Easton's Claim (Colebrook Siblings Trilogy Book 3) (5 page)

Even though she’d prepared herself for what she was about to see, she still sucked in a breath at the first sight of her living room. Everything she’d staged so carefully to sell her home had been destroyed.

Tables, lamps and her desk had been overturned. The flat-screen TV was lying facedown on the floor, apparently ripped off the wall, bits of its plastic frame lying around it.

Books and other items she’d placed on the shelves of the built-ins on either side of the TV littered the area rug. Chunks of drywall were missing from the walls where something heavy had crashed into them. The framed prints she’d hung around the room were all lying smashed on the floor. Broken glass glittered in the sunlight streaming through the front windows.

Holy shit. Greg had put up one hell of a fight. It turned her stomach to think of him in here, fighting off two men. Maybe fighting for his life.

Easton set a hand on the small of her back, his touch comforting and warm, helping to melt some of the ice inside her. Her heart sank when she glanced toward the kitchen and saw her grandmother’s antique pie chest toppled on the floor with a wide crack down the middle of its back and both doors broken off.

Sadness crashed over her. Of everything she’d lost today, seeing that treasured piece lying broken hurt the most.

“You said he asked you about your grandmother’s furniture,” Frank said beside her. “He or whoever attacked him had to be looking for something inside it. We searched all the older-looking pieces of furniture in here but couldn’t find anything. Do you know if Greg hid anything in that one?” He gestured to the broken pie chest.

She shook her head. “I pulled this out of storage last week so I could stage the house. I didn’t notice anything when I cleaned it.” And now it was ruined. “Like I told you, the rest of the pieces are stored in the storage locker I rented, and I put some things in a shed at Easton’s dad’s place as well.”

“I’ve made a note of all that for the file. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He continued through the family room, heading toward the kitchen.

Piper stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the pie chest. It was much more than a piece of furniture to her. “It’s from the 1870s,” she said to Easton. Probably not worth much, but in terms of sentimental value, it was irreplaceable. “Whenever I stayed at my grandmother’s house during the summers when I was young, she and I would bake pies and store them in there. She’s the one who made me fall in love with baking.”

Her throat tightened and tears rushed to her eyes. She blinked them back, bit her lip until she forced the wave of emotion back. Crying wasn’t going to fix anything, and she was tired of everyone seeing her as weak. She didn’t want Easton to think of her that way.

He rubbed her lower back gently, and she fought the urge to turn into him and wrap her arms around his waist. “I bet Austen could fix it. Wyatt and my dad say she’s a carpentry wizard. As soon as we get your place back, I’ll load it up in my truck and take it over to them.”

She didn’t think it was salvageable and was too overwhelmed by everything to respond, so she nodded her thanks and followed Frank toward the kitchen.

When she reached the threshold separating the two rooms her feet stuck to the floor at the sight of the bloodstains smeared all over the polished hardwood. A bloody chef’s knife from the butcher block next to the sink lay on the floor, blood pooled around it in a glistening puddle. Crimson spatters were splashed onto the counter and up her cream-painted cabinets.

Her stomach pitched and she put a hand to her mouth. Was it Greg’s blood?

Without a word Easton wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. She stared at the knife she’d used to prep her meals, envisioned it being used against Greg. She swallowed.

“Want to step outside for a bit?” Easton murmured.

She shook her head, trying to take in all the damage. How had this happened? Greg was missing, possibly wounded or worse. Her house was a mess, a good number of her most precious things destroyed.

There was no way she could show the house until all the repairs were made. Who knew how long the police would treat it as a crime scene? Then there’d be cleanup and repairs. She’d have to clear out all the broken glass and furniture, patch and paint the walls, replace all the furniture and deep clean everything before she could show it again.

“Everything else seems pretty much intact, but the forensics team is doing a thorough sweep of the entire house, just to be sure,” Frank said.

Piper turned and followed him down the hall to the guest bath and bedroom, then into her master bedroom. The drawers of her dresser had all been dumped out, but from what she could see there was no damage here like in the main living areas of the house.

Staring at the contents of her drawers strewn over her floor and bed, her underwear, clothes and jewelry, she felt…violated. The thought of coming back here to tackle the clean up after the police turned the house back over to her filled her with despair.

After she packed a bag with clothes and toiletries, Frank walked them back outside and down the driveway. Piper was acutely aware of all the stares from neighbors and other curious onlookers walking their dogs past her house. At least one of them had witnessed Greg being dragged into the kidnappers’ car.

The frantic need to leave built inside her, pressing at her ribs until it felt like her chest might explode.

As they neared Easton’s truck, Frank stopped. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?” he asked her.

“She can stay with us,” Easton said before she could answer. “My brother’s driving her car there right now.”

Piper met his eyes and forced a small smile. “Thanks.” She wasn’t looking forward to coming back here to clean up, let alone stay here by herself. At least at the Colebrooks’ she’d feel safe and have a short reprieve before having to face reality again.

“It’s a good idea to be vigilant over the next few days, at least until we find out what happened and locate Greg,” Frank said.

“We’ll look out for her,” Easton said, drawing her into his side with a firm hand on her waist.

She didn’t want to be a burden. She’d tried so damn hard to rebuild her life and regain her independence. This ugly incident threatened to undo all of it.

“Come on, sweetness,” Easton murmured, and opened the passenger door for her.

They didn’t talk on the drive to his father’s place. When he pulled up out front and shut off the engine, she reached out to put her hand on his. “Are you sure it’s safe for me to be here? I don’t want to bring you guys any more trouble.” They’d had more than their share of that lately.

“I’m sure. Don’t you worry about us. How about for a change, you let us worry about you?”

She blew out a breath. “I hate this.”

“I know you do. But at least if you’re here, we can make sure you’re safe.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

In the house he put her bag in Charlie’s old room and when they came back downstairs, his father was waiting for her at the foot of them. He stood there with his left hand on the top of his cane, an unmistakable aura of power and authority radiating from him in spite of his deteriorated physical condition. His hazel eyes were full of empathy as he looked up at her.

She paused, hand on the railing, precariously close to tears. This man had become a father figure to her after her own dad had died. He’d never liked Greg. None of them had. She’d been naïve, had truly thought she and Greg loved each other enough to make it work. How wrong she’d been.

None of the Colebrooks had ever said
I told you so
when she’d finally realized Greg was beyond help and made the decision to leave him, but it crushed her to think that she might have disappointed this strong, proud man standing before her.

“Hey, Mr. C,” she whispered in a rough voice. “Sorry about dragging you into this, but thanks for letting me stay for the night.”

That penetrating stare bored into her as he started up the steps, his cane landing with a thud on each tread.

He stopped on the step below her, bringing him eye to eye with her, and set a finger beneath her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Young lady, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said, his words firm despite the slight slur in his speech. “Hear me? You’re one of us, always have been, and we look out for our own. You’re welcome here anytime, for as long as you like, no questions asked. Ever.”

His kindness was her undoing. Tears flooded her eyes and her throat closed up. “Thank you,” she choked out, and whirled past Easton to flee upstairs to Charlie’s room where she could cry in private.

She loved these people with all her heart and leaving them behind would rip her heart out, but the nightmare that was her personal life wouldn’t end until she got her house sold and left for Minnesota.

****

Not so arrogant now, are you, asshole?

Brandon pushed away from the wall where he’d been watching one of his men beat Greg Rutland to a bloody pulp and signaled for him to stop.

He stepped into the light so the prisoner could see him. Greg groaned and raised his head, struggled to open his swollen eyes, his hands bound to the chair he sat on. Blood spilled down his lips and chin and his breathing was choppy.

“From the way you hightailed it back here, I guess you heard the news that I was out,” Brandon said softly, folding his arms as he stood in front of his hostage. He’d lost years of his life in jail because of this piece of shit. Time for payback. “Too bad you weren’t quick enough to get what you needed and then skip town.”

Greg dragged in a painful breath and leaned forward to spit out a mouthful of blood.

Brandon smiled at the sight.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
It filled him with a sense of vengeance to see his old enemy this way. Helpless and afraid. Wondering what would happen to him, unsure how far Brandon would go. But as sheriff Greg had been the one to put him behind bars, and had the unique privilege of knowing exactly what Brandon did to people who dared cross him.

Four years in federal prison. Four years of living with a depraved cellmate, of having every freedom stripped away. Of having to strip naked and have his ass searched. While the motherfucker in front of him had been free to live off his parents’ wealth and do whatever he wanted—which turned out to be fucking up his life royally.

Brandon loathed Greg and his kind. A rich, trust-fund baby born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Parents respected professionals connected to society’s elite. They’d bought him a new car when Greg had gotten his license at age sixteen. They’d paid for his college education and a swanky apartment off campus. They’d done everything but wipe his fucking ass for him. And how did their son repay them?

By snorting all the money they gave him up his nose and becoming the worst embarrassment Sugar Hollow had ever seen.

It disgusted Brandon. He’d been born poor and had stayed poor until he started running drugs at the age of twelve, after escaping one abusive foster home too many.

That kind of poverty left its mark. He still smelled the stink of it when he woke up every morning. He still remembered the grinding pain of hunger when he went to bed at night. Even when his stomach was full, that grinding sensation was always in the back of his mind. He’d vowed at age fourteen to make sure he never lived like that again. For fifteen years, he’d had a good life. Financial security.

Until this fucked-up loser had taken everything from him with the arrest.

Brandon pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly, letting the anger drain away. Anger clouded his judgment. For this he needed to be calm, in control. Greg had betrayed him, used him to get product and then turned on him to save his own skin. He would pay. “I want what’s mine. What you took from me.”

Those swollen, bruised eyes focused on him. “I don’t have it,” he slurred out of busted lips.

“But you know where it is.”

He shook his head slowly, winced. “No.”

“Bullshit.” Brandon was going to establish himself back into DC’s drug scene. He’d lost face, respect of the people who’d once feared and admired him. He was going to make a name for himself again, gain back the power he’d lost, and keep rising.

“I looked. Couldn’t…find it,” he wheezed.

Brandon balled his hands into fists, battled the urge to let his hired muscle break a few more bones in that pathetic face. “You will.”

He was going to make Greg suffer for what he’d done to him. Beginning with taking back everything that was stolen from him without his knowledge. While in prison he’d toyed with the idea of targeting Greg’s parents, the wealthy philanthropists who’d created the ungrateful bastard before him now. But that would bring a shit ton of heat down on him and it was too risky when he was just beginning his climb back into the trade.

“Can’t,” Greg rasped.

His temper snapped. He marched forward and grabbed a handful of Greg’s hair, yanked hard and jerked the asshole’s head back. “You didn’t think I’d find out what you’d done? That I’d forget while I rotted in the prison you helped put me in?” He shook his head, let Greg see the rage inside him. “I don’t forget. Ever. So you’re going to find what you took, and you’re going to give it back to me.” Then he’d die.

Greg’s throat moved in a jerky motion as he swallowed, the stink of fear rolling off him in waves. “I don’t know where it is,” he insisted.

“Your ex will.”

Those bruised, bloodshot eyes locked on his. “She doesn’t…know anything.”

“She’ll know where the furniture is. I’m sure she could be…motivated to find it for me.”

Greg scoffed and huffed out a dry laugh. “She doesn’t know shit about what I did.”

Maybe not, but Brandon could still use her. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

Greg glared up at him in defiance and managed a slight shrug. “There’s no point going after her. She means nothing to me and it’s not going to get you what you want.”

The words sounded real enough, but Brandon caught the spark of fear in those deep blue eyes, and it told him everything he needed to know. The pathetic son of a bitch was lying through his teeth. Greg still loved her, was trying to protect her even now.