Busted (Barnes Brothers #3) (28 page)

“Ressa’s cousin is in jail. She’s had some trouble with the cops, too. I don’t think I even know half of what’s going on. Now . . . you want to tell me how you already know about it?”

Trey turned as he spoke and the question caught Travis off guard so he wasn’t able to hide his reaction in time.

And his twin saw it on his face.

He didn’t even have to say anything. They’d never been able to lie to each other, not worth shit. So instead of trying, he just lifted his shoulder—the one
not
on his injured side—but it still had that awful pain lurching through him.

“Just how do you know, Travis? Is that something a forensic accountant is typically going to do? Go digging around in the background of a girl his brother dates?”

Travis shrugged again.

“Nice answer. Let’s try this one—does the typical forensic accountant even now where to
start
to go digging about that? You didn’t even know I was dating anybody—hell, not all that long ago, I
wasn’t
dating anybody.”

“You’ve been together since I got here,” Travis said softly. And he could have known within a couple hours of that vague warning. She’d all but challenged him, and because he’d known it would eat at him until he knew, he’d looked. He’d spent the past few days brooding over it, too. Brooding, debating . . . thinking. And he’d come to the exact same conclusion he suspected his brother would.

Now he didn’t have the kind of feelings for Ressa that Trey did, but if he was in Trey’s shoes?

He wouldn’t give a damn.

He’d seen what it was like—with his parents, with Zach and Abby—and before he’d lost her, with Trey and Aliesha. Trey
knew
what it felt like to have those kind of feelings.

“What does it matter anyway?” he asked. “It’s not like it’s going to change anything for you. You’re already gone over on her. Anybody with eyes can see that.”

“No.” The ice in Trey’s eyes didn’t fade. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Then he blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. “Complicate things? Well, yeah, that’s probably going to happen, but . . . no. It doesn’t change what I feel.” He slanted a look at his twin. “And not the issue. I just want to know how
you
know. And why you bothered to even go looking—and how the fuck you even knew
to
look . . . son of a bitch.”

Trey turned away and shoved a hand through his hair.

Travis felt the tension knot inside him, while in the back of his mind, something buzzed—no. Clicked. A piece of a puzzle
falling into place, a sensation he knew all too well. But he wasn’t the one who’d figured something out. Lowering his gaze, he stared at the bloody bandage with its ever growing stain of red.

“You knew something that day, didn’t you?” Trey murmured, turning back to look at him. “She acted . . . off. Like something was bugging her off and on half the day—it was
you
, wasn’t it?”

Aw, shit
. “Look, Trey—”

“Answer me!” The shout rang through the house, catching both of them off guard.

But Trey didn’t back down, he came across the floor, fury in every line of his body. “How in the hell did you even know to dig up anything about her? You didn’t even know her name until that day—or you shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t.” Travis could say that much, honestly. “I didn’t . . .”

He stopped, fumbling for anything he could say. He’d told too many lies, given too many half truths. Even the lies of omission—did it even
matter
that he was doing his job? Trying to . . .
trying to what
?

That small voice nagged at him, more and more. The one that had made him realize he was done.

Beyond done.

And he couldn’t lie here. Not to Trey, not anymore. “Look, I didn’t know anything about Ressa until you introduced me to her.”

He’d thought about digging into her background, yeah. But he hadn’t. And now he could tell his brother the truth. Looking Trey dead in the eye, he gave his twin what precious little honesty he could these days. “I wouldn’t have gone digging around for any information but she . . .”

“What?” Trey demanded caustically. “You got a funny feeling? What the fuck are you? Hell.
Are
you with the CIA? You got that many secrets anymore.”

Travis grimaced. “No. I didn’t have a funny feeling.
She
did. She said something to me that afternoon . . . told me that whatever I found out, she hoped I’d remember she did care about you. And for the record,
again
, I didn’t plan on digging around about her. I didn’t feel like I had to—I
like
her.”

“Why the fuck would she say anything to you?” Trey stared
at him, while a flicker of something—hurt, distrust—flashed through his eyes.

I should have just gone to bed
, Travis thought, frustrated.

“She pegged me for a cop or something—I’m
not
—and don’t ask anymore because I’m sick and fucking tired of lying, but I can’t tell you.” Wearily, he leaned against the wall, head falling against it. Absently, he touched his side as the pain there radiated out. Wet heat met his hand and he looked down at the blood that had already soaked through. He needed to get to his room and dig out the medical kit. He had some butterfly bandages that would help close it back up.

“Can’t tell me?” Trey’s voice dripped with scorn. “How about you
won’t
tell me?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Snarling, he shoved off the wall and that sent another lance of pain ripping through him. Which only served to make him madder. “Would you use your damned brain? You’re not an idiot.
Can’t
means just that. I
can’t
. There are reasons. Now put your brain to use.”

Trey opened his mouth, a sneer quivering on his lips. At the same time, Travis was mentally kicking his ass. The pain, the frustration, all of it was making him stupid. Too many years of lying to people he loved, who loved him. There were reasons why most of the people in his line of work didn’t have families. Slowly, he turned to the door. “If I was in trouble, I’d tell you, okay?”

No. He wouldn’t. But he wouldn’t come
here
if he was in any sort of trouble. No way in hell. He’d never risk his family and his family was the number one reason he was getting out.

He hadn’t quite cleared the door when Trey’s voice stopped him.

“So I guess this means you’re really
not
a forensic accountant.”

He rested a hand on the door jam, closed his eyes. “Sure I am. It says so on my tax return, doesn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean jackshit.” Trey was closer now and Travis glanced over his shoulder. “If you’re not in trouble then why the hell are you leaking blood all over yourself?”

“I got hurt. I just tore some stitches. It will be fine.”

Their gazes locked and held. Then Trey looked away. “You’ve been lying to us for a long time, haven’t you?”

He couldn’t even respond to that. Not just because it would take another lie, but because there was nothing he could say that would make it better.

But he had to say something. “It’s not going to be like this much longer,” he said.

And saying those words, it was like a weight fell from him. A knot loosened within him and he blew out a breath as some of the tension he’d carried for years just faded. “It won’t be much longer. I just have to . . . handle some things.”

With that, he headed down the hall.

He’d clean himself up. Wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before. Then he’d get some rest.

And next time his brother was brooding over a woman, he’d leave him to it.

Who in the hell was he to offer advice on it anyway? The last time he’d had a serious relationship had been . . .

He pushed the thought of it aside.

Yeah. It had been that long ago, and look at how
that
had ended.

A week passed and every single day, she felt the absence of him.

She made plans with Mama Ang to go see Kiara the following Saturday, and each day she dreaded the trip more and more. Each day, she opened her eyes and thought about getting through another day without talking to Trey, seeing him.

They were supposed to be
thinking
about things.

The only thing she could
think
about was how much she missed him . . . and how much easier everything
wasn’t
with him gone.

Oh, she
saw
him a couple of times—hard to avoid it when they both dropped the kids off at school. Trey in his gleaming truck and her all but slumping down behind the wheel of the Mustang so she didn’t have to face him. They’d seen each other in the drop-off line more than once, and on her day off, she’d seen him in the pick-up line, although she doubted he’d seen her.

“Are you mad at Mr. Trey?” Neeci had asked.

“No, baby. Why?”

“Because you don’t talk to him anymore.”

Oh . . . but I want to
.

“We’ve just been busy.”

Busy . . . yeah, right.

She thought maybe it was just the right thing to do, let things cool off while she thought everything through.

The question is . . . can you?

Those words reverberated through her head, tying her up into knot after knot, and she was already a mess over Kiara. Mama Ang said she’d gotten a similar call from her and they made the plans.

Although Angeline hadn’t said anything, Ressa knew the call had taken a toll on her.

Maybe Trey had tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but she still carried the blame. And much of it was because she saw what it had done to the kind, gentle woman who’d changed her life—who’d
given
her a life—one worth having.

Maybe Mama Ang didn’t blame her, but Ressa sure as hell blamed herself for the trouble she’d brought into the lives of her aunt and cousin.

Her aunt had ended up asking her next-door neighbor to help with Neeci. When Neeci heard she’d be spending the day with Miss Latrice, she’d sulked.
Can’t we ask if I can go play with Clay? I wanna see Clay.

That only made Ressa feel worse, because this was straining the friendship between two kids who clearly adored each other.
So I’ll fix it
. She made herself that promise. But first . . . she had to get through seeing her cousin. Get that off her plate.

Saturday rolled around and although the sun gleamed golden in a clear blue sky, Ressa felt like she was trapped in a bank of thunderclouds.

She was miserable.

She missed Trey.

The question is . . . can you?

She was starting to realize she’d have to deal with it, because she didn’t think she could handle anything else that didn’t involve having him in her life.

There was a knock at the door and Ressa groaned, rolling her head over to stare at the clock. But first, she had to figure out why her aunt was nearly two hours early.

Because it wasn’t
like
it was anybody else.

“Your fault, girl,” she murmured as she climbed out of bed. “Your fault.”

She grabbed her robe and tugged it on as she went to answer the door. A glance through the peephole showed it was indeed her aunt.

“Latrice is sick.” Angeline sailed through the door, looking around the house. “Where’s Neeci?”

“She’s asleep . . . we weren’t leaving for a while yet.”

“Well, we need to find alternate arrangements or cancel.”

“Granny?”

Mama Ang met her eyes. Angeline MacAllister was five feet four inches of softness and steel and for a moment, a thousand unsaid things passed between them.

Then Angeline looked up the steps toward the little girl.

“Hey there, baby. Come give me a hug.”

Neeci plodded down the steps, her
Frozen
pj’s rumpled, her hair mussed.

A few minutes later, Angeline had Neeci on her way to the kitchen, giving the two women a moment of peace.

“We can’t cancel,” Ressa said softly. “Kiara is up to something . . . or there’s something we need to know. I have to know what it is, for Neeci’s sake.”

Angeline blew out a breath. “The good Lord knows I’d like to tell you that you’re just being paranoid, but I know my girl too well. Okay, then. We’ll have to take her with us if you don’t have anybody who can watch her. I called everybody I know. Can you check with Farrah?”

“She’s working today.” Her heart thudded in her chest.

A sigh escaped her mother and she saw those slim shoulders slump.

Swallowing, Ressa cleared her throat. “I might be able to find somebody,” she said softly. “Just let me . . .”

She turned away. “Let me get dressed.”

She hadn’t turned away fast enough, because a few minutes later, while she was getting dressed, her aunt slipped into her bedroom.

Ressa looked over her shoulder at her aunt. “Mama Ang, that door was closed.” Closed, because she needed a few minutes to
get herself together before she called Trey. “I need to shower, get dressed. Is Neeci eating?”

“You can shower and get dressed in a minute. Yes, Neeci is eating.” Angeline cocked her head. “You didn’t sleep again last night.”

Clearly the comment about the closed door didn’t matter. Closed doors, raging rivers, and the fires of hell wouldn’t matter, not if she thought the happiness of her girls was at stake. She hadn’t been able to help Kiara, although she’d tried. It had all but broken her heart, too, because she thought she’d failed.

Apparently hellfire, damnation, and closed doors weren’t going to stop her when it came to the other young woman she loved.

“I did sleep.” Ressa shrugged and looked away, moving to grab clothes from her closet since her aunt obviously wasn’t leaving. “I just haven’t been sleeping all that great since that last call from Kiara. Every time I think she’s going to get her act together . . .” She shrugged and hoped Mama Ang would let it go at that.

“Uh-huh.” The doubt was practically dripping from her aunt’s voice. “I might buy that, except you’re used to your cousin. You’ve dealt with her bullshit too well and you’ve never let it cost you sleep before. Now. Try again.”

“I’m
fine
, Mama Ang,” she said.

“Hmm.” That sound was loaded with doubt. A moment passed and then Angeline said, “Neeci tells me you sorta kinda have a boyfriend. Since you’re clearly so
fine
, I assume I’ll meet him soon?”

The words, delivered in a laid-back, neutral tone poked a hole through the wall she’d been constructing around herself. She didn’t even realize how precarious that wall was, or how brittle she felt, until the tears clogged her throat and burned her eyes.

Ressa turned away and clapped a hand over her mouth. Struggling to hold back the sniffles, she waved her aunt back when she saw her coming up in the mirror.

“Oh, don’t you go pushing me away,” Angeline said. She caught Ressa around the waist, oblivious to the fact that Ressa had four inches on her.

And Ressa let the older woman pull her in, dropping her head to rest it on Angeline’s shoulder as she fought not to cry. “We . . . we can’t do this now,” she whispered.

“We can take a few minutes, baby. Now, you tell me what’s wrong.”

Ressa shook her head. “But . . .”

“No buts. You’ve been holding this in too long. You
always
hold things in too long. We can take ten minutes and you
will
tell me what is wrong.”

Slowly, Ressa lifted her head and met her aunt’s eyes. She was a grown woman. She could handle her own love life, right? Opening her mouth, she thought about just saying that, explaining that . . .

But that wasn’t what came rushing out of her in a torrent.

“I met somebody, Mama Ang. I like him. Hell, that doesn’t describe him. I think I could . . .” She pulled away to pace, unable to stay still. That gaping hole inside her seemed to spread and it just got worse if she was still. “I can’t even think about it. I don’t want to think about it because it can’t happen. It shouldn’t happen and it hurts. I never should have let myself think anything should come of it.”

Dimly, she was aware of her aunt moving to settle on the edge of her bed, just as she’d done when Ressa had been struggling to adjust to a new life, a new home, a new school where she thought she’d never fit in.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I
wasn’t
thinking. It wasn’t supposed to even happen, you know? Then it did, and it should have just been sex, and that was all well and good, but it ended . . .” Heat rushed up the back of her neck, but she ignored it. She’d been able to talk to her aunt about sex before—it wasn’t like she hadn’t already known what it was before Mama Ang had found her and brought her here.

But they were open about it. It made it easier. Still, she wasn’t going to tell the woman watching her with arched brows that Trey Barnes could fuck like a dream, and that he could do something simple like kiss her hand and melt her heart.

“It ended,” she finished lamely. “It was supposed to be a weekend thing. Then I ran into him again at Neeci’s school and . . .” She closed her eyes, stopping once more by the dresser.
“I can’t quit thinking about him. He’s in my head. In my heart. Under my skin, all the time. And it can’t happen. At least, I don’t think it can. It shouldn’t. It’s too complicated, too messed up.” She finally stumbled to a halt.

“Okay,” Angeline said, her voice a soft, steadying presence in the uneasy silence. “Let’s set aside the
it can’t happen
part and focus on the rest. Does he feel the same way about you?”

She dropped her hands and looked at her mother. “Yeah. I think he does.” No, she knew he did. And that made it so much harder.

“Then why
can’t
it happen?” Angeline just looked curious.

“Because of who he is,” she said. As her aunt continued to watch her, she turned away, shame slipping its way inside. “And . . .”

Silence was an ugly thing. She couldn’t get the words now, but after a few taut, heavy seconds, she didn’t have to. Her aunt did it. “How much of this is because of your past . . . and how much is because of Kiara?”

“It’s all of it,” she whispered, unable to swallow down the shame.

A warm hand smoothed up her arm then came to rest on her shoulder. “And here I was thinking you just needed me to boot you in the butt because you’d fallen for a white boy. Oh, Neeci told me that, too, and you oughta know I’d smack you over that—it doesn’t matter who you fall for, not to me and it shouldn’t matter to you. Love is love and you know that.” Angeline sighed. “I’m sorry. Because it sounds like that’s where you’re at. Now if he’s ashamed to be with you because of your cousin . . .”

“He’s
not
.” The words came out in a snap and she spun to stare at her aunt, the anger boiling up inside her.

Angeline inclined her head. “Oh?” She nodded. “Okay, then you’ve told him about your past. About the mistakes you made and he isn’t okay with it?”

Ressa looked away as Angeline narrowed cool eyes on her.

Now she felt like she’d been caught sneaking out the window or something—and yes, she’d done that. More than once. Fighting the urge to fidget, she stared at her aunt, refusing to blink or look away. She was an adult, damn it.

“Please tell me that
you
are not the reason this can’t work
out,” Angeline said quietly. “If he’s the kind of guy who has accepted you, and your cousin, then you had better figure out how to make this make sense to me. You had better
not
tell me that
you
are the one standing in the way. That you’re not letting your cousin or your past hold you back from a man who can make you happy.”

“It’s more complicated than that!” The knot that had settled inside her chest tried to take over, the emptiness inside tried to swallow her whole.

“Why? Because of who he is? Okay, then tell me
who he is
that makes this so impossible,” Angeline demanded.

That caustic tone left her floundering for words. “He’s . . . he’s . . .”

“He’s a writer.”

The words came from behind them. The door, open just a crack, and as they turned their heads, Neeci slipped inside, looking at Ressa with vaguely accusatory eyes.

Fuck a duck
, Ressa thought sourly. “Neeci, this doesn’t concern you,” she said softly.

Neeci ignored her, staring at her grandmother. “He’s a writer, Granny Ang. Auntie Ressa has bunches of his book at her li’bary and his brother is famous. He’s in movies and he’s really hot and I might want to marry him because he’s so hot.”

Ressa just stared at her cousin.
Where did she learn about
hot
?

Angeline made a low
hmmmm
under her breath. “It makes a little more sense now . . . I think. Although I’m curious as to who this writer and the hot brother is. By the way, Neeci, you can get married when you’re fifty and after you’re done with college. And no more talking about hot boys until you’re twenty-five.” She winked at her granddaughter and then nodded. “Now you go on back downstairs and let me deal with your cousin. I’ve only got about two minutes left to knock some sense into her hard head.”