ESCAPE: A Stepbrother Romance (These Wicked Games Book 2) Page 2

“Never say anything that could be used against you,” the attorney on our left says.

  The other one—on his left, and at the edge of our little entourage—leans out to be seen. “Which means saying nothing at all, usually.”

  “She gets it,” Cade says, and they shut up.

  There’s a black SUV waiting outside for us, not the Mercedes he’d been driving.

  “Home sweet home,” I say as we head toward the familiar loading zone.

  “Hm?” Cade asks.

  “Just been here a lot recently.”

  As Cade and I get in the backseat, I notice the windows are blacked-out.

  Figures, when there’s no press chasing us.

  “No blob,” I say, while the two attorneys converse outside our window.

  “What?” Cade asks.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s just that we have all this privacy, and there aren’t any reporters to try to steal it from us.”

  He smiles. “Be glad.”

  “Is it okay to talk now?” I ask, looking at the man in the driver’s seat.

  Cade glances at him. “Yeah.”

  One of the attorneys gets in the front seat, the other goes off and disappears into the crowd, and we begin moving with the aid of what looks like a cop stopping traffic so we can pull out.

  “That was nice of him,” I say, twisting in my seat.

  “Influence has its benefits.” He touches my shoulder, and I look at him. “What happened?”

  “There was a cop. She chased me.”

  Cade clenches his jaw. “Did she do that to you?”

  I wipe at my nose, which still isn’t bleeding, and which doesn’t feel broken. Thankfully. Some crusted blood flakes off. “No. I tripped.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was rushing to catch the plane you were— I thought you were on, but I missed it. Then this cop appeared and said she’d take me home. I got her to leave me alone for a moment and then took off. And she chased me.”

  Cade looks to the passenger’s seat. “What was the officer’s name?”

  The attorney doesn’t respond.

  “Mike!”

  ‘Mike,’ jumps.

  “What?”

  “What was her name?”

  “Who?”

  “Weren’t you listening?”

  “I try not to, sir.”

  “The cop.”

  “Emily Dickinson, according to her nameplate.”

  “Not her. The other one.”

  Mike shakes his head. “Only woman on duty right now.” He looks at me. “That’s who you must have seen.”

  “Thought you weren’t listening?”

  Mike faces forward again.

  “It wasn’t Emily,” I say to Cade. “I think she knew my mom.”

  Cade’s eyes soften. “Your mom?”

  I grunt and shake my head. “Fuck, I’m really out of it. Your mom. Cynthia.”

  Cade frowns. “Why do you think she knew her?”

  “I don’t know. I just got that impression.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “Yeah. I think so. Like, ‘Your mom is waiting,’ or something. Oh! No, she said your mom will pick you up.” I speed up, getting excited as I remember. “And she said she didn’t want to get in trouble, because she was off her path.”

  “Path?”

  “Or whatever. A cop’s thing. A beat.”

  “Mike, do the sheriffs patrol here?” He looks at me. “Was it the sheriff?”

  I shrug. Not like I’ve had many run-ins with the cops. I hardly even drive anywhere. And my car would fall apart if I sped.

  “I can check. I don’t believe so,” Mike says, not looking back at us.

  “That’s suspicious,” Cade says. “What did she look like?” he asks me.

  “Tallish. I think. It’s hard to tell. At my height, everyone looks tall.”

  “Did you get her name?”

  I shake my head.

  “What color was her hair?”

  “Brown or black.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember her face. It’s surprisingly blank in my mind. “That’s all I can remember. I wasn’t really looking at her. I was trying to catch the plane, and then when I saw it was gone, I was trying to stop my nose from bleeding, and then I was trying to get away from her. Not much reason to study her face.”

  “What about the uniform color?”

  “Beige?” I shrug.

  “Sheriffs then.”

  “I guess.” Then I remember. “Oh! Her name. Not her first name. But her last was Burns, or Burn something.”

  “Burton?”

  I nod. “Maybe.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  “I know who it is.” He shakes his head, his jaw clenched. “That fucker.”

  “You know her?”

  “No. Yes. I mean my mother.” He glances at me. “She’s…” he trails off, and averts his eyes.

  “What is it?”

  Cade shakes his head. “Cynthia knows her.”

  “How?”

  Cade doesn’t answer.

  “Cade! Tell me.”

  Instead of answering, he gives the driver an address.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A friend.”

  “I thought we were leaving.”

  Mike the attorney turns around in his seat. “Not the best idea right now with what just happened. Stay out of LAX for the time being.”

  “But I didn’t do anything! They can’t ban me.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean you’re banned. Not that I know of. Just that Mr Dorn wouldn’t want the kind of attention going back would draw.”

  “I didn’t see any reporters.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mike faces forward.

  “Hey!” I kick his seat, and hit Cade’s knee in the process.

  “Calm down.” Cade puts his hand on my thigh, and I let my leg fall. His hand’s so warm and large. It makes my thighs look small.

  I swallow and look up at him.

  His hand tightens, slides slowly up my thigh, and I bite my lip, my pelvis lifting of its own accord.

  I try not to moan as his fingers reach the hem of my shorts. He trails his fingers along the fabric.

  I want to say his name, but stop myself, remembering what happened last time.

  I’ll let what happens happen. I don’t want to change anything for the worse; it seems nothing I do can change things for the better.

  His finger slips under the fabric, and I inhale sharply, letting out a quiet moan.

  I doubt even Cade heard it, over the road noise.

  He lifts his gaze from where his fingers are teasing me, and brings them to my eyes.

  I smile.

  Cade leans forward slightly and licks his lips.

  I tentatively let my hand creep to his crotch.

  Fuck, he’s so hard.

  I wrap my hand around his shaft and squeeze.

  He grunts. “Mags.” His hand goes to mine, makes it move up and down.

  My eyes dart to make sure Mike’s not watching.

  He’s oblivious. So is the driver.

  Cade slips his fingers in further, almost touching now. So close.

  I’m soaking, and dying to touch myself. Dying to have him touch me. I flash on his expression when he saw me naked earlier, on how it felt to stand there, under the harsh lights, and to have him see every part of me. To see the lust that it evoked in him.

  I touch myself through my shorts, our eyes locked.

  Cade’s hand tightens on mine, and he looks away. Then he pulls my hand away from his cock.

  My heart implodes.

  The way he did it, so violently. Like he was disgusted with me for even thinking to do something like that.

  But, he liked it. I can tell. And he guided my hand.

  “Cade,” I say quietly, both hands now limp in my lap.

  “When we get to Amélie’s, you shoul
d get cleaned up. I have some things to do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” He looks at me.

  “I mean, you seemed upset.” I gesture at his crotch, and want to slap myself. The movement had implied something different in my head.

  He looks out the window. “Stay inside. I shouldn’t be long. Then we can get out of this hellish town.”

  I look at my hands, feeling awkward. I try to change the subject. “Another Emily?”

  He looks at me again.

  I smile. “I got checked-in by an Emily, then tackled by one. Now we’re going to a place called Emily’s.”

  “No. It’s a person. And Amélie, not Emily. You know. Amélie, from before.”

  My mouth falls open. “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Why? What do you mean? You can’t be serious. Are you—” I stop. I feel even more awkward now. Before, I was his sister, and asking this kind of question would be normal. But now, will I seem jealous?

  “Am I what?” His eyes burn into me.

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t be so fucking coy.”

  “Cade…”

  “Why don’t you stand up for yourself once in a while?”

  “What? Cade, what’s—”

  “Oh stop with the puppy act. You’re a grown fucking woman, Maggie, you should start acting like it.”

  “I don’t understand.” I glance at the driver and Mike, who are ignoring us. My eyes burn, and I have to open them wide to keep the tears from falling.

  He looks out the window.

  I scoot closer to him. “Hey.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and he shrugs it off.

  I stare at the back of his head, vision blurring. “Cade,” I whimper.

  He turns to me. His expression softens when he sees my face, and he takes my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just upset.”

  I nod.

  “Hey, little bird, I’m sorry.” He touches my chin, lifting it, then kisses my forehead. “I’m an asshole. I’m sorry. I’m just so fu— so upset about…”

  “What? Tell me.”

  “What happened to you.”

  I shake my head, frowning. “Happened?”

  “At the airport.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “At home. Everything. I just want to protect you, and I keep failing.”

  “No.” I lean my head against him. And instantly feel better for doing so. Like we’re in our own little bubble, and nothing else matters when we’re like this. When we’re together.

  He places his hand on my head, stroking my hair. “You smell like chicken wings.”

  I laugh and elbow him.

  “I’m just being honest.”

  “Jerk.”

  “So you’re okay with staying with Amélie for a bit?”

  I groan. “Why’d you have to remind me?” I’m quiet for a minute, then ask, “Why can’t we get a hotel?”

  “I can’t check in under my own name. And I don’t want to risk calling anyone.”

  “What could calling someone hurt? You think they’d tell the news?”

  He gives his head a slight shake. “That’s not what concerns me.”

  “Then what?”

  “Stop.”

  I bite my tongue and take a deep breath. “Cade. I just got chased, tackled, and strip searched. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

  “Are you saying it’s my fault?”

  “No! Just… I wish you would tell me more.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. I won’t fail again.”

  Chapter 5

  We pull up to an apartment building on Wilshire Boulevard.

  “Would you like us to wait, sir?” the driver asks.

  “No.”

  “Very well.”

  “I’ll keep your assistant updated,” the attorney tells Cade.

  Cade nods, and we get out and head into the building.

  “Nice digs,” I say, looking around the lobby as we walk through it.

  “Digs?”

  I shrug one shoulder.

  “This way,” he says.

  I follow. “You know, getting chased wasn’t fun. You owe me for this.”

  We reach the elevators, and Cade presses the button. “I’m already buying you a first class ticket.”

  The doors open, and we enter. I lean back against the rail, and he faces me after selecting a floor.

  “To SF,” I say, looking up at him. He’s so close. I can feel his heat. I wonder if the elevator will jolt. Hope it does so he falls into me. “It’s like, thirty minutes.”

  He smiles. “I didn’t realize my li—” His smile falls.

  I punch him lightly. “It’s okay. Little sister? I’m your stepsister. It’s not that weird.” I see the look on his face, and wonder if I made a mistake. “I mean, I’m not saying you like me, or anything. But, I mean—”

  He grabs me by the waist and kisses me, pinning me back to the wall, his crotch pressing hard into my stomach.

  I’m too stunned to kiss back.

  He lets go. “Fuck.” He puts a hand to his head. “I’m so fucked up. I couldn’t help myself. You looked so—” He shakes his head. “Fuck!” He turns and punches the elevator door, leaving a huge dent.

  I want to reach out, touch him. Want to hold him, to be held. But that would just make things worse.

  “Look, Mags, I just—”

  The elevator door opens, and we both look. There’s no one there.

  We watch as the door slowly shuts.

  We begin ascending again.

  “That’s odd.”

  The tone of his voice makes me study his face. “You seem, um, concerned.”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  “What is it?”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s nothing.”

  The elevator doors open again, this time on our floor. Or rather, Amélie’s.

  I follow him to her door—a location he must know well by now. He used to come here often enough before he left.

  “Are you going to knock?” I look at his hand to see if maybe he hurt it, but it looks fine.

  He looks me up and down. “God, it’s a good thing she thinks of you as my sister.”

  He knocks on the door.

  I want to ask what he means by that. Would she get jealous of me? No way, not someone who looks like her, not unless she thought—

  The door opens. “Cade!” A tall girl in a silver, sequined dress and high heels squeals and practically jumps Cade, wrapping her long, thin arms around his neck.

  One of her feet even lifts, like in movies.

  I stand there like a dumb oompa loompa extra.

  Cade pushes her back, looking at me. “This is—”

  She squeals again. “Maggie!” She hugs me, forcing my face into her cleavage.

  I have to admit, her boobs are very soft.

  I reach around and pat her back.

  “So good to meet you!” She finally releases me. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Really?” I notice she has a French accent still. She moved here at fourteen, so I guess that’s not too big a surprise.

  “Yes!” She pinches my cheek. “Even cuter all grown up!”

  I frown. “I don’t get it.” I don’t think I ever met her in person, just listened to Cade talk about her. Often imaging he was talking about me.

  “Sorry,” Cade says. “She hacked our baby photos.”

  I look at him in horror. “You have my baby photos?!”

  Chapter 6

  Inside, Amélie shows me to the bathroom to get cleaned up and changed.

  I’m reluctant to leave the two of them alone together, but it’s not like there’s anything I can do about it.

  And I’ll be glad to get out of these bloody clothes.

  Not that I have anything particularly fabulous to change into: all Amélie’s clothes are too big in one direction, and
too small in the other.

  So she gave me a robe, which I hang on a hook on the back of the door now, as my toes nestle into the really nice, soft rug under my feet, as I breathe in the scent of lilacs, or lavender, or something flowery and nice.

  I set my purse on the counter and look at myself in the mirror.

  The lights in here are much softer, yellowish, and make my skin glow. I could almost convince myself I look pretty.

  Well, if I ignore my ratty hair and smeared makeup. Or if I pretend I’m punk.

  My phone buzzes inside my purse. I take it out, and curse when I see the shattered screen. I didn’t forget about that, but I sort of did think of it, despite Cade buying me a new phone.

  I turn it on anyway. It seems to work.

  The crack blocks me from seeing the message preview, so I unlock the screen.

  It’s Cynthia. Where are you? Are you alright?

  “Yeah right, bitch,” I say, and turn the screen off. I want to slam it down, but that will probably just make it all-the-way broken.

  I violently strip off my shirt instead and instantly regret it. “Fuck!” I cry, bending over and cupping my hands to my nose as blood fills my palms, unsure what to do, and unable to think it through with the pain radiating from my nose ringing like a klaxon in my brain.

  There’s several heavy thuds, and I wonder if my heart is about to explode. Then the door flies open, slamming into my back and sending me into the counter.

  “Fuck!” I cry as my ribs slam into the counter and I hear a crunch.

  Then my legs slip out from under me on the nice fucking rug and I slide to the floor, cracking my head on the counter on my way down.

  “Ow!” I cry, and before I can orient my hands or legs in any useful way, I feel my head hit the tile floor, and my blurry vision lets in just enough light to see Cade over me, and I wonder what he thinks of my tits.

  Chapter 7

  I rock side to side, and wonder where we’re going.

  Then I wake up more, and notice there are bright lights aimed at me.

  I try to sit up, but can’t.

  “She’s awake.”

  An even brighter, more focused light appears inches from my eyeball. Someone’s hand is on my forehead, keeping the eyelid open.

  “Where am I?”

  “Can you tell me your name?” a man in blue asks. His hair is very black.

  “Maggie.”

  “The whole thing, Ma’am.”

  Ma’am? Have I died and been awoken in another time. Or maybe I’ve been in a coma for years and now I’m an old woman.