Blood and Sympathy (18 page)

Braden Sayer

After dark, the road between the Copeland's and
home didn't get much traffic. I thought it was a little strange when I noticed
headlights in my rearview mirror on the way home. Knowing that the marina had
been broken into and that my brother was on the loose put me on edge. When I
pulled into the driveway at Uncle Jeb's, whomever had been behind me went on
by. I shook my head and laughed at myself for being so paranoid.

I parked Uncle Jeb's pickup up by his house and
walked the short distance back to my trailer. As soon as I climbed the steps,
the skin at the back of my neck prickled. I was positive I'd pulled the front
door closed when I left that morning. Maybe Uncle Jeb had dropped something off
and didn't shut it all the way.

There wasn't anything worth stealing, so if
someone had been there with the intent on robbing me, the joke was on them. I
stepped inside, and before I could close the door behind me, the light flicked
on scaring the shit out of me. Brogan stood to my right, his arms folded across
his chest.

"Brogan, what the fuck? You know the sheriff
was here looking for you?"

"The fuckin' cops in this podunk town don't
have a clue when it comes to law enforcement." He snorted and poked me in
the chest. "Where the hell you been all night? I've been waiting on your
ass since dark."

"What do you want, Brogan?"

"The fuck kind of greeting is that? Ain't you
happy to see me?" His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head, watching me.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. Just leave,
and I won't mention to anybody you were here." I didn't figure I could
reason with him, but it was worth a try.

"Pfft. Yeah, right. Like I trust your pussy
ass not to go ratting me out as soon as I leave."

I scrubbed my hands down the stubble on my face.
"Why are you here?"

"I need some money."

"And you're telling me this, why?"

The crazy fucker rolled his eyes and stared up at
the water spotted ceiling for a few seconds right before backhanding me across
the face. Instantly the taste of blood filled my mouth, and I dove headfirst
into his gut, taking him down. I surprised him nearly as much as he surprised
me, and was able to pin him beneath me on the dirty carpet.

He broke into a fit of maniacal laughter.
"Damn. I didn't think you'd have the balls to actually fight back."

My fingers curled around his neck. I squeezed just
enough to make his eyes round with shock. "You listen to me, Brogan. There
was once a time when I would have cowered in the corner like a little bitch if
you even looked at me cross-eyed. I'm not that scared little boy anymore, and
I'd just as soon break your neck as look at you."

I was shaking from anger. I'd never been a violent
man, but if I learned anything in juvie, it was to stand up for myself and
never, ever let anyone get the upper hand. As much as I hated my brother, I
wasn't a murderer. I released the hold I had on his neck. He sputtered and
coughed a few times trying to catch his breath.

"Look, I just need a few bucks so me and Aja
can get the hell out of here. She's got relatives in Mexico. Give me some
money, I'll go, and you'll never see or hear from me again." His voice was
hoarse and his eyes were black as beetles.

I climbed off the top of him and sighed.
"Yeah, let me write you a fucking check. Now I know you've lost your mind.
I don't have more than fifty or sixty bucks, and that sure as shit won't get
you to Mexico."

He pushed to his feet and I steeled myself in case
he tried something. "That's enough for a tank of gas. That'll help."

I clenched and unclenched my hands, resisting the
urge to cold-cock the smug son of a bitch. For about two seconds, I considered
just giving him the money to get rid of him. I didn't trust him any further
than I could throw him. "What about the cash you stole from Uncle Jeb? You
blow that already?"

His face reddened and he clamped his mouth shut.
"You going to give me the money or not?"

"I'm not giving you one fucking dime," I
said through clenched teeth. I stepped aside and pointed toward the front door
which was still standing wide open. "Now, you've got about five seconds to
get the fuck out of here."

He opened his mouth to say more but thought better
of it when he saw the look on my face. Moving toward the door, he turned and
snickered. "You know, I may not be able to kick your ass anymore, Braden,
but I bet I can make that pretty little Claire Copeland whimper in pain."

Before I could stop myself, I drew back and
punched him hard enough that his head snapped back. He stumbled out the door,
down the steps, and landed in a heap at the bottom.

I stood over him and kicked him hard in the ribs.
I leaned over and fisted my fingers in the front of his shirt. "You lay
one finger on Claire, and so help me God, I will hunt you down and break every
fucking bone in that no good body of yours."

He grunted and pulled out of my hold before
lifting himself to his hands and knees. I closed my eyes and counted to ten,
trying to talk myself out of kicking him again for the hell of it. I just
wanted the worthless piece of dog shit to leave, get out of my life, and stay
out.

I turned and went up the steps and deadbolted the
door behind me. I collapsed against it, completely wrung out from the
confrontation. After my heart rate and breathing returned to normal, I peeked
out between the window blinds to make sure he was gone. He was a snake in the
grass, and I knew just because I couldn't see him, didn't mean he wasn't there.

He didn't scare me, and I meant what I said. If he
so much as looked at Claire, I'd probably be going back to prison for murder.

Brogan
Sayer

I worked my jaw back and forth. Son of a bitch got
me good. I was walking back to where I'd left Aja's car when this sawed-off
little fucker jumped out in front of me.

"What the hell?" I scowled at him and
shook my head. He grinned at me and I went to move past him. Dumbass must have
had a death wish. He grabbed me by the arm, pinching the bare flesh. "The
fuck is your problem, dude?"

He nodded his head back toward Braden's trailer.
"I heard the two of you fightin'."

"Yeah, so?" I shook myself loose from
his grasp and started walking away. "Who the fuck are you, anyway?"

"You help me, I'll help you." He didn't
tell me his name.

I stopped and turned sizing him up. He was shorter
than me, and all muscle. I wasn't sure if he even had a neck. "Why the
fuck should I help you?"

"You fake kidnap Claire. I'll rescue her, be
a big hero and implicate loverboy back there," he thumbed over his
shoulder. "I'll give you cash. Like I said, win-win."

"Yeah, how much?"

He shrugged. "Name your price."

My eyebrows shot up. "Five grand."

"You got it. I'll give you half up front. The
other half once the job's done."

Fucker didn't even flinch. I should have asked for
twice that amount. "Yeah, okay. When?"

"This weekend? I'll get the cash. How can I
reach you?" He grinned and rubbed his hands together. "It's the
perfect setup. You look just like him."

I scowled. "We're twins, moron. That's what
twins do. They look alike."

His smile faded. "You don't have to be a
prick about it. So, how can I get a hold of you?"

"Give me your number. I'll call you." He
followed me to Aja's car and I wrote his number on a wadded up receipt.
"I'll be in touch."

I climbed inside Aja's car and headed back to
Weston. The joke was on that fucker. I'd take the twenty-five hundred bucks he
planned to give me and kidnap the little slut. By the time I got done with
Claire Copeland, there wouldn't be enough left of her to be rescued. Me and Aja
would be long gone, and that cocky little douche with all the cash to throw
around could keep the other half of the money.

It was my turn to grin. Even the pissed off mood
Aja was in when I got home didn't wipe the smile off my face.

Claire Copeland

Dad stuck his head
inside my room to tell me he was leaving for the weekend. "I don't want
the boy spending the night here while I'm gone."

My back was to him
so he didn't see me roll my eyes. "Of course not."

He paused, probably
waiting for me to turn around and acknowledge him. I had no intention of giving
him the satisfaction. If Braden didn't spend the night, it wouldn't be because
my dad told me not to.

I had three hours
before Braden was going to be there, and I had to get my ass in gear. My hands
shook as I pulled the mixer from the cupboard. For some reason, cooking dinner
for him made my palms sweaty.

Most of my
specialties were cold weather comfort foods. I decided to make twice-baked
potatoes, fresh green beans, meatloaf, and a cherry cheesecake. Nothing fancy.
As soon as everything was in the oven, I ran upstairs to take a quick shower.

I wiped the fog
from the mirror and leaned in close to stare at my reflection. The dark shadows
beneath my eyes were a constant reminder of sleepless nights. There wasn't
enough concealer in the world to make them go away. I pulled in a deep breath
and began to braid my wet hair.

When we were little
girls, Olivia and I used to take turns braiding each other's hair. She was
always better at it than me. She never complained that I fidgeted as she worked
her fingers through my thick locks.

I dressed in a
simple outfit consisting of a simple cotton lavender sundress and some lacy
panties. I wanted him to notice me. I needed him to want me. Barefooted, I ran
down the steps and checked on dinner. It had been barely twenty-four hours
since I'd last seen him, and my heart sped up at the thought of his soft, sweet
kisses.

The table was set
when I heard the rattle of his pickup bouncing up the driveway. What was it
about Braden Sayer that got under my skin? I'd had my fair share of attention
from the opposite sex, but none of their touches lingered like Braden's. Maybe
it was because he treated me like I was somebody special. He made me feel like
a friend, but the smoldering looks he gave me said he thought of me as much
more than his buddy.

I stared as he
climbed from the cab of the truck. His short hair was still damp from his
shower, and the way his white t-shirt pulled across his chest made me check
myself for drool. How could something as simple as jeans and a t-shirt look so
damn good? The only way they could possibly look any better would be if they
were strewn across the floor in a trail to my bed.

He lifted his eyes
to mine, and his face turned an instant shade of red. I bit my lip and held the
door open for him. "Hi. You sure look pretty tonight," he said. His
buttery soft voice sent butterflies fluttering through my insides.

He kissed me on the
cheek and for a second I was speechless. He grinned and slipped past me into
the kitchen, bringing with him the soft scent of soap with a hint of amber.

"So do
you," I managed to mumble.

We ate in
companionable silence, except for the moans of pleasure he made over my
cooking. I ran my index finger over the top of my sweaty glass of lemonade and
watched him eat. "Save some room for dessert," I reminded him.

His eyes darkened
and he got a devilish smirk on his face. "I'll always have room for
that."

I got up and
brought out the cherry cheesecake. "I hope you like cherries."

"My
favorite."

After dinner, we
went outside, and even though the sun had started to sink in the western sky,
it was still a hot Tennessee night. There was no breeze, just heavy, humid air
filled with the sound of croaking bullfrogs and an occasional barking dog in
the distance. The sweet aroma of freshly mown hay from across the road perfumed
the air.

He sat beside me on
the porch swing. We weren't touching, but even so, the heat between his body
and mine was intense. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, trying not to think
about the desire building between my thighs.

"I was
thinking," I interrupted the silence, pushing the swing back and forth
lazily.

He turned toward me
and asked, "Yeah? About what?"

"A couple of
things, really." I shifted on the swing, tucking one leg beneath me.
"One, I want to run that half marathon Olivia and I had planned to do
together."

He nodded slowly.
"Your ankle healed enough to run a half marathon?"

I twisted my mouth
into a frown. "I think so."

"When is
it?"

"It's not
until September. I figure by then I should be able to manage the whole thirteen
point one miles." I slid him a sideways glance. "Why don't you train
with me? I promise to go easy on you."

His face flushed
and he turned away. "I'll run with you. But I don't expect any special
treatment."

"It's a deal.
We can start Sunday morning before church."

"Okay."
He paused and cleared his throat. "You said you were thinking about a
couple of things. What's the other one?"

"I want to get
a tattoo."

"Me too, but I
don't turn eighteen until January. I'll hold your hand for moral support,
though." He reached for me and laced his fingers between mine.

I leaned into him
and rested my head on his shoulder. "Let's go tomorrow. The closest place
I know of is Sun and Moon Tattoo. It's about an hour's drive. We'll make a day
of it. Unless you already have other plans."