Chapter Eighteen
It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. Brandon had heard how Jordan was beaten up as a warning not to open the Center and knew he’d have to meet the detective who was working on the case. The reality of it was worse than he’d imagined as Jerry was a seasoned professional, and no doubt he saw right through Brandon’s weak attempt to escape any questions about himself. Of course, the fear clawing at Brandon’s chest, willing him to run, wasn’t helping any. He forced himself to remain calm and somehow held his composure together.
After helping Dwayne and Wilson work through a tricky math problem, Brandon joined the group in the back room, where Jerry was explaining what the police had learned about that Donovan person. Brandon slid into a seat next to Luke. Jerry threw him a quick glance but continued to speak.
“We know Donovan was originally from the Pennsylvania area with ties to Philly and Boston, as well as New York. He would get the guns from down South, then have them transported up the I-95 corridor, making stops in DC, Baltimore, and Philly before heading up to New York and Boston.” He consulted his notes. “There was never a shortage of people to do his dirty work, whether it was delivering guns or the drugs he happened to be selling. Most often he used drifters in those cities to prevent the police from catching him in a full-scale operation. But we finally got lucky.”
“How’s that? It would seem impossible if he never had any connection to the people who worked for him.” Jordan braced his arms on the table, his chin in his hands. “It’s so damn frustrating.”
“One of our undercover detectives heard a waitress talking at a bar in the Philly area. She mentioned Donovan had been in the night before, and she’s his regular girl when he comes around that way. Seems he’s been cheating on her and she’s pissed at him.” Jerry grinned. “Never underestimate the fury of a scorned woman. She was busy spilling her guts to anyone who’d listen about not only what a lousy lay he is, but what he’s going to do when he comes up to New York in a few days.”
As the others peppered Jerry with questions, Brandon remained silent, his mind working furiously. When he was younger, he’d done everything short of selling himself to make money, without thinking of the consequences or repercussions to anyone else. It was altogether possible that, when he was living on the streets in Philly all those years ago, he had come across these people and done some work for them, but if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t remember. To speak up would add nothing to the investigation, and Jerry might start asking more questions about why he was homeless to begin with.
“Brandon, you lived in Pennsylvania. Did you ever spend any time in Philadelphia after you left home?”
All eyes focused on him at Jerry’s question. He slanted a quick look at the detective before gulping down the nerves that were strangling him. “Um, yeah, for a little while. But it was a long time ago. Over seven years.”
Jerry studied him, his face a blank slate, revealing nothing. “You were homeless?” His voice was gentle.
No words were necessary as Brandon simply nodded.
“Didn’t you try and find your brothers?” Jerry prodded.
Brandon supposed he’d heard the story of their childhood from Luke. “I, um, looked for Luke, but he’d changed his name.”
“It’s fine, Jerry,” said Ash, cutting in. “Brandon and Luke and I have worked it all out.”
Brandon threw his brother a grateful look. Neither of them wanted to revisit this painful topic. Jerry, however, wasn’t a detective for nothing and continued to ask questions.
“I’m not trying to pry into anything personal. I’m curious as to why you left home and lived on the streets.”
“Our foster father was a terrible man, Jerry.” Luke scrubbed his face with his hand. “You know my story. Brandon has his own stories, but I don’t think he needs to go through them again when it serves no purpose to this investigation.”
Like they had when he was a child, his brothers stepped up to protect him. And even though he’d told them he was an adult now and didn’t need them to shield him from the horrors of the world, it felt good to have them by his side.
“Brandon’s a teacher now and helping us with the mentoring program. He’s living at Esther’s and is a great role model for the kids.” Tash squeezed his arm. “The past is the past, and we don’t need to revisit it.”
Jerry said nothing, merely flipped his notebook shut. “From the information we received, we expect to make some arrests in the next week or so, when Donovan and his crew arrive in the city. I’ll make sure to keep you posted. Before I leave, I want to see Johnny.” Shooting Brandon a troubled look, he said his good-byes and left with Drew and Jordan.
A palpable silence descended over the table after Jerry left. Brandon knew Ash and Luke remained curious about the real reason he’d left home, but were trying to respect his privacy. In truth, he was a fucking coward to the core. The comforting presence of Tash fed the excuses he made to himself. He was doing it for all of them, protecting them, the way they did him. He couldn’t lose them now.
“I should get back to Dwayne and Wilson.” He stood, and Tash rose with him.
“I need to talk to Valerie; I’ll walk out with you.”
The two of them walked out to the main room, but Tash stopped him before he walked to the two boys. “I know there’s something you aren’t telling me and your brothers.”
Brandon’s stomach clenched. He stared wide-eyed at Tash, unable to speak. Apparently, his silence revealed more than any words he might have spoken.
“I understand how much of an upheaval your life has been in this past month. But if you’re keeping something from them, never mind me, you need to reconsider. Those men would give up their lives for you; they’d do anything to help.”
Each spoken word jabbed Brandon, like a knife in his chest. He wanted to talk, but he couldn’t. As a psychiatrist, Tash must’ve been used to deception, because he continued, relentless in his attempt to get Brandon to speak.
“Whatever happened, it’s eating you up inside. Something’s not right when every time your life back in Pennsylvania is mentioned, you either clam up or freak out. To me, that’s a sign. And a lack of trust in me and in us as a couple. We should be able to tell each other everything.” When Brandon didn’t say anything, Tash sighed. “I need to see Val.” He began to walk away. With each step, Brandon could see his future trailing away before him like a skein of wool, unraveling his heart.
“Tash?” Brandon’s pulse pounded in his ears. He was unsure if Tash would even stop to listen to him now. When he halted in midstride, Brandon hurried to catch up to where he stood before Tash changed his mind and walked away.
There came a point in life when choices had to be made and the consequences be damned. As a child, he’d lived his whole life with uncertainty, never knowing who his parents were or why they’d given him away. In his subconscious, he’d always believed it was something he’d done, that if he’d been a better boy, they might have loved him.
When Ash left, Brandon thought if he hadn’t been such a baby, Ash would’ve stayed. He remembered crying to Luke, saying he was sorry. Luke had shushed him and said only that it wasn’t his fault. Ash would be back. But he never returned.
That last night during the fight with Munson, Luke had screamed at him to get out, once again protecting him. Brandon could do little more than agree to be hustled out of the house, looking back over his shoulder as Luke and Munson came to blows. Munson told him for years afterward that if Luke had wanted to find him, he could’ve.
When he’d looked for Luke, his dream of seeing his brother again died a bit with each dead end he ran up against. He’d never given Ash the chance, figuring Ash had reached the height of such great achievement in his life, he’d want nothing to do with Brandon. Now, with Tash, Brandon’s own dreams and successes seemed attainable. He loved Tash and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him, but couldn’t do it without first opening his life up for inspection and putting himself in the spotlight.
“Can we talk tonight? I can make dinner at your house.” No more lies, no subterfuge or ducking any questions that might be asked. It was time to act like the grown man he insisted he was. The resigned hesitancy in Tash’s eyes distressed him; having seen those beautiful eyes light up with passion, Brandon never wanted to be the cause of Tash’s pain. “Please. I need to tell you things. But not here.”
After a measured look, Tash gave a shrug. “Fine. Were you planning on spending the day here?”
“Yes. I want to work with the boys and get them started on some projects. I’m hoping to prepare them for the specialized high school exams they’ll be taking in the next year or two.”
“Good. So we can leave after Dwayne’s mother picks them up.” Tash didn’t smile or give him any indication what he was thinking. Merely a nod and then he walked away to where Johnny, Troy, and several of the others were congregated.
For the rest of the afternoon, as he helped the two boys, Brandon rehearsed what he would say in his mind, but it always ended up badly.
How could he tell Tash he was a murderer?
~ ~
Tash decided to leave a little earlier with Valerie, and Brandon wanted to go to the supermarket to pick up some things to make the dinner special. Since Drew had already said he and Ash were going back to Brooklyn to have dinner with Mike and Rachel that night, Brandon asked if they wouldn’t mind taking him to the supermarket, then dropping him off at Tash’s carriage house since it was along their way.
“Brandon, what’s wrong?” Drew hefted one of the grocery bags into the trunk of the car. He slammed the hatch down. “You’ve barely said a word since we left the Center.”
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I’m wondering if I got everything.” The lie slipped so easily through his lips it should’ve made him feel guilty, but it didn’t.
The skeptical look on Drew’s face was proof he hadn’t fooled him. Drew was one of the most perceptive men he’d ever met. Although Ash was the physically stronger of the two, Brandon had no doubt it was Drew’s inner strength their relationship was built upon. He envied the quiet confidence and trust Drew possessed when it came to his feelings for Ash. Brandon could tell their love ran bone-deep, and wanted that for himself and Tash.
The ride to Brooklyn was uneventful, with Drew giving some insight into Mike and Rachel’s wedding plans. They were going to be married at Esther’s in the springtime to take advantage of her flower-filled back garden.
“I hear Mike could care less as long as he doesn’t have to wear a tux.” Ash switched lanes on the Brooklyn Bridge and exited by Cadman Plaza Park. The little restaurants in Brooklyn Heights were beginning to fill up for the evening, and people crowded the streets, deciding where to have dinner.
Drew chuckled. “Can’t say I blame him; although you look pretty handsome all dressed up, I have to say.” He reached over and squeezed Ash’s thigh.
“A wedding is for the bride, period. Except if we ever got married. Then I’d want to see you dressed up too. You’re pretty damn hot in your tux, yourself.”
The conversation piqued Brandon’s curiosity. “Do you guys plan on getting married?”
Ash met his eyes in the rearview mirror and smiled. “No one’s asked me yet.”
Drew remained silent, a serene look on his face, and Brandon dropped the subject. They pulled up in front of Tash’s carriage house, and Brandon hopped out of the car and collected his bags from the trunk.
“Thanks for the ride, guys. See you tomorrow at Esther’s.”
They drove off, and Brandon steeled himself with a deep breath.
Here goes everything or nothing.
Tash opened the door before Brandon needed to set the bags down on the stoop to knock. His expression remained the same as when Brandon had left the Center earlier—guarded and withdrawn.
“Come on in.” He held the door open, and Brandon entered the carriage house. The two cats appeared immediately to twine themselves around his ankles.
After setting the bags down, he knelt to pet them. From his crouched position, he gazed upward at Tash. “I’ll start dinner in a little while, but I figured you’d like to talk first, right?”
At Tash’s nod, Brandon stood and brushed off his pants. “Let’s sit down, okay?” His heart pounded as he walked into the living room. When he sat on the sofa, Cleo jumped in his lap, circled twice, and lay down, purring like a lawn mower. To control the trembling of his fingers, he kept them on the cat’s body, stroking her neck and giving little scratches to her chin.
“You know I never meant to drag you into my life. In fact, I ran away from you, if you recall. You pushed me to face my fear and made me open myself up to so much more than I ever thought possible.”
Tash said nothing, the light glinting off his eyeglasses.
“But unlike every other person I’ve met before, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and wondering what it would be like to be with you. Now…” Brandon’s nerves choked him. “The truth is I haven’t been honest or fair with you. You need to know everything to decide whether or not you still want to be with me.”
“Don’t worry about my reaction. Whatever it is, it’s eating you up alive. The worst part is the anticipation of what you think my reaction will be.”
Not the worst part by far. Incarceration would be the worst; to be separated from his family and Tash now that he’d found them was inconceivable. But then again, so was looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, loving Tash and attempting to create a life with him only to worry every second of the day whether it would all be torn away in an instant.
“I’d only graduated high school the week before. The night before I ran away, my foster father was drunk and in one of his usual ugly moods. He often stopped off after work at the bar near the local sheriff’s office where he worked and had a few beers before coming home.” Brandon stroked Cleo under the chin for a few moments, smoothing her plush, velvety coat. She rubbed her head against his hand and swished her tail back and forth.
“My foster mother hadn’t been feeling well, and dinner wasn’t ready. That’s all he needed to begin the nightly abuse.”
“Where were you when all this was happening?” Tash pushed his glasses up on his head and rubbed his eyes, a grim expression etched in hard lines on his face.
“In my room. But when I heard the yelling, I crept down the stairs to see what was happening. Then I watched him hit her and knock her down.” It played before his eyes. “He stood over her and laughed. I must’ve made a sound because he turned around and found me standing on the stairs. I ran out of the house, but he caught up to me at the shed in the back and pinned me against the door.”
“What you gonna do, sonny boy?” The stale, beer-laced breath of his foster father blasted over his face, gagging Brandon until he wanted to retch. “No one’s gonna believe you, and she ain’t gonna say nuthin’ if she knows what’s good for her.”
The thought of this animal hitting his foster mother again enraged Brandon. “Leave her alone. You’re a big fucking bully. You could kill her.”
Munson sneered in his face. “Who’d care? Stay out of it unless you want the same.” He hitched his pants up and spat on the ground. “She best have gotten herself up off that floor or she won’t be able to get up again.” He spat again, then went to hit Brandon across the face.
“It was as if something snapped inside me,” whispered Brandon, the horror of that night tangible, as if he could reach out and touch Munson or smell his beery, stale breath against his face. “I picked up a loose brick sitting on the windowsill of the shed and hit him over the head with it.”
Tash slid next to him, evicting an outraged Cleo from Brandon’s lap, and draped his arm around Brandon’s shoulders. “Talk it out. Let it go.”
“So much blood. There was so much blood, and he fell to the ground.” Brandon gulped, tears trickling down his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to kill him.” He started sobbing, whether from relief at finally telling his story or fear over what would happen next. “I just wanted him to never hit her again. Or me.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Tash gathered Brandon to his chest and soothed him. “So he died and you ran away?”
After gulping down some air, Brandon continued. “I left him lying on the ground. I sneaked back in the house and gathered some clothes. My foster mother was crying in the kitchen as she made dinner.” Tash smoothed his hair as Brandon’s head lay on his chest. “I was so scared, Tash. I ran out the back door and never went back. I shouldn’t have left her but I was too scared at what I’d done to think straight.”
They sat for a few minutes. The only sound to be heard was the hush of the occasional car passing by outside. Then Tash sighed and spoke, but there was no condemnation or censure in his voice. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
Brandon nodded against the sturdy wall of Tash’s chest. Within the circle of Tash’s arms, he’d found safety and comfort, but most of all peace. He’d never had someone take him in their arms and hold him until the hurt and pain disappeared.
“Yeah. After I ran, I checked the newspapers a few days later, and there was a small article about Paul Munson being found dead.” He pulled away from Tash’s arms. “I’ve spent the last seven and a half years in limbo, looking over my shoulder, waiting for the police to find me and arrest me. I did whatever I could to hide myself.”
“By calling yourself Randy? And not contacting Ash because you thought he wouldn’t want you?” Tash’s gentle fingers combed through his hair in a languid slide. “But now you know how much Ash loves you. He’ll take your case and defend you to the death.” With a gentle kiss to Brandon’s brow, Tash smiled down at him. “You weren’t even eighteen, sweetheart. It was an accident, self-defense. I’m sure he can get you off.”
Brandon had never thought of asking Ash to be his lawyer. His only thought had been to hide what he’d done and live outside the concrete lines of society. “Will you come with me when I talk to him?” He added in haste, “I mean, you don’t have to; I can do it myself.” He struggled to sit up and away from Tash. It would be a challenge for him, but he was strong enough.
Instead, Tash held him firm, his muscled arms remaining tight around Brandon’s body. “Do you think after everything, I’d walk away from you? Make you handle this on your own?”
“Ash will help me,” Brandon replied weakly, trying hard to maintain a semblance of strength. “You’re right. I know he will.”
With surprising strength, Tash crushed him closer, his lips tasting the curve of Brandon’s neck. “But he won’t be there to hold you at night and keep you warm like I can. He won’t whisper to you that everything will be all right, which I will.” Sweet kisses trailed along Brandon’s throat, and he moaned, desire running through his body, rich and heavy like a fine, full-bodied wine.
Tash’s mouth hovered over his as their eyes locked. “He won’t love you like I do.”