Criminal: A Bad-Boy Stepbrother Romance (4 page)

It’s been a hard week, and not just because
I’ve worked every day. That would be hard in and of itself,
especially in the heels that were killing my feet.

It was hard because dealing with drunks brings about
a sort of mental exhaustion I haven’t felt before. Seeing their
faces day after day and catching that haunted unhappiness between the
hoots and the hollers, it takes a toll.

But I think the worst part of it is that Kaiden is
avoiding me. He sneaks in after I’ve gone to bed. There hasn’t
been any women. No sex. Nothing to incite my rage.

And he hasn’t talked to me since our fight at
the club. It’s driving me crazy, and I didn’t think that
it could affect me like it is. I’m torn up about it. The worst
part is I barely even know why. I guess it’s because I’m
invading ‘his’ place, but even that doesn’t wholly
make sense. There’s something else going on between us, and I
have no idea what.

I give another drunk a gin, and he grabs my ass
before handing me a ten-dollar bill with a leering grin. I feel like
I’m going to be sick to my stomach, and when I try to tug the
bill out of his hand, he tightens his grasp.

“I’ll do it for a kiss,” he says,
puckering up his weathered lips and looking at me through his watery
eyes with expectation.

But I’m not that desperate, and I let it go,
turning my back on him. I need some air, and I look at the bartender,
motioning that I’m heading out for a second.

Opening the door, I find the eerie light to be
strangely soothing, but when I hear a motorcycle’s engine rev
up, I quickly move away from the entrance and the parking lot towards
the back.

I can hear some voices though I can’t make them
out yet.

Maybe I’m stupid, but I’m getting
curious, and I try to make soft steps as I move towards them. I hold
my breath, and it’s like by instinct I know I shouldn’t
be here. As if I’m tiptoeing up to my parent’s bedroom at
night, trying to hear what they’re saying about us.

“Man, I’m already looking at three years,
minimum
, for you.” I recognized the voice just as clear
as day.

Kaiden.

I press myself up against the wall of the building,
breathing softly through my nose. I can’t hear who replies or
what they say as the motorcycle gets nearer. He seems to be parked in
the lot, revving the engine for some reason.

My ears strain, and I hear Kaiden’s voice
again.

“You know what this means,” he says, his
tone threatening and dark.

But then there’s another deep voice I
recognize, and it’s like my blood turns cold in my veins.

“You want to play that game with me, boy? Fine.
But just remember that your little sister is here, and if you screw
me, well... I’ll screw her. In more than one way.”

Ryder.

I bite down on my lower lip so hard that it feels
like it’s going to start bleeding at any second, and tears are
threatening my eyes.

It’s stupid to be so sensitive over something
like this, but I can’t help it. I’ve always been the
sensitive one, not strong like Kaiden or my dad.

There’s a long pause, and I can picture Kaiden,
his face contorted in... what? Would he be angry at that?

I don’t honestly know. Maybe he thinks it’s
funny, just a joke.

But when I hear his voice, it removes all doubt from
my mind.

“If you touch a hair on her head, you’re
going to wish you killed me when you had the chance, you smug fucking
prick,” he growls, his voice low and hard. I’ve never
heard him sound quite like it, but more than that... he almost got
killed?

My stomach turns to lead as I take a step backward.
Do I want to hear more?
Can
I hear more?

My mind is fuzzy as I try to remain calm, to not let
emotions overtake me.

“Yeah, well, there’s still time you punk.
You fuck up on the stand, it’s not your life you’re going
to have to be worried about. Think of Abigail as... collateral.”

“You’re not going to touch her,”
Kaiden threatens, and I take another step towards the parking lot.
“You touch her, and I will fucking dismember you, to hell with
Axel’s orders.”

Who’s Axel? I shake my head. I can’t take
any more. I turn and head back into the bar and the stale stench of
beer and alcohol and leering faces.

But for the rest of the night, I’m completely
unable to concentrate. Especially when I see Ryder come in a bit
later, asking for ice and holding it to his swollen jaw.

For a second, I think that maybe I should’ve
stayed longer and heard what it was that finally set Kaiden off, but
I knew that I’d be better off not knowing. Though left to
wonder about it and worry is an even worse fate, sometimes.

I don’t see Kaiden the rest of the night, but
when I get home, his bike is in the driveway, and I pull up behind
it.

Am I going to say anything about what I heard? That I
understand now why he didn’t want me to work there? Hell, is
this why he didn’t want me to come at all?

Maybe Kaiden had kept my identity a secret to protect
me, and that was why he was fighting so hard to keep me away from
him.

And then I wonder something worse... was this why
Ryder was looking for a shot-girl in the first place? Did he lure me
in close, just to have this over Kaiden’s head?

My mind races with the possibilities, the strange
layers that never occurred to me even to think about before. Is this
why Kaiden had been so adamant about me not working at the bar?

Was that all to protect me?

***

“Look, one more fuckup like that and Ryder’s
gonna can your ass,” Kaiden says with a sneer. His lips curve
upward as he stares down at me like I’d just vomited on his
shoes.

He is pissed, and all I did was tell a guy not to
spank my ass. I’m getting tired of being treated like meat
around this place, but honestly, I’m terrified of leaving.

Not just of what me leaving would do to myself, but
my brother as well. Step-brother.

I have to keep reminding myself of that now, because
ever since I heard him out back with Ryder, I’ve started
softening towards him. Even though this is the third time this week
I’ve had to hear him tell me off.

“It’s nothing,” I say with a roll
of my eyes. I’m trying to act natural as if I hadn't heard what
was said that night. It was almost a week ago, now. I never got a
chance to talk to him about it because he’s in his room by the
time I get home, and then gone before I get up the next morning.

I have no idea what he’s been doing, but his
erratic behavior is scaring me now.

I lick my lips, tucking some of my blonde hair behind
my ear and trying to stand up tall and straight. Look strong.
Intimidating.

“It’s not okay, Abigail. You’re on
thin ice as it is.”

People are looking at us, but by this point, I think
they’ve come to expect fights between us. Every day for the
past week he’s been doing something to shame me in front of the
customers. Every minor indiscretion was worthy of his telling me off
in public, despite him not being my boss.

I get why he’s doing it, but that doesn’t
mean I’m not sick of it.

“Listen,
Kaiden
, that’s sexual
harassment in the workplace, and if I’m supposed to put up with
that, then I need to be making a lot more than $10 an hour. I’m
not a stripper, and if I were? I’d probably be making a lot
more!”

He blanches, and I’m proud of myself for a
second. I like it when I can get in under his skin in revenge for all
the times he’s done it to me.

He reaches out, grabbing my upper arm and staring
down at me.

“Listen, Abigail, just get the fuck outta here.
Go back to school, do whatever goody-goody shit you wanna do, but you
can’t cut it in this place. If you don’t want gross old
guys grabbin’ your ass, this isn’t the job for you,
Princess
. Just like I told you a million times before.”

I tug my arm, but he holds tight and my lip twitches.
He’s so strong, and he’s always doing little things to
remind me of that and intimidate me.

“I can do this, Kaiden. I’ve been doing
it for two weeks now, without a break. I’m tired, my legs hurt,
and your attitude isn’t helping right now.”

“Doesn’t sound to me like you can cut it,
Princess
.”

His green eyes flash at me, along with that pierced
tongue of his, and he thinks he has me in the corner. That I’m
going to back down at any second, but I refuse. I’m not going
to do that.

I can’t!

I mean, part of it is my pride, but not for a moment
do I think that if I disappeared, Ryder would forget about me. Or
that he’d forget about Kaiden’s potential to screw him
over.

Oh my God, if I left, Ryder might even think that
Kaiden had hidden me away just so that he could tell the judge or
whoever about Ryder’s business! About the attempted murder or
threat or whatever it was that spooked Kaiden so bad.

I’m trembling as I stare up at him, but I lean
in close, my body pressing against his as I angle my lips to his ear.

“You’re not getting rid of me so easy,
Kaiden,” I swear, and I lower myself back to the floor, daring
him to disagree.

He finally releases me before picking up the nearest
pint glass and tossing it at the wall.

I shake and squeak as it shatters, flying into dozens
of pieces.

Before I can even gather my words, though, he’s
storming out the front door and leaving me to clean up his mess.

I’ve seen him mad before. Violent, even. But
this is way more intense than anything else.

I move towards the nearest shards, starting to sweep
them up with the grimy broom and dustpan as the rest of the bar goes
back to their conversations. The music is loud and has a little bit
of static to it, and it’s getting on my nerves, just like
everything else here.

Just like everyone else here.

I don’t realize how fast I was breathing until
I lean against the wall with the glass in the dustpan and feel my
heart racing.

I know Kaiden’s only trying to protect me, but
I’m trying to protect him, too. We’re all each other
has...

The day I hate working most, so far, is always
Saturday. I don’t know what it is. The run-of-the-mill
Monday-Thursday drunks I’m getting used to, but Friday and
Saturday night? It’s as if everyone is on cocaine.

Which, I guess, is entirely plausible.

I move to the next table, tray of drinks perched on
my arm as I smile. A woman who’s here every night smiles at me
with her orange lips and blue eyes, taking her gin and tonic.

“Thanks, honey,” she says with an
exaggerated wink. She’s always hoping I’ll let her know
who the big spenders are, and she’s always nice, so sometimes I
point her in the direction of someone especially hammered.

Despite how much I hate being called honey, she’s
one of the better customers, and I smile at her, then at the two
other women at her side.

“Shots, ladies?” I ask with a phony grin.
It’s only eleven, and I have four more hours of this routine
before I can finally, blissfully relax. And despite it breaking,
like, every state law I know of, Ryder’s acting like giving me
Sunday off is a favor, after working seventeen shifts in a row.