Evan (Novella): 3.5 (A Carter Brother Series)

EVAN

A Carter Brother series 3.5

Lisa Helen Gray

©

Copy rights reserved

2016

Lisa Helen Gray

Edited by Elisia Goodman

Cover art By Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

All rights reserved

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This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and events are all product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business or establishments is purely coincident.

Finding out your mom isn’t your mom and that your biological mom was killed by the woman who pretended to be your mother for twenty-eight years, really fucking sucks.

I always knew I was adopted. I remembered an old couple before moving in with my dad. They were loving and kind and nothing like the mother I grew up with. I remember always thinking, ‘take me back to them’. It wasn’t until they let me near my sister that I knew I needed to stay. Someone had to protect her.

I failed.

In so many ways.

Not only from my mother, but from the evil outside the four walls we lived in. When I failed to protect her from one of the gangs from around our town I knew I had to step up. I needed to make the right choices instead of always making the wrong ones.

It’s what brought me to now.

“Are you sure we can’t change your mind to stay?’’ my now old boss, William, asks me. He’s just pissed he doesn’t have anyone my age on his force team now to go undercover. After the last nine years of doing it and nearly losing my sister, then finding out she was pregnant and so on, I need to get a life. In the literal sense too. I want what she has. She’s getting married soon and has a baby. I want that. No, I need that in my life. I’m not saying I’m ready for kids, I’m nowhere near ready, but the getting married part, settling down, that I do want. I’m ready.

“No, Sir. I need to do this,’’ I tell him for the tenth time this afternoon. I’d just finished packing my stuff up from my office when I got called into his. He’s been at me for a month since I handed in my notice to stay on. I had to finish off the few cases I had left open before I could leave. It wasn’t required of me, but I’d feel like I left the job undone if I left them open.

“Well, I’m sad to see you go, but, Son, if you ever, and I mean, ever, want to come back to the job, there will always be a job here waiting for you.’’

“Thank you, Sir, but I’m invested in the new business.’’

“Ah, the security bodyguard gig.’’

I laugh. He doesn’t get it. It’s not just about security for the rich and famous or that I’ll be installing security systems, it’s the fact it’s something I love to do. I’ve always wanted to get in this side of work. Yeah, I’ll still have the odd occasional job where I’ll most likely have to go spy on someone’s spouse cheating, but it’s all in good faith. One day I’ll get the business to a place where it needs. As it is we’re doing better than most companies like us do in the first few months of starting. We’ve got some pretty high paying clients, some security instalments lined up and a few jobs here and there.

“Yeah. Look, I need to get going, but I’ll see you tonight?’’ I ask picking up my box of belongings.

“Will you?’’ he asks looking confused. The guy couldn’t hide a secret if it was worth his life. How he managed to get this job is a bloody mystery.

“I heard you telling the boys you’ll meet us at the Cavan at ten,’’ I tell him dryly.

“Fuck! Don’t let on that you know,’’ he shrugs, rubbing his large hands down his face. The guy really needs to exercise more.

“See you later,’’ I laugh, walking out. Everyone looks up from their desks, giving me chin lifts. I extend one back until I get to the front desk and my face falls. This is the part of the job I’ll never miss. I fucking hate walking in and seeing her face every day.

“Evan,’’ she coos, smirking. “We’re going to miss you around here. How about we get together tonight and give you a proper send off? We don’t have anything standing between us anymore.’’

I cringe. The woman is a life-size Barbie doll and I’m not fucking kidding. In fact, she looks more plastic than a Barbie.

“Yeah, I also don’t have to worry about losing my job now either, so I can say what I like. Fuck off and pester someone else to get your rocks off.’’ I leave her standing at her desk with her mouth hanging wide open. Though, I’m pretty sure she’s used to her mouth being open like that. I wouldn’t put it past her if she had every STD known to mankind. She’s the definition of the word ‘slut’.

*** *** *** ***

Back at my place it isn’t much better than my time with Sally on the front desk. Lexi is waiting and she’s brought her date with her.

Ever since my sister’s kidnapping the woman has changed. I thought we were getting close, you know, close to becoming something more than friends. But when I tried to kiss her she backed off and told me she was dating, that she was seeing someone.

Talk about kick a man when he’s down.

I never realised it until then that my feelings for Lexi came only from my need to settle down. And because I believed Lexi was the easiest person to do that with. Everything with her seemed easy. I just never really looked deep enough. Sometimes the way she looked at me made me wonder if she saw me as more than a friend. All the signs were there. She was constantly calling me, talking to me until early hours of the morning on some nights and she always got me food in when she knew I was coming home from a job.

Obviously my radar is off because, in her exact words, she sees me like a brother.

A fucking brother.

No way would Denny look at me the way she does when I’d walk into a room, or when I would strip down to my gym shorts.

Needing to get this awkward exchange over with I jump out of the car and grab my box from the backseat. She’s just stepping onto the curb when I reach them.

“Hey,’’ she whispers quietly and I notice jerk’s hand clench around hers. My eyes narrow on her hand. But I know Lexi. If this prick was hurting her she’d tell me. Her ex-husband beat her pretty badly so I know she wouldn’t fall into the same trap. It took a lot for her to get out when she did.

I had lived next to her when I was working on a case, before the whole Davis gang issue came up. I’d been on that one for about a year before it got finished. It was the worst fucking job of my life. It’s another reason I wanted out of the force.

I ended up getting drugged and one of the whores that hung around the unit used it as an invitation to sleep with me. It was the last night I had to be there too. How the fuck I got hard is anyone’s guess. I’d been tested right after for every STD there is and they all came back negative.

“Hey,’’ I nod, staring boldly at the jerk next to her.

“You remember Simon, don’t you?’’ she asks, introducing us again.

“Hey, yeah. Nice to see you again, Steve. I was in a rush the last time,’’ I lie. I just didn’t want to have an awkward introduction. Ever since the almost kiss my ego has taken a hit. A huge fucking hit.

“It’s Simon,’’ he growls. I don’t answer. Instead I look to Lexi and give her a nod before looking back to the house.

“I best be going. I’ve got to meet the lads in an hour,’’ I lie. I haven’t got to meet them until another four or five hours, but they don’t know that.

“Okay, I’ll let you go and I’ll see you later. Oh, before I forget,’’ she starts when I pass her to walk up the path. I stop walking and turn back around to face her. “A letter was posted at mine a few months back by mistake. I put it on your kitchen unit. I forgot about it until today when I sorted through my mail,’’ she smiles.

“Cheers-”

“You have a key to his apartment?’’ Steve asks.

“Yeah, I look after his place,’’ she begins to explain, but I interrupt, not wanting to get in the middle.

“I’ll see you later,’’ I nod again. “See you later, Steve.’’

“It’s Simon,’’ he growls again.

Well, shit. Who the fuck cares? It could be fucking Peter for all I care. All I know right now is that I want to get the fuck inside and away from them. So that’s what I do. I ignore them talking at the end of the path and make my way up to the door.

The letter is the first thing I see when I walk in, but instead of heading over to pick it up I decide to crash on the couch. I switch the TV on, flicking over to Sky Sports.

Why am I so fudging nervous? He’s a cop. An undercover one at that. He won’t get angry. He took an oath to serve and protect, not blame and shame.

Maybe he’ll be overjoyed. Yeah, he could be that.

Or not.

I groan. I’m sitting outside in my beat up red Rover. I’m still surprised it managed the half an hour trip here. It needs a bit of work done. Okay, a lot of work done to it, but it will cost me more to fix the ancient piece of poop than it would to buy a new one.

Banging my head on the steering wheel I try to calm my nerves.

I can do this. You can do this. We can do this. You have no choice but to do this.

I tell myself I’m doing the wrong thing, to turn back around, but after weeks of no replies or phone calls I demand a reason why. Imogen deserves answers.

The pent up anger I’ve been bottling up since it all began begins to release. Getting out of the car I wince when the rusty door protests loudly, waking up some kids in Australia. God, I should really look at doing something about that soon. Get some WD40 or something. That should do the trick.

Locking the door, I realise I forgot to roll my window up. I’d been so nervous I began to sweat on the way over here. Groaning, I open the door again, wincing again at the sound. I start to roll the window up, but like always, it gets stuck. Not wanting to be seen next to the beat up car I quickly use my one hand to lift the glass, while the other keeps winding up the window. In no time the window is up and I’m free to lock up and move onto the curb.

Walking up to the door is easy. Knocking? That’s just another flipping story. Biting my bottom lip until I taste blood, I finally find the courage to knock on the door, the sound echoing in my ears.

Anyone would think I was walking to my own death, and not what I’m about to fudging do.

When no one answers I knock again. I know he’s here. I’d been waiting a few cars down for him to come home.

My nerves have only skyrocketed because I thought he was this other person. He arrived not long after I arrived. I heard him talking on the phone as he got out of his car, talking about tonight being the night and some other crude comments. When the man started walking in the direction of where I needed to go my stomach pummelled to the floor. Then I noticed a pretty woman walking from next door smiling towards him and I began to relax. But it was short lived when another car pulled up. I knew as soon as he stepped out that it was
him.

“Yeah?’’ a deep, husky voice asks. I didn’t even notice the door had opened. I also never expected him to look like
that.
Yeah, when he stepped out of the car my stomach did a flip, but I didn’t really get a good look at him. But now... Holy fudging poop balls. What the hell did my sister do? Drug him? I know it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but in all honesty, dying had been the best thing to happen to my sister, Vicky. She had never been able to cope since my parents died. Well, even before that. She’d pop a pill or two if she failed in a lesson, and she did that a lot. After my parents she got worse. She got mixed up in things that she shouldn’t have, and was spiralling out of control. There was no saving her and, believe me, I tried.

“Can I help you?’’ the voice asks again and I realise I’m staring. He’s wearing a white shirt, his tie loose around his neck, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned a few from the top with his sleeves rolled up. He looks fudging edible.

“She’s yours,’’ I blurt out. Then close my eyes with embarrassment.
She’s yours
, seriously? What the fudge is wrong with me?

“Excuse me?’’ he asks, looking at me like I’m a mental patient. Which I could totally be with the way I’m acting. I have the craziness for it.

“I mean, I... um... I’m Kennedy Wright,’’ I introduce myself, forgetting my anger towards the god-like angel and the whole speech I rehearsed for the entire week.

“Hi, I’m Evan, but I still don’t understand. Who are you?’’ A small smirk plays at his lips and my eyes are drawn to them. My belly does that flip thingy again and my body begins to heat as I stare at his lips. They’re full, red and totally kissable. I reckon kissing him would be like how they kiss in the movies. You know when the bloke’s lips linger, looking full against yours?

His tongue reaches out flicking his top lip, and I sigh. Yeah, kissing him would totally be like kissing a movie star.

He coughs, breaking the spell his lips had me in, and I blush furiously. I shake my head ignoring how incredibly sexy he looks when he grins and how his muscles look flexing in his white shirt.

“Get it together,’’ I whisper.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.’’

“Sorry. Look, can I come in?’’

“Not to sound rude, Kennedy, but I still don’t know why you’re here or why you’d be knocking on my door. I’d remember seeing a pretty face like yours before.’’

He thinks I’m beautiful? Insert ‘sigh’ right here.

I give him a slow smile but soon lose it when I remember why I’m here.

“Do you remember Vicky Wright?’’ I ask.

“Vicky Wright? Vicky...Vick..., Vicky. Fuck!’’ he says, his eyes widening. I guess he does remember her. “Whatever the fuck that fucking bitch wants, I don’t want to know about it,’’ he snaps, going to shut the door in my face. My hand moves quickly, stopping him from slamming the door in my face. I’m shocked at my bluntness but now he’s just pissed me off.

“Hold on just a darn minute,’’ I snap, pushing at his hard chest. Even through the thin material I feel the heat scorching off him. “I’m not having you do this. You’ve ignored me for weeks. You had a chance to do this over the phone or by post and not face to face, so you’ll hear me out.’’

“You’re as crazy as her, are you... wait... Wright. You said you were Kennedy Wright. Please don’t tell me she’s your sister and she’s made you come here to do her dirty work?’’

“Well, as she’s dead I’d say that’s an astounding no,’’ I snap.

“Fuck! I’m...’’

“Please don’t say you’re sorry when we both know you’re not,’’ I snap, feeling my temper rising. He just holds his hands up and steps back a little, the door opening a little wider.

“If she’s dead then I don’t see why you’re here. If she was murdered, or you want someone to look into her death, you’ll have to file a report,’’ he tells me and I turn my head to the side, studying him. He really doesn’t know. I had hoped she had been lying when she told me he knew. That he didn’t care.

“You don’t understand. I...um... do we have to do this outside?’’ I ask nervously. My anger simmers. If it wasn’t for Imogen then I wouldn’t be here and from his reaction I’m guessing he doesn’t know and it was a good thing I came.

“Come in, but if you don’t hurry up and tell me what the fuck is going on, I’m going to kick you back out.’’

“Imogen,’’ I blurt out nervously. I close my eyes again wishing I had some sort of control when it came to my mouth. I really know how to break news to people, I swear.

“Sorry?’’

“Imogen. She’s a five month old baby,’’ I tell him straight out.

“That’s...great,’’ he tells me dryly. He’s still looking at me like I’ve grown two heads and, for a detective or whatever, he sure doesn’t know how to connect the dots.

“She’s Vicky’s, do the math.’’

He looks at me for a few seconds, just staring. Then his eyes go wide, turning a stormy grey colour and causing a shiver to run down my spine. I take a step back, my back hitting the front door.

“That fucking.... If you’re insinuating what I think you are then you’ll need a DNA test because that bitch spread her legs for pennies.’’

“You should know,’’ I snap, hating the reminder of what she was like. Most people didn’t see just how bad she was, but I did.

“I should know? I should know,’’ he roars, pulling at his fair hair. I don’t get it. What is he so mad about? Was he really that in love with her? I guess she was okay looking in a way. I don’t know. All I saw when I looked at her was an underweight drug user who had no self-respect or any care for her own life and well-being. “That slut fucking drugged me. Okay, I don’t know if it was her that actually slipped the drugs into my drink, but she as sure as shit was the whore that rode my dick while I was unconscious,’’ he yells.

My eyes bug out. Oh my gosh. Is he saying what I think he’s saying? No wonder he has issues and went off at me when he heard her name. He was raped. By my sister. Oh my gosh! Imogen’s mom was a rapist, a drug user, a whore, and, worst of all, she was going to sell her baby for money.

“I’m sorry she did that to you,’’ I tell him softly, my voice just above a whisper, not wanting to scare him. He seems deep in thought at the moment, his face is red with anger.

He scoffs, looking down at me. “I’m not a victim. She was as messed up as I was, if not worse. But then she was used to it whereas I had never done a drug in my life. How do you know she’s mine?’’

His eyes fill with tears as he sits on the edge of a thick cushioned sofa chair. Gosh, you’d get lost in that thing. I almost want to sit down in it to see if you do, but I’m not here to get comfy.

“She never told me about you. I found out. She said she had told the dad who was this big shot, but was a rat,’’ I shrug, embarrassed I have to repeat those words. “She said you knew and even though I didn’t believe her, I didn’t question her. When she died they handed me her belongings. In her bag was your number with Imogen’s dad, Evan, written on it.’’

“Fuck’s sake. I need to process this. Where is the kid? How old did you say she was?’’

“She’s five months. She’s been through a lot. She was born an addict. She was lucky that when Vicky found out she was pregnant she slowed down on the drugs, but not enough. It’s how she died. She signed some papers handing her over to my care and went on her drug spree. She died two days later.’’

I still feel sick thinking about it. She abandoned a sick baby, her baby, to go and get her next fix. I’ll never get it. She didn’t even look back or hesitate. If anything, she looked relieved to be out of there.

“Is the baby okay?’’ he asks, but he sounds weird, robotic even.

“She is now. She got released six weeks after she was born. She’s healthy. She was weaned off the drugs as soon as she was born. She had been short of breath. She was also six weeks premature but they were positive that she would make a full recovery. They did warn me about development issues but so far none have arisen. She checks out okay.’’

“Good. Good,’’ he tells me, still pacing. “When can we get the DNA test done?’’

I’m actually shocked. I thought it would take me longer to convince him to see her, to take a DNA test, but he seems to be handling it alright. So far anyway. I didn’t know what I’d get out of today, but Evan being so level-headed wasn’t not even on my radar.

“I actually ordered one for you. I’ve already got Imogen’s ready, but you’ll need to do yours. All you have to do is take a swab sample from the inside of your cheek.’’

I rummage through my bag until I find the white pre-addressed envelope at the bottom and hand it to him.

“Look, I have to go. I know this has come out of the blue and you’ll need some time to digest everything. I just needed to meet you to get answers. As Imogen’s legal guardian, I wanted to be able to look her in the eye one day and tell her I tried,’’ I tell him, my eyes watering. I grab the other envelope from out of the bag and hand it to him. “It’s a few pictures, my phone numbers and my address for you to get in contact. Please send that off ASAP and make sure you do it right. If you do it, but don’t want any part in Imogen’s life, I will understand. What Vicky did, who she was, is not something to be proud of, but that little girl, she’s everything light in the world. She doesn’t know what her mother was like and I’ll never tell her. She doesn’t need to hear that the worst parts about her mother are the only parts about her.’’

“I’ll get them done,’’ he croaks out, his eyes watering. “I just... I need some time. I’ll do anything you want me to but I just need some time to process this. If she’s mine...’’

“It’s okay. We can talk more when we get the results back, okay?’’

“Okay.’’

I nod my head and turn, opening the door. I hear him hit the sofa and when I turn to shut the door behind me I find him sitting down on the sofa opening the contents of the envelope I gave him. Not the one with the DNA kit in, but the other, the one with pictures of Imogen inside. I stand staring for a few more minutes, fully taking in the huge bulk of a man who begins to weep staring down at the pictures of the broken baby girl wired up in an incubator.

Something tells me I’ll be hearing from Evan with the outcome being in Imogen’s favour.