Blindsided - A Stepbrother Romance Novel (5 page)

“I’ll keep my cool,” she told him. “I’m just a sister here looking for her brother. If they give me any shit I’ll wait for your back-up before I go psycho on them, okay?”

Troy laughed. “Oh yeah, that makes me feel better.” He drove all the way around the big building and then parked the car where he could see the only door. “Be careful, Sam.”

She nodded and got out of the car. She jogged up to the door and tried the knob. It was locked. She knocked on it and waited. After several long minutes passed a kid about Aaron’s age with long, greasy black hair pulled open the door. He looked Sam over, pausing on her chest for an inappropriately long time. She wanted to kick him in the nuts…if he had any. “I’m looking for Aaron Stern. I’m his sister.” Once again she was subjected to his watery brown eyes taking in her every curve. She fought back a shiver.

“Aaron’s not here.”

“Do you know where he is?” The kid shrugged. He was getting closer to getting kicked in the balls by the minute. “Have you seen him recently?”

He shrugged again and her leg actually twitched with need. “Couple of days ago, maybe.”

“So he wasn’t here last night at all?”

“Nah, not that I know of.”

“Is Pinky here?” The kid looked at her then like she was Dorothy asking to see the Wizard.

“Nah, he’s not here.”

“Where is he?”

“Dunno.” Sam forgot her promise to Troy to call for back-up before she went psycho. She grabbed the greasy little shit in front of her by the shirt and pushed him back through the open door. She heard the unmistakable clicks of magazines being shoved into guns as soon as she did. Without even looking around, she let go of the greasy young man’s shirt and held up her hands.

“I’m just looking for my brother,” she said, loudly.

A guy with what looked like prison tats all over his face stepped up next to Samantha. He was holding a big gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Who’s your brother?”

“Aaron Stern,” she said.

The big guy smiled. Sam thought it gave his face an even creepier quality. “That little shit has a hot sister like you? I never would have guessed it. Are you sure your Mama wasn’t…”

“Don’t go there,” Sam said. The big guy threw his head back and laughed.

“You’ve got more balls than he does too. He’s in the back.” The guy hand motioned at the other four holding guns on her and they all lowered them. Sam slowly put her hands down but she didn’t move. “Go ahead and get the little fucker, if you can wake him up.”

Samantha was going to wake him up alright and then she was going to kick his ass all the way home. She went in the direction the big guy had waved her and through another door into a small room that looked like a supply closet. It smelled like shit and skunk and body odor. Aaron was curled up like a homeless person on the floor in the corner sound asleep…or out cold. Samantha walked over and poked him with the tip of her boot, he didn’t flinch. She reached down and took ahold of his ear with her thumb and forefinger and pulled. That elicited a loud groan from him and he tried to pull away from her. “Get up you stupid little asshole!”

Aaron pulled one eye open a crack and looked at his sister. She could tell he wasn’t even focusing so she pulled on his ear harder. “Ouch! Fuck!”

“Watch your mouth, and get up!”

He sat up but she still didn’t let go. “I’m up! Damn, let go of my ear you’re pulling it off.”

“Get up on your feet. You’re going to blow everything. How did you get so stupid?”

“What are you talking about?”

“My dad is coming to pick us up today. Do you think he’s going to want to take a juvenile delinquent that smells like booze and weed…and piss?”

“I don’t smell like piss!”

“Get up!” she yelled at him at the top of her lungs. Aaron struggled to his feet and had to put his hand out and grab the wall to steady himself. He sucked in a deep breath and then let out a strangled curse before doubling over. Samantha saw what was coming and stepped back just in time for the green vomit to miss her feet. “Jesus Aaron! Fuck!”

“Don’t yell at me, I’m sick.”

Sam smacked him on the back of his head. “No, you’re stupid! Our mother just died of a drug overdose. Your father is in jail awaiting trial for her murder because money for drugs and booze was more important to him than his wife’s life. Is this really what you want, Aaron? Is this really what you want your life to be?”

Aaron wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and stood up straight. Samantha didn’t know if the tears in his eyes were from vomiting or her words, but they were there. “This has always been my life, Sammy. I don’t fucking know anything else.”

She took hold of his arm and said, “You’re damned sure going to learn. If it’s the last thing I ever do I’m going to see you turn into a real man. Now clean that shit up so we don’t get shot on our way out of here.”

Aaron seemed to suddenly remember where they were. He looked around them and said, “Shit! Is Pinky here?”

“No Aaron, but his tattoo faced friends are and they like playing with their guns. I can’t believe you were stupid enough to get involved with Pinky Ferguson’s crew.”

Aaron didn’t say anything to that. He just grabbed some shop towels off of one of the shelves and got on his knees. Sam had to turn away while he cleaned up the vomit. She stood there staring at a shelf full of drug paraphernalia and rubbing the cross she had tattooed on her wrist. She wasn’t a religious person. She wasn’t even sure if she believed in God most of the time, but right now she was thanking him for Luke.

Conrad still wasn’t used to the quiet at his father’s house. He’d lived there for a couple of years before he and his best friend Shawn got an apartment together. Conrad had stayed at his father’s house last night. Shawn had some big plans with his girlfriend and wanted to use the apartment so Conrad cleared out. He enjoyed the time he got to spend with his dad, but hated how just being in the house stirred up the pain that still haunted his soul. Sometimes he still wakes up in the middle of the night thinking that he’d heard his mother’s voice. Sometimes he wakes up early in the morning because he thinks he hears her screaming. It makes him sit right up in bed and look around. Once he realizes it’s just a dream then the fresh, raw trauma of reminding himself of everything that’s happened over the past four years comes back into play and he spends the rest of the morning fighting it, and losing.

He got out of bed and went into the bathroom. After he splashed cold water on his face he looked into the mirror. He used to spend a huge amount of time using his looks to get what he wanted from practically any girl or woman that he wanted. Now when he looked at himself he no longer saw the hot guy that every girl in high school wanted to date, or every woman in college was willing to sleep with. What he sees now are his brother’s eyes and his mother’s face…

“Shit!” He grabbed a towel and dried his face and went out into the kitchen. His dad was already up and had the coffee brewing. He felt guilt when he looked at his dad too, but at least his dad’s eyes only looked at him with love and respect. “Hey Dad.”

“Hey, I thought you were off today,” his dad said.

“I am. I just couldn’t sleep anymore. I think I’ll go over to the shop and work on the Charger.”

“You have a race this weekend?”

Conrad ran a tight racing crew, but he was definitely an exception. Most of his crew had been raised by absent or abusive parents and some of them were homeless when they hooked up with him; he hand-picked them all for their individual talents, not for who they were or where they came from. In Conrad’s case, his father and his stepfather both not only knew about his racing, but they both actually helped him build his car almost from scratch. He’d bought the Charger completely stripped and now it was an ultimate racing machine. Conrad’s one last reason for really living these days was his hopes of becoming a professional racer someday. With his talent, his and his stepdad’s contacts and his father’s support it was a safe bet to believe that was going to happen probably sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, tomorrow night and Saturday,” he told his dad.

“Did you get that exhaust leak taken care of?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I could take another night of breathing the fumes. Last weekend I was high by the time I crossed the finish line.” His dad laughed and Conrad went on to say, “We just replaced the whole exhaust.”

His dad looked at the clock and said, “That’s good. I guess I better get on the road or I’ll be late. I’ll be back Sunday night but I’ll have my cell on if you need me.”

“You’re picking up that load in Sacramento yourself?” Conrad’s father is a brick-layer. He ran his own business and sometimes that meant traveling when he didn’t have a guy available to pick up what they needed for a job.

“Yeah, the guys all have a ton of overtime already this month. We’re on a tight schedule with this new building the city wants put up for the rec center. I hated asking any of them to give up their weekend too.”

Conrad had nothing but respect for his father’s work ethic, at least where that was concerned he’d had two great examples. He works for his step-father and he’s another one of the hardest working men Conrad had ever known.

“Okay Dad, be safe. I’ll be back at the apartment tonight but do me a favor and just text me when you’re back.”

His dad stood up and put his hand on Conrad’s shoulder. “I will. You be safe.”

Conrad nodded and said, “Always.” That wasn’t exactly true. Conrad needed the adrenaline that ran through his veins when he was taking a risk almost as much as he needed the blood there. His father didn’t need to know that though, Conrad had already caused enough problems in everyone’s life.

**

When Conrad got to the shop Shawn was already there. He and Shawn Linken have been friends since kindergarten. Shawn hasn’t had an easy life, and he’s not the most attractive guy in the world, but he’s a really good guy and Conrad loves him like a brother. “Hey, what the hell are you doing up so early? I thought you’d be in bed with Lyndsey until noon today after the night you had planned for her.”

Shawn almost looked sick. “It didn’t quite go as I’d planned.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, man. What happened?”

Shawn picked up a torque wrench and continued what he was doing when Conrad walked in. “It’s just not going to work out.”

“Man you told me she was the one. I thought maybe you were going to propose to her last night…shit…” The look on Shawn’s face told Conrad that was exactly what he’d done. “She said no?”

Shawn nodded. “She said no,” but not just “no for now and not “no thank you.” She said absolutely positively not…ever.”

“Damn man, I’m sorry.”

Shawn shrugged. “It’s cool. I’ll live.”

Conrad didn’t want to push it. He could tell Shawn didn’t really want to talk about it. He could tell his friend was torn up. He wasn’t one to show his emotions. He was raised by a single mother with a piece of shit absent father and he stepped up at a young age to become the man of the house. He saw emotions as weakness and if there was one thing Shawn never wanted to be seen as was weak. It had taken him almost a year to work up his nerve to ask Lyndsey out. She was the bartender at the bar where the crew sometimes hung out after a race and one of their good friends, Casey worked as a server. Although Shawn wasn’t much of a drinker, he became a regular for a while. He dated her on and off for almost a year and although Conrad liked Lyndsey well enough, he never really thought they clicked. He didn’t tell his best friend that though, Shawn was head over heels in love with her. Conrad only hoped that he would be finished with her now before she hurt him even worse.

Conrad looked at the engine Shawn was working on and said, “So what are we doing here?”

Shawn seemed grateful for the change of subject and told Conrad, “Beau says we need to increase the torque.”

Conrad nodded. Beau is a genius. He uses a computer and math to figure out what needs to be done to each one of their individual cars to increase their speed without burning up engine after engine. One of Beau’s favorite sayings is: No matter how you look at it, both horsepower and torque will always cross paths at exactly 5,252 rpm. Conrad understood the semantics of it without the math, but Beau liked to talk in numbers. He grabbed a wrench off the bench and the conversation turned light and jovial as they talked about the coming races and the antics of the rest of their crew.

“Where is Beau?”

Shawn shrugged. “Home, I guess. He text me last night and gave me the specifications to set the torque. I assume he’ll be by sooner or later.”

Conrad pulled his eyebrows together and said, “Did he sound okay?”

Shawn pulled his head up and looked at his friend. “I don’t know, it was a text.”

“He didn’t come by last night?” Beau spent more time on Conrad and Shawn’s couch than he did at home. He had a raging drunk for a father who liked to beat on his son when life didn’t go his way. Beau never fought back and his mother never tried to stop his father from beating him. When he was seventeen one of his father’s beatings put him in ICU for two weeks. Although he was still a genius with numbers he hadn’t really been completely right otherwise since.