The Blame Game_A Brook Brothers Novel Page 9

  She marched back into the living room and snatched up her purse. After taking out her cell, she called Phil. He was going to get a piece of her mind whether he wanted it or not. It took four attempts with the call going to voicemail before he finally answered. His voice was muffled as if he had put something over the mouthpiece.

  “Indie, now’s not a good time.”

  “I don’t care,” she shouted down the line. “Because you’re going to listen to me.”

  “Hang on.”

  A couple of doors slammed before he was back. “What’s your fucking problem?”

  “You,” she said. “You’re my fucking problem. You’ve caused a shit storm with your stupid, ill-conceived actions. I’m doing this for you. You! Not me. I’m putting everything on the line. Going against my principles, my integrity.” My heart.

  “Are you drunk?”

  His casual response to her fury intensified her reactions instead of cooling them. “I’m surprised I’m not permanently drunk with what you’re putting me through.”

  “Will you calm down and tell me what the hell you’re talking about? ’Cause you’ve lost me, sis.”

  “Why were you at my apartment last night? You never explained.”

  He paused then sighed. “I was hoping you’d bring him back with you after your date. I wanted to look the bastard in the eye.”

  She rubbed a tired hand over her face. “Why? That was never part of the plan. You two were never supposed to meet. Have you been following me again?” Anxiety clutched at her chest as she imagined Phil watching her in the club with Jax. Urgh. The very thought made her want to throw up.

  “No. I took a guess, and it paid off.”

  “No, it didn’t pay off, because Jax saw the bruise on my wrist tonight and correctly guessed it was you. He’s out for your blood.”

  Phil’s harsh laugh assaulted her eardrums. “Let the fucker try.”

  Indie clenched her free hand into a fist, digging hard into her palm until she felt enough pain to stop herself from screaming. “This was your plan. If you’ve decided to change it, then leave me out of it.”

  “Oh no. Not this again. You owe me. All those times I took beatings from Dad when he came looking for you. My life was torn apart while you swanned off to Queens. Just because you’ve got a degree doesn’t make you better than me, Indie. Remember that.”

  Guilt swarmed her chest. Phil always knew exactly which buttons to press. Whenever he sensed her wavering, he pulled out the blame card, and she always capitulated.

  “I know,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He sounded more exasperated than apologetic. “I shouldn’t have come over last night. I promise I’ll keep away from him.”

  “You need to keep your distance from me too. Now that he knows what you look like, I don’t know what he’ll do if he sees you.”

  “Jaxon Brook doesn’t scare me.”

  “Well, maybe he should. Never underestimate your opponent, Phil. It’s the key to failure.”

  “You know, Indie. I don’t like the person you’re turning into since you started hanging around with him.”

  Yeah, because I never used to talk back to you.

  “I think we need to ramp it up,” Phil said. “Have you let him fuck you yet?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for a great big hole to open in the floor and swallow her up. “You told me last night to slow things down.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve changed my mind. I think he’s waited long enough. You’ve had—what, three dates with him now?”

  “Four,” she said, her voice getting smaller and smaller as she began to regret calling her brother. She always felt creeped out when Phil spoke in this way. It made her feel cheap, as if she were nothing more than a piece of meat her brother could use to barter with.

  “Well, then, honey. Three-date rule. I’m surprised he’s not pushed harder to get you into bed. Are you sure you’re not acting too cold or frigid?”

  Images from the club sprang into her mind: Jax with his talented fingers and tongue making her come harder than she ever had before… his tenderness and worry when he saw her bruised wrist… his fury and protectiveness when he realized who’d hurt her.

  “I’m not having this conversation.”

  Phil barked out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll stop. But let’s speed things up, all right? The sooner you give him a taste of pussy, the quicker he’ll fall in love with you. He ain’t gonna do that if you’re withholding the goods.”

  This conversation is over. “Good night, Phil.”

  She tossed her phone on the coffee table. Bile burned in her throat, and her stomach churned with nausea. When had her brother turned into such a horrible, disgusting human being?

  Antsy, she put some coffee on, even though caffeine was the very last thing she needed. Sleep would give her some respite, but somehow, she doubted she’d get very much.

  Indie topped off her drink with a healthy dose of cream and went to bed. She opened her nightstand drawer and took out her iPod. Maybe some music would soothe her ravaged psyche and overactive mind. Inserting her earbuds, she burrowed under the covers and closed her eyes.

  She must have drifted off, because something woke her. She bolted upright. Her heart was beating crazily, and she held her breath, half expecting to hear someone—likely Phil—moving around her apartment. It was just the sort of idiotic thing he’d do just to scare her.

  When she was greeted with nothing but silence, she crept out of bed and opened her door. Peering into the living room, she breathed a huge sigh of relief when she found it empty. But now she was awake, and she knew there was no chance of sleep coming any time soon. She was far too spooked.

  After flicking on the TV, she scanned through multiple channels before settling on MTV. She dragged a blanket off the back of the sofa, tucked it around her legs, and turned on her side. They were showing a repeat of the Video Music Awards from back in August. She glanced at the clock in her kitchen. Four thirty in the morning. It probably wasn’t worth showing prime shows at a time when only idiots like her, or shift workers, were up.

  After an hour had passed, and she’d completely given up on the idea of sleep, she decided the only thing for it was to go for a run. She quickly dressed in athletic gear and pulled on a pair of sneakers that had definitely seen better days. After shrugging into a hoodie, she grabbed her iPod from her nightstand and jogged downstairs.

  She ran hard for thirty minutes, and whether or not her subconscious was leading her, she found herself in the street where Jax’s hotel was. Apart from a few people milling about, it was relatively quiet. She paused at the bottom of the steps and hopped up on the wall to catch her breath. Indie popped the cap on her sports bottle and gulped down some water. Across the street, a man appeared. He slammed the front door of his house and virtually tripped over his own feet as he ran down the steps, his cell glued to his ear as he rapidly barked instructions at some poor soul on the other end. Definitely a Wall Street employee.

  She chuckled to herself as she jumped down from the wall, ready to set off for home. The run had done its job, and she was feeling much more centered, more able to cope with the day ahead. She bent to tie her shoelace, and as she straightened, the door behind her creaked open.

  “Come to apologize?” came Jax’s flat voice from over her shoulder.

  She spun around. For a second, she’d forgotten how they’d left things the previous night. The disagreement with Phil, followed by her hapless attempts at sleep, meant their argument had momentarily slipped her mind. He was dressed in sweats and sneakers, and like her, he had a hoodie pulled over his head.

  She decided to keep things light. “No, I’ve come to see if you’d managed to escape from the nineteen fifties yet.”

  He chuckled. Phew. If he’d started on at her again, she wasn’t sure how she’d handle it.

  “Are you spying on me?” she said, wondering how he happened to be there just as she’d stopped
for a break. That her unconscious mind had brought her to him was a fact she chose to ignore. She didn’t have to listen to its stupid message.

  He tilted his head to the right, studying her carefully, before he straightened and pointed to his clothing.

  “Like you, I’m going for a run. Care to join me?”

  “I was about to head home. I need to get dressed for work.”

  “Then I’ll run back with you.”

  “Okay, but I don’t talk and run.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not ready to talk about us. Point taken.”

  Us? After four dates, he’s already talking about “us”?

  He jogged down the steps and set off at a steady pace. She followed him, soon catching up. He was faster than her, but every time he found himself a step or two ahead, he’d adjust his pace to fit in with hers. Not a word was spoken between them, but there was something comforting about having Jax beside her, despite the fact that she was panting and sweaty and not showing herself in her best light.

  They arrived back at her apartment building. Jax held the door open and cocked his head for her to go in first. As she went inside, he followed her into the lobby.

  “We need to talk, Indie,” he said, holding his hand up as she opened her mouth. “Not now. Later. Come to the hotel. My living quarters are pretty much in order now, so we’ll have a decent place to talk. I didn’t mean to push last night, but I’m worried about you.” He brushed a stray hair out of her eyes, the tips of his fingers lingering on her cheek. “We might not have known each other long, but you’ve become very special to me. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Me either.”

  “Then I’ll see you later. Say seven thirty to eight?”

  God. How much could she tell him without giving herself away yet giving him enough information to steer his curiosity in a different direction? When he raised an eyebrow and she realized she hadn’t responded, she gave him a curt nod. “I’ll see you then.”

  As she turned away, she felt his eyes on her, burning into the back of her neck. But when she glanced over her shoulder, he’d gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Indie dressed casually for her date with Jax—simple skirt, woolen sweater—although she did wear the knee-high boots she’d seen him admiring. She still hadn’t worked out exactly what to say when he began to ask her about her relationship with her brother, but one thing was certain: she needed to be extremely careful. Jax was astute. He wouldn’t be easily fooled, so whatever she said would have to have a basis in truth.

  She paid the cab driver and stepped onto the sidewalk. The hotel was in darkness, all the workers having left for the day. Before she reached the front door, Jax opened it. Indie’s stomach deliciously rolled with excitement, accompanied by a tingling sensation in her fingertips. He’d dressed casually, too, in a black T-shirt that showed off what she now knew was a body to die for, low-slung faded jeans, and bare feet. Her belly did another flip. There was something very sexy about bare feet, and Jax had been blessed with a good pair. Not all men were so lucky.

  As their eyes met, she noticed his held a steely air, a determined glint deep within those heavenly dark-emerald irises. She swallowed. This wasn’t going to be an easy night, but she couldn’t get away with not discussing Phil. Neither of them spoke for a good ten seconds—a short time that felt like an eternity.

  “Hi,” she said eventually.

  He gently cupped her upper arms and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on in, beautiful.”

  She clenched her thighs together—a regular occurrence every time Jax touched her, even if his intent wasn’t sexual. Beneath his chaste kiss and casual air lay a swell of fire. Jax most definitely had hidden depths, and boy, did she want to plough them. Every time her mind wandered, she found herself back in that club, his talented hands and lips bringing her to a crashing climax without breaking a sweat.

  “Are your brothers here?”

  “No. They have their own places, although the plan is that they’ll move in once the hotel is up and running. Hence the reason why I’ve turned the entire basement into living quarters. Come.” He held out his hand, capturing hers. “I can’t wait for you to see.”

  He led her down the hallway before pushing open a door on his left. He flicked on a light, illuminating a set of carpeted stairs. She followed him down. At the bottom, the space opened out into a huge open-plan living area. Off to one side was a decent-sized kitchen, the rest of the space taken up with comfy-looking sofas and chairs. On one wall was a huge TV, on the other a massive framed picture of what she thought might be a basketball player, although sports weren’t exactly her thing. Four doors led off the main living space.

  “Wow.” She glanced around the enormous room. “How have you done all of this and still achieved so much upstairs?”

  He tapped his nose. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have special powers. I can bend time.”

  She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. “Idiot.”

  He laughed. “So what do you think?”

  “It’s a great space.” She walked over to the poster. “Who’s this?”

  “Ah.” Jax wandered across, joining her. “That’s Bob Fraser.”

  “Who?”

  Jax gave her a mock-horrified stare. “Only the greatest basketball player who ever lived. He played for the Knicks in the sixties and seventies. My dad was a huge fan. They even met once when he was a kid. I was brought up on old basketball games that my dad and granddad had recorded.”

  Indie wrinkled her nose and tried not to let her anger show at Jax mentioning his father. She didn’t want to think about Jaxon Brook Sr., because all that did was remind her of the lie she was living.

  “I don’t know a thing about basketball. Well, sports in general actually.”

  Jax shook his head and chuckled. “I knew you were too perfect to be true. At last, I’ve found your flaw.”

  She giggled. “Believe me, I have many more flaws.”

  Jax snagged her around the waist, pulling her tight against him. “And I’m looking forward to discovering each and every one.”

  He captured her lips in a searing kiss that sent a shiver over every single vertebra in her spine. When he pulled back, she could barely catch a breath. She ached for him to gather her in his arms, throw her on the floor, the sofa, the bed—it didn’t matter where. She could hardly wait to feel him inside her, and not because Phil demanded she sleep with him but because she wanted to have Jaxon Brook for herself—if only for a brief moment.

  “Maybe I’ll take you to a game one day.”

  “I would love that,” she said. “Do you go often?”

  He shook his head. “Not these days. I used to go a lot with Nate, but since he moved to California, I’ve only been once or twice. It’s no fun on your own.”

  “Nate’s into basketball too?”

  He nodded. “Although originally, I think he used it as a way to bond with Dad. They had a… difficult relationship. But over time, he learned to love it as much as I do.”

  “Can’t you go with your other brothers?”

  “Nah. They’re more football fans.” He let her go and casually strolled over to the kitchen. “Drink?”

  Jax seemed completely unaffected by their kissing, yet she was in pieces. On shaky legs, she followed him before perching on a stool at the breakfast bar.

  “Wine would be lovely.” She removed her boots and set them down on the floor beside her, scrunching up her toes before giving them a quick rub.

  He poured them each a glass and clinked his against hers. “I’m just going to fry up a couple of steaks. Hope that’s okay. I’m not a great cook, but I can throw together steak and a salad.”

  “Works for me.”

  Her eyes followed him around the kitchen as he cooked their dinner. He kept the conversation light, regaling her with stories of his mom and dad. But the more he spoke about his family, the darker her mood became. Jax’s dad had
ruined her life, yet Jax spoke about him as though he was some sort of hero, the perfect man, husband, and father. If only he knew what a vicious, vindictive, and evil man his father had been. Whatever her dad may or may not have done—and it was unlikely she’d ever find out—she and Phil hadn’t deserved to suffer. Whatever had transpired should have remained between the two of them, but Jax’s father had taken it upon himself to be judge, jury, and executioner. The upshot of that meant it was she and Phil who had served the life sentence.

  “How do you like your steak?”

  His question yanked her from her reverie, and she mentally shook her head, reminding herself that Jax was as much in the dark about what his father had been capable of as she was. Or at least, that was what she assumed. Perhaps she should try a little questioning of her own that evening. If Jax was going to demand answers about her relationship with her brother, then she could quite legitimately ask him questions about his father. Maybe he’d have some information that could solve a years-old mystery.

  “Oh, medium is fine.”

  “I’m more of a rare man myself. Hope you don’t mind blood.”

  “As long as it’s not mine, I don’t have an issue with it.”

  Jax chuckled as he added a steak to the pan. It sizzled and spat from the intense heat. The way he moved so effortlessly around the kitchen, his muscles flexing and rolling with every change in direction, meant the steak wasn’t the only thing sizzling from intense heat.

  Once it was ready, he put the food on the table, topped off their wine, and took a seat beside her. His arm brushed hers as he cut into his steak, making the hairs stand on end. She fidgeted in her seat as she tried to quell the desire growing within her. She pressed her thigh against his. He paused for a split second before he resumed eating his meal. He continued chatting about his family and studiously ignored the subject of hers. She felt worse that he hadn’t immediately started questioning her than she would have if he’d launched straight in. Not knowing when he’d strike was setting her nerves on edge.