Sins of My Father (Black Brothers #1) Page 15

  Reaching out, I brushed her hair from her face, but it was more of an excuse to touch her, not that I needed one. She was mine…for now. “I understand how you feel about your dad choosing drugs over you. Until a few months before she died, my mom was a somewhat functioning alcoholic. Growing up, if she had to choose between putting food on the table or buying a bottle of vodka, the vodka always won.”

  “What about your dad? Are you close?”

  “No,” I spat before I could restrain my instinctive reaction to him. I didn’t want to talk about him now with Langley next to me in bed. I wanted to leave all our baggage back in D.C. This weekend was about us, for us. Period.

  “Why not?”

  “He wasn’t interested in having a relationship with me. The feelings are mutual.”

  “Not even now that you’re so successful?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  She nodded. “I get it. I don’t like to talk about my dad either.” Sitting up, she kissed me lightly on the lips. “Since we didn’t do anything yesterday, what should we do today?”

  “Hm.” I grabbed her by the waist and yanked her on top of me. Her shirt gaped, offering me a clear view of her breasts. “I’m confused. I distinctly remember doing something yesterday.”

  A blush stained her cheeks, and she playfully smacked my chest. “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I really don’t.” I slid my hands under the hem of her silky camisole.

  “Not now.” She laughed. “We’ll never leave this room.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “We need to be productive and do something else, or at least for a little while.”

  The pads of my fingers skated along the undersides of her breasts. “Was there something wrong with what we did yesterday? If so, we can try again.”

  She grabbed my forearms, restraining my movements. “It was perfect and you know it.”

  “Good. In that case, I thought we’d go horseback riding today.”

  “No,” she groaned.

  “Bad choice?”

  “It’s not my thing. My mom put me in lessons when we left California, but I wasn’t very good.”

  “No?” I questioned.

  “No.” She lowered her voice. “I’m afraid of horses,” she confessed.

  “Why?”

  She lifted and then dropped one shoulder. “They’re big. They buck. They kick. They bite. What’s not to be afraid of?”

  “Then, we’ll share a horse.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Trust me. I’m good with horses.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Really?”

  “Yep. My brother taught me everything I know.”

  “Knox?”

  “No. Gunnar. He breeds racehorses.”

  She eyed me skeptically, and I tugged her closer to me. “But you haven’t seen him in two years.”

  “Knox and I spent two weeks every summer at his grandparents’ horse farm before we went to college. Knox, Gunnar, and I rode horses until every muscle ached, but we didn’t care. Those two weeks were the best part of my childhood. That and Christmas were the only days we spent with Gunnar every year, so we made the best of it.”

  “That’s not a lot of time.”

  “No. You’re right, but my mom didn’t request anything else. That’s all she wanted.”

  “You don’t think she cared.”

  “She knew her limitations. My mom couldn’t even take care of herself most days, much less two or three kids. Knox and I were lucky if we had one meal a day. She didn’t care if we went to school. Hell, half the time she didn’t even come home at night.”

  I didn’t want to get into the gritty details with Langley. From the little my mom shared of her childhood, I understood why she ended up on the streets at the age of sixteen. Within two months, an escort service recruited her, and by seventeen, she found herself broke and pregnant with me. After that, things went from bad to worse.

  According to my mom, the man who fathered me paid her a lump sum of one hundred thousand dollars to keep quiet and take care of my needs. She blew through the money in a year and a half. She was back to selling her body for money and pregnant with Knox not long after that.

  My mom claimed she didn’t know how to find Knox’s biological father. According to her, it was just one night, and no names were exchanged. Knox didn’t believe her, and I didn’t know if I did either.

  “That’s sad.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for us. It wasn’t a big deal. “

  She shook her head. “I don’t. I’m angry you had to endure a life like that. No child should go without food.”

  Feeling exposed in a way I hadn’t since I left our shitty trailer to go to college over ten years ago, I lifted her off my lap and sat her on the bed next to me. I had to remember this thing with Langley was temporary.

  “We all turned out fine, so I guess she made the right decision. No harm done.” I stood up and walked toward the bathroom. “We need to be at the stables in an hour,” I said, desperate to change the direction of our conversation. I already said too much. Revealed too much.

  Taking my hint, she leaped up. “I’ll skip the shower until after we’re done horseback riding. I’d rather eat breakfast.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Langley

  After an hour of paperwork, we were settled atop a butter-colored horse with a black mane and tail. I sat in front of Archer, my hands on the horn of the saddle, and he held the reins directing the horse. Somehow Archer managed to convince the supervisor to let us ride alone. As we wove in and out of the still barren trees, Archer directed the horse with subtle flexes of his thighs and movements of the reins.

  Not many people were riding horses or hiking the trails on foot. Most likely, the heavy fog kept them back at the hotel instead of roaming the trails. Not that I had any intention of complaining. The further the horse carried us into the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the more I felt like it was just the two of us riding through an enchanted forest.

  “Did Gunnar teach you how to ride?” I asked as we ducked under a low-hanging branch.

  Archer chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d consider what he did teaching.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, glimpsing a half-smile on his face. “Then, what would you call it?”

  “The first year Knox and I visited him at his grandparents’ house, he showed us the stables. He climbed on his horse and rode it in circles around the corral. He was only seven or eight years old. Knox and I had never even seen a horse in person, but when he asked us if we knew how to ride, we couldn’t say no.”

  “Why not?”

  “You don’t know anything about brothers, do you?” he murmured, his lips right next to my ear. His warm breath made me acutely aware of the connection between our bodies. His muscular legs cradled my hips, brushing against me as he guided the horse through the woods.

  “Not really. I was an only child.”

  “We couldn’t admit that our younger brother was able to do something better than us.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t climb on a horse without any instruction,” I asked incredulously.

  “We did. Well, technically, Knox went first.”

  “And what happened?” I prompted.

  “Knox climbed on top of the horse and dug his heels into the horse’s sides so hard, it bucked and he fell off.”

  “Oh my God. Was he hurt?”

  “Not too bad.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “He cracked his collarbone, and he had to wear a sling for a couple weeks, but he was fine.”

  “What about you? Did you fare any better?”

  “I didn’t fall off the horse,” Archer answered evasively.

  “Thank God.”

  He slipped his hand around my waist and pulled me closer to him. “The horse didn’t move when I got on it.�
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  “Why not?”

  “I wasn’t going to kick my heels into the horse’s side and risk falling off.”

  “So you sat there.”

  “Pretty much. I sat in the saddle for a few minutes and then climbed right back down. I think I told him it was boring.”

  “Liar.”

  “Pretty much. Luckily, his grandfather gave us lessons the next day when Gunnar was out with his grandmother. Neither Knox nor I have Gunnar’s innate skill with horses, but we can hold our own.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Do you want to stop here and eat lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  Archer had the restaurant prepare two sandwiches for us. By the time we finished getting dressed this morning, we only had time to drink a cup of coffee and eat a banana.

  He reined our horse to an immediate stop and it pranced in a tight circle. Bending over me, he stroked the horse’s neck, whispering words of encouragement. When our mount stilled, he swung his right leg over its rear and jumped to the ground.

  “Do you need some help?” he asked.

  “Definitely.” I laughed. With my arms twined around his neck, he grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him. My body pressed into his chest as I slid from the saddle. Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against mine. My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes drifted closed. I leaned into the hard planes of his body, and my lips parted, molding against his mouth. His heart drummed steady and strong against mine. I could get used to this. Used to having Archer in my life. Used to his touch. Used to the feel of his body next to mine.

  A loud popping noise cracked above my head, and I jumped, pressing my back into the side of the horse. The sound thundered through the air again, and bark splintered into hundreds of tiny pieces on the tree behind me, showering my head. The horse reared onto his hind legs. Realizing we were in danger, Archer slapped the horse’s flank, and it sprinted down the trail, its reins dangling in the dirt. He snagged my wrist and yanked me to the ground on all fours.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  “Those were gunshots.”

  My heart sputtered. “Gunshots? Why would someone shoot at us?”

  “I don’t know. It could be a hunter, but it isn’t hunting season.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Another shot splintered the tree above our head.

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe right now. We need to move.”

  I bit down hard on my lip and my heart galloped a million miles per hour in my chest. Frozen with fear, I couldn’t move from the damp earth. I wanted to throw up. I forced air into my lungs, straining to pull myself together, but it felt like a thousand needles pressed into my chest. “I’m too scared to move,” I rasped.

  “You can be scared when we make it back to the hotel in one piece. Right now, we need to run.”

  I nodded, because I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to live, and I did. “You lead. I’ll follow.”

  Just then, a volley of shots pierced through the air one after another, each one closer than the last.

  “Fuck,” Archer hissed. “On the count of three, we’re going to run into the trees behind us. It will provide us more cover than running down the trail.”

  “Okay,” I said, my voice thick with fear.

  “One.” He laced his fingers through mine. “Two.” He yanked me to my feet in one fluid movement. “Three.” We both ran.

  Twigs snapped under my shoes. Branches whipped my face. Blood roared in my ears. My shoulder burned from Archer pulling me by the arm, but I refused to let go of his hand. I ran until my lungs burned, barely dodging the trees. I was in good shape, but I never had to run to save my life. I didn’t dare turn around, and neither did Archer. Sporadic gunshots split through the air. I counted each one, silently in my head, trying to calm my racing thoughts.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  Five.

  Then, the gunshots disappeared entirely.

  Ten minutes later, Archer stopped running, and I slammed into his back. We tumbled to the ground, rolling down the hill. My frazzled mind watched, almost detached from reality as a confusing mix of dirt, leaves, and tree limbs swirled in front of my eyes.

  When our bodies stopped rolling, I sat up. I saw a stretch of grass and the hotel not too far in the distance.

  “We made it,” I whispered, my raspy voice raw from a combination of fear and exhaustion. Somehow Archer led us back to the hotel.

  Archer pulled me against him, our panting breaths echoing in the stillness of the late afternoon. “I’m sorry. We should’ve stayed in the hotel today. Gone to the spa. Anything but horseback riding.”

  “It’s not your fault. How could you know we’d end up in someone’s crosshairs?”

  Archer stepped back and rubbed his temples wearily. “I should’ve anticipated something like this.”

  “You don’t think it was coincidence?” I said, my stomach churning uncomfortably.

  “No,” he said, his face pinched with anger. “Knox delivered a warning to Senator Wharton last night.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled, dropping my gaze to the ground. “Do you think he had something to do with this?”

  With athletic grace, he unfolded his body and stood up. He brushed the dirt from his pants. “It’s possible. Very possible,” he said, his eyes darkening. “We already know he doesn’t have a problem killing people who get in his way.”

  His voice was distant, and I wondered if this whole thing with my stepdad was too much for him. Did he want to walk away? Did he regret promising to help me? I rested my head on my knees, unable to look at him. All these thoughts of his inevitable abandonment made me anxious.

  “You don’t have to go through with this. I won’t be mad if you want out.” I shook my head as I inhaled sharply. “This is a fucking disaster.” My throat seized around the words, and my voice sounded rusty and hesitant. I didn’t know what I’d do if he abandoned me, but I couldn’t force him to stay by my side and endanger his life.

  Archer sighed and held out his hand. “I don’t want out.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You couldn’t get rid of me if you wanted to.”

  I grabbed his outstretched hand, and he hauled me to my feet. I brushed the dirt off my jeans, wincing from the pain in my shoulder. “Fine, but you have to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?” he asked with one eyebrow lifted.

  “You won’t force me to go horseback riding ever again,” I deadpanned.

  His lips twitched. “You’ve got it.” He cocked his head to the side. “Although I reserve the right to try to change your mind in the future.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  He brushed his knuckles along the side of my face. “Are you ready to walk back to the hotel, or do you want to rest?”

  I shivered at the thought of sitting out in the open, waiting for whomever to find us again. “No. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough outdoor activities for the day.”

  A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he pressed a barely-there kiss to my forehead. “Agreed.”

  As we walked toward the hotel, he looped his arm around my waist, drawing me flush against his body. I couldn’t shake the feeling he was trying to safeguard me from something. I didn’t mind. I rested my head on his shoulder and inhaled his spicy-citrus scent, committing it to memory. Despite everything that happened today, I felt cherished, wanted, and safe. It’d been a long time since I’d felt that way. I wanted to drink in every last moment. So many thoughts gathered on the tip of my tongue. I needed to tell him how much he meant to me. How much I cared about him.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Archer

  “Knox, it’s me.” I sat down on the edge of the bed.

  “I know. I have caller ID. How’s the vacation going?” Knox asked.

  My eyes flickered to the bathroom door. Langley had tur
ned on the shower five minutes ago, so I didn’t have much time to chat. “Not so good. Somebody fired shots at us while we were horseback riding.”

  “You’re kidding,” Knox said.

  “I wish I were. I didn’t even have a fucking gun to shoot back. I left it in the car.”

  “That was dumb. I told you to keep it within reach at all times. Maybe you’ll listen to me in the future,” Knox replied.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Right. I won’t hold my breath.” Knox chuckled. “So I take it both of you are okay.”

  “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”

  “Whatever. I told you this whole impromptu vacation was a dumb idea. You should be back here working on this with me.”

  “Have you made any progress?” I said, redirecting the conversation.

  “Don’t worry. I have all the evidence we need. His presidential campaign is dead in the water as of yesterday.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “What do you have?”

  “Sworn testimony, pictures, and a fifteen-minute video. It’s enough to end his career, maybe more.”

  “That was quick.”

  “My team interviewed all of the women. One of them agreed to sign an affidavit describing her interactions with Senator Wharton. Then, I hacked into Senator Wharton’s personal computer. He actually had video stream and pictures of himself in compromising positions with those women.”

  “Wait.” I shook my head. “Will he know his computer was hacked?”

  “No. I used a module designed to reprogram or reflash the computer hard drive’s firmware with malicious code.”

  “The firmware? How does that work?”

  “It’s brilliant. He’ll never realize anyone has been on his computer. Once I replaced the firmware with a Trojanized version, the flasher module produced an application-programming interface with the ability to communicate with other malicious modules on the system—”

  “Okay. Stop. That’s more information than I ever wanted to know.” Once Knox started talking about computers, he didn’t stop.