Redemption: A British Stepbrother Romance (53 page)

I
n all the
times I’d been to Tracy’s apartment, I’d never seen it anything other than immaculate. Not today.

She hadn’t cleaned up in days, and had resorted to take-out and microwave meals, with the containers still lying around on the table.

Old photo albums were on the sofa from where she no doubt had been looking at old pictures of Nick. I was probably in a good deal of them as well. We’d rarely been apart as kids up until the age of about seventeen. Then we’d drifted apart. Me spending five years in prison hadn’t exactly helped.

I needed to know what happened, but at the same time, I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Nick was dead; what difference did it make how it happened?

“You want a drink?” Tracy asked.

“Whiskey.”

“I don’t have any alcohol in the house,” Tracy replied.

I grimaced as I remembered the battle Tracy had fought with her drinking problem while we’d been together. She’d always liked a drink, but then I did as well, so it took me a while to notice that I rarely saw her sober.

Eventually, she gave booze up completely, and now she was a bit of a health freak, even by my standards. Alcohol was still my one vice; everyone needed a sin to indulge in.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I’ll just have a green tea then.”

Tracy made the drinks, while I took in the changes to her apartment since we’d stopped dating. The pictures of us together had largely disappeared except for the ones where Nick was in the photo as well.

The furniture had been moved around a bit, but Tracy was always messing around with that depending on the season, position of the stars, or whatever other nonsense she’d read online that week. She was remarkably intelligent, but that didn’t stop her from following a lot of crap if it came from someone with a Ph.D.

Tracy handed me a drink and we sat down on the small sofa. I did my best to keep a distance between us, but there wasn’t a lot of room. Our legs weren’t touching, but I could already see her inching closer, desperate for physical comfort from me.

“What happened with Nick?” I asked. “The last time I saw him he was in good shape.”

“And when was that? Six months ago? Nine?”

I nodded. More like a year. Time had gone so quickly, and it’s not like Nick had reached out to me either.

“Things were awkward the last time we spoke,” I admitted. “Ever since I got out of prison, things haven’t been the same between us.”

And now they never will be.

“He’d been on a downward slope for years,” Tracy said, less anger in her voice now. “At first, there was just the one-off fight, or a slap on the wrist from the police. Then there were arrests, but the charges never stuck. He got shot once.”

“When?” I asked. I may not have been a huge part of Nick’s life over the last few years, but I would have remembered if he’d been shot.

“While you were in prison. That’s why he didn’t come to visit you for a few months. He didn’t want you to know.”

There were quite a few spells where Nick hadn’t been to visit me, but I didn’t tell Tracy. I’d put it down to guilt on Nick’s part, but it still infuriated me. I’d spent many nights in prison wondering where the hell he was. After everything I’d done for him…

“Me going to prison should have been a wake up call,” I said tersely.

Now it was my turn to be angry. I knew it was only temporary. The anger would fade, but the guilt never would.

“You did a lot for him,” Tracy said. “But Nick never asked for your help. He didn’t want you to go to prison for him. I think that tore him up even more.”

“So me taking the rap for him is why he’s dead? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, no of course not.” Tracy reached out and put a hand on my leg. She wasn’t crying anymore, but I sensed she was only barely keeping it all together.

The last person I should be angry at right now was a grieving sister, but I couldn’t help it. I’d done everything I could to help Nick, but all my sacrifices had been in vain. Tracy might be right. Nick would have been better off going to jail in my place. If he had done, he might be alive today.

“Who killed him?” I asked. I couldn’t bring Nick back, but I could damn sure see that his killer got what was coming to him.

“Who the hell knows?” Tracy replied. “I doubt even the killer knows. There was a big shootout. Nick’s crew started it as far as I can tell. A kid on the other side died as well. No doubt there will be more deaths to follow as they all try to get justice, but...”

Tracy shook her head, but didn’t continue talking. Tracy had escaped the poverty of our neighborhood by working hard at school and going to a good college. She now earned decent money, and had tried to use it to help Nick, but some people just didn’t want saving.

God knows I’d tried.

“I did everything I could,” Tracy mumbled, fighting back the tears now. “I’m sure I did.”

I knew those words well, and I knew what they meant. She was trying to convince herself. Trying not to feel guilty. I hoped she had more success with that than I’d had.

“You couldn’t have saved him,” I pointed out, talking to myself as much as to Tracy.

I spent five years in jail for him, and that didn’t help either. Five fucking years of my life, and for what? So he could go back to his old ways and end up getting shot?

I didn’t even notice Tracy rest her head on my shoulder until she snuggled up against me and wrapped an arm around my waist.

This couldn’t happen. I already found it hard enough losing Nick. I didn’t want to lose Nora too.

“Can you stay tonight?” Tracy asked. “I really don’t want to be by myself.”

A friend would have said yes in a heartbeat, but Tracy and I weren’t friends, no matter what we’d agreed when splitting up. We were former lovers, and that was it. I hadn’t missed her since she’d been out of my life and if it weren’t for Nick we might never have seen each other again.

“I should go home,” I replied.

Tracy squeezed me tightly in response. “I don’t want you to go. We don’t have to get too carried away. It would just be good to have someone to snuggle up to in bed.”

Tough love seemed like the best approach right now.

I took hold of her hand and pulled it off my waist, before standing up and leaving her looking despondent on the couch.

“I need to leave.”

“Fucking hell, Riker. My brother’s just died. And he’s your best friend. Or at least, he was. Can’t you just put our history behind us for one night. I just need a friend.”

“I can’t be the friend that you snuggle up to in bed. We both know what happens when we get in bed together. I’m not going to get back into this mess because of what happened with Nick. That won’t help anyone.”

“Fine,” Tracy folded her arms and looked away from me. “Get out of here then. One of us needs to grieve.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway. Tracy knew I would grieve too; I just didn’t want to do it with her in my arms.

Just being here felt like I was betraying Nora. Spending the night with Tracy would definitely be a betrayal. I wouldn’t be able to look Nora in the eyes again.

“Let me know about the funeral.”

“Sure you can be bothered to attend? Wouldn’t want things getting complicated.”

I was used to Tracy acting immature and petty, but it really stung this time. She was going to the heart of the guilt that had been keeping me awake at night for years. Had I done enough to save Nick?

I’d gone to prison for him, but since my release, we’d barely kept in touch. If I’d been there for him… He probably still would have died, but I couldn’t know for sure. That uncertainty was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Before leaving, I grabbed a photo of just Nick and me that was laying on a coffee table. Tracy wouldn’t miss it, and I was suddenly very aware of how few photos I had of him. Camera phones weren’t around when we were up to mischief, and I’d missed most of the smartphone revolution by being locked up.

I walked home in a numb trance, and went to bed without eating. I stayed awake until the anger faded away enough to let me drift off. The guilt would come soon. That was when the sleepless nights would truly begin.

The next morning I found a message on my phone from Duke scolding me for canceling the training session with Nora.

Nora. I owed her an apology. Again. For someone who wasn’t the apologizing type, I sure was getting a lot of practice recently.

Nora was worth it though. I should probably tell her that before it’s too late.

I
t hadn’t been
my intention to give him the silent treatment. I even greeted him cheerfully at the beginning of our training session and waited for him to explain.

He never did.

That pissed me off. At the very least, he could have come up with some excuse. He didn’t even care enough to spin me a lie. We just started the training session as if nothing had happened last night. As if he hadn’t just gone off with his ex-girlfriend.

Riker wasn’t the type to offer information, and I wasn’t about to ask. I
wanted
to. The questions bounced around in my head.
What did your ex-girlfriend want to speak to you about? Why did you go off with her? Did you spend the night with her? Are you two back together?

Most importantly, is it already over between us?

Had it ever even begun?

I’d been casual about sleeping with someone I’d just met, much less again on the first real date as if I did it all the time. But that wasn’t me at all. Even the third date rule felt like I was rushing it.

I hated myself for being so hung up on a man I still barely knew. We’d had two great nights and been on one date. That was it.

He’d spent five years in prison and I knew nothing about it. He fought in an underground fighting ring, and I had no idea what that entailed. We weren’t as close as I’d assumed. I’d let him into my head, but he’d kept himself closed off behind thick steel walls that I couldn’t hope to permeate.

Riker started the session by trying to tire me out with a series of push ups, burpees, and star jumps. We didn’t talk, but today I didn’t need the distraction to keep me going. My mind was on issues far more traumatic than the physical abuse my body was going through.

“Let’s work on the punches,” Riker said, as he picked up some pads.

Punches. That’s what I needed to do right now.

Riker held his hands up casually and started giving instructions, but he soon realized this wasn’t any normal session. My fists pounded into the pads with such force that the noise echoed around the gym and had the late-night stragglers turning their heads in my direction to see what was going on.

Riker even stumbled back a few times until he got used to how hard I was punching. He’d spared with men before, and I wasn’t naive enough to think I was stronger than them, but this was by far the most aggressive I’d ever been and Riker noticed.

He still didn’t say anything.

Eventually Riker stopped, although I still had energy left to keep going. It was amazing what anger could do for your motivation.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Riker said, taking off the pads and throwing them to the floor. “Let’s do some more balance exercises.”

“No,” I said, bouncing from foot to foot to show that I wanted to keep active. “I want to go down to the cage and fight.”

Riker shook his head. “We’re not training in the cage. That’s where I fight. I don’t want you down there.”

“I’ve already been down there with Duke.”

Riker sighed, but still shook his head again. “He shouldn’t have done that. The cage isn’t a place for training. I have to fight there in a few weeks. I need to be in the right frame of mind, and that won’t happen if we mess around in there.”

“Who said anything about messing around? I want to go down there and fight.”

I opened the cupboard and grabbed some of the boxing gloves. I did most of my training bare-fisted, because that’s how I’d fight on the street if I ever needed to. Right now, I wanted to throw some real punches that weren’t aiming for pads.

“We’re not fighting,” Riker said calmly.

I didn’t know if he was referring to the cold atmosphere between us all session, or the potential for some physical combat in the ring.

“Well,
I’m
fighting. If you won’t spar with me, I’ll just go find someone who will.”

This will be damn embarrassing if none of the men here agree to get in the cage with me
.

“Okay, okay,” Riker conceded. “Let’s go down to the cage.”

Last night I’d been fresh from a shower, and hadn’t realized how cold it was down in the basement. Duke hadn’t turned on all the lights that night, or if he had, I’d been too out of it to pay any attention to my surroundings.

The cage took center stage and was sounded by benches for people to crowd onto in an effort to get a view of the action.

Betting slips still littered the stone floor, even though there hadn’t been a fight down here in weeks.

“Duke might want to clean this up,” I suggested. “Can’t imagine the police would take too kindly to evidence of illegal gambling.”

“The police won’t do anything,” Riker replied.

“Why not?”

“Because Duke has cameras up in each corner pointing at the crowd.”

“So what?” I asked. “That just gives the police even more evidence.”

“Those cameras also record all the members of the police force that are in attendance at these fights, in addition to some very senior members of the mayor’s office.”

“Oh.”

“At least, that’s what we tell people. The cameras haven’t worked for years.”

Riker opened the cage door and let me inside. This time there was enough light to let me see the bloodstains coating parts of the metal cage, and the floor. They really needed a cleaner down here.

“Where are your gloves?” I asked Riker. He’d brought the pads, but that was it.

“What do I need gloves for?”

“I’d rather you didn’t hit me with your bare fists,” I admitted.

“I’m not going to hit you at all.”

“You fucking well are. I said I wanted to fight and I meant it.”

Riker wanted to argue, but I stared into his eyes until he backed down and grabbed a pair of gloves hanging from the hook on the wall. He also made me wear one of those padded bands that went around my head, and a gum shield that I sure hoped was new.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked, struggling to speak coherently with the shield in my mouth.

“Just try to hit me,” Riker replied.

Easy. I’d been doing that all morning. I swung a punch, hitting his glove out of habit.

“No, aim for the face,” Riker insisted. “You wanted a fight, well you’ve got one. You don’t try to punch someone’s hands in a fight.”

I had to adjust my stance so that I could punch up to Riker’s face, instead of straight forward where he held his hands.

Apparently I
really
wanted to punch Riker in the face. I didn’t even hesitate. I saw him open and swung with my right hand. It was a good punch, and on target, but Riker blocked in time, sending my fist sailing harmlessly past his face.

I lost my balance, but was careful not to fall into Riker this time. That’s how all this had started in the first place.

“Again,” Riker commanded.

He didn’t instruct me on which hand to use, so I swung on instinct, using whatever hand had the most strength and coordination at the time. It was sloppy, and Riker blocked each punch with ease.

He’d been watching me throw punches for weeks now, so he knew how I moved and reacted accordingly. I tried to change things up, but he still read me perfectly.

Then I decided to bluff.

I went to throw a punch with my left hand, but stopped it in mid-air and used my right hand instead. It worked. My gloved smashed straight into his face with a satisfying thud. I thought I’d done some damage, but when I looked back up, I saw that he had barely raised an eyebrow.

I’d given it my all, but I couldn’t hope to hurt him. I didn’t even know why I wanted to. He probably didn’t deserve it. This was all my fault for letting myself get too close, too quickly.

All he’d done is take up an offer to sleep with someone when they offered it to him on a plate. He’d hardly be the first guy guilty of that offense.

“Punch me,” I said firmly. “I want to practice my blocking.”

“No chance.”

I held my hands up in front of my face. “Duke did,” I lied.

“I’m not hitting you.”

“No, you won’t. But I want you to try.”

Riker sighed and shook his head, but he took up a fighting stance. “When I say left, block with your left hand. When I say right—”

“Block with my right hand. Yeah, I think I can get my head around that code.”

Riker shouted ‘right’ and swung his left hand towards me. I easily blocked the punch, but he was practically aiming for my hand, so it was harder not to.

Even the impact of his gloves on mine hurt a little bit, but I did my best to hide the pain from my face. I’d need to stick my hands in an ice bucket as soon as I got home.

“Left,” he yelled, then swung with his right hand. His glove hit mine, but I wasn’t strong enough, and I ended up hitting myself in the face with my own hand.

“That’ll do,” Riker said, ripping off his gloves’ velcro with his teeth.

“No,” I demanded. “We keep going.”

“You’re exhausted.”

“So? Do you stop when you get tired? You haven’t even hit me yet.”

“Nora, I—”

“Hit me,” I yelled. “If you can.”

Riker went back to shouting directions and swinging punches. Each punch got harder to block. I could barely keep my hands in the air now, let alone resist the force of his punches. I had no doubt he was holding back, but I still struggled to keep up.

“Left.” Block. “Right.” Block. “Right.” Block. “Left.” I missed.

Riker’s hand went zooming past my glove and slammed into my face. Riker had once told me he didn’t feel the pain of a punch during a fight because of the adrenaline.

Bullshit.

Punches fucking hurt.

I screamed and then spat the gum shield out of my mouth so that I could scream some more.

“Shit,” Riker muttered, tearing off his gloves with his teeth, and rushing towards me. His hands took hold of my face as he tried to examine the damage.

“Get off,” I yelled, and pushed his hands away from me.

“I told you it was a bad idea.”

“Just get off me.”

“Nora, what the hell—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

I tore my gloves off and threw the helmet to the floor before storming back upstairs.

So much for keeping a cool head. I’d just had a hissy fit because a guy I’d slept with was seeing someone else. I wasn’t proud of that, and I certainly didn’t want Riker seeing me at my lowest point.

What the hell was happening to me? I wasn’t the type to storm off in a bad mood. That wasn’t me.

Except apparently it was.

That’s what Riker had done to me.