The Secret Life of Bryan (21 page)

“Yeah? How’d she do that? If you’re talking about that past scandal, I followed along. Shay wasn’t responsible for what almost happened to that young girl.”

“Of course she was. She was in charge.”

“Ah. Then I’m responsible for Amy almost getting grabbed? Or Morganna’s black eye?”

“No.” Bryan stared at the far wall, accepting the truth. “I am.”

“You’re too smart to be a self-righteous martyr, Bryan. No one can be everywhere at once. We all need to rely on others at times. That’s Shay’s biggest crime—trusting the wrong people. Believe me, she’s more than paid for that. Or haven’t you noticed how the papers have crucified her?”

“I noticed.” Now that he knew her, it made him sick to think of the hurt she must feel. “But that doesn’t explain what she did at the safe house.”

“Yeah? What’d she do? Was she hateful to the ladies?”

Bryan tried to ignore him.

“Or do you mean getting them jobs they love, helping them grow as people and gain new self-esteem and respect? Giving them friendship?” He snorted rudely. “Yeah, what a bitch.”

Bryan’s head snapped up, both out of shock at hearing his brother curse, and raw anger at what he’d just called Shay. “Shut up.”

“Your mean tone doesn’t work on me. Save it for some poor woman like Shay. God knows you must intimidate her.”

“You’re going too far, Bruce.”

“You went too far when you walked away from her, as if she didn’t even exist.”

“She’s rich enough to buy this whole damn street!”

“And that’s a crime? No, wait. You mean she can buy understanding? Sympathy?” He raised a brow and stared at Bryan. “A new man?”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me.” Bruce leaned forward. “I’m
dying
to understand.”

Bryan wasn’t in the habit of baring his soul. But his brother deserved some type of explanation, ugly as it might be. Strangling on the words, he rasped, “I told her about Megan.”

Bruce couldn’t hide his surprise, but it was quickly masked with consideration. “Maybe,” he said in a less forceful voice, “you should have told her about
yourself
instead.”

Bryan deliberately misunderstood. “You know I couldn’t. I was supposed to be you.”

“So what? I
want
you to have her.
God
wants you to have her.”

Bryan took another long swig of his beer. “Yeah? Did God want me to fuck her, too? Because I did—when I knew damn well I shouldn’t have.”

Disgusted, Bruce rubbed his forehead. “You
made love
to her, you idiot. There are differences between the two.”

“How would you know?” Bryan crossed his arms and tried to steer the conversation in a new direction. “You haven’t been laid in too many years to count.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bruce tried for his most solemn, serious expression. “Come on, Bryan. I know you, and you’re in love. Just accept it.”

Bryan snorted.

As if that one rude sound was the straw that broke the camel’s back, Bruce pushed to his feet. “Fine,” he all but shouted. “Be an idiot. Stay here and drink beer. Drink a whole case of beer for all I care. Drown your sorrows if you think that’ll make you happy.” He turned his back on Bryan and muttered, “Me, I’ve got better things to do.”

“I never get drunk and you know it.” But Bruce wasn’t listening anymore. His passive, tree-hugging, God-loving brother all but heaved with anger as he stormed out.

Bryan trailed him. “Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

Bryan followed him all the way to the door, through the door, and to the top of the stairs. “Men of God shouldn’t stomp.”

Bruce turned on the second step, poked Bryan hard in the shoulder, and snarled, “I’m going to do what you should have done.”

Uh-oh. He was almost afraid to ask. “And that is?”

“I’m going to tell Shay everything.” And with a look of contempt, he said, “Since you’re too cowardly to do it.”

Sheer stunned surprise kept Bryan’s feet glued to the spot. He went mute. His brain staggered. His eyes watched his brother depart, but he couldn’t get the rest of his body to do a damn thing.

No, Bruce wouldn’t do that.

He couldn’t do that.

Bruce was completely out of sight when Bryan realized that, yes, his brother could and would do just as he’d said. Preachers didn’t lie.

How would Shay react?

He had to see for himself. He ducked back into the apartment just long enough to grab his gun, a hat and reflective sunglasses. On Bryan’s insistence, they still hadn’t told anyone that they were brothers. Now that Bruce had shaved and gotten his hair cut—which had forced Bryan to get a haircut, too—they had to be extra careful. It fell on Bryan to don the disguise, and he chose an old favorite: baseball cap and glasses. They worked as well as anything, as long as one didn’t look too closely.

Bryan missed the women and he worried about them, so he talked Bruce into letting him make rounds every now and then. It had been awkward a few times, especially with Shay. Bruce tried to show her compassion. Bryan just tried to avoid her.

But now, with Bruce on the loose, avoiding Shay was no longer an option.

Bruce was determined to teach his bullheaded brother a lesson. He’d act in his best interests whether Bryan liked it or not. And helping him to reconcile with Shay was in everyone’s best interest.

Regardless of the pretty front, Shay was sad enough to break his heart. She smiled with the women, protecting them from her hurt, but Bruce saw through her. Had she spent her life protecting others? Probably. She was that kind of woman. The kind of bighearted, sweet, wonderful woman that his brother deserved.

And Bryan had told her about Megan. Bruce couldn’t get over the shock of that. Bryan
never
talked about his wife.

Yet he’d told Shay.

Whether Bryan wanted to admit it or not, that meant something. A lot. It meant he trusted her on a gut level. And to a man who trusted only a handful of people, a man who lived by his instincts, that should have been all the convincing Bryan needed. But love was strange. It distorted your perspective and played havoc with your logic. Bryan needed someone more levelheaded making his decisions for him right now.

Bruce nominated himself.

Determination rode him so hard that he was practically jogging to the building Shay had bought. It was only a few blocks away and he was more than healthy enough to jog there. He was going over all his righteous statements, working and reworking the explanations in his head in order to deliver them with the best effect.

Then he saw the smoke in the sky and the fire engines parked out front, and his blood ran cold.

Dear God, a fire!

Without really thinking about it, Bruce launched into a dead-run. Panic pushed him, and he skidded to a halt in the front lawn, in the middle of the chaos. The stench was awful. Charred wood littered the area. Hoses were being rewound. Conversation buzzed in high excitement. Neighbors loitered everywhere, gossiping, watching, getting in the way.

It took Bruce a moment to realize the fire was out, that most of the people working were now cleaning up the area, making certain it was safe.

Fire had done major damage to the front of the house, leaving the wooden porch black and bubbled. Fear immobilized Bruce for only a moment. Silently reciting his prayers, he grabbed the nearest fireman. “I’m a close friend.” His heart thudded hard, almost hurting. He swallowed. “Was anyone hurt?”

The fireman patted his shoulder. “Take it easy. Two women were inside, but they’re okay. Just a little singed and croaky from inhaling the smoke. Lucky for them, they got out through a window.” He pointed past an EMS vehicle. “They’re waiting in the minivan there at the curb, just staying out of the mob.”

His knees felt like rubber. Shay was okay. Bruce sent some gratitude heavenward, thanked the fireman, and hurried to the passenger door of the minivan. Shay sat with a small, dark woman, talking quietly with her. They both seemed subdued. They had the engine on, probably to run the air-conditioning since there wasn’t much fresh air to be found after the fire.

Bruce tapped on the window.

Shay lifted her head—and stared. Pale, singed hair hung limp around her scratched face. Ruined makeup mingled with black soot. She was scratched, maybe bruised. Her eyes had watered and were red and now, while she looked at him, her mouth trembled.

Bruce realized the awkwardness of his timing. Blast Bryan, he should be the one here now. “Could I speak with you a moment?”

Galvanized by his request, the woman in the driver’s seat all but leaped out of the van. She circled the hood, stopped in front of Bruce, tangled a fist in the front of his shirt and drew his head down to hers. “She’s had a
bad
day, Preacher, you got me?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Make her cry again and I’ll get ya.”

Bruce pulled back in surprise. “No, of course I wouldn’t…” But obviously Bryan already had. He swallowed and said, “Thank you.”

Shay rolled down the window. She was breathing hard, her eyes wide. “Dawn?”

“There are some cute firemen who look like they could use some company.” She winked. “If you need me, just honk.” And with that, Dawn sauntered away.

Shay bit her bottom lip with visible uncertainty before sliding across the seat to make room.

Bracing himself, Bruce opened the door and climbed in. He closed the door behind him and rolled the window up again to give them a sense of privacy. Where to start? What to say? Her face looked ravaged from lack of sleep, unhappiness, and the scratches from the bushes. His heart turned over. “Shay, are you okay—”

From one second to the next, she launched herself at him. Her arms went around his neck and she squeezed him so tight he couldn’t breathe.

Disconcerted by the gesture, Bruce patted her back with ineffectual sympathy. “Shay…”

Her lips touched his throat, his jaw, and then they were plastered to his. Bruce, stunned stupid, got the first French kiss he’d had in years.

Wow, he’d forgotten how nice a woman’s tongue felt. It was wet and hot—
no.
This was Bryan’s woman. And he was a man of high moral beliefs. He didn’t…ho boy, she had a talented tongue.

“No.”
He pried her loose, attempting to hold her back the length of his arms. Two deep breaths and a few prayers later, he rasped out, “Please, Shay, let me explain, okay? You need to listen to me…”

“Explain later.” She slipped her hot little hands inside his shirt and stroked the bare skin of his chest.

Shamefully, Bruce felt his body reacting and almost panicked. “Shay!”

“I need you. Please don’t push me away. Not anymore. Not after all I’ve been through.”

He would kick Bryan’s butt for this. “No, I wouldn’t. I mean,
Bryan
wouldn’t. But I—”

“Don’t tease, Bryan.” And again she wiggled close enough to kiss him. When he tried to pull back, she bit his bottom lip.

It was…quite erotic. Who knew? Biting. Hmmm.

Suddenly the driver’s door opened and Bryan slid in. His brother looked like a thundercloud. “Get off her, Bruce.”

Bruce almost sputtered. “I’m trying.”

Shay jerked back but retained her hold on Bruce.

With a knowing look, Bryan growled, “Honey, let my brother go before he faints.”

Shay looked ready to scream. Or pass out. Or both.

To her credit, her wide eyes took in both men, back and forth, one to the other. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out.

Bryan pulled off his sunglasses and waited while Shay figured things out.

She covered her mouth. “What…?”

Bruce nearly melted in relief. “’Bout time you got here. I’ll leave you to it.”

Shay jerked around and grabbed at him. “No. Don’t go.”

Now that Bryan had wisely shown up, Bruce felt much better about things. He squeezed her shoulders and inched her away. “You and Bryan need to talk. It’ll be okay now.”

But she curled in close to Bruce and looked over her shoulder at Bryan. She seemed afraid—and no wonder, given the black scowl Bryan wore.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed even more. “He’s my twin, Shay. Not me.”

“Not you?” she repeated. She looked between the two of them, her face a mirror of confusion.

After a visible struggle, Bryan brought himself under control. He stroked Shay’s frazzled hair, gently touched the scratch on her cheek. “Meet Bruce, my twin brother. The real preacher.”

Her eyes widened. “The real preacher? But…Then you’re…?”

“A bounty hunter.” He winced when he saw one particularly nasty scratch on her chin. “I pretended to be him so I could get the bastard who jumped him, the one who was hassling the safe house.”

“Freddie?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not convinced of that yet.”

Bryan kept touching her, making Bruce want to whoop in joy. Finally they’d work things out.

Again, Shay looked between them. “I don’t know…which of you…I was…”

Bryan cupped the back of her neck, drew her close, and kissed her. It wasn’t an exceptionally long kiss, but it was long enough for Bruce to stare out the window, whistle, and grin.

When Bryan lifted his head, their gazes met. Bryan was blazing again. Shay sighed. “It’s you.”

“Yeah.” He drew a stabilizing breath. “And now that we have that settled…” He plopped the cap on Bruce’s head and handed him the sunglasses, then reached beyond him to shove open the van door. “Blend in, will ya?”

“Gladly.” Grinning, very satisfied with how things had worked out so far, Bruce donned his disguise and slipped out of the van.

No one paid him any mind—at least no one that he noticed.

B
lanketed in a surreal cocoon of comfort, Shay settled back into the seat. Twins. One a preacher, one a bounty hunter. It sort of made sense. And yet she couldn’t quite bend her mind around it.

But that kiss was all too real. He was the man she wanted, the one she’d fallen so head over heels in love with, almost from first sight.

Relief, happiness and fear all swirled and mixed inside her. She’d been lied to, but would she make the same mistake Bryan had made? Would she condemn him without understanding?

Bryan started to say something, but she held up a hand. When he reached to touch her again, she scuttled back so that she leaned into the corner of the van, between the seat and the door. She couldn’t think when he touched her, but if ever a situation called for a clear mind, this was it. She had to deal with Bryan’s deception, and she had to deal with the fact of the fire.

A hundred questions clamored for priority, but one more so than the others. Watching him closely, half afraid he’d suddenly leave, or worse, reach for her, she asked, “Why are you here?”

His eyes looked dark and velvet and mesmerizing. “I missed you.”

She wanted so badly to believe that.

“I needed to apologize. And explain.”

Shay thought about that. “You didn’t know about the fire?”

“No. Not until I got here.” His jaw locked and again he reached for her. “Are you—”

She raised a hand, halting him in his tracks. “You’re really a bounty hunter?”

“Yeah. But I wanted everyone to believe I was Bruce so I could catch the motherfucker who’d hurt him. At first I didn’t think about lying to you because I was lying to everyone, but then…” He shook his head. “Shay, you’ve kept so many secrets.”

“And so you didn’t trust me.” That made sense. It was all starting to make sense. His language alone should have clued her in. She felt idiotic—like the biggest fool alive. Frowning, she asked, “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No.” He caught her hand even when she tried to draw it away. “I had no right to be mad.”

“Why were you?”

“You’re hurt, honey. Can’t we talk about this later?”

“No. We can’t.” Before she moved so much as her pinky toe, she needed to know where they stood with each other. Her heart couldn’t take another break.

“All right.” His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, slowly, gently. It took several moments of thought before he replied. “I haven’t really been involved with a woman since Megan. I’ve fucked women, and I’ve arrested them. But I haven’t been involved.”

Her heart started to race. Apprehension and nervousness rose with hope. “Are we involved?”

His gaze hardened; he leaned closer to her. “Damn right we are. We both lied to each other. I know I felt betrayed, so you have to feel the same. But being away from you has been hell.”

Shay looked around. The house she’d bought was almost gone. Someone had wanted to hurt her. Not just the safe house, not just Bryan—or rather, Bruce—but
her.

“I don’t know what I feel yet.” Their eyes met, she lifted one shoulder. “Fear.”

“No one will hurt you.”

Oh, the easy way he promised that. “You think to protect me now?”

He slid across the seat, crowding into her. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now, but I know it isn’t over. Not the danger, and not what I feel for you. And no, don’t ask what I feel, because as God as my witness, I don’t know.” His hand tightened on hers. “I just…do.”

It was a start. She could build from that. She was good at building something big from very little. “All right.”

His brows pulled tighter. “All right, what?”

She nodded, trying to form the words, but finally she just said, “Someone locked us in the house.”

“Us?”

“Dawn was with me. We were cleaning. I needed…needed something to keep me busy so I couldn’t keep dwelling on that awful article in the paper and the way I let you down.”

“Shhh.” He pulled her close, and Shay willingly tucked her head into his broad shoulder. His warmth, his delicious scent, wrapped around her like a protective blanket. “You didn’t let anyone down. Definitely not me. The reporter is a jackass.” He tipped her back to see her face. “Want me to beat the crap out of him?”

A strangled laugh squeaked out of her.
“No.”

“Good. I’d probably get arrested.” His hand was tangled in her hair, rubbing her scalp, caressing her. “But even while I was reeling from hearing him call you the Crown Princess, I wanted to take him apart. So if you change your mind, just say the word.”

“Bryan,” she said, by way of chastisement.

He kissed her forehead. “You said you got locked in the house?”

“No, I said someone locked us in there.” She eagerly drank in his fresh, clean scent, a direct counterpoint to the smoke clinging to her clothes and hair and skin. She trembled inside, hating to say the worst out loud, but needing it said all the same. “The fire was deliberately set.”

Bryan shoved her back. With new eyes, he looked at her hair and skin and reddened eyes. “Son of a bitch.”

His whispered anger didn’t appease her much. “The fire department and the cops say they’re still investigating. They said it could have been faulty wiring.”

“You don’t believe that?”

She had nothing concrete to go on, but she shook her head. “Bryan…” The awful suspicions brought tears to her eyes and made her stomach roil. Agonized at the possibilities, she whispered, “Amy was here. Just chatting. She mentioned Freddie, and she asked me about my money. Then she left, and somehow the door was locked, and…and the fire was started.”

His gaze turned glacial. “You think she did it?”

Shay curled close, stealing some of his warmth, taking comfort in his nearness, his strength. “I don’t want to think that. It makes me sick to think it. But…”

Almost to himself, Bryan said, “Joe Winston doesn’t believe in coincidences. Neither do I. No one worth his salt does, so don’t feel bad for drawing reasonable conclusions.” Bryan held her for a time, and Shay knew he was thinking, working the facts over in his mind. Finally, with a kiss to her temple, he said, “Tell me who you trust.”

Shay leaned back to stare at him. “What?”

“There are people you trust, right? People you know in your heart, down to the marrow of your bones, would never hurt you. Who are they?”

She didn’t understand, but knew instinctively that he was formulating a plan. “There’s my family, including my brother-in-law Sebastian. And Dawn and Dr. Martin.” An intelligent woman would make an effort to protect herself, to shield a part of her heart, but Shay loved him too much for that. So she added, very softly, “And you.”

His gaze locked onto hers. So many emotions crossed his features that Shay couldn’t tell what he felt. His nostrils flared, his jaw flexed—and then he grabbed her to him, kissing her hard, ruthlessly taking advantage of her admission.

When he finally lifted his mouth a full minute later, he said against her lips, “I think it’s time for us to take a trip to Visitation.”

Shay gave him an incredulous look. Leave now, in the middle of everything? “Oh, but—”

One finger pressed over her lips, hushing her. “Sorry, babe. You claimed to trust me. Now you’re going to have to prove it.” He turned away and opened the van door. “We’ll leave tonight.”

She wanted it to be over. She wanted things back to normal. She wanted…oh, God, so many things. Probably things she no longer deserved, no matter what he told her.

It wasn’t until her scalp hurt that she realized she’d tangled both hands in her hair. A sob escaped, but she choked it down. She couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself.

They’d duped her for sure. They’d duped everyone. But no more. Now she knew, and she had no choice but to tell. If she didn’t, if she kept the information to herself, he’d find out. Then she’d be nowhere again.

She was doing the right thing. She had to be—because if not, she’d never be able to live with herself.

The detective still wasn’t entirely convinced that the fire had been deliberate, so he didn’t object when Bryan hustled Shay back to his shabby apartment. If they had more questions, they could reach her on his cell phone.

Because Bryan didn’t want to take any chances, Dawn agreed to stay with friends for a few days, and Bruce promised to keep a close eye on the women in the safe house. If Amy was involved, and it looked pretty damning for her, then he needed to know where she was at all times. No way was she working alone. Someone else was involved. Not Freddie.

Then who?

Bryan got ill every time he thought of what could have happened. If Shay had panicked instead of breaking the window, if she’d inhaled too much smoke—if, if, if.

He could have lost her—and that was unbearable.

As he dabbed antiseptic on her scratches, he asked for the hundredth time, “You sure you’re okay, honey?”

She gave him a very put-out frown. “I could do that myself.”

“Yeah, you could. But I want to do it, so sit still.” He needed to touch her. Hell, he didn’t ever want to stop touching her. She sat on the lid of the toilet, freshly showered and wrapped in his robe. Even with scratches and red eyes, she looked adorable.

And more than anything else, she was worried about Amy. Shay was such an amazing woman.

The ramshackle apartment didn’t even faze her. Shay made herself at home and fit in no matter what her surroundings. She was a woman who always saw the silver lining, and if there wasn’t one, she’d be out buying silver paint.

When Bryan finished, he caught her under the arms and pulled her up. “Kiss me again?”

Her cheeks warmed and she ducked her face against his sternum. “I can’t believe I kissed your brother.”

Bryan couldn’t believe it, either. Good thing Bruce was trying to fight her off, or Bryan would have a harder time dealing with it. “It was probably good for his heart. Though it sure as hell set me back on my ass.”

She poked his side. “You deserved it.” She punctuated that with a groan. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Bruce adores you. It was all my fault, and Bruce will gladly tell me so once we get everything sorted and settled.”

She grew quiet, then whispered, “I don’t like it that someone wants to hurt me. I mean, I’m used to the reporters taking potshots. Not just about my mistakes, but about my marriage, too. But this is different.”

Bryan rubbed her slender back a moment, then took her hand and led her to the threadbare couch that came with the apartment. Once she was seated, curled into his side with his arm around her, he said, “Will you tell me about your husband?” He knew very little, except that the guy had been as rich as Midas.

She nodded, but the seconds ticked by without her saying anything.

More frustrated at himself for prying than at her for still keeping secrets, he said, “You don’t have to.”

“I don’t mind. I loved him. He was a wonderful man.” She twisted to see his face, her eyes soft and mysterious as only a woman’s could be. “It’s just…I want you to understand. I don’t want you to judge me or him.”

“Then I won’t.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of her mouth—and his heart. “All right.” She cuddled back into his side before beginning. “We met during a charity event and from the first word, we hit it off. He was twenty years older than me, but not
old.
At least, not in his spirit. But…his heart was really bad, and it restricted what he could do. Even the simplest things were often a strain for him. So many times, he wanted to attend events, help people, contribute, but he had to leave that to others to do in his stead. He was the most generous, kindest man I’ve ever known. And he deserved love.”

“You loved him.” Bryan felt it in the way she spoke—and strangely, he suffered no jealousy. If it hadn’t been for her deceased husband, he might never have met Shay.

“No, not like a wife. I wanted to take care of him and help him with his work and I loved visiting him and just talking with him. We became inseparable companions. But we were never intimate. He couldn’t…the strain on his heart would have been too much.”

Bryan squeezed her closer. She constantly caught him off guard with the unexpected. She was such a sensual woman, he couldn’t imagine her in a nonsexual marriage. The idea seemed almost criminal.

“He slept in a chair, always with oxygen. His nurse lived with us because sometimes he struggled so much to breathe. By the week, he grew more frail.”

Her slender fingers curled into his shirt, clutching at him. The new tension in her was palpable, and he knew she was crying, but—typical of Shay—she’d do her best to keep it to herself.

Furtively, she wiped her eyes on Bryan’s shoulder. “When he knew he was going to die, he said he wanted me to have his money because he knew I’d spend it well. We went over everything. How much money he wanted to go to different organizations, employees who’d been very loyal to him, memorials he wanted established. I did all that, but there’s still so much money.” She shook her head. “The house I live in, his house, is enormous and beautiful and so lonely without him that I can’t bear being there, but at the same time, I can’t bear to sell it because it was his.”

Bryan slipped his fingertips inside the sleeve of the robe, seeking out her skin. She glowed with warmth, with love and gentleness, making it impossible not to touch her. “You feel guilty,” he guessed.

“He should have had a real wife. A wife who wanted him sexually, not just a pal.”

“He couldn’t have done anything about it.”

“But at least he’d have known he was wanted. That’s so important.”

Did she know how badly he wanted her? “Sounds to me like he was pretty damn smart. He had you with him for his last days, and now he can rest in peace, knowing you’ll continue to give generously in his name.”

Her laugh was harsh, unhappy. “Yeah, right. The Crown Princess, the woman who almost let a young pregnant girl die. The woman who brought danger to your brother’s safe house.”

“The woman who gives so much of herself, there’s hardly anything left.” Bryan tightened his hold on her, nuzzling with his nose until he found her throat. He felt like a horny goat with no sense of decorum, but her tears, her confessions, even the scratches on her face only made him want her more. The need to comfort her and reclaim her mingled. “I was a complete asshole for how I treated you, Shay. I’m so sorry.”