Chapter 58
Colin
After some convincing, Malcolm and Tabby come to say hello. I walk into the room with Tabby’s arm tucked into mine, completely forgetting how jealous my fiancée is. She stands when she sees us, leaving Raven and Amira mid-conversation. Malcolm follows behind us.
“Honeybee,” I say when she reaches us. She has her lips pursed as she glares at Tabby, who continues to smile. “This is Tabby. She’s Malcolm’s little sister.” Her glare drops, and she smiles at Tabby.
“I heard about you guys from Malcolm,” Tabby says.
I notice Amira sneaking looks at Malcolm, who is looking down at his phone, completely oblivious to her.
“Raven, Amira, this is Malcolm’s little sister, Tabby.”
I’ve known Tabby since she was eight years old. She would visit the campus with her parents at least twice a year. Now, she’s a twenty-two-year-old woman.
“Would you like to join us? How about some cake?” Amira asks.
“I love cake,” Tabby says. Amira takes her hand, and they go to the dessert table, only to return a few moments later. Tabby hands her brother a small plate. “I already got Mal to buy me dessert,” Tabby says with a laugh while she sticks her fork in Malcolm’s cake.
“Hey,” he says, moving his body to block her from accessing his dessert.
“Oh, God, no,” Brynne whispers to me and Raven. She discreetly points at Ashley, who is walking this way. Her eyes are on Malcolm, who is still trying to fight off his sister.
“You guys, they’re moving the tables so we can dance,” Amira says. She makes a slightly awkward move and giggles before starting her eighties-style breakdancing. Tabby copies Amira.
“Malcolm used to take dance,” Tabby announces between moves. “He was the best at hip-hop.”
“Do you have to tell everyone that?” Malcolm asks.
“You don’t have to make a fool of yourself on every occasion, Amira,” Ashley says. Amira’s smile dips, and her dancing slows down, but Raven joins in to keep it going. “I’m Ashley,” she says to Malcolm. “How do you know Amira?”
“We met at the island last January,” Malcolm says. “We all hung out together.”
“Oh, I knew there had to be a good explanation. You wouldn’t be here because you’re interested in her.” She whispers the last part as if they’re friends sharing secrets.
Even if Malcolm was mildly interested in Ashley, she just blew her chance. Any sibling talking smack about another is a no in his book. He might be surly. He might be a pain in the ass, but he’s the most loyal pain in the ass I’ve ever known.
“Why would you say that?” Malcolm asks.
“She’s so awkward,” Ashley whispers. “She’s never had a boyfriend.”
“So?” Malcolm asks. Some of Ashley’s bravado slips. “Why do you feel the need to tell this to a stranger?”
“Where’s your husband, Ashley,” Brynne snaps. She makes a show of looking around. “I’d like to say hello.” Something in Brynne’s tone tells me she knows damn well why Ashley’s husband is not here.
“He has to work tonight,” Ashley says, but I can see her blush. She also shrinks a little after that question.
Malcolm looks away from her and joins the women. A rap song starts to play, and he says, “Let me show you losers how to do a proper robot. Follow me.” And they all copy his moves. “Happy birthday, Amira,” Malcolm yells over the music, and she smiles. “Let’s get this party going.”
Ashley slinks away. From the corner of my eye, I see her talking to her mother and pointing at Amira, who is too busy dancing to pay attention to her whiny sister. Brynne gives Ashley the side-eye again before looking away from the scene.
“You know what I’m looking forward to?” Brynne asks moments later. The music playing overhead is fast, but I hold her in my arms and move slowly.
“What is it?”
She looks into my eyes and says, “The holidays, especially Thanksgiving. I want us to cook and invite people over. And then you can help me decorate the house for Christmas the day after.”
“I love the sound of that, but my family will want us to come over for Thanksgiving.” I grimace and wait to hear what she has to say. When I announced I was moving back, I promised Lisa I wouldn’t miss another holiday with the family.
“Okay, then we have Friendsgiving the week before.”
“Compromise. I love it.” I kiss the tip of her nose.
“And after we’re married, I can’t wait to say things like, ‘I need to speak with my husband.’” I throw my head back and laugh at that. “Or, ‘I want to make dinner for my husband.'”
“I like that one.”
“How about this? I want to make love to my husband.”
“That one is my favorite.”
I slide out of the bed early Sunday morning. Brynne is out cold, and I suspect she will be for a few more hours. It’s barely six in the morning, and we were out late celebrating Amira’s birthday last night. When we got home, we stripped each other naked and fucked for hours.
She’s exhausted. I made sure of it so I could slip out and return before she knew I was gone. I want her to wake up to the smell of me cooking breakfast, a meal I will bring her in bed.
After dressing in joggers and a tee, I tiptoe out of the apartment only to come face-to-face with Hank. He’s been watching over her for the past week, unbeknownst to her. I haven’t let her out of my sight, but Hank’s been in the background, keeping watch also.
“Where is he?” I ask.
“In the garage. No cameras for the next thirty minutes. It cost you.” I nod, uncaring about the cost. I leave him standing by the door. If, by chance, Brynne wakes up, she’ll call me. She’ll wrongly assume I’m at the gym.
Less than one minute later, the elevator takes me to the parking garage. A security guard points to an office next to the room with the cameras, which are all off.
“You got about twenty minutes,” the gruff voice of the security guard says.
I hand him the envelope of cash I had tucked in my pocket, and he takes it and nods. Without another word, he unlocks the room for me.
It’s hot in here, and Oliver is in the corner, trembling like the coward he is. His eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees me, but he straightens and tries to appear brave.
“I’m going to get right to the point.” I grab him by his tee and shove him against the wall. He pushes against my chest, but I press his body to the wall until he stops moving. “If you even breathe in Brynne’s direction, this will look like a walk in the park.” I let him go while he has a coughing fit.
“Pay me,” he says between coughs. I stand there and wait for him to get himself together. “Give me fifty thousand dollars, and I’ll go away. You’ll never hear from me again.”
I could do that. It’s nothing for me, but that won’t be the end of him. He’ll go through that in a matter of months and will think he can return to this well. That’s Kincaid rule one. Never give in to blackmail.
“How far do you think that will take you?”
He thinks about it and says, “You’re right. Double it.”
“I’m not giving you a dime, Oliver. Brynne doesn’t owe you anything.”
The mention of her name causes a shift in him. His eyes darken, and his face goes from being pained to angry. “I’m sick of that bitch.” That deserves a punch, but I want him to keep talking. “She was always the good one growing up. She had the good mom. All they talked about was how she was going to inherit this house, and then they fucked up and it went to me. Do you know that on his deathbed, my dad called to tell me to do the right thing and hand over the house? He knew he only had days left, and that’s what he could think about. I lied and told him I would, but I had decided that I would kick her out at that moment. She could have whored herself on the street for all I cared.”
I think his confession surprises him because he promptly shuts up, stands up straight, and glares at me as if he’s expecting me to give in to his demands.
“But that didn’t happen, did it?” I taunt. “She followed through on her dream. She’s a success and you’re the same loser you’ve always been. She bought the house back. The house you lost. Your problems aren’t because of her. After all you’ve done, you’re asking her for a handout now.”
He glares at me. He didn’t like the sound of that. His face flushes, and he squares his shoulders as if he's going to come at me. I do the same. I hope he throws a punch so I have a reason to hit him in his hateful face.
“That bitch wishes. She owes me.” He sounds deranged. There’s no point in asking why or how she owes him. “I’m asking you. Two hundred grand, and I’ll go away. I looked you up. That’s nothing to you.”
He’s right. It’s not. I could give away millions and it wouldn’t make a dent. Deciding I’ve had enough, I hit send on the text I typed on my way here. After sliding my phone back into my pocket, I grab Oliver by his collar and easily lift him off his feet. I push him into the wall and get in his face.
“This is your last warning. If you contact or come near Brynne again, I will unleash hell down on you. You know I have resources since you took the time to look me up. I can make you disappear, Oliver.” His face blanches, and I drop him. The sudden movement shocks him and he stumbles a few steps back.
The door opens then, and my private investigator comes in with a police officer.