Burned Read online

  Copyright: Meg Watson

  Published: December, 2016

  Publisher: Meg Watson

  The right of Meg Watson to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

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  Please note that this is a work of adult fiction and contains graphic descriptions of sexual activity and graphic language. It is intended for mature readers aged 18 and over only. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PREFACE - NICO

  DAY 1 - CHARLI

  DAY 2 - TEK

  DAY 3 - CHARLI

  DAY 4 - TEK

  DAY 5 - NICO

  DAY 6 - CHARLI

  DAY 7 - TEK

  DAY 8 - NICO

  DAY 8 CONTINUES - CHARLI

  EPILOGUE - TEK

  BURNED

  BLOOD BROTHERS 2

  MEG WATSON

  PREFACE - NICO

  7:59 AM

  This is just perfect. She is still asleep. Her lips are slightly parted, the pale, sweet color of a ripe peach. I can hear her snoring softly under the white cotton sheet with me. The light filters through the fabric, creating a soft glow in this safe, warm space.

  Pushing the sheet up slightly, I can just barely make out her shoulders and the curve of her arm. A sheaf of her light blonde hair curves over collarbone. She has the most perfect skin I've ever seen. Smooth and creamy, like velvet.

  I stretch behind me, tapping the alarm about two seconds before it goes off. I don't want to wake her. Not yet. I love this time, when everybody is quiet.

  Tek pushes himself up on his elbow and raises an eyebrow at me over her shoulder. He’s still half-asleep and almost yawning, but he’s awake enough. I shake my head at him. Can’t he just wait? Can’t I have another five minutes to just look at her?

  No, he can't wait. Of course he can't. Might as well just go along with it.

  Tek slides the sheet down slowly, grinning excitedly as he exposes her face, her shoulders, those perfect breasts. He's grinning like a kid at Christmas, opening the biggest present. He’s barely holding back from waking her to see her open those beautiful green eyes.

  I can practically read his mind, of course. Most times, we are totally in sync. It's a thing some twins have. People say we look just alike, too, but I don’t really see it.

  Maybe we did, back when we were kids. But he went out of his way to get that giant tattoo, those absurd muscles. He keeps his hair military short, and I’m not sure he’s ever heard of pomade. I don't even know if we even look like brothers all the time, much less twins.

  But I know the inside of his head, that's for sure. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I slide up close to the other side of her. Simultaneously, we both drag the backs of our fingers along her collarbones. Charli sighs in her sleep but doesn't wake up yet. She smacks her lips together lightly and arches her back. That's how good we've got her trained. One touch and she is all ours.

  Look how hard she is sleeping. I love how much she trusts us. I run the flat of my hand down the curve of her breast, cupping it lightly. I want to hold her tighter, and everything in me balls up with that urge, ready to pounce. I want to do everything to her all at once. Kiss her, taste her, be inside her. But I hold myself back. I know it's better when I wait. When we both wait.

  Besides, just look at them both. Charli is relaxed and waiting, just as inviting as Sleeping Beauty. She smells like rosemary and something warm, some animal smell. A kitten or a puppy or something. She makes me hungry.

  Tek's eyes are half closed as he pets the hollow at her waist, fitting his hand over it as though measuring her. He has such a gift for concentration. He seems to study her like one of his mechanical fascinations, but different. In regular life, Tek is known for breaking things, blowing things up. He can make a bomb out of just about anything. For a while, everybody called him MacGyver, but now they just call him Tek. He can blow her up too, but in a different way.

  Charli moans as Tek’s hand slides along the crest of her hip. Her thighs automatically fall open as she shifts her weight. The invitation is almost too much for me to bear. I see Tek’s eyes open wide for just a second as he realizes how close she is. Just right there for the taking. So welcoming, so warm.

  His eyes flicker up to me, asking me a silent question. I just grin at him. I want her more badly than anything. I want her so much I think I'm going to explode just imagining her wet, hot body enveloping mine. It’s all I can think about. She’s in my head like the soundtrack to a movie — constant, pervasive, weaving through every part of every day like she’s a natural part of me.

  But even better, I want to see them both. I know the kind of joy that she brings him, and with our connection I feel it too. There’s something almost as good about seeing them enjoying each other as there is about indulging my own desire.

  Besides, we've got all the time in the world. I can afford to be patient for just a little while. I take the back of the knee closest to me and pull gently, opening her even further as Tek slides behind her. He arranges himself as I stroke her softly, thrilled to find that even while sleeping, she's wet and ready for us.

  Maneuvering gently, I go back to the pillow, pushing a few blonde strands off her cheek with my fingertips and nuzzling her forehead. I feel her stir slightly.

  “Good morning, princess,” I whisper as she comes half awake. I feel Tek’s hands moving her, rearranging her leg to drape over his thigh as he positions himself behind her.

  Her eyelids just begin to flutter and the corners of her full lips curl into a smile.

  “I was just dreaming about you,” she sighs.

  “Yeah?” Tek murmurs mischievously as he does something behind her that makes her gasp, lips open. “Were you dreaming about something like this?”

  “Mmmmmm, yes, something like that,” she sighs as her voice trails off. I run my thumb along her bottom lip, opening it further. She is so eager to kiss me, but I want to wait, just for another moment or two. I just want to feel this anticipation rising, rising…

  And there's a bang on the door.

  “Ouch, Tek!” she complains.

  Tek releases her hip and holds his hand up in the air automatically. “Sorry, baby, just caught me by surprise is all,” he mutters.

  I'm out of bed in a flash, irritated beyond all measure. Really? Who the hell could be knocking at my door at this time in the morning? This better be good.

  “You guys just wait here. I’ll take care this,” I grumble as I yank on a pair of pajama pants. “Don't keep going without me though. You wait till I get back.”

  “Yeah, that's not how that works!”

  “Tek, quit it,” Charli scolds him, now fully awake. Great, another reason whoever this asshole at the door is has pissed me off so far this morning. I really wasn't ready for her to be awake yet.

  I close the bedroom door behind me and walk down
the hall and through the living room of our condo. The marble tile floors are a little cold for my liking on my bare feet.

  Another bang on the door, this one louder than the first, shaking the slab in its frame. It's a good thing I don't have my piece on me or I'd probably shoot him. Somebody has a whole lot of nerve.

  Just to make sure that I don't have to murder somebody first thing in the morning, I peek through the peephole, only to be greeted by the slightly distorted image of Aldo's chump face.

  Of all the goddamn things, Aldo is at the bottom of the list of faces I want to see. But in theory Aldo isn't just our older brother, he's our boss too. I have to open the door; I don't have a choice.

  I pause for a second with my hand on the knob, but I know the longer I wait the more likely it is that he's going to bang on the door again. And if I have to hear that sound one more time, there's no telling what I'm going to do. So I open the door.

  And it's not just Aldo, it's Alphonso too. The fucking Consigliere, the Family lawyer. Just fucking great.

  I step back, taking a deep breath to cleanse myself of the murderous thoughts in my heart. I had a school counselor one time who told me taking deep breaths was supposed to help. Counting to ten was supposed to help too. It would keep me from getting too violent, he said. Help my self-control.

  Little did the counselor know that bumping people off would one day be my job. Yes, I have a lot of self-control now, but wanting to kill people is an occupational skill. An asset, even. Stupid fucking counselors.

  “Aldo,” I say because it's the only thing I can get out that's even a little bit polite.

  Aldo jerks his chin at me, looking me up and down. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize I’ve probably got a great big erection pointing at him through my pajama pants, but that's not really my fault, now is it? People should know better than come over to a man's house first thing in the morning.

  “Nico,” Aldo says in that slow, sneering voice of his. Yes, he used to get beat up a lot in school. The man has issues.

  “And Alphonso,” I say for some reason. I just don't have a lot to say at this point, is all.

  “So, are you going to invite us in?” Aldo says. He tugs at his Armani suit, straightening it though it wasn't rumpled in any way. Why he's wearing an Armani suit at 8 o'clock in the goddamn morning, I have no idea.

  “I guess you just invited yourselves in,” I say, but I step aside and hold out my hand so they can get past me.

  Really, I should be more polite. Aldo I can probably piss off just because we’re related. Not really related. I mean, he's only my half-brother. Our mom was widowed young when she was married to a soldier in the Family. Then a few years later she met our father, a local boss. She had Salvatore first (may he rest in peace) and then Tek and I a few years later. She married up, you might say. In my opinion, Aldo has never quite gotten over his birth father's low rank. That's probably why he is such an overbearing jackass now.

  They make their way over to the living room but don't sit down. When they turn to face me, I realize that Alphonso has that leather book he carries with him. He opens it and takes a pen out of his jacket pocket.

  “So, this is an official visit, I take it?” I ask. This can't be good, but I am committed to my snarky tone of voice, so I think I'll just play it out and let it go.

  “You knew this was coming,” Aldo scoffs. “The time for your innocent act is over.”

  I just roll my eyes. Aldo loves this shit: the gangster talk, the traditions, the rules. He acts like he's in a movie all the time.

  “Whatever. You guys mind if I make some coffee?”

  “I think you should sit down,” Aldo informs me.

  “I think this is my house, and I want some goddamn coffee. Alphonso, you want some coffee?”

  I see Aldo glance at Alphonso and purse his lips. Alphonso hesitates for a second but then nods toward me.

  “Coffee would be very nice, thank you,” he says.

  I take my sweet time about it and just leave them standing there. If these two want to come over my house at the crack of dawn and make a big production like this is some scene in The Godfather, then I'm going to make them wait.

  “And your brother?” Alphonso calls out. “Is he available?”

  I just measure out the coffee into the filter and get the carafe underneath. I play with the buttons for way longer than necessary. Finally I get the whole thing started and then stare into the empty refrigerator for a bunch of meaningless seconds, just to piss them both off.

  Eventually, I turn around. They’re both staring at me as I reach down and scratch my nuts for really, really long time.

  “Who, Tek?” I finally ask.

  Aldo glares at me. One heavily gelled blade of hair has shaken itself loose from his forehead and fallen down by his eyebrow. I bet that pisses him off too.

  “You really shouldn't joke at this time,” he informs me.

  “Yes. Tek,” Alphonso says as though he really didn't think that I knew who he meant.

  “You like cream? Sugar?”

  Nodding slowly, Alphonso looks down in his book as though the answer is somewhere on the page. “No sugar for me, thank you. Cream would be great.”

  I shrug as I pour the coffee into a couple of mugs and drop them on a tray. “I don't have any cream, sorry. Black will have to do.”

  “Can we get down to this? Please, Alphonso?” Aldo says. I can see that vein throbbing in his temple. If I'm lucky, he'll have an aneurysm in the next few minutes and I can get back in bed with Tek and Charli and finish what I started.

  I bring the tray and then put it on the coffee table. Alphonso leans over to take a cup and blows across the surface before setting it back down.

  “So? Tek? Is he here?”

  I take a nice long drink, swallowing slowly. “Tek? No, he’s not here.”

  Aldo raises his hand slowly, extending one finger to stab into the air between us. “You're going to be sorry,” he says. “You're gonna pay —”

  “— yes, well,” Alphonso interrupts, clearing his throat. He scowls briefly and consults his book, then looks back up to me. “I suppose you're wondering why we’re here.”

  “The question had occurred to me, yes,” I confirm. I'm actually a little sad we’re getting down to business, because aggravating Aldo is sort of a hobby of mine. This was going rather well, I thought.

  “We’re here to formally inform you —”

  “— formally?” I repeat, just to throw Aldo off his game. He was starting to get puffed-up looking and I'm delighted to see him flinch a little bit as I cut off his momentum.

  Alphonso drops for a second, picks up the coffee cup and takes a swig, and then puts it back down. He stands up and prepares to start again.

  “We’re here to formally inform you that you are to stand trial, beginning this coming Saturday —”

  “— stand trial?” I say, standing up. What the fuck is this?

  I hear the bedroom door swing open and Tek bursts through, elbows out from his sides as though he's ready to start swinging. He's obviously been listening in, and he looks absolutely furious. His eyes narrow at Aldo suspiciously.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he snarls. He’s full Beast Mode. There’s nothing like a perceived threat to Charli to put him completely out of his mind. Everything, in Tek’s world, is a potential threat to Charli.

  Aldo folds his arms over his chest imperiously. He raises his eyebrows at me.

  “Tek is here now? Is there no end to your lies?”

  “Oh, shut up, Aldo.”

  “If I could just have your attention!” Alphonso huffs. He's accustomed to a good deal more respect, and somewhere in the back of my mind I know this. I really should be showing the Consigliere a whole lot more deference. But it's not my fault that he showed up at my condo first thing in the morning with my insufferable older brother. Half-brother.

  Tek stands next to me, his face twisted into a furious scowl.

  “That's
better,” Alphonso says, though I can't believe it is actually better in any way. Still, it's nice that he thinks so. “Tek and Nico, I'm here to inform you that you are both to stand trial, this coming Saturday, before the judgment of Don Dante, regarding the murder of Salvatore —”

  “— the fuck?!”

  “— trial for what?!”

  And Aldo grins. It's one of the few times I have ever seen him really smile in my whole life. He smiles right at us, standing just behind Alphonso so Alphonso can't really see. That fucker.

  Alphonso grits his teeth for a second and takes a breath. Over his shoulder I see Charli’s face appear in the bedroom door opening. Her eyes are wide with concern but to her credit, she backs away. It’s better if she stays out of this.

  “Yes,” he confirms. “You're both to stand trial for the murder of Salvatore Lauro, your brother, this Saturday. Any questions?”

  DAY 1 - CHARLI

  Seven years later

  The old ladies set up a chair for me right across from a long, mirrored wall. I keep trying not to see myself in it. I look like a stranger. I hate being here, but I have no choice.

  All the guests shuffle in front of me in a long line, reaching out to shake my hand with their soft, clammy fingers, one by one. They stand between me and the mirror and I don’t have to see.

  I take their hands lightly in just a simple, brief clasp. A single formal shake of the hands, no longer than a single beat. Clasp, bounce, release. Over and over again.

  But then there are these momentary blank spots in the line, and I catch sight of myself again. I look like someone I don’t know. Tall, with blonde hair knotted modestly in a bun at the side of my neck. Pearls draped over a high neckline. A black silk dress that falls to just above my knee. Black stockings. Black Ferragamo heels, with tips that gleam like shark teeth.

  Startled by the stranger in the mirror, I can’t help but stare in mild confusion every time. It is like seeing myself on television, but in the wrong show. Like I am something cut from the wrong drama and dropped into another.