Stepbrother's Secrets (A New Adult Forbidden Romance) Page 4

  An older man with greasy hair and a strong Hispanic look waits behind the current person hugging and kissing me. Next to him stands the man from Lapusa's. I exchange pleasantries with the current person then they move forward.

  "Welcome to our family!" the greasy older man says. "I'm Uncle Pablo, Marcos' brother. This is my son Jesus."

  The younger man steps forward extending his hand which shakes slightly as he waits for me to take it. I look into his eyes, the heavy bags, the sallow skin, and know that he's an addict. I've seen people at school fall into the wrong circles or crack under the stress of finals. I take Jesus' hand and shake it watching his eyes dodge everywhere but me.

  "It's very nice to meet you," I say speaking more to Pablo.

  "If you ever need anything, you call me. There's nothing I won't do for my brother's daughter."

  "Stepdaughter," I say laughing.

  "Step nothing, you are family." Pablo speaks with a gravity to his words that I find surprising and a bit off. I smile and nod in return uncertain how to take it.

  "It's too bad that Jake couldn't make it," I say by way of conversation.

  "He's gone." Pablo looks angry staring at me.

  I frown. Why is he so upset? Jesus shakes his head negatively glancing quickly from his father to me. He swallows hard as he fidgets around.

  "Oh... okay," I say trying to ease the tension.

  I just jumped into the deep end of a pool I didn't know was in front of me. The water is over my head by far. Nothing makes sense.

  "Well," Pablo says. "You don't forget. We take care of our family. No matter what you need, no matter how much it costs, we'll take care of it. You're school, is it all paid for? Marcos tells me you’re a Sophomore in college?"

  "Yes sir, I am. It's current. I have a few scholarships and I work summers."

  "Bah, no more. You will not work summers. You send the bills to me."

  He smiles and I nod feeling surreal.

  "Well, enjoy the evening. I'm sure we'll see each other more."

  I look around the room to find Lace. She's talking to a handsome young man in a corner so I slide up beside her.

  "Lace, can I have a moment?"

  She glances over and gives me a minute negative signal. I smile and pull down on her arm arching an eyebrow.

  "Sure," she says. "Now you don't go anywhere, I'll be right back!"

  I pull her to a corner where I don't think we'll be overheard.

  "Lace, Marcos' family has something against Jake. How can they hate his son?"

  "No clue," she shrugs her eyes still on her intended conquest. "Isn't he just dreamy though? He says he has a house boat!"

  "Sure Lace. Seriously though, what does this mean?"

  "Maybe they're scared or ashamed? Maybe he's adopted? He's pretty white for this bunch."

  "Maybe," I say biting my lower lip.

  "Look, he's gone. You have to let it go now. Best way to do that? Find a new piece of meat and ride it until the regrets you have are gone."

  Lace laughs as she moves back to the boy she was talking up. I shake my head watching her go. None of this makes sense. I wish I had her laissez-faire attitude towards things but I can't let something go so easily. There's a mystery here and it involves the man whose touch I can't get out of my mind. I have to know more.

  Chapter eight

  It's winter break and I have no desire to go anywhere so I sit at home. I would have stayed at my dorm but they've closed them for the break to do maintenance. Nothing is ideal in this situation but I do my best to enjoy it.

  It's noon and I haven't bothered getting dressed yet. There's nothing to do and nowhere to go so why bother? Lace took off to see her family so I'm on my own. Mom and Marcos are being disgusting. The two of them can't seem to keep their hands off of each other and while I'm happy for her, at the same time I don't want to see it. I sure as hell don't want to hear it, but I do, oh lord every night I do. Who knew old people could have such stamina?

  I flip through the channels and settle on The Price Is Right while eating my cereal. Lunch of champions, toasted oats with artificial sugar. Mom and Marcos are upstairs talking about remodeling or something I don't want to know. Down here things are nice and quiet. Mom moved into Marcos' house. Well house is an understatement. Marcos has a mansion. It's massive with sixteen rooms each decked out in the latest of styles from Home & Garden.

  My rooms, yes rooms, are actually a small suite. The closet is bigger than my dorm at school. I don't even own enough clothes to begin to fill the space. It's nice. Again I'm happy for her but it's competing with the overall downer of the hole left by Jake.

  I can't quit thinking of him. I lay in my bed at night, listening to them through the walls, and I imagine him over me again. When I do I smell the scent of him as my hand drifts down to my slick sex. Lightly I stroke myself imagining it's his fingers there again. As I pierce myself I mentally put him entering me. Thrusting into me to touch my core filling me in ways I've never before experienced. He didn't just pierce my flesh, he pierced my heart and soul.

  The doorbell rings. Pulled from my daydream I set my cereal aside and go to answer it. There's a video surveillance system. As I approach I see that it's Jesus, Marcos' nephew. No idea what he wants but then it's probably not my problem. I open the door.

  "Hey Jesus," I say.

  His eyes widen at the sight of me. I know I didn't make myself up but damn I don't think I look that bad. A loose t-shirt and silk pj's shouldn't get such a negative reaction.

  "What are you doing here!" his voice cracks at the end.

  "Uhm, I live here," I reply frowning.

  "You shouldn't be here, this is wrong," Jesus says dancing from one foot to another.

  "Sheila, who's at the door?" Marcos calls from upstairs.

  "It's just-" Jesus rushes me his hand covering over my mouth and nose.

  He pushes me back into the foyer shaking his head side to side. He smells of onions and raw fish, the combination of which makes me gag. He shoves me up against a wall looking around wild eyed. Two others rush in behind him dressed in low riding jeans and hoodies pulled up over their heads. One of them is a scrawny white kid and the other is bigger and black.

  "Shit," Jesus says. "Shut the fucking door."

  One of the others does. All of them are dancing around then the two with hoodies pull guns out. They wave them around holding them sideways. My stomach knots up as a wave of nausea passes over me.

  "Where's my Uncle?" Jesus says.

  I'm shaking with fear. I try to motion up the stairs with my head. I'm afraid to move. Scared of what they might do.

  "Go upstairs, get the old man," Jesus says over his shoulder. "Hurry up!"

  The other two race up the stairs. One of them stumbles on his way clattering to the ground. I tense, expecting the report of his gun but it doesn't come. Marcos does come to the head of the stairs at the noise and stops to stare. He doesn't look scared. Actually he looks scary. These three boys have guns and questionable morals but they don't compare to the look on Marcos' face when he sees them.

  "Jesus, what are you doing?" he says his voice soft and somehow more threatening than if he yelled.

  "I'm taking what's mine," Jesus yells then he has a gun pointed at my head. "Or she gets it!"

  The two on the stairs make their way up to Marcos and stand an arm’s length to either side of him with guns pointed at his head. I can't help thinking that if they both fire they're just as likely to shoot each other as they are him. Insanely this makes me want to giggle.

  "You can still walk away from this," Marcos says. "Leave. Now."

  "Fuck you old man!" Jesus screams.

  He grabs the front of my shirt pulling me around in front of him. One arm crosses my throat and the cold steel barrel is pressed against my temple. My arms tremble and a shiver runs up my spine. My knees feel weak like at any moment I might collapse. My vision starts to gray at the edges and I think I'm about to pass out.

  "Bring
him to the living room!" Jesus yells.

  He drags me by my neck choking me. Blood pounds in my ears as my heart beats against my chest. I gasp in breath as I can. Cold chills run down my arms. He backs up against the fireplace so that he's facing the door. His partners drag my stepfather through the door and force him into a chair. One of them produces a roll of duct tape and together they secure him.

  "Not so big now are you old man," Jesus says.

  "This is a mistake. You need to let her go," Marcos says.

  "No mistake. No mistake at all except you trying to cut me out. You should have known better. Replacing me with your half bastard. He didn't deserve your trust. Now he's gone and who's still here? Me!"

  Jesus waves the gun back and forth between me and Marcos. I have no idea where my mother is, maybe she got away? A whimper escapes. I try to hold it back but it just slides out.

  "You think you're deserving of trust? You're a junkie. You use. Never trust a junkie," Marcos says.

  Jesus tightens his grip around my throat pulling me up on my toes as I struggle to breathe. He motions with his gun waving it at Marcos and one of the men with him punches Marcos. Marcos rolls with the punch but I see the blood flying from his lips as it lands and forces his head to one side. He grunts in pain and the two boys laugh. Then they begin beating him mercilessly. Laughing as they take turns swinging. Each blow lands with a loud crack of flesh on flesh. It goes on and on. Tears run down my face as I watch but I can't look away. Jesus holds me tight.

  "Who's the big man now Old man?" Jesus says. "How about I just rape your precious little girl here? How about we all rape her?"

  My stomach twists in knots as he speaks. Oh God don't let this be happening!

  "If you touch her, you will pray for death," Marcos says through lips that are bloody and swelling.

  "Where's the money?" Jesus says.

  Marcos looks at him and doesn't say a word. Jesus motions to one of the boys and I brace myself for the beatings to continue but the one he motioned to doesn't move to hit him. He reaches behind his back and pulls out an old looking revolver. He spins the middle part of the gun which clicks metal on metal then comes to a stop. He holds the gun to Marcos' head then looks at Jesus.

  "Where the money?" Jesus asks again.

  Marcos stares at him still not speaking. The boy holding the gun to Marcos' head pulls the trigger and I jump before it clicks without further report. My breath comes in shorts gasps. God I can't take anymore. Marcos seems unfazed.

  "Give me that gun!" Jesus screams making my ear ring.

  He pushes me towards a chair and forces me down into it. He takes the gun and spins the middle part again. It clicks again and again then stops and he holds it to my head.

  "Last chance old man," he says.

  Marcos' lips move. For a moment I think he'll tell him what he wants then he shakes his head negative. I feel Jesus pulling the trigger in every fiber of my being. I know that this is it. My life is about to be gone in a flash of gunpowder and a loud bang. I wonder if I'll still miss Jake once this is done.

  The gun clicks. It takes me a moment to realize nothing changed then I'm sobbing.

  Chapter nine

  Something crashes and I jump. Marcos' face is swelling as I watch but the coldness of his eyes reveal nothing. Stoic doesn't describe the way he sits silently staring at his nephew. The skinny white boy goes to the window, stands to one side, and peeks through the curtain.

  "Shit," he exclaims jumping up and down.

  "What?" Jesus asks.

  "Cops. Crap ton of them. Damn man, you said this was in and out. That he had a big stash here!"

  "He does!" Jesus yells. He moves a little more to my side. "What's it going to take old man?"

  Jesus runs the gun down the side of my face. I sob, my chest wracked with pain. Fear makes it hard to inhale a deep breath. The gun runs down my neck then between my breasts pushing my shirt in and pulling the fabric tight. Marcos stares at him and if looks could kill I'd be fine but it's not working.

  "Leave her be Jesus," Marcos says. "There's no money here. There are no drugs here. Do not make this worse for yourself."

  "Worse? You pushed my father to disown me! He kicked me out. What am I supposed to do? I got nothing."

  "Shit Jesus, they got a damn tank or something!" white boy yells from the window.

  "Damn it," Jesus says pressing the gun against my chest hard enough to bruise.

  A loud sound comes from outside the room and up the stairs. The three hostage takers look at each other.

  "What was that?" the black boy asks.

  "Go check it out," Jesus orders.

  "Shit, 'kay," he says.

  He works his way to the door placing himself against the wall with his gun in front of his face just like an action hero in a movie. Then he jumps around the corner with the gun held on its side in front of him looking up the stairs. His hand shakes as he stands there then he looks back over to Jesus.

  "It's clear."

  "Go upstairs. Where's the bitch? She must be up there," Jesus says.

  The black boy nods and disappears from sight. Jesus moves the gun back and forth between my breasts. He's breathing heavily looking around the room. He mutters to himself but I can't make out the words over my own heart beat pounding in my ears.

  "They got one of them armored trucks man," the white boy at the window says.

  "Well good for them! What the hell are we going to do?" Jesus says.

  "Lay down your guns and walk away," Marcos says. "You're in too deep now. Turn yourself in."

  Jesus whirls around pointing the gun at Marcos.

  "You shut up! You don't tell me what to do, not anymore!"

  "I told your father you were worthless. You're no man. Threatening a woman? What kind of man does that?"

  "Shut up!" Jesus yells. "How many families have you ordered killed?"

  Marcos smiles at him. "Put the gun down and I'll see to it you get an easy sentence."

  "You'll do shit old man. This is all your fault. Yours and that damn Jake. Your surprise bastard. I was supposed to inherit. Not him! Not him, ME!"

  "You'll inherit nothing. You are weak. A user. Now roll over and lie down like the dog you are."

  Something thuds on the stairs and all of us jump and Jesus' gun goes off. The bullet ricochets off of something making a zinging sound. I scream.

  "The fuck was that?" Jesus screams. "Go! Check it out!"

  The white kid by the window shakes as he looks at Jesus. Jesus points the gun at him and motions towards the door. He closes his eyes and mutters something then makes his way over. He peeks around the corner then pulls his head back paler than he was before.

  "It's Jamal! I think he's dead!"

  "Shit! Who the hell did that?"

  "Probably my wife, who is more of a man than you are," Marcos taunts Jesus.

  Jesus storms towards him in a rage. His arms waving around crazily the gun points in all directions as he screams unintelligible words at his Uncle. The white boy watches terrified. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open as he dances from one foot to the next. Jesus swings at Marcos with the pistol cracking him against his skull with a sickening thud. Marcos' head swings to the side then back coming to a rest with his chin on his chest. Blood pours down the side of his head.

  "There old man! I'm not useless now am I!" Jesus sputters.

  I start to slide out of the chair to try and crawl away. I have to get out of here. This is devolving fast. Something clatters into the room. Jesus turns to see what it is just as the white boy screams. I look and see a small canister tumbling across the floor then the entire world disappears in a white flash and an enormous bang. I roll out of the chair to the floor holding my head and covering my eyes which feel like I just stared straight into the sun.

  Hands grab me and I'm pulled to my feet. My eyes are filled with tears and I still can't see clearly. I'm lifted into the air and being carried somewhere. Cool, outside air hits my face and I gasp.
I blink hard my hands rubbing my eyes.

  As my vision clears I see Jake. Impossible. I must be imagining things. Jake is gone. He can't be carrying me out of the house.

  I shake my head. Blink several more times. Rub my eyes. It's him. He's carrying me. He came back for me. I smile as the world fades to black.

  Chapter ten

  Light.

  Hurts.

  I inhale.

  That hurts too.

  Voices.

  What are they saying?

  "She'll be fine shortly."

  "Are you sure?"

  Jake?

  "Yes, there's no sign of concussion. A few bruises, some scrapes. Her eyesight may take a bit to regain full clarity, side effect of the flash bang unfortunately."

  "Yeah, I didn't really have a choice there," Jake says.

  "We'll want to debrief you fully Agent McCall."

  "Can it wait? I want to be here when she wakes up?"

  "You broke protocol. You weren't supposed to be there. You're still our star witness against the Benito Cartel."

  "I understand sir. There are guards on the door. I won't go anywhere and will report for debriefing as soon as I can ascertain she is awake and all right."

  "Jake," the voice says. "You're too close to this. You have to drop this identity. The assignment's over."

  "Yes sir. I understand sir."

  The other voice sighs. "Very well son. I'll hold your debriefing until tomorrow. Nine am."

  "Yes sir, thank you sir."

  A door opens and closes then there's a creaking sound. It all comes in just over the ringing in my ears. I inhale but it turns to a cough and then I'm sitting up in bed. Something is supporting me from behind, gently tapping my back.

  "There you go, it's okay, I'm here," Jake says.

  I gasp in fresh air then lean back into the bed and pillows. I blink several times then squint. I can see Jake.

  "Can you kill that light?" I ask my voice comes out in a croak.

  "Yeah," he says jumping across the room to kill the overhead. When he comes back he produces a glass of water with a straw that he holds to my lips.