A Baby for My Hero Stepbrother: Forbidden Billionaire Romance Page 4

  He squeals the tires as he speeds out of the driveway. He starts racing through town doing at least twenty miles over the speed limit. He’s not even heading for home. I pull my seatbelt on as he races through the streets trying to be calm and let him blow off whatever steam he has built up.

  “Bradford, what are you doing?” I ask yelping as he runs a red light.

  He glances over at me as he shifts gears, missing the slot and grinding them. He’s sweating profusely and he keeps checking the rear view mirror.

  “Shut up,” he says.

  “Look that’s it. I’m not going to shut up. Now slow this car down! You’re not even going towards home.”

  He glances at me again with his teeth gritted. He’s clenching the steering wheel with both hands but he does let off the gas and start slowing down. We’re in a warehouse district, not a good section of town. He pulls the car off the side of the road and parks. Turning in his seat, his eyes wide, he reaches a hand out to push a curl out of my face.

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  I feel my heart softening and my anger dissipates. Then the door behind me opens letting the cold night air in. A hand covers my mouth and I can’t scream. A rotten smell fills my nose from a cloth that is pressed against my mouth and nose. I’m light headed and woozy then my vision starts to fade. The last thing I see is Bradford sitting there in the car watching me being drug away.

  Chapter ten

  Samuel

  I walk out of the dinner gala into the fresh air of the night. I can’t put on a happy face for them any longer. Anger pulses through me in time with the beating of my heart. That didn’t go well. Lucille still has no idea she’s in trouble and I know that lying sack of shit isn’t going to take the message.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen. Unknown number. No one has this number yet.

  “Hello?” I answer it.

  “We have your sister,” an electronic voice says.

  The anger is gone replaced by a deep cold. My throat is dry.

  “Who is this?”

  “Five hundred thousand by six p.m. tomorrow. Call the cops, she’s dead. We’ll call with instructions.”

  “I don’t have access to that much cash.”

  “Six p.m. Or she’s dead.”

  The line goes dead.

  Chapter eleven

  Lucille

  My eyes won’t open. I will them to, pushing at the muscles trying to get them to open. A hint of light breaks through. At last! My eyes are gritty sandpaper as I blink.

  I’m lying on a dirty, smelly mattress. My arms are bound behind me, my legs are tied too. I’m still in my dress. I mentally assess myself from head to toe. Something is in my mouth. I’m dry. So incredibly, aridly dry I’d kill for a splash of water. Moving my jaw I realize that I’m gagged with a rag or something.

  A pair of legs comes into view and I jerk back involuntarily. A mousy looking man kneels before me. He has greasy hair sticking out from under a ball cap, a large nose, and crooked teeth stained from nicotine abuse. A cigarette hangs out of one corner of his mouth, the smoke makes my nose crinkle. I suppress a cough the best I can.

  “Yo’ you awake now?” he asks.

  His voice is squeaky, just like his rat face. I nod unable to speak. I’ve had kidnapping training but it was a long time ago. Our parents thought it a possibility and paid some security company to train Samuel and I on how to handle the situation. I try to remember all the things to do and not to do but I haven’t thought about it in years.

  “Tha’ good,” he says. “Bet you want water.”

  I nod showing gratitude. I remember suddenly that you always look them in the eye. Don’t let them dehumanize you, it makes it easier for them to do inhuman things to you if they don’t see you as human. I shift slightly so I can meet his eyes.

  “Ivan!” he yells.

  I hear feet shuffling and another set of legs comes into view. These legs are huge, I can only imagine the size of the man that goes along with them.

  “What,” a deep booming voice asks.

  “Get the bitch some water,” Rat man says.

  “Fuck you,” Ivan replies and shuffles back off.

  Rat Man shakes his head and rises moving out of my sight. A few moments later he returns with a glass of dirty water. He sets it down on the ground then leans in to untie my gag. I stare at the water. The holy grail sits there in front of me and I can’t wait to possess it. My tongue wants to stretch out towards it and lap it up I’m so dry but I wait.

  After he loosens the knots behind me the gag falls out of my mouth. I move my stiff jaw. He steps back then shakes his head. He comes in close again. He smells strongly of gasoline and grease as he helps me to a sitting position. I’m kneeling on my knees with my ankles bound behind me and my arms feel like they’re tied at elbow and wrists both. He holds the glass out to me.

  “Thirsty?” he says moving the glass in front of my eyes.

  I nod desperately wanting the water. I can’t help following it with my head as he drifts it back and forth in front of me. He smiles and giggles. My jaw works, I want to beg for it but I’m too dry to make words. My throat is scratchy, my tongue feels swollen in my mouth. I’m sure that speech is beyond me right now.

  He spills some of the water and I lunge forward sticking my tongue out to catch some of those spectacular, thirst quenching drops. I fall on my face slamming into the concrete just beyond the edge of the mattress. Rat Man’s laughter echoes around the room as I taste coppery blood. I’m so desperate for moisture even the taste of my own blood is a relief from the dryness as I swallow some of it.

  “Hey!” booming Ivan yells his feet shuffling back into view. “No damage.”

  He has an accent which sounds faintly Russian to me. Massive hands grip my shoulders and lift me easily back to a kneeling position. I see a pool of my blood on the concrete as he lifts me up. I think I bit my lip but nothing seems or feels broken. Ivan takes the glass from Rat Man and brings it to my lips. His hands make the glass seem tiny but they’re nimble. I gulp it down gratefully but he only lets me have one good drink then pulls it back.

  “Slow,” he says. “Make sick.”

  I nod my understanding and he brings the glass back to my lips. I sip slowly not wanting him to take it away again.

  “Good, good,” he says.

  He takes the glass away and then shuffles off to one side. I see him sit down at a table and pick up a deck of cards. He starts dealing them out apparently playing solitaire with himself. I look around the rest of the room that looks like an abandoned warehouse. The walls are concrete and steel, the space is large and open with strategically placed beams that run floor to ceiling instead of walls. The top of the outer walls are dirty windows and I can see the sun is either setting or rising depending on which part of the day it is.

  There’s a commotion outside my range of sight. I try to turn to see it but I can’t move far enough. It sounds like someone struggling. The sounds come closer until I can see Ivan and another large man dragging someone between them. They throw the person down on the ground in front of me and I gasp. Samuel turns his head to look at me and gives me a half grin, blood running down his cheek and one eye swelling.

  “Hey sis,” he says.

  I look up at my captors confused. Why and how did they grab him too? Is this their plan? It makes no sense!

  Ivan stands over Samuel beside the other large man. They argue in a dialect I don’t understand back and forth pointing between Samuel and I. Samuel rolls over so his back is to me and he’s facing the two large men. Rat Man wanders up to the larger two all three of them ignoring Samuel.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Rat Man says. “That’s not the plan!”

  “No money,” Ivan says obviously translating for the other man.

  The three of them fall back into arguing. Samuel is moving, one hand sliding into the back of his pants. It emerges holding a small piece of metal. A metallic click and the piece
of metal grows five inches of sharpened steel. My eyes widen and I shake my head no but his back is to me.

  Samuel moves without warning, stabbing Ivan in the side. Samuel moves like nothing I’ve ever seen. He sweeps a low kick hitting the other large man in the leg behind his knee and he drops too. With no hesitation Samuel stabs that one in the throat with the knife. His leg continues to swing until in a fluid motion he’s on his feet in a low crouch facing Rat Man who backs away.

  “Whoa man, calm down now,” Rat Man says with his hands held palm out. One of his hands moves quickly to his lower back but before he can even fully reach it Samuel throws the knife sticking it expertly in Rat Man’s eye and he drops screaming.

  Samuel checks each man then pulls his knife out of Rat Man. He reaches down and tears a piece off of Rat Man’s shirt which he balls up and hands to him. Rat Man presses it to his eye to staunch the blood flow. Samuel turns and races over to me slicing through my bonds.

  “Samuel?” I ask or say, I feel like I’m spinning in. How can he be here?

  “Don’t worry sis,” he says.

  My bonds drop away and I’m free. Samuel grabs me pulling me into him. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me tight. I start shaking, my nerves finally catching up with me. Tears start to flow unbidden.

  “How are you here? Why are you here?” I sob into his shoulder.

  He strokes my hair making shushing sounds. It hits me like a bolt of lightning, we have to get out of here. I pull back from him and he resists me, holding me tight, but finally he relents holding me at arm’s length.

  “We have to get out of here!” I cry out.

  He cups my face in one hand, his bruised and battered face still beautiful. His perfect soft lips, piercing eyes, just his presence makes everything better. He leans into me again then his lips are pressed to mine.

  A fire explodes in my belly. His lips press roughly against mine with unrepentant need. His arms squeeze me tight, his lips work against mine, his gentle tongue licks across my mouth then I give in to the burning fire and I’m kissing him back. My hands dig into his shoulder muscles, I want to pull him into me completely, to meld myself with him and become one with his strength.

  The kiss goes on and on. All other concerns are pushed away to non-existence. The kidnappers that lay around us, our relationship, the anger I feel at him for what he did, all fades away relenting to the passion of our kiss. Desire blooms inside me, ignited by the need I feel pulsing from him.

  Slowly our lips part, clinging to each other as if they alone don’t want their union to end. He holds me looking at me with open desire and need.

  “I love you Lucille. I always have,” he says rising to his feet and helping me up.

  I follow him out quietly. I was scared but now I feel safe. I was confused but if that was confusion I don’t know what to make of what I feel now. Anger, desire, hate, and love war inside me. I’m walking through a waking dream where it feels like every step forward is being taken through air that’s thick like water. Each step takes all my will and concentration. There’s no room to think of anything else.

  He helps me into a car then he’s in the driver’s seat. Everything moves in slow motion with jumps in time from moment to moment. We’re driving down the road then we’re pulling up to my condo. Then there are police officers, FBI uniforms everywhere. Then Samuel is gone and I don’t know why or how.

  Then I lay down. Sleep claims me.

  Chapter twelve

  Lucille

  I wake up. That was the worst nightmare ever. The sweet morning smell of strong coffee drifts into the room. I climb out of bed, throw a robe over my nightie, then head into the kitchen to tell Bradford about my weird dream.

  Samuel stands over the griddle looking up at me. He smiles holding up a pancake turner and waves it at me. His face is bruised, his left eye is swollen mostly shut and a nasty purple mark runs down the right side of his jaw.

  “Samuel?” I ask.

  “Morning Sis,” he says brightly.

  I shake my head and blink. This has to be remnants of the nightmare.

  Denial sets in.

  I was not kidnapped. Bradford did not sit there and watch me be taken. Samuel is definitely not standing in my kitchen. Most importantly I do not feel desire for my stepbrother!

  When I open my eyes he’s still standing there adding another pancake to his stack. He ladles another one onto the griddle. I try to say something but what can I say?

  “Samuel,” I try. I shake my head again. “What happened?”

  He looks up and my core tightens, my gut clenches, desire grips me. The passion, the fire of that kiss, to be wanted and needed so much, I’ve never felt anything like it before.

  No, I can’t have that. He’s my stepbrother! We’re related for God’s sake!

  “It was a setup,” he answers. “Your ‘boyfriend’,” he says the word with utter disdain “was a stooge. He had massive gambling debts and no way to pay them back. He owed a lot of money to some very not nice people.”

  “But, you …” I don’t even know what to say about what he did or how he knew or anything.

  “I did what I’ve always done. I protected you.”

  That hits me in my gut and anger flares.

  “No, you don’t get to claim that! Not after what you did to Todd! You ruined my life that night!”

  My words cut him deeper than any of the wounds he wears on his face. He looks down at the pancakes, takes the last one off the griddle and sets it on the stack. He turns the griddle off, sets the turner down, then rests both his hands on the edge of the counter.

  “Do you really think that’s true?” he asks softly.

  I can feel the hurt radiating from him but he doesn’t get to claim that. I was the victim in this, not him.

  “What else am I supposed to think? I was there, remember? I saw what you did to him! You got what you deserved. You shouldn’t even be out of jail now!”

  Words are weapons and I fling my blades at him with every intention of a killing blow. I hit my target. I feel as much as see him collapse with each word I utter.

  “You have no idea what really happened,” he says pushing off of the counter to stand up straight.

  He walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, grabs his coat off of my couch then heads for the front door. With one hand on the handle he stops.

  “I love you Lucille. I hope you know that. I’m sorry about what happened with Bradford. He really was a douche though. Maybe you’ll see that in time.”

  Then he walks out the door and I’m alone.

  Chapter thirteen

  *** Three Months Later ***

  Lucille

  I haven’t seen Samuel since that night though I think about him every day. I have nightmares fairly regularly since the kidnapping. My therapist has suggested drugs to handle it but I can’t stand the idea of being dependent on a chemical. That’s like being a slave to my own mind which seems stupid and backwards to me.

  I keep replaying the last time we were together. Something doesn’t add up right for me. I can’t put my finger on it but like a sore you can’t quit touching I keep coming back to it. I know there’s something I’m missing. I just can’t figure out what. It has to be something to do with that night. The night Samuel killed Todd.

  I pull my Rolodex over and flip through it until I see the number for Samuel’s lawyer. I finger the card for a moment before deciding to dial. It takes a few minutes to get connected to her but she’s still on retainer to my family so she takes my call. We make small talk, catch up then I spring my big question.

  “Is there something I don’t know about Samuel’s case? Something that would totally change things?”

  Long pause.

  “That would fall under lawyer-client privilege,” she says tentativeness in her voice.

  I wait. She’s hesitating, there’s something here. “I have to know,” I say at last.

  Another long pause.

  “Read
the police report. That’s public record,” she says at last.

  I thank her and hang up the phone.

  The next day I click print on the e-mailed copy of the police report for that night. I sit at my desk going through the detective’s notes. Everything is exactly as I recall until I get to a medical report. I forgot they did a full workup on me including a rape kit. There, in that report, is a small note on the blood tests. Positive for GHB.

  The dizziness, the woozy, it wasn’t the wine. I’d been drugged.

  My entire world spins. If this had been introduced into evidence it would have shown clear cut intent, Samuel probably would have gotten off. It also would have caused me to be drug through the mud even more. Possibly endangering my position with the company. I shake my head. Son of a bitch.

  Chapter fourteen

  Lucille

  I shift into fifth gear as I race through the wet streets. A steady drizzle pours down over the city. It took me two hours to track down where he’s staying, he’s really been under the radar but the company has resources.

  I slide into a parking spot in front of his apartment building then run inside. A short ride up and I’m standing at his door. I raise my hand to knock then stop.

  I can’t do this. This is crazy! He’s my brother! Stepbrother I correct myself. That makes all the difference doesn’t it?

  I take a shaky breath then knock. This is it. My heart pounds in my chest, butterflies fight with butterflies in my stomach. A wave of nausea passes over me. A cold chill runs down my spine. I hear something inside, then the click of a lock. The door starts to open.

  Samuel looks scruffy. His hair’s a mess, he’s wearing baggy sweats, he hasn’t shaved in at least five days and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s never looked more sexy to me in his entire life. My desire shoots up like a bonfire reaching for the sky.

  I push the door open and throw myself into his embrace. His strong arms close around me and I leap up onto his hips wrapping my legs around him. My lips press to his, insistent, needful. My hands run through his hair, no time for words, for thoughts. I need him. I want him to fill me, to meld with me, to become one with beautiful, protective Samuel.