BASTARD: A Stepbrother Romance (These Wicked Games Book 1) (4 page)

Her stupid face, wearing that stupid, satisfied smile.

She looks me up and down. “You’re barely wearing anything already. I wonder if you’d even notice.” In my mind, I see her lips as cracked and thin, her teeth black and rotten. But as that smile spreads, and her lips part to speak, they are plump and full, and her teeth are pearly white and straight. “I’m sure you’d get better tips.”

“You can’t do that.” In my head, I’m shouting this, but my voice sounds weak.

She raises an eyebrow—the same way Cade does, and it makes me hate her even more for having anything in common with him, for reminding me that he came from her—and says, “Oh? You’re in my house. If you want to move, that’s fine. But while you’re here…”

I hate when she does that. Doesn’t finish her sentences, like it’s supposed to make her seem more intimidating, more sinister. Like I’m supposed to imagine all the terrible things she could mean. ‘You better do this, or else.’

She looks at the knife in my hand. Then looks up to me. “Have something you want to say, dear?”

I just stare at her.

She turns back to her work. “Don’t forget to wash the knife.”

She’s thin, weak. I can see her spine through her sweater. I could plunge the knife in, all the way to her black heart. End it all.

I look down at my hand. The blade is a chef’s knife, one of those big ones that are squared off at the bottom, forming a sharp corner, before tapering down to the handle. This corner is digging into my knuckle, and a trickle of blood is running down my palm.

I raise the knife above my head, ready to bring it down into her back.

I remember how humiliated I was. How she told me if I was so proud of my body, then I shouldn’t cover it.

My stomach sinks as I imagine what it will feel like as the knife enters her. My heart soars, and a surge of adrenaline rushes through me.

I can do it. All I have to do is bear down with my weight, and it would all end.

But I already know I won’t. It’s just a futile gesture. Shaking my fists at the sky. It doesn’t change anything.
I
can’t change anything.

Maybe Cade could do it. But not me, not an ineffectual little fat girl like me.

I throw the knife at the sink and run out. I hear it bounce out and hit the floor, but I don’t care. I just had to get out of there. Have to get out of
here
.

I burst through the screen door, its squawk shorter this time but no less loud, run down the steps, across the yard, through the hole in the fence, past the group of trees, down the embankment, and into my hideaway, a cave with a floor made of a disused storm drain that we long ago covered with old carpet, and ceiling of roots that lets just enough light in.

I curl up inside, bringing my knees to my chest.

And then I cry.

I hate myself for it. For being so weak. For letting her get to me.

But my hate doesn’t stop the tears.

It never does.

I hear footsteps, and my head shoots up, my eyes darting to the entrance.

No, I’m such an idiot. She must have seen. Seen me come in here. Not even this, do I get to keep. After remaining a secret, remaining safe, for nine years, this hideaway Cade and I found on the first day we met, would be no more.

Because now
she
knows about it. And it’s not safe.

I find myself scuttling back toward the rear of the cave, like some frightened animal. Like prey. And she’s the predator. The apex predator. The one even other predators fear. My father included, though he’s more a coyote, or vulture, than a real predator.

I stare at the opening, waiting to see her horrible, beautiful face. I’ll kick her. If she comes in, I’ll kick her.

“Can I come in?”

Confusion mixes in mind at the voice, and it takes me a moment to realize the other emotion I’m feeling is relief.

It’s not Cynthia’s voice, but Cade’s. He’s still here. He didn’t leave.

He stayed.

“Cade?”

He gets on his knees, on the dirt, and crawls in. “Did this get smaller?”

I laugh, wiping tears from my eyes. “You just got bigger.”

“Stupid personal trainers. It was my publicist’s idea.” He crawls in and sits across from me.

“Your suit,” I say, and I can’t help the laughter breaking free.

He looks down at it, then back up at me. His expression is blank. “Shit.”

And like that, he’s back. My Cade. My protector. He’s come back for me, my knight in shining armor.

My savior.

“Why the rain, little bird?”

I wipe my eyes some more. “I’m not crying.”

“But you were.” He gets on his toes, toe-walks awkwardly over, and sits next to me. When his arm wraps around my shoulders, I lean into him without thinking. “Tell me,” he says quietly.

I shake my head. My cheek brushes against his suit, and I’m surprised at how soft it is. “Is this silk?”

“Maybe.”

I chuckle.

“You were saying?”

“Same shit as always. I let your mom get to me.”

“I always told you not to.”

“That was easier to do when you were here.”

He hugs me tighter, and I almost start crying again. “I know you think I left you, little bird. I didn’t. I know it seems like that. I’m so sorry you had to deal with them all alone.”

My throat is too tight to respond. I try anyway, but just make a choked sound.

“She’s a bastard.” He pets my head with one hand, using the other to keep it pressed against his chest. “She really did a number on you. What happened? Was she mad I didn’t come in?” He suddenly leans back, grabbing my shoulders and making me look at him. “Did she recognize me?” He looks to the entrance of the hideaway, as though she might have been waiting there all this time, for just this moment, to appear
just
as this revelation is revealed.

“It’s not you,” I say, wanting to lean back against him. Instead, I make myself pull away.

“Then what?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

I shake my head. “It’s a long time ago.”

“Tell me.”

I bite my lip and look down at my hands. My right wrist looks puffy, and at seeing this it starts to hurt. I wonder if it’s placebo, or that other one, the bad one that sounds similar.

“Mags?” He touches my chin, but doesn’t force me to look up.

“It’s nothing,” I say, still staring at my wrist. It’s throbbing now. “She just grounded me.”

“I know you’re tougher than that.”

I lick my lips. “It’s the way she did it. It was embarrassing. More than embarrassing.”

“What?”

I turn away, lean back, and peak my head out the hole.

“Mags?”

When I see there’s no one watching, I scurry out. My wrist lets out a yelp of pain, but I ignore it and get to my feet and climb up the embankment.

I hear Cade bumping around, then hear him cry out. “Fuck.”

He comes out, and climbs to where I’m standing. His cheek is smeared with dirt. “Fucking roots.”

“You always cut them.” I smile, then shrug. “They don’t bother me any.”

I dash off through the trees, and duck through the hole in the fence.

“Mags,” Cade calls after me.

I stop on the other side, waiting in our yard.

I smile as Cade crawls through the hole.

He stands fully, shakes his head, and opens his mouth to say something.

And then comes a sound that sends chills through me.

I hear Cade mutter something under his breath as he looks past me. It sounds like “Shit,” but I could be wrong.

I turn as the squeaky hinge ceases its cry.

Cynthia is standing in the doorway to our house, and for once, it feels like I
have
changed something. But not something I wanted to.

“Hi there,” Cynthia calls out sweetly as she comes down the steps. “I’m Cynthia, Maggie’s mom. Are—”

But then she freezes in her tracks.

“Hi Mom,” Cade says coolly.

“Cade… But…” She looks at me, as though I’ll have some kind of answer for her.

But I don’t even know the question.

“It’s me,” Cade says.

She looks back at her son. “What are you… I mean. You didn’t call. I…” She shakes her head, and my heart sinks, because she looks so much like her son in that moment.

“I wasn’t planning on stopping by.” He puts an arm around my shoulder. “But then I ran into Maggie.”

Fuck. Now she’s gonna take it out on me. My pulse speeds up.

Cynthia looks back and forth between us. She stops on Cade. “Your father will be here soon. You should say hi.”

“Really? He’s coming all the way from Denmark?”

“Your real father, the one who raised you through your toughest years. Not the one who contributed a couple minutes and a few grunts.”

“Great job he did ‘raising me’.”

“Look at you. You’re doing so well. You have us to thank for—”

“Bullshit!” Cade interrupts, letting go of me and advancing on his mother.

He doesn’t tower over her the way he does me, but I see now that he’s grown since I last saw him, because he’s taller than her now. When he left, they were the same height. Which is still pretty tall.

Seeing him standing there next to her, I can tell he’s even taller than my dad. The one who ‘raised’ him. Which is bull, since Cade was already thirteen when my dad met Cynthia, a year before he divorced my mom.

“You contributed nothing. Nothing except pain and hardship.”

“Oh, don’t be melodramatic,” she says, but she can’t look him in the eye. She can’t even look at me, instead staring at a point off to the side.

“I’m not.” He turns to me. “Come on, Mags, we’re leaving.”

Cynthia turns on him. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Cade ignores her, and grabs my arm. “Do you have anything you want to keep, that I can’t buy you a new one of?”

“My computer,” I say slowly.

“It’s not backed up in the cloud?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cynthia interrupts. “Because she’s not going anywhere. You can’t just barge in and kidnap her.”

“She’s not a kid,” Cade growls. He’s looking at me as he says this. Then, “Come on, I’ll go with you.” He leads me toward the door.

“You can’t just barge in like this!” his mother repeats. “That’s
my
house.”

Cade ignores her. I look back and see her following.

“Cade,” I whimper. “This is a bad idea.”

“No, it’s the best fucking idea I ever had. I should have done it years ago. I may not have left you that night, but you’re right about one thing, I should have come for you sooner. Saved you from all this. I can’t change the past. But I can change the future.”

We get to my room, and Cade opens the door. He almost throws me inside. “Sorry,” he says.

I shrug. I can tell he’s worked up. “You remembered which one is mine.”

“Get whatever can’t be bought again. Leave the rest. Just like you’re going to leave this life.”

I look around my room, wondering if it could possibly be the last time I see it.

And, unexpectedly, from out of nowhere at all, hope, happiness, joy, these all mix together and bubble up from some geyser within me I didn’t know existed, had never been aware of until now.

I hear Cynthia come inside, slamming the door, but I’m not afraid. Because Cade is here, and he’s standing in my doorway. And he’s between her and me. And I know he’d never let her hurt me. Not anymore.

I’m safe.

A smile spreads across my face, and I grab my laptop and slide it into my messenger bag. I leave the charger: I’d have to dig behind my desk to unplug it, and I don’t want to waste the time. This feels tenuous, like a dream that could break at any moment, so I want to give it as few moments as possible to do so.

Besides, Cade will buy me a new one.

Cade has my arm as he leads me past his mother, who’s standing by the front door. It’s locked, and he has to take a second to open it.

“I’m warning you…” she says, and I hate to admit it, but I get that sinking feeling in my stomach.

Cade stops just outside the doorway and turns, pushes me behind him, then says to her, “No. You don’t get to warn me. You’re going to stay out of this.”

They stare at each other for a moment. I’m surprised she doesn’t smile that condescending smile like she does with me. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her interact with Cade. But she seems more deferential than she used to. And before he left, she wasn’t
that
bad. Not compared to how she became after he was gone.

They say money can’t buy love, but it can buy respect. It can buy fear.

Cade turns, and he leads me to the Mercedes, which is now parked on the side of the street closest to our front yard.

“Get in the front,” he says, opening the passenger door for me.

We take off, and I watch as Cynthia dwindles to a stick figure, then blurs into obscurity.

I face forward, close my eyes, and breathe deep, clutching my laptop bag to my chest.

The car smells new, and for the first time I appreciate where I am, what I’m in.

I’ve never ridden in anything more expensive than my dad’s Mustang—and that wasn’t very expensive.

I feel a smile spread, trying to rip my face in two.

I glance at Cade. He looks so serious.

When he catches me looking, he raises an eyebrow, but keeps looking straight ahead. “Having fun, Birdy?”

I nod. “Yes.”

His expression lightens. “Good.” He pauses. “We still have plenty of time to make the flight. I’m not spending any more time here than I need to.” It’s almost like he’s talking to himself.

“I can’t just leave my job like that,” I say. But my heart’s not in it. I sure as hell can.

I think. “Can I. Is that legal?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have a team of lawyers if they try anything. I seriously doubt they’ll try to sue you.”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the hotel, for now.”

In the hotel’s parking garage, Martin is waiting by the still-open one-car garage to greet us.

“What the hell’s he doing down here?” Cade wonders as we pull in to the garage. He rolls down his window.