

  The urban cowboys get the seven, everyone else gets the M5. He represents a lot of old-money, and they like tradition.

  Floori is just their kind of guy. A smooth-talking Cuban immigrant (he claims) who can ‘Hablo Espanol’ with the best of them.

  He was reported to have been invited to be on several State committees regarding sugar holdings, agriculture and the electric utilities.

  Word has it, the special interests paid him to decline. They were afraid he’d screw them over for the average citizen. He’s that good.

  He’s as slick and sleazy as they come.

  If he were straight, he’d be a real ladies man, and he knows it.

  *****

  “Judge, as you know, my client is a busy man, and has only recently remembered that he had these records,” says Floori.

  “Your Honor, you know that the discovery phase has ended, and this evidence is excluded from consideration by many different case precedents, such as Marbury…” I begin, but Ike shuts me down.

  “Ms. Greene, I know the law. Please refrain from trying to teach me to suck eggs, or I will hold you in contempt,” he intones nasally.

  His glasses hang almost off his nose, and he peers down at me like a vulture.

  What happened to you, Ike? You used to be someone I could trust.

  “Mr. Floori, the evidence should have been submitted earlier, but seeing the gravity of your client’s situation, and the fact that this new evidence appears to exonerate him, I will allow it,” says Judge Turner.

  My face goes white with anger, and shock. This can’t be happening! I’m going to lose this case!

  “Is there anything else, Ms. Greene?” asks the Judge.

  “No, Your Honor,” I say, dully. “I don’t suppose there is.”

  “Then please sit down so I can do my job, here,” he says.

  The rest of the trial is just going through the motions, and by the end of the afternoon, Mr. Robert King is a free man.

  “Case dismissed,” says Ike, and he bangs his gavel.

  Ike gets up, his robes swirling around him like a black cloud, as all rise and watch him exit.

  I gather my documents, and neatly put them into my briefcase, avoiding Floori’s leer.

  He comes over to me.

  “No hard feelings, Counselor. You did well, but there really just wasn’t a case against my client, now was there?” he says.

  I again manage to restrain myself from punching his perfect teeth into his face.

  “Nice job, Floori. I am sure you’re the perfect attorney for Mr. King,” I say.

  I look at King and at Floori’s crotch, make kissing noises and wink.

  He smiles as I walk out of the courtroom.

  Judge Tanner walks out into the hall.

  “Megan, a moment, please?” he says. I follow him into his chambers, as Floori watches, grinning.

  “Yes, Your Honor, what can I do for you?” I ask.

  “I just want you to understand that I find the facts in this case disturbing,” he begins. “I don’t really think you know the full story.”

  “Your Honor, you don’t have to defend your decision to me,” I say. My tone is not the most diplomatic.

  “Megan, you did everything you could. I want you to remember that. This case wa
s only going to go one way, and I am sure that, as the months progress, you will understand and see how this was inevitable,” he said.

  He reached into his desk and withdrew a silver charm bracelet. It had a locket attached, and he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. He appeared to be looking at nothing at all, yet he frowned in concentration.

  “Is there anything else, Judge Tanner?” I say.

  “No, not really, my dear,” he replied. “Not really.”

  I get up and excuse myself, and walk to the elevators and then go down to the first floor, where I go into the bathroom.

  I decide I need to freshen up a bit, and as I look into the mirror, I just really can’t stand what I am seeing.

  I close my eyes, and put my hand over them, taking deep breaths and trying to not scream my anger and frustration at what just went down.

  *****

  Ten minutes later, I am sitting outside on the courthouse steps.

  I light a cigarette, and draw the smoke into my lungs. I start coughing, fitfully.

  I never could get the hang of smoking.

  I stub the little bastard out. It’s the first one I’ve had in three years.

  Ever since Derek left.

  I quit then. I should have stayed quit.

  I hear laughter, and King and his asshole lawyer are getting into a limo down the steps in front of me. They are in a no-parking zone.

  What a fucking asshole…

  King flips me a bird as the limo drives away.

  I can’t help but notice the old woman sitting in the seat beside him.

  She’s sitting there, quietly glaring at me with stark disapproval and hatred.

  I know that look well. I’ve seen it many times over the years, ever since my Dad married her.

  Thanks, Mom.

  Just the thing I needed to make my day complete.