The Revenge by Tijan

“Wait. What?” She scrambled off the bed, following me as I went into the bathroom.

I stripped, turning the shower on and stepping underneath.

Bailey waited, just outside the shower door. “What’s going on, Kash?”

I stepped under the spray, my eyes finding and holding hers. “I’m in trouble.”

She drew in a breath, but she didn’t waver. She didn’t look away. She knew the risks we’d both taken the night before.

“What can I do?” she asked.

Relax.

Sleep.

Rest.

Smile.

Laugh.

Comfort her father.

Be herself.

“Nothing. Stay here, and wait for my call.”

She nodded.

My chest was tight. I didn’t know what was in store for me, if anything would even happen, and I needed one more touch. One more taste.

As she turned to go and change, I caught her hand. I pulled her in, my hand sliding behind her neck, and tugged her into my chest. My arms went around her. Her hands slid around my back, raising up, and she held me right back.

We both savored this time.

I loved this woman, but I didn’t have time to say the words.

We didn’t talk.

Moving to the bed, I held Bailey, and fifty-three minutes, twelve seconds later, the call came through.

Feds were at the gate.





FORTY-SIX

Kash


Bright was pissed.

Her eyes were flat, her mouth just as flat, and if she could grind up acorns and spit them out like chew, she would’ve. I wasn’t being brought into their questioning station with handcuffs or zip ties around my wrists. I was being brought in with two federal agents as my “guides,” two agents not Bright or Wilson, and as a “courtesy.”

Their words, not mine.

Which meant they didn’t have what they claimed they had, or they wanted to use me still. I was willing to bet money they’d be circling the conversation of me helping them bring my grandfather in.

We rode into an underground parking lot.

Once we parked and got out, Bright and Wilson flanked me. They led me through a door, showing their credentials, and I had to give up a fingerprint. A pass was printed right in front of me. It was taken by a staff member, stuffed into a lanyard, and Wilson put that over my head.

Then we were walking down a hallway.

There were doors on either side. I heard murmuring from inside each room.

“You have my brother here?”

Bright’s head snapped to mine. She scowled. “We are not happy with you.”

Interesting.

She was pissed and showing she was pissed.

I had to smile. “What happened, Bright? I had to imagine you tried to keep your affiliation with me hidden. Yet here you are and here I am. Are they holding your activities over your head?”

Her mouth got tighter the more I talked. Her shoulders grew more rigid.

“Shut it and just follow. You’re here to watch your brother.”

Even more interesting.

I wanted that opportunity, but not here. Not with them. Not this way.

They led me to the basement, and to a back corner. A staff member came through a door, and I saw the stairs there, but they weren’t showing any EXIT signs. This building was not following basic code.

This was a black site, one they used to do interrogations they didn’t want the public to know about.

That wasn’t good.

“What if I were to tell you that I have a tracker on me?”

Bright braked and whirled to me. Her eyes were searching, but so were mine. I saw the quick panic there. She was alarmed, but then she concealed it. Her mouth went back to that scowl. “You don’t.”

She started to go ahead.

I didn’t. I remained, and she had to stop and look my way again.

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

Her hand flexed over my arm, gripping me hard, but it was a reaction she hadn’t been able to hold back. “Because you wouldn’t tell us if you did.” Her head went forward again. “Let’s go.”

She jerked me after her.

They took me into a room, but it wasn’t a questioning room. It was a watching room, and inside the next room, which I could see through a two-way mirror, was my brother.

He was at the table, head bent, arms handcuffed flat to the table. He was wearing a T-shirt that’d been ripped at some point, and dried blood had seeped through it, mostly over his right shoulder.

I remembered how easily he got away from me. “Did he fight when you took the house?”

I was watching my twin. My gaze never wavered, but I noted two movements. One was Bright looking at me, seen from the corner of my eye, and the other was my twin lifting his head. Just slight. Just enough. And then he lowered it back down.

He knew I was here.

How I knew it, I didn’t know. But I knew it.

“He didn’t have time. We took them both by surprise. He was in the kitchen.”

“I doubt he had blood on him when you took him, all peaceful-like.” I should ask about Chrissy, but I didn’t. “What was he doing in there?”

“What?”

“What was he doing in there?”

The answer came from Wilson, who sounded as if he was leaning against the wall behind us. “He was cooking eggs.”

Eggs.

He was making food.

“Who else was in the house?”