Turning his back on the scene, Hudson drew a deep breath and put a lockdown on his memories. He shut the door, then pegged his little brother with a hard stare. “What the fuck happened, Nick?”
“It was an accident, Hudson, I swear. The bastard was going to kill me.” Nick paced back and forth, back and forth. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Hudson’s eyes tracked Nick’s movements. “Who is he?”
Nick stopped pacing and his shell-shocked eyes focused on Hudson. “He’s . . . ah, just a guy I know.”
Hudson’s glare narrowed. “Bullshit. Who the fuck is he, Nick?”
“My . . . yeah, my dealer.”
“What happened?” he said through gritted teeth.
“I don’t want to get you involved.”
“Too late.” He grabbed Nick by the collar and pushed him into a chair. “Start talking. Now.”
“I don’t know, man, it all went down so fast. I guess he hit his head.” Nick blew out a breath and wiped his palms on his thighs. “He wanted the money I owe him. I told him I didn’t have it and he went crazy, started coming after me with a fucking chair.”
Hudson’s eyes flicked down to the broken chair, now suited for kindling.
“He was beating the shit out of me, bro. I’m pretty sure he woulda killed me if I hadn’t pushed him.”
“Fuck, Nick.” Hudson knew his brother was on the up and up. When shit got real, Nick’s instincts had kicked into gear, refusing to take a beatdown of the six-feet-under variety. But what a fucking mess. The press would have a field day with this one, and the DA would fry Nick just to prove relatives of the rich and famous weren’t above the law. Hell if he was going to lose his brother to another system, one he’d have no chance of getting him out of even with his means and a team of lawyers.
The door creaked open and Hudson shot Nick a shut-the-fuck-up look.
“You two about done with the family reunion?”
Hudson heard the rasp of a lighter and turned to find the bar owner lighting up another one. “Anyone else know?”
“No, in this part of town you mind your own fucking business. Most of the guys in here have records as long as my arm.” He took a long drag off his cigarette. “They’re gonna scatter like roaches if the cops start poking around.”
“Good. Keep it that way.” Hudson flipped open his wallet. “I’m sure in this neighborhood another dead junkie isn’t breaking news.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the shit we find in the trash out back.”
Hudson thumbed through a stack of benji’s, counting them off while the bar owner watched like a salivating dog. “Consider this a down payment.”
Chapter Thirty-four
Allie was staring blankly at the television screen, mindlessly flipping through hundreds of channels, when she heard the distant ping of the elevator. Finally! It had been almost two hours since Hudson had left her on the sidewalk in front of his penthouse, and she was going out of her mind with worry.
She scrambled off the couch and flew down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as the elevator doors slid open.
Hudson stepped off first. His face was set in hard lines as he strode through the foyer without so much as a glance in her direction. Nick was tight on his heels with his head down and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.
Self-conscious, Allie tugged at the hem of her borrowed T-shirt. With her suitcase still in the car, it wasn’t like she’d had many options. But it had been ten years since she’d seen Nick, and although Hudson’s shirt was plenty long enough, she wouldn’t have changed for bed if she’d known he was coming over. Then again, this was hardly the typical reunion.
She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, then cleared her throat and kept it simple. “Hi, Nick.”
He stopped short at the sound of her voice. “Oh hey, Allie. I didn’t know you were here.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God . . .”
Nick’s clothes were splattered with blood and his face had been horribly beaten. He stared at her like a deer in headlights before tucking his head back down and following his brother into the penthouse.
Allie was right behind him.
She found them in the kitchen. Hudson radiated a barely restrained fury, opening and closing cabinets with more force than necessary until he found a bottle of Blue Label. He poured himself a sizable shot while Nick stood quietly at the end of the breakfast bar, shifting from one foot to the other. Waiting for instructions, she presumed.
“What happened?” she asked him.
“Um . . .” Nick’s bloodshot eyes darted to his brother.
Hudson paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. The look he shot Nick spoke volumes, not the least of which was “don’t you fucking dare.”
Allie let out an exasperated breath. The wall was back up. There was no way she was letting the subject drop indefinitely, but at the moment Nick’s injuries were her main concern. “Let me see.” She brushed his hair back from his face, trying to inspect the deep cut below his eye. “Do you think you need stitches?”
Nick winced and ducked out of her reach. “Nah, I’m fine. S’all good. Just need some soap and water.”
“I think it needs more than that.” She turned back to Hudson. “Do you have a first-aid kit?”
“He’s a big boy, Alessandra. He can take care of it.” The muscles in his jaw clenched as he glared at his younger brother. “Go to bed, Nick.”
“Ah . . . yeah. It’s been a long one.” Nick licked at the dried blood in the corner of his mouth.
“Well at least let me give you some ice.” Allie turned and reached for a clean dish towel, filling it with a handful of ice cubes. “Here, this will help with the swelling.”
He gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, Allie. Good seeing you again.”
“Yeah, you too.” She watched as Nick lumbered out of the room. He stumbled into the wall once but quickly righted himself before heading toward the stairs. Allie followed to make sure he made it down in one piece, then went to find Hudson.
He was in the living room, sipping scotch while staring out the window at the black shadow of Lake Michigan. Obviously he was upset by whatever he’d found when he went to get Nick, but what she couldn’t understand was why he was acting so cold toward the younger brother she knew he loved. Not to mention the anger she felt directed at her. Hostility rolled off him in waves, and part of her couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with his mood on the car ride home. Their weekend together had been perfect; but then everything started to unravel the moment they left the lake, and the closer they got to the city limits, the more she’d felt him pulling away.
When he’d drained his glass, he went to the kitchen to pour himself another. Allie waited for him to offer an explanation—or hell, say anything at all—but he merely turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.
She followed him into his office. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
He leaned against the corner of his desk and took a sip of the amber liquid. “How about you go first?”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” He gestured between them. “This farce. After all these years I’m still your dirty little secret, aren’t I?”
Allie stiffened. “Of course not.”
“Sure as hell been acting like it. Your mother saw us at the symphony and your first reaction was to run.”
“I couldn’t tell her the truth.”
“Right, because I’ll always be the kid from the wrong part of town. Doesn’t matter how much money I have, I’ll never be good enough.”
“That’s not true,” she said. Her voice was small. “I’m engaged, Hudson. You knew that from the beginning.”
He contemplated her words with narrowed eyes, then tossed back the rest of his drink. “Fair point.” His movements were smooth and methodical as he set the empty glass behind him and crossed his arms over his chest. When he spoke, his voice was menacingly calm. “Tell me, Alessandra, did he ask you to go with him to Paris? Two weeks is a long time to be apart. How many times has he called while he—”