Blood Debt (Touched Series Book 1) (3 page)

I fe
lt the
nervousness gripping me
, wondering if this was a mistake. 
Daniel’s words continued in my head
;
I tried to shake
his
warning away and knew I needed to come up with a plan. 
How would I get to
Will’
s house?
  I checked my phone
again
, nothing new.
  This was a dumb idea.  I saw my bag approaching
on the carousel
.  A
s I reached down to pick it up, a guy my age in a polo shirt, khakis and dress shoes loped through
the large double
-
doors from outside.  He was carrying a piece of paper with clear block letters that read
,
“Camille Benning.” 

It definitely wasn’t Will. 
I rolled my bag over to the guy and said, “Hi.  I’m Camille Benning.”

I saw his eyes widen momentarily and felt hi
m
look me up and down as a huge toothy smile flashed my way.  “Hi, Camille, I’m Brent.  Welcome to Charleston!”
  His brown eyes looked glad to see me
,
and he had dimples on his cheeks when he smiled
.  H
is
dark
brown h
air was cropped short
,
and it looked like he was either a sun worshi
p
per or he
’d
never worked a day in his life – golden bronze skin was hard to come by w
ith a
full
-
time
job
.

“Uh, thanks.”  I wasn’t expecting a car service. 
W
ill was definitely losing cool points by not bothering to meet me at the airport. 

“Can I help you with your bag?”

I shook my head,
“That’s okay, I’ve got it.”

He responded with a startled look, “I must have said that wrong.  I’ll take your bag for you.”  He reached for it
, but
my knuckles didn’t budge from the handle. 

My voice stern,
“No, thank
s
.  I’ve got it.”  Years of caution from
M
om about strangers, about not looking weak, I wasn’t about to let this clown think that I wasn’t capable of
rolling
my own bag
.
  If he kept this up, there was no way I was going to give him a tip.

With a snicker in his voice, “
Headstrong
just like
D
ad
;
he’ll be thrilled.”  I raised my eyebrow, not understanding his comment.  He must have seen my confusion because he clarified, “I’m sorry, I assumed
D
ad mentioned that I would be picking you up.  I’m your brother
,
Brent.”

Brother?  Holy crap
!  A
father, stepmother, and a brother – all in less than
a day
. 
I felt a smile erupting as
some of the loneliness I’d felt the last month offer
ed
to evaporate. 
“Oh, uh, no.  We didn’t talk that long yesterday.”

“That figures.  Well,
the
car is this way.”
  Brent led the way through the double doors
while I rolled my own suitcase
.
 

Here I was excited to be flying
a
cross the country to meet a father I
had
just found out about.  In the back of my mind I assumed he had a family, but I never expected for him to send his son to pick me up.  When I ran the background check on him, it didn’t say anything about
a son
. 
That’s something that should definitely show up if you blow forty bucks
to dig into someone’s past
. 

As we stepped through the double doors to the outside
,
the heat nearly took my breath away.  It was like stepping into an oven.  “Wow, is it always this hot?” 

Brent chuckled, “This isn’t bad
.  W
ait another couple hours
: 
that’s when it starts to get uncomfortable.”  It felt like a hundred degrees and a hundred percent humidity.  I knew July would be hot, but I didn’t think I would be slow roasting.  We stepped out to the curb
where
Brent motioned me to a beautiful BMW
sedan
.  It was
snowy
white
with
tan interior
.  A
guy wait
ed
in the driver’s seat and a second in the
front
passenger seat. 

As Brent put m
y bag in the trunk
, I stole a glance at the
two men waiting in the car.  Neither looked
old enough to be Will
,
either
.

Brent stepped
back to the passenger side
and opened my door for me, holding it while
I
s
at down
and then closed it for me
- very gentlemanly. 
He walked around to the other side of the car and
sat next to me in the
back
seat
.  The two guys in the front seat turned around
.  T
he
y
each shared the same big toothy smile
and bore a striking resemblance
to Brent
.  As Brent reached for his seat belt he said, “Camille, th
ese are your brothers
Bart
and Ben.”

“Uh, nice to meet you both.”

Bart
began driving, so it was Ben’s turn
.
“We’re glad you’re here.  I know you flew all night
.  D
id you want to go back to the house and crash or stop for a bite first?”

Until he mentioned food, I didn’t realize I was hungry.  “I don’t want to be any trouble.  Whatever you were going to do was fine.”

Bart let out a hearty laugh, “We were told to take care of you for a few hours until
D
ad can get home from work.  There’
re
great
restaurants
here
.  D
o you like seafood?”

Bart
had
said the magic word.  I loved seafood.  “Yeah, if you guys are hungry, I could eat.”

Bart began driving and it was Ben’s turn.  He turned around in his seat because I was sitting directly behind him.  “So, you live in San Diego?  Have you lived there your whole life?”

“Yeah.  Well
,
near there
. 
I live in Oceanside
;
it’s a little north of San Diego.”

“So
,
do you surf?”

“Not well.  But I’ve been on a board a few times.”

“If you want to go surfing while you’re here, you can borrow one of mine.”

“Thanks.”

“How long are you staying?”

“’Til Sunday.”

“Wow, that’s a quick trip.  So are you on summer break from school?”

“No, I, um . . . I never went to college.”  It never bothered me before that I couldn’t afford college, mainly because I never had any real desire to go.  But looking at these three in this car, I
,
for the first time
,
felt a little intimidated about my choice.

Ben casually asked,
“So, what do you do?”

Wondering if Ben was purposely trying to make me feel uncomfortable, I said confidently, “I
’m
a cashier.”

I could tell Ben sensed that I felt uncomfortable, and he smoothly tried to make up for it.  “I was a cashier all through high school at a grocery store
-
that was a great job.  I’m jealous.”

Ben got an “A” for effort, but it was obvious that a mere cashier was not in the same league with these three.  I decided I’d try to get the focus off of me.  “So, how old are you three?” 

Brent answered, “I’m
twenty-four
, Ben’s
twenty-five
, Bart’s
twenty-six
, Bruce is
twenty-seven
and Beau
’s
twenty-eight
.  Bruce and Beau couldn’t fit in the car without cramming you in like a sardine
.  I just texted them
to meet us
at
the
H
arbor Club
.”

I looked squarely at Brent
. 
I didn’t know any family with five kids, “Five boys?”
 

Brent nodded enthusiastically.
 
He was notably cautious with his next question, “Um, how old are you
,
Camille?”

“I’m
twenty-two
.”

No one
responded right away, and just before the pause got seriously uncomfortable, Brent
’s excitement returned, “Well, great, you’re legal.  We could all go hit a club or something while you’re here.”

The image of me walking into a bar with five very tall, handsome guys had its merits.  “Maybe
.  A
re there good clubs here?”

“Probably not as sophisticated as San Diego, but there’re some decent places to dance downtown.”

Brent was still pressing me for more info, “So, do you have any brothers or sisters, I mean . . . other than us?”

I shook my head that I didn’t.  “It
was
always just
M
om and me.” 

Brent’s jovial tone came down a few
octaves
when he said, “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry about that.  Dad said she passed away recently.”

I was beyond tearing up every time someone told me they were sorry for my loss, but the sincerity in his voice and eyes struck me tenderly.  I didn’t want to break into full
-
fledged tears
,
so I asked,
“So what does your mom do?”

Ben and Bart exchanged looks, but Brent didn’t miss a beat, “She’s a housewife.”

Five boys, all had been born a year apart, and a mom
who
didn’t work outside the house. 
What were they, Mormon? 
I only had a few friends growing up
whose moms stayed home
: 
they
were all wealthy.  Judging from the car and the way these three were dressed, maybe my assumption was correct.

“So
,
when did your parents split up?”

I felt that same tension from before
.  T
his time Ben turned around to answer
,
“Our parents are still together.”

The reality of the situation hit me
-
like a Mack truck. 
W
ill, my father, met my mother
twenty-three
years ago.  They had some sort of wild fling
,
with me as
the result. 
W
ill was married when he met my mom, and he was still married to
the same woman
-
Brent, Ben and Bart’s mother
.  My stomach cinched tight.  No wonder my mom would never tell me who my father was.  I could feel
the color drain from my face.

Ben
,
still peering at me over the seat
,
must have seen
my
stupor
.  “It’s okay
,
Camille.  Dad called us all together last night and told us.  Mom knows.”

“And she’s okay with me being here?”

Bart, from behind the wheel
piped in
, “I’m sure she had some words with Dad after we went to bed, but she told us all we were taking the rest of the week off to welcome you to the family.”

“
Seriously
?
”  All three heads nodded in unison.  “
So
,
you all just called your bosses and took the week off?”

Brent leaned in and said, “Yeah, we all work for the same guy.  He understood.”

Bart said
,
after
they went to bed
. 
D
id
they all still live at home?
 
Who still lives with their parents when they’re adults and have the money to live anywhere? 
Were they a part of some cult? 
Something felt fishy.  I texted Daniel disc
reetly
from the back seat
: 
“Arrived OK.  Going 2
lunch
w/ 5 brothers. Haven’t met
D
ad yet.  Will call soon.”  If this was some sort of a trick, I wanted Daniel to know where to tell the police to start looking.