My cell phone buzzed. I ignored it.
“You may want to answer that,” Michael said. The sly smile begged to be slapped off.
I grabbed at the slim technological wafer.
WHERE R U?
AT WORK. B HOME SOON.
NO.
I stared at the screen.
IM IN LOBBY WAITING 4 YOU. COME DOWN. NOW.
I closed the connection without replying and tucked the phone back into my pocket.
Michael stood up. “Perhaps my son can talk some more sense into you.” One eyebrow rose. “Since you don’t keep any secrets from him, right?”
The elevator ride down was slow and agonizing. If I was lucky the cables would snap and send me down to the hell that waited for liars.
It didn’t break.
I spotted him the second I stepped off the elevator despite a swarm of businessmen and women clotting the lobby.
Bran stood inside the front doors, waiting with arms crossed.
“I’m over in Yorkville at a little café, having a coffee with a magazine editor who wants a series of articles on Toronto street life, and I get interrupted by a message from my mother asking why my girlfriend was hanging out in a police station.” The fury in his eyes could have torched half of Rome. “Especially when I thought you were doing a fast security system check for a client and there was no reason for you to be with the cops. So I have to explain to her about how I’m not your keeper and how there must be a good reason even though I can’t think of one right now. And then I get a call from my father’s office telling me to come pick you up here. So what is going on?”
I held up a hand. “Can we at least get home before you toss me over your knee? Let me get into the school girl outfit.”
This earned us a guffaw from the security supervisor and curious looks from the other guards and bystanders.
Bran didn’t smile. He crooked a finger at me and walked out. I gave a shrug to the audience and followed.
He was silent the entire way home in the back of the cab.
I shuffled my feet, not daring to make small talk. There was no way to be gentle about what I had to tell him, no way I could think of.
I’d have rather gone on a hunt against a rabid boar with a toothpick.
Bran paid off the cab driver and led the way up to my house and inside, using his own key to unlock the door. His leather duster flew onto the back of the couch.
I added my coat and messenger bag. The oversized purse slid onto the floor.
I didn’t move to pick it up.
Jazz flew by us in a white blur heading for the stairs. Old girl could move it when she needed to and right now she sensed she needed to get as far away from these two humans as she could.
Bran sat down on the couch, shoving both coats aside. “Can you imagine how pissed off I am right now?” His hands flew back and forth, slicing the air in layers. “My mother, she doesn’t need a reason to dislike you—all you needed was a vagina. Now you’re slinking around police stations and lying to me and seeing my father in his office and—” He stopped for air. “Feel free to jump in anytime.”
I looked at him and all I could see was Liam’s sweet, innocent face. I broke into tears.
“What the...” He bounded off the couch and grabbed me in a bear hug. “What’s going on?” His hands moved up and down over my shirt. “Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? Is that why you were at the police station?” In a flash his tone changed from demanding to protective.
“No, no. I’m fine.” I buried my face in his shoulder. “It’s bad. It’s so damned bad.” He smelled of coffee and nervous sweat. “God, I don’t know where to start.”
My stomach growled, the loud noise startling both of us.
“When was the last time you ate?” Bran asked.
I gave a shrug and shook my head.
“No wonder you’re fucked up. You probably skipped brekka as well.” He lowered me to the couch, kneeling down. “Let me get some dinner. Then we can talk about what’s going on.”
There was no room for negotiation.
Bran pulled off the afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around me. “I think there’s some cold pizza in the fridge. Let me nuke it and get something for you to drink.” He stood up. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I’m not going to have you get sick over it.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
Jazz trilled from the top of the stairs before coming to my feet. She hopped up and head-butted my hip. Whether we were related or not was an ongoing joke of Bran’s but never let it be said a cat didn’t know when someone needed comfort even at the risk of an angry mate.
Bran entered from the kitchen carrying two slices of pizza on a plate, and a can of soda. “Figured you’d need this.” He offered the drink first. “Eat, drink and we’ll talk.”
I emptied half the can in a gulp as Bran sat down beside me with his own reheated slices and a can of soda. He ate quickly and efficiently with sideways glances at how I was doing.
There was no talking, just a lot of happy chewing.
The pizza was a classic pepperoni and mushroom from a small family business, the dough made fresh every day and almost tastier than the actual toppings.
“Right.” He took the plate from me and placed it atop his own on the floor. Jazz immediately hopped off to investigate. “What’s this all about?”
I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “Your father...” I stopped, unsure of where to go next.
“My father is an asshole. What did he say to you last night that got you into all this trouble today?”
“Your father asked me to do a favor for him.”
Bran didn’t flinch. “Bastard. Let me guess—you do a favor for him and he gives you the file about your family.”
I squirmed. “In a way.”
Bran waited. The man had the patience of a saint.
And the passion of a sinner.
The words rolled out in one breath. “Your father told me if I didn’t do this favor for him he’d sic the dogs on us, send a full investigative team in to dig up everything on me and my family, everything about us.” I bit my lower lip. “Bran, they’d have killed all of you.”
I didn’t have to elaborate who “they” were. He knew how far the Felis would go to keep secrets.
“Fuck.” Bran ran a hand through his short red hair. “Stupid bastard. He should have known better—”
“No, he couldn’t have. And he can’t ever know.” I rolled the can between my palms, letting the condensation drip onto the floor. “He asked me to go see a man named David Brayton. Works for your father downtown in one of those towers.”
Bran’s face was blank. “Can’t say I know the man. But I don’t know a lot of my father’s associates.” I saw his jaw tense. “I don’t walk in those circles, haven’t for a long time.”
I pressed the wet metal against my forehead. “Brayton’s just another financial flunky, far as I can tell. He asked me to do a courier run. He wanted no paperwork on this, a private job, which is why I got called in to keep it as secret as possible.”
I needed another soda. Instead I swallowed hard and continued.
Bran didn’t say anything.
“He wanted me to go to a hotel, meet a woman. The paperwork, it was a support agreement for her baby. Named Brayton as the father and arranged for her to get a sweet sum of cash for staying quiet and disappearing. She was going to move out of town, take the money and build a new life.”
“I take it Brayton’s married.”
“Yes. He told me it was a mistake, the usual crap when men have affairs and don’t want to admit they were thinking with the little head more than with the big head.”
Bran grinned.
I shrugged, enjoying the brief moment of levity.