Criminal: A Bad-Boy Stepbrother Romance (7 page)

I shake my head, feeling a little sick to my stomach
that anyone could ever think that about Kaiden. Despite all his
hardness, despite all the things he’s done over the years, he’s
never hurt me. Not like that.

I don’t even know why it bothers me so much
that this stranger would think that, but it does. I feel the instant
need to defend him.

“No, no. He’s... I mean, he’s my
step-brother, and I’ve been living with him for a few weeks,
and we just don’t... we don’t get along that great.”

"Your step-brother?" The woman looked at me
with a raised brow before she simply shrugged her shoulders. "Well,
family's complicated, ya? Why don't you get along?"

I sit back in my chair, and I'll be honest... I’m
totally and utterly stumped as to what to tell her. I mean, I know
why we don't get along, now more than ever. I know we've been pushing
one another away, that we've been trying to deny this... feeling
hanging between us. That we'd been needing to put time and distance
and space between us, and it hasn't worked.

So how do I tell that to a woman? To a stranger? I
just don't know, and I lick my lips. She's just a random person.
Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be so bad just to tell her. It's not like
I'm ever going to see her again, not once I get released.

"I... we want to be something to one another
that we just... can't be." The words feel funny on my tongue,
but it’s like this sense of relief washed over me. All my anger
and rage at Kaiden, all these emotions, they simply started to calm
as the weight of the words lingered in the air.

"I see," she says, tapping her fingers on
the table. I don't know if it's a nervous habit or if she's just lost
in thought—her expression is unreadable. "What do you two
wanna be then, huh?"

I swallow, and I can't meet her eyes anymore. I'm too
scared of what might be reflected back at me.

"Something…more." I manage.
Something so much more. I want to be his. I want to be one of those
women that he makes moan and cry his name. I want to feel my body
wrapped around him, lost to his muscles, lost to his mouth.

I want to feel his hard body pressing up against mine
as he claims me for my own. I shake my head free of the thoughts.
It's not an appropriate time for fantasizing about him, to say the
least. But at least the thoughts take me away from the jail for a few
seconds.

When I look at her again, I see how intensely she's
been staring at me, those clear eyes looking through to my soul. It
sends a shiver down my spine, and I just give her an apologetic
smile.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this,"
I say and she shakes her head.

"It's not so bad, being in love," she
assures me, and my heart’s racing. I'd never thought of it like
that. I've always denied that that was the word for what I feel.

But the way it strikes me, I know she's right.

I love Kaiden.

***

My cellmate is still dry heaving and shaking like mad
on the bottom bunk. I guess she’s drying out. They haven't
woken at all in the hours I've been locked up in this grungy cell.

Sarah, the prostitute on the top bunk, has finally
managed to get some sleep, though she makes these soft little
whimpering sounds that make me want to reach out and comfort her. She
didn't tell me much about herself, and less about what got her in
here, but those pained gasps of her nightmares tell me more than she
ever needed to.

I'm still at the table when I hear some noise from
outside my cell. I haven't slept since the catnap in the car, but I'm
too afraid to sleep. And, I'm still in a daze about my realization
with Kaiden. About what I want from him.

"Abigail Tuney? Someone's come for you,"
the cop says through the little barred window. "You're being
released."

I stand, pushing the chair away and turning towards
the door as it swings open. I wonder if I should say goodbye to
Sarah, but she's still deep in sleep, and I don't want to disturb
her.

My hair's a mess, my muscles all ache, my makeup must
be completely smeared or gone and I feel like a mess.

But when I see Kaiden's face?

He looks proud.

And I've never been so happy to see him in my life.

It's been a few days, and things have kind of
returned to normal.

Well, I say returned to normal, but Kaiden and I
haven't spoken since I got off his bike and went back into the house.
I don't know what to say to him, either. I just keep thinking about
what he told me...

What I had realized about how I felt.

It reminds me of the time I fell out of the boat. The
way he looked at me like he was just seconds from kissing me, and
then went suddenly cold out of nowhere. He didn’t speak to me
for so long I thought I’d done something wrong.

But this time, I’m just as angry at him as I am
at myself. Angry at how much I still want him.

He hasn't brought any other women home, either. He’s
just been locked up in his bedroom by himself, barely eating, though
he helped me get my car back from impound at least. Even at work,
he's been avoiding me, and part of me is happy for the space.

But a huge part of me is upset that he's avoiding me.
I know I started it, but I just want... something more than this.

It's dumb, I know that. But I don't care. If he
really feels that way for me, he should do something about it. But of
course he won’t. I know I won't. It's too risky.

Even if we weren't siblings, just getting closer to
him would give Ryder more ammo.

I’m grateful that I have today off. My first
day off in seventeen days, and I'm feeling pretty good about it all,
other than the fact that apparently Kaiden took the night off too.

I can hear him in his room, the TV on low, but it
doesn't matter. The walls are so thin I can still make out every
word.

Sounds like he's watching some biker show, random
shootouts happening every once in a while and a whole lot of yelling
and fighting.

I listen to it for a while, letting my mind drift
back to when I was sixteen or so.

I was at home, watching a movie on TV. I was all
alone, had the house to myself, so it must've been summer.

It was some crime drama or something, and I
remember getting really into it when suddenly someone had their hands
over my eyes. I screamed bloody murder, jumped out of my skin.

And instantly, Kaiden apologized.

Big, hulking Kaiden came around in front of me,
looking so upset that he’d scared me. He came home for a visit,
and just wanted to surprise me. I had leapt up, into his arms, and
he'd spun me around like I was nothing more than a feather, and we
spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch just talking about
nothing.

A lump formed in my throat. I wanted so bad to get
back to that, to just forget all this had ever happened.

To forget that mom and dad had died, that my college
money was spent on Kaiden's bail, that I had to live with him and
work in a sleazy bar.

Kaiden's TV shuts off, and it must be around four in
the morning; we are both pretty much nocturnal now. I hear him
shifting, getting comfortable beneath the blankets.

I picture him lying there, one arm strewn over his
forehead as he stares up at the ceiling, bare-chested as the sheets
gather around his waist. It's still warm out and we don't have air
conditioning, so I imagine his leg strewn over the blankets, barely
clinging to modesty as he closes his eyes.

And then I tap, softly, on the wall.

It is barely more than a touch of my knuckle to the
drywall, but I know he heard it.

He simply doesn't respond.

"Kaiden, you remember that time when I was
fourteen, and I was supposed to have that birthday party? It was
going to be princess-themed, remember? Mom bought all those pink
decorations, plates and balloons and streamers, had them up
everywhere. I was so excited, I just couldn't wait. I'd invited all
my friends on these little themed cards, and told you that you had to
go and that I didn't want you there. I was just so embarrassed to
have my big brother hanging out with my friends, stealing all their
attention."

I pause, but he doesn't say anything, so I continue.

"But then... my friends all just... didn't show
up," I say, my voice strained and I can feel tears burning at my
eyes. "They all had just decided that princess parties were too
young, not cool enough for them, and they never told me. So I was
just sitting there in my dress, waiting for them all day. Mom kept
telling me to come inside, to just open presents with the family, but
I was in disbelief that they'd stand me up. That they'd be so mean."

The pain still feels so raw. I had been so
humiliated, so hurt. They'd told me the day before, promised me they
were going to come.

"And I was crying on the steps when you came
home from being with your friends. You were skateboarding back then,
remember? And a lot skinnier, but I think you'd already gotten your
first tattoo and your tongue pierced, and you always had that stupid
mohawk," I say with a bit of a laugh. "When you found out
what happened, you were so mad, and I remember you ran inside, right
to dad's closet and grabbed one of his suits. It didn't really fit,
but you smoothed out your hair, and you offered me your hand, and
introduced yourself as Prince Charming. Mom and dad put on some
music, and you made me dance with you until I stopped crying and
started laughing."

I smile at the memory, remembering his young, punk
rock phase and how hard he always looked, but for me, it was nothing
but affection.

He still hasn't said a word, though, and I worry he
doesn't remember, or doesn't care. It makes my heart hurt, and a tear
spills down from the corner of my eye.

He was my hero back then.

He was my everything.

But after that party, I started having feelings for
him. Feelings I shouldn't have, and I started pushing him away.
Little bits at first, and then when he turned eighteen and moved to a
different town, it was easier to forget all of it and pretend like it
was nothing but a girly phase. I dated, tried to move on and have my
own life. But now here I am, back under the same roof as him, and my
feelings are burning stronger than ever, even with my anger.

I swallow back the lump in my throat, the hot air
feeling so heavy on my chest, and I push down my blanket, my
nightgown already damp with sweat.

It's minutes later when I finally hear him, his dark,
rumbling voice penetrating the wall.

"I remember, Princess."

That nickname again, this time said with such
tenderness instead of scorn and mockery. I sob again and try to quiet
it, trying to fight the urge to break down. I can't handle him
hearing me like that.

“I miss them so much.”

“I know…” There’s a brief
pause. “Even though I hadn’t seen them in a while, I
still expect to go home and find them there, like nothing has
changed.”