Her Wicked Stepbrother: A Nolan Bastards Novella Page 6

  “Oh yeah. It really is a great neighborhood.” Her dad scooped a second serving of casserole onto his plate. “It’s not far from downtown, but far enough to get a decent-sized yard. And it has parking.”

  “What kind of renovations are needed?” Siobhan sipped from her water glass.

  “Mostly cosmetic stuff. They need to paint all the rooms and replace the carpet, and the kitchen and bathrooms haven’t been updated in decades.” Her dad reached for a roll. “If they could do the work themselves, they’d save a ton of money, but they’re an older couple and they both work in the city.” Shaking his head, he lifted his shoulders. “It’s simply too much for them.”

  “Maybe you could do it.” The words popped out of Brynn’s mouth.

  Her dad frowned. “Do the renovations?”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Siobhan said. “Would your brother help?”

  Brynn’s uncle, a contractor who owned his own company with two friends from high school, specialized in home repairs and renovations.

  “It’d be a lot of money up front, and a lot of work.” Her dad wasn’t frowning anymore.

  “If there’s any demolition involved, count me in.” Cian pushed to his feet.

  “I know dat’s roy.” As he stood, Rory filched two more rolls from the plate. “Put us down for breakin’ stuff.”

  “I can help, too.” Brynn straightened in her chair. “Do you need a spreadsheet? I have a class project due at the end of the year. Maybe I could track supplies or expenses for you?”

  “That’d be great, sweetheart.” The warmth from her dad’s first full-fledged smile spilled over her.

  “Where’re you boys off to?” Siobhan craned her neck to peer up at Cian as he skirted behind her chair.

  “To a friend’s house up the street,” Rory said.

  Cian tipped his chin at Brynn. “Wanna come with us?”

  Casserole lodged in her throat.

  Rory tossed Cian a roll. “It should be the craic.”

  Brynn swallowed painfully. “I don’t do crack.”

  For some reason, that was hysterically funny to them.

  Siobhan waved a hand at her. “Go with your brothers, dear.” She sent a soft smile across the table to Brynn’s dad. “Make her go. She does so much around here. She deserves to have a night out with her friends.”

  “I don’t have friends,” Brynn stated.

  Your oldest son made sure of that, she thought, stabbing at a chunk of chicken on her plate.

  The concerned pucker reappeared on her dad’s forehead. “It’s a little late to go out.”

  “Yes, it is.” Brynn jumped on the excuse, lame as it was considering the time hadn’t yet reached seven o’clock. “It’s way too late.”

  “But you know what? Your mother’s right.” He lifted his glass of wine off the table. “You deserve a break. You should go, honey.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  But Cian was already pulling her chair out from under her. “It’s time we did a little sibling bonding, don’t ye tink?”

  “No, I do not ‘tink,’” she snapped.

  He dumped her out of the chair.

  With a yelp, she stumbled forward.

  Rory shoved her coat at her. “We should’ve done this weeks ago.”

  “I’m not even dressed.”

  “Ye look grand.” Unmoved by her protests, probably because she wore the same blue jeans and baggy sweater to school all the time, Cian hustled her out the door.

  Cold night air smacked her in the face. She shoved her arms inside her coat and tugged the warm wool tight around her body as Cian and Rory set off down their quiet street.

  Tagging along behind them, Brynn yanked the rubber band from her hair and let down the messy bun she’d piled on top of her head. She combed her fingers through the snarled strands while stumbling to keep up as they cut through the park.

  They emerged on Longwood Drive. Nervous butterflies collided in her stomach. She’d never been to a house party before and had no idea what she’d find inside the two-story brick home. At the second crossroad, they turned off, and the muffled sound of loud music carried down the street. Four houses passed before they arrived at the source of the pumping beat.

  Rory pushed open the front door and thumping music spilled out onto the porch. She stepped inside and was immediately enveloped.

  Clusters of people hung out in small, scattered groups, their faces obscured by the dim lighting. She trailed Cian and Rory into the home’s interior, and as they passed by pockets of people, she began to pick out the familiar faces of kids from her school.

  In the dining room, a crowd packed around the table, playing a card game, and Cian peeled off to amble over.

  Brynn followed Rory into the kitchen where the countertops were loaded down with red plastic cups and bottles of liquor. After a quick study of the bottles littering the island, Rory pulled open the refrigerator door.

  He held out a can of beer to her. “Do ya drink?”

  She’d never drank alcohol before in her life, but a quick glance around confirmed her suspicion that she’d be the only one not partaking if she refused.

  Rory leaned close. “Ye can just hold on to it if ye want. No one will notice if you’re not drinking it.” With a wink, he pulled the tab and handed her the can.

  From across the room, someone called out his name.

  He lifted his hand and barked out a greeting, then twisted around to pluck another beer from the fridge. Before the refrigerator door eased shut, his friends had descended on them.

  Brynn didn’t know the names of the four guys who squeezed in around them, though she recognized their faces from the hallways at school. Each of them offered her a nod or a friendly smile when Rory introduced her, then they fell into an animated conversation about a movie they’d been to see earlier in the day.

  From there, their conversation veered in many directions. Growing warm, she slipped out of her coat and hooked it over her arm while she listened. Mostly, the boys told ridiculous or outlandish stories and she soon found herself laughing along with them.

  Rory, her quiet, unassuming stepbrother, spoke with colorful language and wild gestures, and was far and away the most entertaining of the bunch, which was saying a lot.

  When a group of girls filed through the kitchen, Brynn pressed her back to the wall to make room for them to squeeze past.

  “Hey, Brynn,” one of them said.

  Surprise caught and held Brynn’s tongue a moment. “Hey, Brittany,” she finally said.

  She’d lost the thread of Rory’s conversation with his friends, but it didn’t matter. With a jolt, she realized she was at a house party attended by a bunch of kids from school, kids she’d known for years but never talked to, and she wasn’t in misery.

  She was having fun.

  Just then, someone crashed into her with enough force to knock her against the wall.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” a male voice purred. “I didn’t even see you there.”

  She jiggled her hand, shaking off the beer that’d sloshed from her can.

  “Brynn?”

  At the sound of Kyle’s voice, Brynn’s head snapped up. “Kyle? Wh-what are you doing here?”

  She cringed at the stupidity of her question.

  “Just hanging out.” He placed a hand on the wall beside her head, as if to steady himself. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

  The guy who’d crashed into her, C.J., smacked him on the arm. “C’mon, man, let’s go.”

  “Hold on a second.” Kyle peered hard into her face. “I’m going to talk to Brynn for a minute.”

  C.J. gave her a long look while he took a slow, deep swallow from his Solo cup, then he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “Brynn Hathaway.” Kyle sounded funny, like his tongue was swollen and too big for his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  His light eyes bleary, his intense study of her f
ace felt overly intimate. Invasive.

  Her anxiety returned with a rush. Without thinking, she took a sip from the can of beer in her hand, and the bitter flavor flooded her mouth. She winced.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak with her mouth full of foul beer.

  “Is it the beer?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and gulped. “Oh, God, yes,” she croaked. “It’s awful.”

  Kyle’s deep chuckle coaxed a self-mocking laugh from her.

  He plucked the can out of her hand. “Hold on.”

  Weaving through bodies, Kyle worked his way across the cramped kitchen. He abandoned her beer on the counter by the sink and lifted a red Solo cup off the short stack by the microwave. Then he began picking through the liquor bottles crowding the countertop, twirling and tilting them so he could read their labels.

  Out of the corner of her eye, something snagged her attention, and she turned her head. The air whooshed from her lungs.

  Across the room, Aiden captured her gaze. He stood out, like the lone star in a black night sky. For a moment, the world stopped. The chaos swirling around her receded and he was all that existed.

  It’d been so long since she’d allowed herself to even sneak a glance at him that she stared, absorbing him into her heart. The muted lighting picked out strands of russet brown and rich auburn in his dark hair, and carved shadows beneath the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

  He was beautiful.

  As was Samantha Whitaker by his side.

  Kyle appeared before her, his wide shoulders blocking Aiden from her view.

  “Try this.” He handed her a red Solo cup filled with bright red liquid. “You’ll like this better.”

  She sipped the fruity drink.

  “What do you think?”

  “It tastes like punch.”

  “It is punch.” A slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “With a little bit of vodka.”

  She’d never tasted vodka before, but it wasn’t nearly as disgusting as beer.

  Over and around Kyle’s broad shoulders, Brynn snuck glimpses in Aiden’s direction. She caught only tiny snippets. His dark eyes touching her face. His fierce scowl burning a hole in Kyle’s back.

  She hadn’t asked Aiden why he disliked Kyle, as Rory suggested, because honestly, she didn’t care. Whether or not Aiden liked Kyle had no effect on her feelings. She liked Kyle, and that was all that mattered.

  She sipped the delicious drink he’d made her.

  So what if Kyle didn’t run with the same crowd as her stepbrothers did? Or that he wasn’t as popular as they were? Newsflash: neither was she.

  Brett Larson, quarterback for the school’s football team, stopped to talk to Kyle and she listened in while they discussed the players on the team and their upcoming schedule. They hated the schedule, and the refs from last week’s game, and they’d grown tired of their teammates.

  She sucked down more swallows of her drink and considered how much more she’d enjoyed listening to Rory and his friends. Her head spun with a dizzying swoop. She peered into her cup. Unbelievably, she’d consumed less than half of the fruity punch.

  Someone cranked the volume on the music. Unable to hear Kyle and Brett, her gaze drifted around the room. Unable to resist, she sought out Aiden.

  He was watching her.

  Another wave of dizziness struck, and she rubbed her forehead. Did the vodka make her woozy, or was it Aiden’s intense regard?

  Brett moved on, and Kyle turned to her with a smile. He said something and waited for her reply.

  “What?” She touched her ear. “I can’t hear you.”

  He leaned close and spoke with his mouth near her ear. “I said you’re really pretty.”

  Her cheeks warmed. In fact, she was hot all over. Uncomfortably hot.

  But Kyle leaned closer. He bent his head low.

  She froze. Was he going to kiss her? What would it be like? Would she like it? What if she hated it? What if she was wrong and he was only shifting his weight to the other foot?

  She wasn’t wrong.

  His lips brushed hers.

  His mouth was surprisingly cold. But his lips were soft, and the kiss wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  She let him explore her mouth, curious what would happen next.

  Curious if Aiden was still watching.

  Scratch that. She didn’t care what Aiden thought. This was her moment. Her moment with Kyle. Her first kiss. That she didn’t totally hate.

  But what did it mean that she was more interested in Aiden’s reaction to the kiss than her own?

  Kyle pulled up, and she blinked open her eyes. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his words.

  She shook her head.

  He grasped her hand and tugged. The thumping beat of the music pounded inside her skull as he pulled her through the crowd. At the staircase, he started to climb. Her foot caught on one of the stairs, which seemed to be shifting beneath her feet, and she tripped.

  With a hand under her arm, Kyle hauled the rest of the way upstairs. On the landing, the piercing sound of the music was dampened by the floorboards. He pulled her toward an open door.

  Her steps faltered. She shouldn’t go into a darkened bedroom, she knew, but her jumbled thoughts wouldn’t line up in order and she couldn’t recall exactly why not. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her head began to ache with throbbing pain. The room was dark and quiet, so she moved toward the door.

  Light from the hallway guided her. Until the door closed and plunged them into blackness.

  “C-can we turn on a light?” Her voice wavered. “Kyle?”

  He touched her arm, and she jerked with surprise. Her cup slipped between her fingers and crashed to the floor. Biting wetness soaked through her blue jeans on one thigh.

  “Shh.” His hand moved to her waist.

  In the dark, she stumbled back.

  His hand squeezed her breast, pinching the sensitive nipple between his fingers.

  A mortified gasp erupted from her.

  “That’s it,” he said, his words garbled. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

  “No—” His mouth clamped on hers, and she twisted her head away. “Kyle, wait. I’m serious.”

  Rough hands groped her body and rammed between her thighs.

  “Kyle!” Fear shot up her spine.

  “Relax,” he slurred. “You’ll enjoy it more if you relax.”

  “You’re hurting me.” She shoved at his hand. “Kyle, please. Stop.”

  A stream of light spilled across the room when the bedroom door opened. Relief swamped her, and she scurried toward the shadowy figure standing in the doorway. Thank God someone had found them in.

  “Dude, what are doing?” C.J.’s large frame prevented her escape into the hall.

  “Brynn’s here.” Kyle moved behind her. “She’s a little scared.”

  “Why are you scared?” The light behind him, she couldn’t see C.J.’s face, but his head tilted to one side. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said, his voice smooth as butter.

  Slimy, oily butter.

  Her stomach heaved.

  “That’s what I told her.” An edge of annoyance crept into Kyle’s tone. “You should listen to C.J., Brynn.”

  “We’re not going to hurt you.” C.J.’s shoes scraped against the hardwood floors, and then shadow blanketed the room when he eased the door shut. “A girl like you, I’ll bet you’re going to like it.”

  In the inky darkness, the sound of the door’s lock clicking into place screamed through her.

  Chapter 7

  Terror froze her a moment. Then she lunged.

  Fingers dug into her arms, and her head jerked back when someone yanked her hair. A cry built in her throat, and she drove her knee upward into a groin.

  His sharp curse rang out, and she lurched again for the door.

  From behind, a large body toppled her, and she hit the ground with a brutal crack of pain. The bl
ow knocked the air from her lungs.

  With desperate gulps, she struggled for breath while groping hands bit at her flesh. Disoriented in the dark, she didn’t know who assaulted her. That another attacker lurked in the shadows sent tendrils of terror coiling through her.

  Frantic, she shoved at his chest and shoulders until her arms shook, then crumpled under his weight. He dropped back down on top of her and pushed a scream from her.

  His hand clamped tight over her mouth. “Shut up. Someone will hear you,” Kyle said.

  She couldn’t breathe. The heft of his big body pressed down on her while his large hand obstructed her airways. Panic welled up and she thrashed her head, trying to escape his airtight grip on her nose and mouth. Her hands balled into fists, she punched wildly at his face and shoulders, but her strikes soon weakened.

  He raised up, only to slip and collapse heavily on her again. His weight was crushing her, and he was too drunk to realize it.

  He was going to kill her.

  She heard laughter. Cold, cruel laughter. It rang in her ears and wrung anguish from her heart.

  They enjoyed her fear. Whatever she might’ve believed about what was happening to her, about what they were doing to her, she knew then that her suffering was the reason for it all.

  They wouldn’t stop until they’d wrested the darkest pain from her.

  Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes while vicious hands pinched and grasped her breasts and between her legs. She was helpless to stop them.

  Inside, she was screaming.

  With a booming crack, the door exploded.

  Light flooded the room. A noise erupted, like a growl and a roar at the same time, and then the weight of Kyle’s body lifted off her.

  She gasped for air. Her chest burning, she rolled to her side and, with deep, painful gulps, hauled oxygen into her starving lungs. Coughs racked her body. She squeezed her eyes shut against the harsh glare of light and the awful, wonderful sound of flesh pounding flesh.

  She pushed up onto her hands and knees, but her limbs were impossibly heavy, as though she moved through thick sludge.

  The grotesque pounding stopped, and an oddly tuneful whistle floated through the air.

  Then footsteps beat a path toward her.