Twirled Bond (Holly Woods Files, #5) (24 page)

And waiting to start a new
Harry Potter
book for her to say yes? Damn. That sounds like love to me. I started each book before I’d gotten out of the damn bookstore each time. Hell, before I’d paid for it.

It was a serious business.

“You’re thinking about
Harry Potter
again, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it if I’d bang Neville.”

He looks at me and shakes his head. “I don’t know how I put up with you.”

“It’s my mad bedroom skills.” I fold the letter and put it away. “How did the interviews go?”

“Long. Tiring. Got absolutely nothing out of any of them.” He sighs and drops back on the sofa. Then he covers his eyes with his arm. “I don’t think any of them are guilty of this. They were each interrogated by two different officers and had the same questions posed three times but in different ways. Their answers never changed. Whoever abused and killed Daniela, it wasn’t her brothers.”

“What about Mr. Russo?”

“He was hiding something. Whether or not it involves his daughter, I don’t know. He eventually got upset and Samuel insisted we stop interrogating his client about crimes he didn’t commit.”

I wrinkle my nose. Samuel Goldberg. God, I hate that man.

“So, are they all home?”

“Yep. We had nothing to hold the brothers on, and it’s not like we can prove Daniel Russo is hiding vital evidence that could forward the case, so I had to let him go home with a warning that we will be speaking again.”

“Seems fair.” I lock the box of letters and slide them back beneath the table. Then I sit back and tuck myself into Drake’s side. “Damn it. I forgot to get a drink.”

Just then, the doorbell rings.

“Never mind. I’ll get it.” I hoist myself up using his knee for leverage and go to the front door. I open it and find myself staring at my baby brother.

My...drunk...baby brother.

“Um. Hey,” I say carefully.

He leans against the doorframe and halfheartedly waves. “Can I come in?” He’s only slurring a little bit.

“Did you drive here?” I look over his shoulder for his car.

“No. I got a taxi from the restaurant. But I gave him your address instead of mine because I’m a prick.” He snorts.

I guess he wasn’t one of the interrogating officers today.

“Brody, you’re hammered. Come get some coffee.” I open the door wide, but as he takes a step forward, his foot misses the step and hits the frame and he almost falls in. I just about catch him with an, “Umf!” which makes Drake get up.

“What the... Oh, fucking hell.” He grabs Brody off me, and I’m thankful when he guides him into the front room.

I shut the door and make my way into the kitchen to make his coffee. I grab myself a glass of water before carrying it through and putting it on the table in front of him.

Brody’s sitting forward on the sofa, his head in his hands, and Drake’s looking at me with raised eyebrows.

Big sister duty it is.

“Brodes. Here.” I push the coffee toward him. “You’ll feel better.”

“Thanks. Sorry.” His voice is barely a mutter, but he’s with it enough to sip the coffee without spilling it.

Thank freakin’ god.

“What’s wrong? You never get this drunk.”

He snorts. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Uh, you just turned up on my doorstep at ten thirty at night, blind drunk, because you gave the cab driver the wrong address. Tell me what the heck is wrong with you right now.”

“She’s on another fucking date with that prick,” he mutters into his mug, his eyes somewhat focused on the TV. “Again.”

Ahhh. Okay...
“Bek?”

“Who the fuck else would I get drunk over?”

“Why does it matter if she’s out with Jason? She told me you don’t even talk to her anymore.”

“Really?” Drake mouths, his eyebrows raised again.

I frown at him. Like I don’t know what I’m doing here.
Please
. Drunk Brody is a loose-lipped Brody... And a loose-lipped Brody is what I want.

My brother snorts. “What’s the point? She’s dating that asshole. Just be fuckin’ worse if we were friends.”

“I’m confused. Why would it be worse? I thought you were friends.” I run my fingers through my hair and push it back from my face while Drake shakes his head at me.

Luckily, Brody is too wrapped up in his drunken anger to notice. “We were. Till I was dumb enough to fall for her.”

“You’re in love with Bek?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t fuckin’ know.” He rubs his hand over his face. “Just pisses me the fuck off when she’s out with him. Like he’s good enough for her. Shit, I’m not even good enough for her.”

Well. I’m not arguing with the last two points. My best friend is a gem.

“He doesn’t even live here. He doesn’t know anything about her,” he carries on, oblivious to his rambling.
See? Loose-lipped
. “He doesn’t know she was dared to eat a bug when she was six but I did it for her because she cried. Doesn’t know she used to pretend Justin Timberlake would marry her one day. Doesn’t fuckin’ know who gave that dick a black eye in high school because he cheated on her and broke her heart.”

I didn’t know he was responsible for that.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“He doesn’t fuckin’ know anythin’,” he finishes before taking a big mouthful of coffee and looking down.

I catch Drake’s eye. He’s still staring at me in disbelief, so I mouth, “What?”

“You had to, didn’t you?” he mouths back.

I grin and quickly nod. Yes. Yes, I damn well did.

“Brodes, you wanna stay here tonight?” I ask him quietly. “I can make up the spare bed. You can’t go home like this.”

He nods, bending forward and covering his eyes with his hand. “Yeah. Thanks, sis.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I squeeze his shoulder as I pass him. “I’ll be right back. There’s bottled water in the fridge if you want it.”

“Babe, the pillows are on the top shelf. I’ll come with you,” Drake says, getting up and following me out of the room.

I run upstairs to avoid the interrogation for a moment. But a moment is literally all I get.

“What the hell?” he whispers.

“What?” I stare at him as he reaches up for the pillows.

“You have to do that?” He hands me the pillows and grabs the spare quilt and sheets.

“Yes,” I say, hugging the pillows to my chest as I walk into the second spare bedroom. “You’re not the one who has to listen to the endless bitching from your best friend about how shitty guys are and how crappy Brody is and how awful it is that Jason wants commitment. I wanna know what’s going on. Now, I know.”

“And what exactly did you find out? That your little brother is basically hopelessly in love with your best friend and currently getting his heart broken?”

I snatch a pillowcase from him. “Only because he’s too chicken to tell her how he feels. Now, I can talk to him when he’s sober and he can’t blow me off.”

“I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

“I’m not getting involved. I am involved. It’s like Hermione and the Horcux search. She was dragged into it by Ron. Bek dragged me into this.”

“Avoiding the
Harry Potter
reference,” he says, pulling the sheet over the mattress. “This is only going to end in tears.”

Well, to be fair, sounds like it’s already in tears, so a few more probably aren’t gonna hurt much.

“I know,” I say, “but what am I supposed to do? I didn’t think he’d go off like that. He’s not exactly the emotional type.”

Together, we put the sheet over the quilt, and he holds it up so I can do up the buttons at the bottom. He throws it over the bed, causing a gust of air to hit me.

I sigh as I bend down to straighten it. “I had a feeling he liked her, but I didn’t know he likes her this much.”

“All right,” he says. “I just hope he realizes he’s got work tomorrow morning.”

Yeah. Him and me both. Waking Brody is like trying to rouse the dead—and that’s when he’s not hungover.

“Brodes?” I knock on the door. “You up?”

“Yeah.” His voice is rough.

“‘Kay. I’m making coffee. You want some?”

“Please.”

Coffee and a double dose of aspirin, by the sound of it.

“The main bathroom is free if you want it. I put some towels out in case you want to take a shower. There are clothes too. I ran by your place when I got up.” I knew I kept a spare key for a reason.

“Thanks, sis.”

I head downstairs and into the kitchen. It’s perfectly quiet down here because Drake is showering in our bathroom, so I bask in the silence as I clean and prepare the coffee machine. Even when it’s ready to go and I’m making coffee, it’s still oddly silent despite the buzzing of the machine.

My phone rings from the opposite side of the kitchen, vibrating obnoxiously against the counter. I hit pause on the machine and dart around the table to grab it.

Unknown number.

“Noelle Bond,” I answer. “Can I help you?”

“Hi... Ms. Bond? This is Lucas Hargreaves. I had a message on my voicemail from you about Daniela Russo.”

Yes, yes, yes! Thank you!

I do an awkward dance halfway between the funky chicken, the timewalk, and the robot.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Sorry. My connection dropped for a moment,” I lie smoothly. “Yes—Daniela. I found your side of the letters you exchanged in her room while I was there. Have you heard the news?”

“That she’s been found? Yes, ma’am.” He’s silent for a moment. “I don’t know how I can help you.”

“I’d just love to talk to you. We don’t have much to work with right now, so anything you can give me would be helpful, honestly.”

Drake walks in then and opens his mouth, but I flap my hand at him to be quiet.

“Well, I’m at home in Omaha right now, but I fly back this afternoon. I can see if I can try to get a flight into Austin instead of Dallas if that would help. If not, I’ll fly to Austin tomorrow morning.”

“That would be perfect. Why don’t you text me and let me know what your plans are, and I’ll drive downtown to meet you. My schedule is open as I work on this right now.”

“No problem. I’ll see what I can do right now then let you know.”

“Thanks, Lucas. Talk soon.” I hang up, put my phone on the table, and do my dance again.

Drake doesn’t look all that surprised. “He called back?”

“Yep.” I tell him what he said about flights. “You gonna come with me?”

“I should be able to. I wanna hear what he has to say too. Is this mine?” He points at a mug of black coffee.

It was mine, but whatever. “Sure. I had to stop Brody’s.” I go back and hit the button for the coffee to resume. “I have a good feeling about this.”

“About what?” Brody emerges into the kitchen, purple shadows under his eyes and his wet hair dripping onto his white shirt.

Ah, his clean clothes. I’m the best sister ever.

“Thanks for getting me some stuff, by the way,” he adds.

“No problem. I knew you wouldn’t have time to go back and I woke up early. Here.” I hand him his coffee then tap two pills out of the bottle. “Take these.”

“Thanks.” He throws the aspirin to the back of his throat and swallows a mouthful of the coffee. Completely black. I guess he needs it. “Look... About last night...”

“Don’t worry.” I wave him off. “What are sisters for?”

A small smile tugs his lips. “I’m sorry, Noelle. I didn’t mean to get so drunk, and I definitely didn’t mean to end up here.”

“Brodes, don’t worry. I’d rather you come here than go home. At least you were safe here.”

“About what I said...”

“I won’t say a thing,” I promise, miming zipping my lips. “But if you really do feel like that, you should talk to her.”

“Noelle,” Drake says in a warning tone.

“What? I’m not getting involved. I’m offering sisterly advice.”

“It’s cute you think there’s a difference.”

I poke my tongue out at him.

Brody laughs and rubs his hand through his wet hair, spraying water droplets across my counter. “I dunno. I’m not sure completely how I feel.”

I shrug. “I think you should talk to her anyway.”

“Noelle,” Drake warns me again.

“Why?” Brody’s eyes narrow. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Oh, fucking hell,” Drake mutters.

“No. Oh god. Shit. Okay, look. When she saw you in Rosie’s earlier this week and you ignored her? It pissed her off. She doesn’t know what she’s done to make you act like that. And honestly? Kinda assholish if it’s because she’s dating someone else and you refuse to tell her you like her like that.”

“
Noelle
!”

“Sisterly. Advice!” I tell Drake. “I’m being helpful!”

“Hate to admit it,” Brody says, “but she is. She’s like the bitch who rips off my emotional Band-Aids.”

“Aw, I love you too, fuckhead.”

He laughs. “Look, I know I need to talk to her, but as long as she’s with Jason, it’s not my place to. She’s with him right now and I’ve gotta respect that. I’ve just gotta suck it up and deal with it.” His phone rings in his pocket. “Mom. She probably heard about my night of despair,” he says dryly, walking out of the kitchen.

Drake is still staring at me. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell him Bek and Jason aren’t serious.”